Almost everyone faces rejection sometimes but I have a
collection of rejection letters from the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and the 2000’s! With
the advent of computer submissions,--recent rejections are deleted faster than
my spastic chihuahua runs across my average sized backyard—and that’s fast.
Where’s the melancholic despair that will lead me to write more
angst filled poetry? How will I face the reality that other writers might numb
away with drugs, caffeine and alcohol and I have drowned in large quantities of
cheap chocolate? What happens to my embarrassment—the denial and insecure
reminiscing? What about my recollections regarding why I even bothered sending pieces of my heart to editors who didn't appreciate my use of alliteration, metaphor and rhyme?
Should I have a wall of shame plastered with these painful
letters or does common sense tell me I should move on and forget all about them?
Would you incinerate or shred? Haul the file to the curb and say good-riddance?
My inclination leans toward getting rid of them and yet they seem like an
important part of my growth as a writer. Every ten years, I find myself holding
a pile of these impersonal letters that reflect weakness but inspire me to
reach even higher.
Remembering the past might keep us from repeating the same
mistakes. This is why learning history is so important. These letters are like
an old textbook--reminding me to learn, to reach a little higher and to do
things differently, because the future is like a clean slate--full of
opportunity.
The young writers of today may never have to face the
quivering anticipation of an unopened rejection letter and of course, that is
so freaking awesome. On the other hand, what do you think?
Are they missing
some painful lessons?
