Friday, March 26, 2010

Dejected Rejected Suggested

Katy’s post about having your work rejected brought back a memory.

(Now, let me begin by saying that I really wish I weren’t so weird.)

About 15 years ago I was going through one of those famous re-assessments of reality that lesser women call depression, and I decided to clean house. Literally.

I started with a bunch of papers in my office. One set of papers was the original manuscripts of my first book: written by hand on every other line of 20 spiral notebooks. (I was a terrible typist – though I typed the second draft on what I regarded as the result of direct inspiration, that others called erasable bond. The third and fourth drafts were typed at my expense by a professional.)

Those went in the barrel first. After all, wasn’t it prideful to think that anyone would ever be interested in the first draft of my first book? You’d have to be famous for that to matter to anyone, and there was no reason to suspect anyone would ever care. (Told you I was, um, re-evaluating.)

The second set of papers that went into the barrel was a fat, fat folder of papers. It would be prideful as well to assume anybody would be interested in how many times my work had been rejected. You see, I’d kept all my rejection slips, starting in high school; and yea, verily, there were a LOT of them. And I used to think everyone would be amazed at my success when they saw how many times I had been unsuccessful. So keeping them, I reasoned, was a kind of hubris. (Did I mention that I was low?)

So I found a great use for rejection slips. Firestarters. They burn really really fast and hot.

See, rejection slips can have many uses. Here are some more:

1) Origami practice.

2) Packing materials.

3) Office basketball.

4) Office volleyball.

5) Aerodynamics study.

6) Emergency fingertip surgery.

But what rejection slips cannot, must not be used for is to define who you are. Like the cresting waves of labor, each one brings a dedicated writer closer to a shoreline of achievement. Through them you learn what is marketable and what is not -- for that particular editor, for that particular publication, for that particular time.

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." -- Hebrews 12:11, one of the foundational verses of my life.

Come on, help me out. What other uses can you think of for rejection slips?

13 comments:

Lisa Karon Richardson said...

This will only work if you're strong enough to accrue a lot of them, but they can steady a wobbly desk. And if you turn them over, they make great scratch paper for your next story idea!

Latayne C Scott said...

Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!

Nicole said...

Playing darts: a wonderful target. (And I don't even play, but I'm temtped to learn.)

Permanent marker your name and all pertinent information about yourself and send them to the recyclers.

Rip them to shreds when you're angry and have no other outlet. ;)

Kathleen Popa said...

My professor in college said he papered the walls of his office with them.

Sharon K. Souza said...

Latayne, I do believe you're the twin I thought I lost. I have a drawer, a LARGE drawer, in my bedroom that is calling to me. It's FULL of rejection letters. I'd say it's time to let them go. I particularly like Nicole's idea of ripping them to shreds as a release for anger. I am writer, hear me roar!

Tawna Fenske said...

Shredded rejection letters make excellent bedding in a hamster cage. This comes with the added satisfaction of watching said rodent defecate on said rejections.

Love the blog!

Tawna

Bonnie Grove said...

I'm laughing, Tawna!

Nicole said...

Cool, Tawna. Or the bottom of a bird cage, preferably a huge bird.

Latayne C Scott said...

I love all these comments! And Sharon, I think we were separated at birth except our mom had an extreeeeeemly long pregnancy, labor, and delivery.

Katy, my dream of papering a wall with them was what seemed prideful to me; hence the great tossing out of them. I'm trying to remember why I felt that way.

And the rest of you are hilarious!

Noel Green said...

Though I'm pretty sure all of mine have now made their way to the trash, I admit that getting them made me feel at least a little bit proud? happy? excited? I'm stretching for the word here . . . but it made me feel like my mom (aka Latayne). And, even in its twisted way, that made me feel very, very special.

Kathleen Popa said...

Noel, Latayne is your mom? Oh, that is very, very, VERY special! And only a little bit twisted.

Noel Green said...

Actually, Latayne is MY mom (Celeste), and I am eternally blessed by her. . . Noel's my husband - and famed son-in-law:). I just tag along on his blogger login:).

Kathleen Popa said...

Celeste, it's wonderful to meet you. Yes, you are blessed.