There’s a goofy short horror story I’ve been shopping around for years, and despite receiving rejection after rejection, I have yet to acquiesce and publish it on my website’s fiction page. It’s called “The Raisin Man,” and it’s a haunting and laughable creature-feature born out of a dream. It was rejected again today — one of the first emails I opened at around 6:30 this morning.
All rejections sting. Upon reading or hearing “no,” there’s that knee-jerk reaction, that uncomfortable sensation that worms through your innards and shudders up your spine. We dream, we create, and we imbue words, pictures, paintings, etc., with pieces of ourselves that we then drop off in a stranger’s inbox. It’s a surreal phenomenon, especially when phrased that way, but so is the compulsion to make something and share it with strangers. Sure, we know their names, email addresses, and preferences from a FAQ or submission form, but we don’t know these people. We have no way of predicting reactions or whether or not our actions will lead to a great day or terrible one. They could be at their wit’s end, and our piece just sent them on an anxiety spiral because it reminded them of something that happened decades ago. Or… they could have seen our email while on lunch but found themselves too invested in the most incredible foot-long prosciutto and provolone sandwich ever made. Or maybe they liked it but didn’t “like it” like it, ya know?
Regardless of the variables at play, we just create and share. Because we have to. Because our gears are constantly turning, and we have nowhere else to put these thoughts, dreams, and feelings. We have to birth them — again and again, serving them up to a universe that is neither asking for nor needs them.
Creating something is an act of beauty and love. Whether it’s a cake for a loved one’s birthday or a scenic canvas that took days to paint, both are born from that same desire to add and contribute to the world. It takes a special kind of person to empower themselves with those feelings and then distill them into something tangible for others, which is why it’s often difficult to come face-to-face with rejection. Again. And again.
But that’s the nature of sharing your work with the world. You put your heart into something — devote countless hours — and yet “no” is a simple, two-letter word that stops your work from completing the journey you already dreamed about at least a dozen times. Despite meeting that “no” head on over and over, it never gets easier, but it’s manageable.
We Rarely Think of How We Got Here
After the initial sting of rejection has worn off, I think about where I came from. It sounds simple, but it took many years and constant reminders to achieve. Why? As dreamers, as creators putting out works of art and beauty into the universe, we’re hard-wired to constantly look ahead. We take our feelings and ideas, and we propel them in front of us, yearning for something just out of grasp. We chase that next passion project, excited at the promise of something new that will fill that relentless hunger to create. To look behind us is to revisit a past self, it’s to revel in achievements long gone, and it runs the risk of getting caught in a web where we relive the “glory days” in perpetuity. Simply put, for creators who are constantly learning and growing, taking a glance in the rearview evokes a fear of stagnation.
But that’s just the quiet voice talking, that anxious part of the self who’s also obsessed with what other writers and artists are doing on social media, weaponizing their successes against the self. It comes so naturally and easy, but it’s so wrong.
We shouldn’t fear looking back at how far we’ve come. Chances are, we’ve accomplished a lot, both big and small feats. Every day, we’re making decisions, and our decisions lead to growth opportunities. Publication in an indie lit magazine. Taking a trip and exploring a new part of the world. Learning a new skill. Sparking a relationship that leads to marriage. Buying a house, building a family, landing a dream job, or even just freeing ourselves from credit card debt. It’s all growth, and it all swirls together, informing the creative decisions we make every day. The best part is? It’s all us.
When I need a refresh, I tune out the anxious voice that wants to cut me down. I take a breath, close my eyes, pop in my earbuds, and listen to the theme song from The 400 Blows, one of my favorite films of all time. It’s a semi-autobiographical film from Francois Truffaut, following the misadventures of a boy from a troubled home as he causes mischief and yearns to break free. I relate to it, especially Truffaut’s deeply personal connection to film as a medium, as it was and is a lifeline for me.
More importantly, the theme song centers me. On first watch, the song’s innocent notes paint the streets of Paris as a labyrinthine dreamscape, but with each listen, the theme grows more complicated, striking tones of sadness, hope, and yearning all at once. It’s almost like a serenade, and it takes me on a ride through memories, reminding me of how far I’ve come and what I’ve accomplished.
I said it before, but it bears repeating. Every single day we make decisions, and often, we think nothing of them at the time. But they change us. They enrich our lives and fuel our creativity, changing our dreamscapes and propelling us forward without us even realizing it. Ever hear that song “Once in a Lifetime” by The Talking Heads? It’s a lot like that.
The next time a rejection or a missed opportunity gets you down, take a moment and look back. You’ve accomplished a lot more in life than you realize, and you’re going to continue to achieve whether you’re aware of it or not. That’s a promise.
Keep making your art. I believe in you, and though you may not see it, it’s enriching all of us by making the world a better place.
You're right, Scott. Rejections sting every time. And gratitude is a great way for dealing with that. In 2018, I got three (three!) short stories published. Yet I focus on present-day rejections. Why? Default negativity, I guess. Unplugging is a great way to balance that negativity. Keep submitting. It's a numbers game.