Rejection…A Stupid Part of Life

Tags

rejection, thoughts, writing

Writers talk a lot about rejection. As I get ready to submit another short story, I am thinking about it.

Cause it happens.

All the time.

And it sucks. Never ever does it suck less. Never ever does it get easy, does it not hurt.

 

Last Saturday, my daughter’s high school marching band did not advance to the state finals. I saw tears and faces draped with disbelief. They had been rejected. As much as I wanted to make the sting go away, I knew I couldn’t, I also knew I shouldn’t. That pain is part of life. If they don’t get into the college they want, or get the job they want, if they get turned down by the person they ask out.

If we always got what we wanted, would life be happier? Without feeling the stab of rejection, we will never know the joy of victory.

Life is full of the word no…sometimes it seems as though that tiny syllable is playing on repeat. Those two little letters drive a stake of sadness through our hearts, but also fuel the fire of determination. Stack those rejections and climb on top of them, use them to reach higher. Yes makes us happy. No makes us stronger.

Everything happens for a reason. Your path won’t be straight and free of obstacles. It’s called life.

Live it. Let the pain drive you to search for and find joy.

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A Day of Joy and Sadness

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acceptance, be you, doubt, rejection, support, thoughts, writing

Yesterday brought me two extremes.

I cried tears of joy, squeeeeeeing uncontrollably, one moment and fell into complete sadness the next. {HUGS} to those friends, who let me into their lives and shared their emotions.

How strange life can be. How weird and unpredictable this world we live in actually is. Living the life of an artist, brings an uncontrollable element – other people. Those who create beauty either with words or paint or whatever exist to share what they do and with that comes the fabulousness of acceptance and the devastation of rejection.

We can’t do what we do without people to receive it. And we want people to read our words, experience our art. And, lord help us all, we want people to LIKE what we do.

Therein lies the problem. That bad review… that rejection waving the red flag of failure. In our minds, we know not everyone will like what we do, we know the rejections will come. And no matter how many you get, they hurt! Our hearts scream that we’re not good enough. But we can’t give up, I mean take a day to shovel chocolate in your face and feel like an utter waste of space, sure. Then get up. Find friends who can remind you how awesome you are (and listen to them, people, they know stuff). Because the person who is wiping away tears of joy one day might not feel so hot the next. The despairing person licking the bottom of the carton of ice cream at 3 am might be celebrating a victory hours later.

I’m hovering somewhere in-between hope and giving up completely. I’m cheer leading for my friends. I’m CPing. I’m working on short stories, because they’re fun. I’m waiting (not patiently) for a new story contest to be announced… AH! And then panic because what if I enter and I suck! *breathes*

As I linger here in limbo, I take stock of my victories and sit with my doubts. If my life means forever cheer leading? That’s okay. I will continue to critique others’ manuscripts, because, when someone says that my comment helped them make their story better, I sit up straighter and smile brighter.

But I won’t ever stop writing. I won’t ever stop sending my words out into the world, hoping someone loves them. That darn dream.

The world is weird. The life of an artist is strange, unexplainable, a roller coaster of emotions. Get on the ride. Enjoy it. Relish the fact you get to ride even when turns evil. For all my writer friends, (and we won’t dwell on the sad fact that most of them exist on Twitter) stay awesome, keep supporting each other, share encouragement, share your words.

In the end, figure out who you want to be and BE THAT PERSON. You can’t ever fail at being you. EVER.

 

Pacing, Squealing, Stalking

Tags

acceptance, editors, life of a writer, rejection, revisions, thoughts, waiting, writing

Ah, the magic of waiting, of biting your fingernails, of right at the edge of stepping into a dream!

Writing means rejection. Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of those. They hurt. They cause sobbing, self-doubt, and overall panic.

But, there is another side of writing. Acceptance. It’s a little harder to find, but will cause ear-splitting screaming.

Last November, I entered a short story contest ProjectREUTSway put on by Reuts Publications because it sounded like fun. Take a fairy tale twist it, crumple it up, add some strange paranormal element and BAM! awesomeness. I needed a break from all my revisions. I wanted to write, new stuff, weird, scary, creepy stuff. So for four weeks, I read the assignment on Sunday, wrote something, and send it in by Thursday. Then I waited for Saturday when Reuts would post top looks, excerpts from their favorites from that week. I waited with my heart in my throat.

I was doing it for fun! Except I wasn’t. The prize called me. Those top look spots haunted me. At the end of the contest, winners would be chosen … those stories would get a spot in an anthology. I wanted to be published. I WANTED IT SO BAD.

Well, week three an excerpt from my story appeared on top looks. I screamed. I cried. I celebrated with my Twitter friends.

When the contest was over, I waited for what seemed like forever for the list of winners. A list of authors whose stories had been chosen as winners to be in the anthology or runners up to be posted on Reuts’ blog.

