Into the Fire

Along with the talk of writing rules circulating the various blogs is the discussion regarding rejections. Nearly every author you recognize will tell you they have been the victim of rejection—and most of them multiple times. They say these literary spurns run the gamut from dismissive to rude and insulting and all points in between. You, being a writer/author, are told to toughen up and develop thick skin in your preparation to deal with the inevitable R word.

I asked my friend Dayle if alligator hide is as tough as it looks, and he assured me it is. He shared that he got off what his friends termed a “miracle shot” on an encroaching alligator about to have his dog for lunch. He killed the beast with one shot just in time to save his pet.

Well, this writer has not acquired alligator hide—before the fashioning of it into boots or handbags. Rejection is not my best suit. Never has been. I recognize the place it plays in publishing. Certainly there must be rejections. I think the way a rejection is packaged has a lot to do with how they’re received or accepted.

Some anxious writers who haven’t learned “the system” submit their work before they should. It isn’t the “best” they can do, but they’re in a hurry to be published, and they’ve just completed a novel, for cyrin’ out loud! Most of us have to pass through the place of naiveté, and, unfortunately, agents or possibly editors are victimized by our impatience and unprofessional approach. Naturally, some are more patient than others. Some can spot the value of a story or the competency of a writer even in the immature manuscript and are willing to extend an encouragement or suggestion to help. But most of the pros are pelted with all kinds of manuscripts and have erected their own shields of protection and means of filtering the masses of material they have to sift through to find what they want. Almost all of them recommend writers’ conferences for two reasons that I know of: the classes offered on all aspects of writing and publishing and being able to put a name and face to material. Kind of like hoping for a spark maybe. Perhaps there are other reasons like seeing a writer willing to pay his dues—literally.

While I sympathize with professionals who strain the material through the colander of their preferences, rejection should be handled with some degree of respect if for no other reason than there is a human being at the other end of that piece of junk not even remotely close to what they’re looking for. Maybe the goofball who wouldn’t recognize good writing if he read it in red letters has a tender heart which might need some realignment in another career but doesn’t deserve to be crushed by concrete rhetoric heavy enough to send him to the depths. An exaggeration, I know, because most of the rejections come in stereotypical form letters which simply indicate a “No”.

Anyway, my skin is soft, and my heart is softer. No alligator hide on this girl. Rejection is a stepping stone, can be an indicator to look elsewhere, might mean a lack of talent or an unfinished product, but receiving one or twenty of them doesn’t get any easier. I think it’s possible for guys to rebound from them more quickly, less damaged (and I’m still speaking of writing here). Maybe it’s like a fresh challenge for them. But then I’ve known some fairly competitive women, too . . .

I’m just glad God has given me my own skin. Finally after all these years I’ve grown comfortable in it.

Father, thank you for my path. Wherever it leads, help me to follow you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*