Tuesday 22 June 2021

Rejection (and how to not go mental from constantly experiencing it)

 I wrote a little story this morning, all about my literary offerings from 2021. To date, thirty-three have been sent out to competitions, journals, magazines, etc, and well, lets just say my success rate isn't 100%

                                                                                   ***

No Field of Wheat, Theresa

A farmer knows that much of their job is building (and maintaining) the fencing around their plot. Keep the animals in/ keep the predators out. God bless wire, or dry stone, or fencing panels.

This is a story about fencing panels. I know, how exciting! But these are no ordinary panels, you wouldn’t contemplate buying them in B&Q to block out the sight of your neighbour’s back garden. These panels serve a very specific purpose; they keep your ego in check.

 

Since January this year, farmer Beck has managed to install thirty-three panels on her plot. As with most fencing, they look similar. Not that they are that bright ginger wood that budget panels are made in, no, they are the nice muted – almost greenish – brown panels, the ones that can withstand a storm and don’t rot in six years.

Stretching down the oddly-angled slope of her plot, from a distance you can see that some just don’t match up at all. Look closely, run up and down as much as you like – this is no field of wheat, Theresa.



Some have writing on them, repeating the same word over and over again. True, they use different fonts, but still, it’s the same word: NO.

They aren’t the worst panels to erect though, not by a long way. Far worse (and far more abundant) are the blank panels, the ones that sit there, nailed to posts, looking awkwardly around. The ignored ones, who didn’t even warrant a NO. They are the black sheep. My, what a lot of black sheep you have, farmer Beck – all the better to practice taking rejection well, my dear.

But, oh, what are those gorgeous bejewelled panels I see dotted around? What are those three, encrusted with sapphires and emeralds and topazes? Why, they are the Makarelle panels! They are the ones that bring hope, that keep the farmer plugging away each day, in the hope that somebody else will like her work enough to publish it.

And what is this one, glowing brightest orange like it is radioactive, or made of cheesy Wotsits? What, this little thing? This is the CNF piece a charity shared via Instagram, read by folk who had never heard of the farmer before. And they liked it.

I see. So not all misery then? And, this last one, this doesn’t fit with any of the others. What is this one?

This is a very special NO. To be exact, this is a NO, but…

And as we all know, sometimes, that ‘but’ is as good as a yes for keeping us going. 

Now, if you will excuse farmer Beck, she has some animals to feed.


2 comments:

  1. This was a great extended metaphor, and expresses what we all feel at times. I set myself the challenge this year of making at least 100 submissions - I'm onto about number 75 now. I have had six submissions accepted so far, but this includes one for an online mag started by people on the MA course I did which I suspect accepts virtually all submissions it gets from fellow students from that course, and a poem which someone actually asked me to write for their literary blog, and a personal piece which someone else asked me to write for their blog, so only three actual acceptances by mags which don't know me! I just get rejection after rejection, often for stories and poems I feel are pretty good - some of the things accepted have been my more secondrate things! It is soul-destroying. I am actually getting a lower acceptance rate every year! We have a choice - we either stop writing altogether, keep writing but decide never to submit anything, or keep writing and submitting. I don't know which is the best option, but if we don't submit we will definitely never have anything accepted. Maybe we need to keep on going until we just feel we're flogging a dead horse and can't take any more rejections... Just remember that your writing is BRILLIANT and deserves publication. It is just a massive pool of writing with very few fishermen out there.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for those kind words, Lou :) Sometimes I think I'm developing my proper writer's thick-skin, other times I feel like screaming! But as for stop: can't.

      Delete

Book 2 of 2024 read...

Book two of 2024 read, and, bloody hell, that was shattering ☹️ I thought I had a pretty good idea what had gone on with @britne...