Most writers view rejection as their professional enemy. A writing career requires acceptance, after all. If a writer received nothing but rejection, that writer wouldn't have a career at all. Except writers cannot hate rejection. And no, not just because it is often a part of the submission cycle. Rejection is actually a crucial aspect the writing process itself.
For instance, here's a typical storyteller's brainstorming session: What should my hero do for a living? A lawyer? No, he's not that successful. But he is in front of people. How about a teacher? No, too altruistic. Also, he enjoys the spotlight. Ah, he's an actor! An unemployed actor. No -- not totally unemployed. He got one gig in a commercial playing a guy with hemorrhoids. Perfect.
Sound familiar? Of course it does. This is how writers find their stories. And it really doesn't matter whether we are writing fiction or non-fiction. Even the memoirist sifts through the past and decides what to put in and what to leave out. And yet, if you look again you will notice that the above example is filled with rejection. Our author could not arrive at his final Yes without the guidance of a great many No's.
Writing is all about learning to say, "Yes." Every word on the page is a word to which I've said, "Yes." But I cannot find the words and sentences and scenes and stories I wish to share unless I also know what I do not wish to share. It would be impossible to say yes if I couldn't say no. No is like the feeling of imbalance the gymnast experiences as she seeks the Yes of balance. These opposites are actually the allied yin and yang of my creative life.
It just never felt that way to me when the rejection letters came in. Whereas I called the comfort and discomfort that guides me in the choice of words and sentences and so on information, those rejections letters felt every bit like unwanted, unhelpful, discouraging, depressing closed and barred doors to what I wanted most. What's so useful about that?
Everything, if I listen to what those rejections are telling me. When I write, the worst thing I can try to do is force a word or sentence in where it's not wanted. The best thing to do when I feel this resistance is pull back and try something else. This is what the resistance is telling me. Many times, however, I felt this resistance and soldiered on. Yet what I thought of as writing by force of will was actually self-rejection. It was uncomfortable, but such is adulthood -- or so I'd heard. The sting I felt when the stories I'd written in this fashion were rejected was merely an echo of the pain of self-rejection I'd inflicted on myself by ignoring my own inherent guidance.
That's right, to find acceptance in the publishing world you must first accept yourself. I take that back -- you need only practice accepting yourself. You practice this every single time you sit down to write, every single time you choose a word that feels right or wrong for no other reason than you like it or don't like it. That's self-acceptance. You don't need to climb a mountain and meditate for the rest your life to find it. You find it as you find your balance, with every step and every choice.
You can learn more about William at williamkenower.com.