
Like you, I submit my work to literary publications and like you I’ve received my fair share of rejection notes. The first time I sent a short story out, as an undergrad, it was a story that I was very close to and when it was rejected I felt like I was being rejected. If I knew then what I know now I would have lifted my chin, set my jaw and sent it somewhere else. Instead, I received my first form rejection letter and I was left with an unfamiliar emptiness. All of the hope that I’d been harboring after dropping my manuscript in the mail was swept away and what was left was disappointment and self-doubt.
Over the years I’ve learned to separate the work of writing fiction from the work of placing it with a journal. This is difficult for writers because the two acts are different beasts. Writing requires sensitivity and a willingness to explore difficult emotional truths. Coping with rejection demands emotional fortitude, resiliency – perhaps even stoicism. But the truth is that if you’re putting yourself into each one of your stories, essays or poems (as you should) it doesn’t matter how many times you read the words “good luck placing this elsewhere” … rejection stings.
Over the years I’ve learned to separate the work of writing fiction from the work of placing it with a journal. This is difficult for writers because the two acts are different beasts. Writing requires sensitivity and a willingness to explore difficult emotional truths. Coping with rejection demands emotional fortitude, resiliency – perhaps even stoicism. But the truth is that if you’re putting yourself into each one of your stories, essays or poems (as you should) it doesn’t matter how many times you read the words “good luck placing this elsewhere” … rejection stings.