A Lesson in Perseverance

As a writer I am often faced with rejection. Though not the most enjoyable part of the process, it is inevitable. But I try to look at it with a different perspective, one that’s at least better for my ego: Rejections are badges of honor. I mean, hey, if I’m getting rejections, it means that I’m actually writing, doing the work. And I’m courageous enough to let my babies go out into the world to be judged, right? And then there’s the whole Law of Averages thing. Babe Ruth rang up so many home runs because he kept swinging at the ball. Eventually he would connect. Same goes for writing—you keep swinging and eventually you connect.

However, when you go through months of rejections and no responses and nothing good happening with your work, you begin to second guess yourself, to doubt your talent as a writer. Another swing and a miss. Your batting average has dropped to zero and thoughts like, “Maybe my work does stink,” and “Who do I think I am, sending in my work alongside the thousands of writers out there with real talent?” start to waft through your troubled mind. You start to feel exposed, vulnerable, hopeless. You’re aiming for center field, but center field sure looks a long way off.

But you don’t stop writing—you can’t stop, it’s your passion. And as the saying goes, “Obstacles are the stepping stones to success.”

So you keep plugging along, letting your little fingers tap merrily away at the keyboard, all the while hoping you’re not just producing more crap. But in the dark space in the back of your mind you see vultures circling. And they taunt you: “Your words will die on the page.” That’s when you wonder if you’re simply wasting your time, and when you become paranoid that the sideways glances your wife gives you are her way of saying she’s tolerating your “little hobby.”

But take heart. Life has a way of letting you know when you’re on the right track by rewarding your perseverance with little gifts. I received such a gift two days ago in the form of a notification. A short story I had entered into a contest won third prize. Not a home run, but I had entered a half dozen contests prior to this one with no results at all. Not even a “Strike three, you’re out!”

At that moment, a Bronze was worth its weight in gold.

It was the shot in the arm I needed, and I realized that I’m still in the game. The center field bleachers are reachable . . . if I just keep swinging.

Brevity

Since this is my first attempt at blogging, I'll be brief.

'Nuf said.