Curl Up and Write » Rejections

Better Than I Thought

Trina — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 14:00:32 +0000

I’m deep in line edits for Unbeweavable, and as I’m going through everything, I find myself smiling. I’m a much better writer than I give myself credit for.

Now, this post is not going to be some kind of bragging fest–that’s soooo not my style. This is just an observation.

As a writer, I have my share of rejections. And even though I push myself to keep writing, to just keep going, I do sometimes wonder if I’m good enough. “Am I good writer?” is the question I find myself asking lately. Competent, yes. Good? I don’t know.

In my days of styling hair, I knew I was good. I saw it in my work, in my clients’ smiling faces and the referrals that kept coming my way. I was a great hairstylist.

But with writing, the pay-off is slow, and sometimes, not at all. I’ve spent hours on my laptop, pounding out a manuscript that has not seen the light of day. I did all the work–but where was the reward? And I’m not talking financial–I’m talking the validation you feel when you walk into a bookstore and see your baby sitting on the shelves. The warmth that builds in your chest from accomplishing your goal.

I know plenty of writers that have a manuscript or two that will never see the light of day. But as my rejection letters piled up from that unsold manuscript, I found my confidence a little shaken. A few of the letters had personal notes scribbled on the bottom:

“You’re an able writer but…”

“You’re novel is filled with emotional complexity but…”

“Great story line but…”

You get the idea. I knew I could write, but was I good enough to make it? As I put that novel aside and wrote, Unbeweavable, in the back of my mind I wondered if this book would see the light of day. Would people be able to read something that I spent so much time working on?

You know the answer to that one. And as I read over my words, I can’t help but think that I’m a good writer. Reading over the notes that my editor scribbled in makes me smile. Because for the first time in a long time, somebody else besides my family agrees.

Weight

Trina — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:00:30 +0000

Source: everymantri.com

As a writer I can be a heavy weight to carry. What I mean is, writers need so much from other people–we need admiration, praise, encouragement–we need so much from our family and friends that I can only imagine what they think of me.

As a hairstyist, I’m used to rejection. It’s part of the business. If someone doesn’t like their hair, you tell them to pay up and keep moving. (Don’t worry I wasn’t that tough.) I rarely took my work home, I simply shrugged it off.

Being a new writer feels just like when I started doing hair. I’d come home beaten and bruised, confidence smashed to pieces. But after a long talk with my parents I would get back out there, day after humiliating day, until I perfected my look and got people to come back to me. I depended on my parents to tell me that I was talented and that, with practice, I would succeed.

The same goes for writing. I have enough rejection letters that I could wall-paper my living room. And I have to admit, some days I feel beat down, depressed, and just plain ‘ole not good enough. On those days my husband scrapes me off the floor and reminds me to keep pushing, keep fighting, soon the story I want to tell will be told. He gets me to change my perspective and continually reminds me that I’m a published author. So many people cannot say that.

I know I’m a heavy load to carry sometimes. (Alright all the time). But the more I learn about writing the more the dialogue switches to internal. I’m learning to pick myself off the floor, to tell myself that I am good enough. But for now it feels good to know that someone has my back, and can carry me when the going gets rough.

How Many Licks?

Trina — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 14:00:52 +0000

Okay, so last time I talked about how many rejections can you receive before it’s quitting time. It reminds me of that Tootsie Roll commercial where the little boy asks the owl how many licks does it take to get to the center of his Tootsie Pop. And the owl licks it three times, then bites down on it, and says three.

Rejection feels like someone is taking a bite out of you–you’re left feeling empty and alone. But you can’t give up.

So the answer to my question about how many rejections is too many for me is–a zillion. Plus one. I’ll never give up when I believe in something. And write now, I believe in me. As I’m finishing up my third novel, I can hear the story of my fourth novel poking around in my head, ready to be told. And I’m the girl for the job.

So how many licks can you take before you quit writing? A zillion. Plus one for good measure.

Those Are The Breaks

Trina — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 16:41:38 +0000

How many rejections are too many? When do you decide when it’s time to give up on a novel and focus on a different one? What’s your breaking point with rejections?

Is it 50?

100?

1,000?

Do you never give up until you get a yes?

Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine!

Rejection-It’s Personal

Trina — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 20:18:07 +0000

One morning at work I got a phone call from a client telling me she no longer needed my services. You guessed it–I was getting fired. “Don’t take it personal,” she said. “It’s not you, it’s just the way you do my hair.”

Ouch. How was I not supposed to take that personal? Giving someone a hairstyle is like stamping your personality onto their head. For goodness sake you just spent an hour getting their hair to do your bidding, and someone tells you to not take it personal? I’m a person. A human being. So excuse me if I take it personally.

It’s the same with writing. We put so much into our writing that when we get that rejection in the mail, (or now-a-days in a cold e-mail), it stings. When someone doesn’t want our words, we take it personally.

Now I know many disagree on the subject and say that it’s possible to reject someone’s work without rejecting them as a person. And trust me, I get that. But when we are talking about someone creating something, whether it be a chef or carpenter or hairstylist, (I’ll stop here, you get the point don’t you?), you are putting a piece of yourself in your work. Your putting yourself on the line. How many of us have had a wonderful meal fixed for us and after the first bite you feel loved by the person that cooked it? They are sending you love with every bite you take.

We know writing is a business, and most people see business like they see an alligator–cold, hard, and ruthless. That’s why it’s so easy for people to reject you and say it’s not personal. And for them it isn’t. But to us, the poor creative souls that decided that we wanted to write for a living, we are left with a bleeding heart.

The solution? Our skin has to become like the alligator. Not cold and hard, but thick. So thick that when rejection bullets try to kill us they bounce right off. We get a rejection, shrug, then fire off another query letter or synopsis to our editor. We keep going, we keep moving. We can not get tied up into thinking that our work is who we are. Our work is what we do.

So yes, rejection hurts. It’s personal. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. And the longer you write the less rejection stings you.