Eastern tiger swallowtail on Lobelia (image by author)
“Writing is like lying down in the road and asking people to stop and look at you, and today, I got run over.”
This line, spoken by the young Lawrence Durrell, is from the PBS production of “The Durrells In Corfu”. Lawrence has just hosted a public reading to celebrate an early piece of his writing and no one, other than a confused and elderly man unknown to him and a small cadre of close family, attends.
Chicago Botanic Garden, 10/16 (photo by author)
Autumn, glorious autumn. Glorious or not, autumn is not always a time dear to my heart.
Well, it is dear to my heart, my everyday heart that absolutely loves autumn. But not dear to my writer’s heart. And perhaps, writers, you recall or can guess why.
Selfridge’s Department Store, London, 1942 (image Wikimedia Commons)
Writers, it hurts.
I know; I’ve been there, and I’m there now. As I said in an older post, rejections are raining!
The good news about this is that it means I’ve been submitting a lot as of late. The bad news is…Well, there are a number of bad things that fall out of receiving rejections.
Rookery Building, Chicago, main staircase (Image by author)
It’s October. Writers, we know what that means, right?
Of course, it’s submission season! The time of year all writers look forward to!
How can we not?
(from July ’09)
Kousa dogwood (image author)
I am slowly, but surely, letting go of the conflicted feelings multiple rejections in a short space of time engendered in me. Actually, it hasn’t been that slow a process as I’ve been writing, reading, meeting with other writers, and working on other submissions all along.
What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been letting go internally, in a deeper way, of a number of expectations and beliefs about my writing, what I want from it, and why I do it. And that this has been positive and healthy, even liberating.
In my last post, I explored how I felt about misunderstanding the guidelines for a particular submission. The very day I posted this, I returned home from the library, my husband returned home, he brought in the mail, and presented me with a large envelope that I recognized immediately as my SASE in yet another submission. And knew immediately that as said SASE was coming back to me that meant another rejection.
How about the synchronicity of that? Two suckers in one day, in one four hour period.
I am so discouraged with my writing right now that I’ve been wondering if writing isn’t a form of aversion therapy.