A Writer's Notebook, Day Four-Hundred-And-Thirty-Three

I am having a bit of a disheartening day.  I received a rejection for one of my chapbook manuscripts, and it was rather upsetting, as it is from a press whom I greatly admire, and one where a writer I am close with also publishes.  It is always a bit hard getting a rejection these days, as I have so few acceptances.  I am certain it never stops hurting, but for me, right now, I am looking at it with a certain negativity that comes from not having had any real success as of yet.

To my mind, each rejection, right now, is not merely a single act, but part of a large wave.  When I get an acceptance, it is exciting, but unless it is part of a group of acceptances, it is only a blip.  The pattern at large of rejection feels bigger.  It is easy for the negative part of my mind to begin spinning up with things about how I will never get my work out there.  I mean, I believe in the work I am sending out, and to have it rejected feels like a sort of proclamation.

Now, of course, I do not, rationally, believe that my work won't find a home, but that does not change the impact of these thoughts, or their presence.  We all face this, I am sure, to some extent or another.  Without some form of counter evidence, it is easy for me to begin thinking that, in spite of any talent or skill I may possess, my work is doomed to be unrecognized, at least in my lifetime.  I think that is probably not true, if I am rational.  I believe that I'm on my way, though it can be a slow journey.

I think a part of this is also that I do feel, though it is a bit shameful to admit it, jealous of others who have found success more rapidly and, perhaps, more easily.  I've not had the support that I thought I might, professionally, and I have not been able to gain the traction in my career as a writer that allows for success.  It is not fair for me to think that way, as I know very few people have an easy journey, but it is also not, again, rational or within my control, and when I get these rejections, such thoughts do surface.  In the end, it is all my fear that the work I am doing is meaningless, as it will never find an audience.  That is the big fear behind it all.

Now, I have to believe that is not real.  There will come a time, and I hope it will not be too long, when my work is getting out into the world.  I'm writing so much, I am certain that their are poems in my portfolio that are destined for publication.  It is more a matter of getting there.  But, in the meantime, I must keep strong in that belief, with a knowledge that I am doing the writing and it is only a matter of time before that pays off in other ways.

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