Fail better – on embracing rejection

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. – Samuel Beckett

The other day I got a nice email from One Story. OK, so it was a rejection, but it was a nice rejection. It said, “Thank you for sending us your story. We really enjoyed this piece, but we didn’t feel it was right for One Story. We hope that you will continue to send us your work.”

Several years ago, when I first started submitting my work and the rejection letters began rolling in, I would have spent useless hours trying to interpret the message behind every word in that email. Did they really enjoy the piece, or did they say that to everyone? What do they mean not right for One Story? Not good enough? Too short? Too long? Wrong subject matter? And did they really mean it when they said that they hope I’ll continue to send them my work? Or was that a polite brush-off, the kind we southern girls are adept at by the time we start kindergarten?

Thankfully, I no longer try to read between the lines of a rejection. It is what it is. That particular journal doesn’t want my story, so it’s time to send it on out to someone who might. Which is exactly what I did.

Every writer has been rejected. It’s a fact of the writing life. There are just too many variables involved: the number of submissions a journal receives, the reader’s hangover, the fact that there are already three pieces about flying squirrels slated for the next issue. Much has been written about rejection, so I won’t go on and on about it. I’ll just tell you my personal philosophy, and you can decide whether or not to take it to heart.

Rejection letters (or emails) are badges of honor. They are tangible proof that I am working at writing, that I am trying.

I know fabulous writers who’ve never had anything published, nor are they likely to, because they rarely submit. They’re afraid of failure, afraid of being rejected. I embrace my failures. I try again. Fail again. Fail better. Until eventually I succeed.

Two days after that email from One Story, I got a lovely one from Prime Number Magazine about a piece of flash fiction I had submitted. “Thank you for sending us ‘Mating Habits of the Carolina Wren.’ We love it and would like to publish it in the next update of Prime Number.” That’s an email I never would have gotten if I hadn’t been willing to open myself up to rejection. So whatever it is you want to do: Try again. Fail again. Fail better. One day you might just succeed.

Dear Santa – a Wish List for Writers

Santa –

I know it’s tough coming up with stuff to put under the tree for all those readers and writers on your list. You must get tired of leaving the same old bookmarks and mugs and mousepads. So, in case you need a little help – and who doesn’t ?– here are my suggestions for some goodies you might not have seen or thought of.

1. I can’t speak for all the other writers and readers out there, but I’ve been very very good this year, and, well, you know, if you need a hint for me, I really love these bookshelf paintings. You can get a personalized painting of a bookshelf with a writer’s or reader’s favorite books, up to fifteen of them. Or a writer’s own books. (In case you don’t know, Santa, if Stephen King asks for this, he’ll need more than one) And for the book lovers on your list who maybe haven’t been quite as good as me, there are prints – of writing book shelves, Jane Austen bookshelves, Cook book shelves, Twilight bookshelves, and even children’s bookshelves for the nursery, for only $26. Notecards, too, so we can send you a thank you.

2. Forget diamonds. This vintage typewriter key jewelry is a writer’s best friend. I dig the necklaces (hint hint).

3. A gift certificate for a writing class is always appreciated. For those on your list living in central Virginia, WriterHouse is the place to go for classes. For the ones don’t live near a place to take a class, there are lots of classes online, too, from basic to advanced, beginning the first story all the way to marketing a book. A membership to a writing organization (again, see WriterHouse) is great, too.

4. This board game is just the thing to help break through writer’s block, plus it’s an excellent way to avoid actually writing (something every writer is constantly looking for). Players work together to create stories combining improbable genres, settings, and characters.

5. Books are great, and we all love gift certificates from local indie bookstores. We also love Poets & Writers Magazine, so a subscription to this is a no-brainer. Or how about a subscription to one of the literary journals or magazines we’re always sending our stuff to without ever having read an issue? The New Yorker, Tin House, and One Story are good choices.

6. Chocolate. No explanation necessary.

7. You can go still go with mugs, Santa, but try these special mugs for writers instead of the usual generic ones. If you’re looking for one for me, though, I already have the “Write Like a Motherf**ker” one.

8. How about a gift certificate for a massage, Santa? Writers have chronic muscle aches from hunching over the keyboard, you know.

9. I know how you love coming up with humorous items for stocking stuffers, just to remind us that you are indeed jolly. For one stop shopping for these, I suggest your elves check out Café Press. They have all kinds of groovy things for writers, from tee shirts to writers’ thongs to Shakespeare insults magnets.

10. This last one is tough, but hey, you are magic, after all. I mean, that whole flying sleigh thing proves it, right? So please, Santa, give all my writing friends joy in their work, the strength to withstand rejection, and the courage to tell the stories they need to tell. And some chocolate.

From Hambidge: Week 3

Tomorrow I leave here. I’ve packed up most of my stuff and put it in the car, so all I have to do is throw my suitcase, my shower caddy, and my laptop in the back seat and I’m ready to roll. I won’t hurry – I can be here as late in the day as I want, and I plan to squeeze every second of quiet I can out of the place. Once I get home I know I’ll be back to checking email three or four times a day, and the phone calls and texts will start back up.

I’ve learned something about myself at every residency I’ve been fortunate enough to have. At Hambidge, I’ve learned to appreciate the quiet. To fill that quiet not with technology, but with my own thoughts. I’ve discovered that without all that noise, I hear my own voice and my characters’ voices louder and stronger. I’ve discovered that, contrary to what I might have believed, there is rarely an email emergency. I can go whole days without the urgent notices about penile enhancements and 1-day-only sales at Talbots. I can and should occasionally disconnect.

Oh, yeah, and I learned something else, too. I’m not as brave as I thought I was. I was warned the first day that I might run into a bear at some point (they have an overpopulation of black bears right now) and I thought it would be pretty cool. I had this vision of meeting up with a bear on the trail and taking its picture, then shooing it off while I continued on my merry way. But it turns out I’m a chicken shit. One night I heard something that might or might not have been a bear in the woods outside my cabin, growling and thrashing in the creek, and I squealed. Really, I squealed. I’ve realized that while in theory I like the idea of communing with nature and big hairy animals, I’m a wuss. If I’m in the woods, I don’t want to run into anything bigger or scarier than a squirrel.

So, an 8 hour drive and then I’m back in C’Ville, with lots of new writing and a new appreciation (and healthy respect) for nature. But don’t expect an email too quickly. I might stay disconnected for a while. Or as long as I can stand it, anyway.