| Sunny Side Up! July 4, 2001 �2001, by Kathleen Gibson Rejection Brings its Own Rewards Two. The same editor sent two rejection notices for the same manuscript. Ouch. Ouch. They don't like my writing, and they seem to question my reading ability too. I slouch at my computer, massaging the tender spot on my ego, cross that it's even there. Having been rejected by some of the very best-and quickly too-I should be accustomed to being slighted by now. But every "Sorry�." letter brings a wee sting, not unlike a slap on the bottom. Rejection is the occupational hazard of the freelance writer. "Sorry," the (politest) notices read, "but your article doesn't suit the needs of our publication at this time." One writer, tired of his long rejection streak, fired this message back, "I regret to inform you that your rejection is unsuitable for my needs at this present time." Another wrote simply, "I reject your rejection." I understand that angst, and today I wish I had that nerve. But editors have long memories, and burning editorial bridges isn't a good career move for a writer. So I'll unclench my gritted teeth, and get back to work. The bruises go away after a few hours. There was a time, years ago, when a rejection letter paralyzed me for months. It's taken time, but I've learned to appreciate the lessons rejection teaches. It motivates me to dig a little deeper, to sharpen my skills. That's a good thing. And with each fresh "I'm sorry, but�" letter comes the gentle internal reminder that my intrinsic worth isn't determined by my market value; that even if I never publish another article, I'm no less important in the grand scheme of life than the latest multiple best-selling author. Why can I say that? Because my worth doesn't lie in how many articles I sell, or how well-placed they are. You and I are eternally precious because within us resides the image of a God who loves us. The very same God who gave me words to play with and instructions for me to enjoy them and use them to lift up others. Written or spoken, published or unpublished. The first time a major magazine called to accept one of my articles I struggled to sound remotely sensible. "That's great!" I heard part of me say, while another part was dancing and slapping high fives all round. "That would be fine," I think I said when the editor quoted a sum that seemed exorbitant. I thanked him, (I hope, politely) hung up, and spent some time face down on the floor-laughing, thanking God, and pounding the carpet. You only get one 'first' and I made the most of it. That's another positive side to rejection. 'Up,' looks stupendously sweet from 'down'. Rejection from any source sends the message that we don't count, and we want desperately to count. At least I do. But don't fear rejection, and don't let it keep you down. If it doesn't end you, it can improve you. You can respond to this column at< [email protected]> |