What I am doing here is writing myself out of despair. Or attempting to anyhow. My book I am trying to publish has been rejected for the third time in two weeks. I’m disappointed. I’m disheartened. I’m disappointed. And questioning my value as a writer. Am I good enough? Am I worthy? Of course the answer to those questions is yes. I know that. I’m just not feeling it right now.
I don’t write this for pity. I don’t write this to wallow in the rejection either. I write it to connect with others who have felt or are feeling what I feel right now. I want to tell you that there is hope, that it will all be okay. But honestly I do not believe that right now. I may believe it tomorrow but not in this today. And I need to sit with that for a spell before I move on. This is something I want to normalize for myself. Admitting when I’m not okay so that I can move through it.
That is correct. There is no hope in this story today. I show off my wins, but not my losses—and, baby, I got the losses! This is my attempt to be transparent with myself. An accounting, a reckoning, a report of my progress, or lack thereof.
Perhaps tomorrow will be better. After all, I did come to the page today.
Leave a Reply