When you have lived somewhere long enough, worked at a job forever, when dreams end in etc., when waiting becomes endless, when change becomes impossible, when tomorrow is your only winning lottery ticket, where do you go, how do you quit, find reality, leave instead of stay and how do you flip a coin in an empty hand?
I live in a hamster wheel which
has a governor on it to slow its momentum, around and around in the same track
where time and tasks are deadening.
I want change and yet I dread it.
So I pulled my empty pocket
inside out and wrote.
It is a very revealing and serious
essay, my words, which I sent to the big guys. No humor, no tricks, no funny
stuff to connect me to the general lives of the reader I seek to discover every
time I write. Only introspection and examination of that which has always been
an uncomfortable revisit to a small part of my childhood which, for a while,
took the lead in my personal play.
It was with reservations, I sent
the essay out, because it was so blatantly honest and personal. I sizzled
with anticipation because I knew it was newsworthy, my slant a bit different
and exactly what they wanted. Or was it?
Part of me was proud of my
honesty and part of me was terrified. It left me mentally and emotionally naked.
If it ran I had no place to hide and nothing with which to cover myself. I was
convinced I was ready. But was I?
Terrified of acceptance and
heartbroken by rejection, my wheel slowed, my world paused. “What if,” became
my license plate.
My answer?
All but one editor responded.
“The piece is powerful.”
“Very well written.”
“Timely.”
“Great writing.”
“Authentic.”
Words I have sought for thirty
years. Words a writer like me dreams about, pines for, begs for, strips naked
for. They saw me, and turned away, but they looked and liked my skin. I
had done well. It was rejection without shame.
I washed myself in relief, concealed
myself in denial, slept well and moved on.
In a world of writer’s self-deception
I thanked the essayist in me for being so honest.
When was the last time you were so
honest you feared acceptance?
Obviously I had to scurry over here to see what the hell you were talking about from my own blog. You snuck this one in on me! Well done, 2N's. Those were GOOD rejections! Lovely words to read...and even though they won't run the piece, at least you know, as you say, they SAW you.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations!
Thanks Donna, best rejects ever and actually, I am relieved they didn't run it. Ha, sort of like validation without representation :)
DeleteExactly! And now, I'm also realizing my FF piece was almost fortuitous to this post. WEIRD. We must be having a brain vibe.
DeleteI hear Twilight Zone theme music.
DeleteWeird huh.
You're right, those are words every writer wants to hear. Congrats on the courage to write honestly and be rewarded for it in some way.
ReplyDeleteI've learned (and practiced) that writing honestly is (for me) the right way to go. It's the subject matter which takes that honesty to a whole new level.
DeleteIt's like eating something you assume you are allergic to. It tastes good but the anticipation of after effects creates apprehension and fear. I guess this time I ate just enough of what I cooked to get compliments and it only upset my writing-system a wee bit. Thanks for stopping by.
ReplyDelete