This kicks off a week of writing-related posts. Rejected, how could I not make this about writing? Here’s my picture:

You hear a lot about rejection from newbie and aspiring writers because to them it’s a big deal. There is no way to completely divide your emotions from your work. Yet the world demands that we suddenly stop caring about our work once we submit it. We can’t help thinking about how we’re going to spend that money or how good it will feel to have that credit, to see your name in print whether for the first time, or again. And we believe in our story with that shaky belief that we think it’s as good as the stuff we’ve read, so hopefully the editor will too.

So rejections are crushing, because we only see it from our side, from the point of view of what that sale would mean to us.

Now I’m going to ask you to see it from the other side with a nifty little analogy. Let’s say you have a fierce craving for a sweet snack, so you head out to the grocery store to pick something up. Now “sweet snack” does narrow what you’re looking for down some. You know you can skip the meat isle and the condiment aisle, and the cleaning supply and pet food aisles. But it’s still really vague when you get to the store. I mean, there’s candy, or fruit, or yogurt, or even breakfast cereal or granola bars, ice cream or bottles of juice.

So you browse, because you had narrowed what you were looking for, but there’s just so much in the slush pile I mean, grocery store. Something you know right off aren’t right for you. I don’t like nuts in my ice cream, and most candy makes me sick to my stomach after more than a “fun sized” portion. I can toss out anything the store has priced too high (though that part of the analogy doesn’t apply to markets, who usually put their pay rates out front and center), or that looks sketchy, is in packages too big, or that I know I won’t enjoy again later (let’s face it most packages and stories both should be good for multiple servings).

I still have way more options than I could possibly buy. And yeah, I don’t have to just buy one thing, but I can’t buy it all. The idea, when you’re on the end putting out the money–even if it isn’t your own–of feeling obligated to buy or guilty for not buying everything that fits the description of what they’re looking for is just silly. You don’t feel guilty when you grab the Oreos and not all the cookies on the shelf. You can’t. (Although, let’s face it there are some commercials and such that do operate on guilt and pressure.) And you certainly don’t feel guilty if you pass a nice thick T-bone that looks delicious, but doesn’t suit the purpose of your shopping trip. No matter how awesome it looks, it’s just not a sweet snack.

Yes, we start out with out hearts on our pages, desperately wanting that validation that we’re not wasting our time writing. But there comes a point where it just clicks and rejections are just like a consumer passing you up in your nifty packaging on the grocery shelf for something they want more. It doesn’t stop being a bit of a bummer, because you submit to places you want to be published by. But it’s not just not personal. It’s not just “a part of the game”.

Rejections usually mean nothing other than “Not this market at this time”. They don’t mean “This is shit” or “You suck” and lots of big magazine and major projects give form rejections. Notes and rewrite requests are a nice little bonus, but it’s not something everyone has time for. (Heck, sending rejections period isn’t something all markets or agents have the time for. Two books of mine queried two years apart showed a massive difference in nonresponses, even among agents who claim to answer every email on their website. And yes I sent follow up emails as well, which also went very unanswered.)

Rejections are nothing because they do not define your work, and unlike the snacks on the shelf your story isn’t going to go bad. A little spit shine can freshen up a story that’s been sitting around, even after years. Your product is done, and shelf stable, and even if no one wants to buy it now, a few years will change everything. Even if you aren’t in higher demand, tastes and markets change too.

Rejection is part of writing, part of life. Under the dazzling, squee-worthy strength of even one or two sales the rejections mean nothing but “Try again”.

I’m cheating. I took this picture last year (January 2009) but not only did I only find out this week’s concept about an hour ago, but I also can’t think of a better example of sharp, other than perhaps a bookstore or my house being the one in the picture.

Last year, on the the coldest day of the year, a 100 + year old church not far from my house burned down. This pretty much says everything about sharp. Cold, painful, uncaring. The thing to remember is that sometimes the old must be cut down to make room for the new. Sharp captures that too, decisive, neutral, necessary.

I am so tickled how well this turned out.

Last week Jason (who works 3rd shift) woke us all up for an impromptu breakfast. Driving back home, we noticed a veritable mass of birds. Since we’d only recently seen a presentation by Louisville Raptor Rehab we guessed, on pretty good evidence (that is, the fact that the birds were large, spiraling on eddies rather than flying and their wings were tipped in silver) we guessed they were turkey vultures.

Now I think this is a beautiful picture, made more so by the presence of birds considered gross at best and horrific at worst. Vultures in movies and books are often used to cast doubt on a character’s hopes of survival. But in a more metaphysical sense (since last week’s concept was faith) I think doubt, like the vulture, is vital part of life. Without it there’s no victory in faith. I also think we are supposed to doubt, it allows us to voice our fears and face our own darknesses and then chose to let them fall away (by believing anyway). There are also lessons to be learned in doubt and darkness. I believe strongly in self awareness and we are by nature flawed people. How can you achieve despite those flaws, or overcome them, if you don’t admit they’re there? We are all human and that’s why our accomplishments are so great, because we achieve despite.

And there’s that whole trope with the vultures and the people stuck in the desert.

For the full effect there’s more pictures below, and video where you can (hopefully) get a better idea of the creepiness of their pattern of movement.

Oh, and I guess I should note that we investigated the area. No bodies, but the park does have a slice of thickly treed area that they probably use as a nest.

June has been real hot and the side affects have been lots of bug activity and plants shutting down, not dying, but not growing as strongly as they normally would this time of year.

Plot #2- Tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers

Ironically the only plants really doing well are the ones I seeded myself. The store bought ones have pretty much frozen in development. I treated them for bugs (which is the first time in 3 years I’ve had to do so) and I’ll fertilize them again this weekend. They’re all healthy, just not doing much.

These are the cucumbers. You can see the insect damage, but we have baby cucumbers coming along anyway.

The grapes are doing fantastic. I’m daring to get excited.

Plot #1- Peas, Carrots, zucchini

The zucchini have suffered the worst from the infestation. This was taken then I picked a fruit off it, and the next day the bigger plant completely wilted. It’s so sad looking, but I treated these too, as well, and the big plant is still alive, growing new leaves and I hope that it makes it. The smaller back plant is just fine and starting to put off fruit too.

And in conclusion, a few flowers.

(Taken on my camera phone, but still pretty.)

]]> http://michelelee.net/blog/2010/07/long-overdue-garden-update/feed/ 0 http://michelelee.net/blog/2010/07/because-its-not-all-rants-and-bad-news/ http://michelelee.net/blog/2010/07/because-its-not-all-rants-and-bad-news/#comments Thu, 01 Jul 2010 16:55:42 +0000 Michele Lee http://michelelee.net/blog/?p=2807 Three weeks ago (almost) I posted a picture of our downstairs bathroom after it had been gutted in preparation for remodeling.

This is Before:

Now I’d like to introduce my new (and nearly done) bathroom.

There’s some trim and such that needs to be finished, and we’re not properly “moved in” yet. But we’re all very excited with how it turned out.