In the last post I wrote a bit about how rejections suck. How the adage “write more, submit more” does help some in the regards to the anxiety of waiting, but results in rejections coming at you rapid fire and how that can wear on a person.
The truth is there are many moments of self-doubt, disappointment, and subsequent listlessness that plague the path to becoming a professional writer. But there are also the great moments of an acceptance, of an editor’s encouragement, or a fan reaching out to you. Those are some serious highs when they come, particularly the last.
But there’s another kind of moment, that’s quieter, but even more powerful in my opinion. And that’s the moment you realize that you’re doing it: you’re going after your dreams. The outcome doesn’t matter. You’re pursing that which fundamentally drives you, something you’ve dreamt about since you were a kid. I may not ever reach that pinnacle of success I would like as a writer, but it won’t be for want of trying.
Perhaps because I came to writing later in life, pursued other degrees and livings along the way, I can appreciate what it is to circle back to a boyhood dream. Appreciate that I’m able to pursue it. Appreciate that in my twilight years, I’ll never say “If only ….” That thought always warms me in the coldness of rejection—“Yeah, well. I’m doing it. I’m pursuing becoming a writer. So bring on the rejections, I’m not going anywhere.”
Rejections do suck. But the satisfaction of following your dreams is immeasurable.