Writing Rejections and Self-Doubt

 

If you have been following my blog recently, you know that I’ve come off of a long stretch of not writing. Frankly, of not being creative at all. The bulk of the reason is because of this right here. But now the time is to get back into doing what I love.

It’s as simple as sitting in a chair and getting right down to it.

But it’s not that easy.

I don’t have the ever-nebulous writer’s block.

I actually have something relatively new to me: self-doubt.

I used to be able to sit down and write without worrying about the odds of my work finding a home. Translation: Of getting a literary agent and also getting traditionally published. I’ve always known the traditional publishing industry is a fickle one, and like any other business, its goal is to make money. A writer can write something amazing, but if it’s not what’s currently hot in the market, it might be a bust. Meaning the author will have to “shelf” it and try again with a new manuscript.

Granted, I know it’s not all the market, and that some of that can be tied into my abilities as a writer. It left me wondering:

Can I understand my genre better? My audience?

How is my pacing?

How can I become better?

I’m someone who believes in consistent improvement, be it my craft or even myself as a person. No one is perfect, after all. I firmly believe that doing anything without a sense of humility is setting yourself up for failure. The kind of failure that makes it impossible to learn from. (Not only that, but it generally makes you insufferable, too.) I mean, we all fail at some point. We’re human. But we should take something from it so we don’t make the same mistakes.

I’m naturally gifted with words. Because of it, I’m generally quite confident in my abilities. However, when I joined a writing workshop, weaknesses in my prose were revealed to me. Sometimes criticism is a hard pill to swallow, but I took my medicine. I became a better writer from it, and I recommend anyone to step outside of their comfort zone and partake in one. So I fixed what I could, but it left me with even more questions.

How many more mistakes am I making?

Am I too inside my own head?

… Or am I just not good enough?

Introspection is a blessing and a curse. I’m fairly self-aware, especially of my own overthinking. When I can separate my feelings from what’s objectively going on, I can better put my dream of getting traditionally published into perspective.

I’ve written and queried two novels. Both got full requests, but no offers from literary agents. An exceptionally rare few writers luck out and land an agent on their first book. A few land on their second book. But, if my time on social media has taught me anything, is that it can take multiple manuscripts and several years to land an agent. And even if you get an agent, it doesn’t guarantee that your book will be published. (Behold! Another kick to the junk!)

It’s strange. A lot of people, namely folks who don’t write, think that as soon as you complete a book, it can automatically get published. The only way that’s true 100% of the time is if you choose to self-publish. Traditional publishing has gatekeepers, and sometimes gatekeeping can get to writers.

Rejections are humbling. No one likes ‘em. Still, rejections should leave you with questions if an agent or editor was kind enough to leave you with personalized feedback. (Let me tell you folks, it’s rare. When you get something that isn’t a form rejection, really consider it.) Even though writers know that rejections are all a part of the business, they still stink and can make your morale plummet. They sure did mine.

It got to a point where I felt wholeheartedly unique in my ability to suck. (I know how that sounds. I’m keeping it anyway.)

But, the thing is …

It’s not unique at all. Most writers go through it on their journey to traditional publication. And if you don’t feel that way once in a while, I envy your determination. Or pure, unadulterated hubris. (It’s one or the other in my experience. Usually a lot of the latter.)

Writing this post after being away from writing for so long, I realized something profound:

Two is a small number.

Let me be clear.

The act of finishing just one manuscript is a big frickin’ deal. Most people don’t finish what they start, especially not mentally taxing projects like novels that can take weeks, months, or years to draft. That doesn’t even factor in polishing the work so it sparkles for submission, writing query letters, writing a synopsis, or researching who or where you want to submit to.

Maybe that’s why the rejections crush the ego and sting the soul. Trying to get published is a matter of taking years of your life, working hard, and hoping it all pays off. It’s a magical alignment of talent, hard work, and luck. Now, I am not a lucky person, so I have to rely on my ability to get things done.

I’m fine with that. Even if I don’t have faith in a subjective industry, I believe in myself. I know the more I do, the better I’ll become. In becoming better, I’m becoming more critical. That in and of itself isn’t a bad thing. If anything, it’s showing my growth. It’s only bad when I over-analyze myself into inaction, letting self-doubt immobilize me. If I take my ego out of it, I’m just left with the process, and that’s how it should be. 

After all, two is a small number, and I have enough stories inside of me to last a lifetime. I better get to writing them.

Thanks for reading!