I WAS ON THE LIST! I screamed. I cried. My entire body shook with excitement.

But it wasn’t enough to be on the list. I needed to know how many of my stories had been chosen and for what … the anthology, the blog. AH! I waited another month for the list of stories to appear.

I wanted … I NEEDED at least one of my stories to be in the book. (pretty much like EVERYONE else)

The morning of the announcement, I thought I was going to puke … or have a heart attack. I hadn’t slept well the night before, I couldn’t focus. It wasn’t just me, right … all my Reutser friends? When the post went up, I stared at it, afraid to look. Not looking meant not knowing and that allowed hope to live. If my stories weren’t chosen to be in the anthology, that was okay. Right?

No.

So I looked. I held my breath. I pushed aside my nerves.

Two of my stories were chosen as winners. One was chosen as a runner-up … which was just posted on the PRW Runner-up tour last week http://blog.reuts.com/prw-runner-tour-liar-liar-kathleen-palm/. EEEEEKK!If you heard screaming on the final day of January. It was me.

Even more exciting, last week I received e-mails giving me the name of the editors I will be working with to make my stories awesome. So I keep running over to my Google Drive to look at my words waiting for comments. Nothing yet. I am so flippin’ excited! I can’t even … *flails*

Anyway, what about that fourth story I wrote? I revised it with the help of my fabulous CP Elsie Elmore   (http://elsieelmore.com/  and @ElsieWriter on Twitter) and sent it to a magazine. Fingers crossed, kids. I should hear from them next month … maybe. Hopefully.

So I wait. Someone should have warned me about all this insanity-causing waiting before I joined the club. Seriously. *headdesk*

But we submit. We wait. Because we write. Sharing the words is important. *high five*

Even though this post is all about me … that’s all I got, people … so many of us have these stories. The tales of triumph, tales of heartbreak, tales of thinking your head will explode with all the wondering and panicking. The life of a writer. Who would do this to themselves?

Anyone want to play a game? I have Dr. Who Monopoly and HP Clue.

Short Story Magic

Tags

acceptance, fun, reading, rejection, short stories, thoughts, writing, writing contests

I like short stories.

I read them because they’re fun. I especially like the stories that hit me like an episode of the Twilight Zone, leaving a bit of strange in my brain or feelings in my heart. Ones that change me. Novels can do that too, but with shorts it’s more of a … BAM!

I started writing shorts to acquire publishing credits. Ten years ago, when I began typing words, e-books were not everywhere, you could submit to bigger publishers, and having publishing credits in your query was good and that letter to the editor I wrote just wouldn’t cut it. Overall, the idea of needing to be published to get published seemed a little crazy to me and I feared my head would explode, still do, but I pushed on. I wrote a couple of short stories and sent them to Writer’s Digest Short Story Competition. And I received an honorable mention (meaning I finished somewhere between 11 and 100). Yea for me! Holy moly! Maybe I can do this writer thing.

But writing shorts taught me something I hadn’t expected. The contest had word limits. I had to pick and choose what words were really necessary for the story. I learned to cut, delete, say good-bye to the needless ramblings I love so much. That doesn’t mean I don’t write too many words all the time, it just means that I know I do it and will at some point recognize it and throw them away.

I kept at this short story thing and entered more. Some didn’t do anything, but I won another honorable mention. Not quite as thrilling as the first, but good for me. I took one of the stories that hadn’t placed, rewrote it, and sent it to a magazine. And it was accepted. Possibly you heard me scream in joy. Although the honorable mentions were fun, I had a desire to see my name listed in the magazine in the top ten list. I entered one final time and my story placed ninth. Mission complete.

Last fall I entered the ProjectReutsway competition and had SO MUCH FUN! Deadlines and frantic writing and rewriting made me all warm and fuzzy. All the friends I discovered being the icing on the cake. Two of my four stories won their place in the upcoming anthology from Reuts publishers. One will be featured on their ProjectReutsway runner-up tour on their blog (found each Thursday). The final story, I rewrote, with a little help from a fabulous CP, and sent to a magazine. Now I wait.

But because I have this blog, which can’t reject me, I have been dying to share what I write (good or bad), I added a page, a sample of what I do. My YA fantasy/humor The Day after I Died, Part 1 is a new addition to the menu. Check it out. Tell me what you think. Good or bad, I love all comments. Hopefully it leaves a bit of weird in your head and laughter in your heart.

Short stories carry their own magic. For writers we have less words to create a world or characters, to hold a reader’s attention and give that reader something entertaining. I learned a lot writing shorts and have become attached to reading them. I love Stephen King’s shorts and get my fix of twisted fairy tales each Thursday at Reuts publishers blog.

Anyone else out there like short stories? Writing them? Reading them? Or both?