I received a response regarding one of my short story submissions yesterday. I’m so accustomed to the response email reading something like, “Thank you for submitting to our ezine. We’re sorry but…” I don’t even brace myself anymore. I just look at the unopened email and announce to my husband, “Another rejection.”
Such was not the case yesterday. Yesterday I got this: “The opening segment was utterly fantastic, and this whole concept is great. It especially resonates because the future is just taken as read in a defeatist tone as we discover this poor guy would rather die than live in this dystopia.”
Yay!
Not so fast.
You know there’s always a “but”, right?
But, “As the story went on, the great narrative curve of the first part got lost for me. We got more and more background about the time and place, but that was rather dry material (once the idea is established). ” And later, “We’d love to publish this piece, but we feel these issues need to be tackled.”
I admit, my mind is often not in the right place when I hear a critique of my work. Rather than the rational, healthy response which would be, “Wow they said the opening part was ‘utterly fantastic’ and they’d ‘love to publish it’. How wonderful that they’ve decided to give me some feedback and a second chance!” My response was something more along the lines of, “Once again, my writing’s not good enough” and “How on earth am I going to incorporate all their feedback into a rewrite? I’ll have to practically rewrite the whole story!”
This morning at church, I felt like a zombie. Discouragement swallowed me up. I wanted to scream “Nothing I do is good enough” over and over, all the while kicking in one of those cheap hollow doors like they do on American Chopper. I. Was. Mad. Not just about my writing, but about everything.
Mad at this dragging economy that feels like a weight around my neck. Mad at my IT job because I learn and learn and learn, and it’s never enough, there’s always something more I need to know, more, more, more. (I’ve lost precious childhood memories because of my job. No joke.) Mad because I work my @!# off day after day at my job, at being a parent, at writing, yet at the end of this month my bank account is going to be in the red.
I seem to have forgotten my blessings today.
Sometimes I think a girl just needs to feel sorry for herself. Just for a moment. Or a couple hours. Sometimes a girl needs to cry in her kitchen because on some levels it’s true. Nothing is good enough for this world. If I let it, it will take, take, take. It doesn’t care if I have an early heart attack or a stroke. This world wants me. All of me.
You may be reading this, thinking, “Um, wow. This girl has some issues. She gets a great compliment and somehow turns it into the sky is falling and the world is out to get her.” To that I’d say, “I have issues. I definitely have issues.
But…”
I get it, Jess. Cry. A lot. You’ll feel better. Let Him pick you up and hold you. He’ll tell you the Truth, and you’ll find contentment in HIS words. Somehow. He does it.
Thank you Nicole. I’m so lucky to call you friend. 🙂
Yep. I hear ya. And no one, not even God, cares if we wallow and feel sorry for ourselves awhile. It just needs to happen sometimes, and sometimes a lot. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Cheer up, work that story, and give ’em what they want. Be sure to tell me when it gets accepted, k? 🙂
~Chila
My little crying episode yesterday was like hitting the “reset” button, I think. After I got through all that emotional muck, I very quickly revised the story. Plus, I had more clarity about other non-writing decisions I’ve been trying to make.
The story is much better now. My character is more fleshed out. I always wind up appreciating the feedback eventually 🙂 I’ll definitely keep you in the loop!
Hi Jessica, for what it’s worth, I think this note you got back is FANTASTIC! Someone took the time to read your story all the way through, and give you an extended and positive critique. I’d love to see your story 🙂
Writing is not for sane people. Unless you’re driven to write it makes no sense to keep banging your head against the wall. For some reason, although people know that they won’t play a Mozart concerto on their third piano lesson, they don’t appreciate the amount of time and head-pounding that publishable writing takes. You’re way past here though — your stuff I’ve seen is really good. It’s only a matter of time…
And thank you for the reminder of what is REALLY important. It’s easy to lose sight of the only One that matters in all the busyness of life.
Hang in there. 🙂
Amy, that particular ezine is really good about giving feedback. They no doubt gets tons of submissions, but the editors always comment. It really is great. (Once semi-shock has passed.)