Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Rejection
I got three of my poems and one of my short stories rejected today, all by the same publisher.
Writers have to be able to handle rejection. It's funny, though; most of the writers I know are brutally unable to handle rejection in their personal lives, but we're all expected to be able to handle it in our professional lives. And there is a lot of it, if you're a writer. Lots of rejection. Rejection after rejection. Constantly.
And if they're not rejecting it, they're simply judging it, pointing out its flaws. Flaw after flaw after flaw.
Whoever invented this persona of the artist, they really had quite the sense of humor. Let's take a look:
Most artists or otherwise creative types can be described as each and all of those things at one point or another in their historic behavior. What other line of work is populated by people who have so many commonalities?
But the real personality of an artist goes beyond simply listing traits. It has to do with endless contradictions.
We're confident in our skill but extremely susceptible to criticism. On the one hand, we want everyone in the world to see our craft, but on the other, as soon as the cloud of rejection or criticism comes down, we want to throw everything away for fear of its seeing the light of day.
We see the beauty of life, in a flower, in a sunset, in a smile or a kind act. But we also see the horror of life, in a word, in a look, in a thought.
We love to work our art, we love to engage our talents and make a cohesive piece of art that moves us. But we dread it, too; we fear trying for the sudden inability to create; we toil over it with all of the hate and fear of Frankenstein and his monster.
While we enjoy the fact that we are able to create, we often resent the hold it has over us. Many writers will tell you that they don't write because they want to, but because they have to. The idea of giving up your art is unthinkable. But, sometimes, it feels like the only thing that could ever make us happy.
And we desire success, it's true. For a number of reasons, of course, but I think that there are two primary ones:
1. The need to be recognized
2. The desire to become self-sufficient as an artist
The first speaks more to our psyches, while the second speaks to a more practical issue, which is that we have come to accept our fate as perpetual artists.
But whatever the reason, artists will forever attempt to be recognized and become self-sufficient (paid). We'll do this endlessly, regardless of the endless rejection. And it comes.
Every book you pick up that purports to help you get published will tell you that all successful writers must be able to deal with rejection. Practical and useful advice, to be sure, but they don't tell you how to go about this. It's not easy to simply overcome my entire psychological makeup simply because it's the best way to deal with things.
I look at rejection as just another thing that I can't handle, but that I must. It kills me, it makes me doubt everything, it makes me question my talent, my insights, and even my own self.
But when I look around me, it's really hard to find anything that doesn't question everything about myself. In that way rejection by a would-be publisher is no different from my job, my family, my religion, my choice of food, my choice of pastimes, my choice of cars. Such is the personality of an artist. We think and worry about everything.
So I try to put it in perspective. Sure, rejection is rough, but so is life, and at least those would-be publishers hold in their hands a possibility that little else in my life provides: the chance for recognition and financial support.
If I can live life risking constant self-doubt for little reward, surely I can carry on with the submission game.
So I'll shrug it off as best I can, but don't try to stop me from saving those rejection letters so I can look at them later and remind myself that I'm a talentless hack.
- posted by seanmh @ 9:22 AM
