new year, same imposter syndrome
somehow the fear of striking out has in fact, kept me from playing the game.
the first time my poetry was ever rejected was in college. one of my professors insisted that part of the writing process is putting your work out there for review (and she was right!) and part of that meant experiencing getting rejected.
honestly? i’ve submitted so much work that has gotten rejected since then, i can’t even begin to talk about what poem it was or which publication. because ultimately, rejection feels and looks the same.
i’ve gotten beautiful rejections, like this one, which i’ve kept in my inbox for years:
“Thank you so much for sharing your work with us. That you chose us as one of the places to see it is deeply meaningful to our team.
Unfortunately though, the poetry is not right for our schedule at this time. Our readers did, however, mark your work as particularly intriguing and we want to offer our sincere encouragement.
All of the team wishes you the very best with your efforts to find a home for these poems. Please know that you're an important voice in our community and we would all be lesser without you.”
and sometimes, most often, i’ve not gotten a response at all. this in a way feels more considerate than anything else, because i choose to believe we aren’t wasting each others time.
regardless, i know what it feels like to be told no. not now. never. work harder. do it differently. and - it doesn’t get any more comfortable, but it does get easier to understand. it feels less personal, and more honest.
i think that we all want to feel special. this doesn’t just apply to writing. i’m not going to lie and pretend that when my yoga teacher calls me out for great form, i don’t think, “wait am i better than everyone?” and conversely, when i see someone else receiving praise, i do feel a tinge of jealousy or competition. i really struggled with this in college, particularly because i was surrounded by writers - and writers that were honestly better than me. i so often would spend days in an insecure haze, wondering why i would even bother trying to submit my work. it didn’t matter that i would receive inordinate amounts of encouragement and compliments, because i would focus on the constructive criticism, or the way someone else did it better.
i look back on this now and laugh a little nervously, because aside from the cringey behavior i exhibited in college, i feel empathy for my past self. she thought she had no right to chase her dreams, or live her passions. i want to tell her that the lamest thing she could ever do is give up trying. that, if she can’t trust herself with her work, of course she will never trust what anyone else has to say about it.
so yes, there are missed opportunities and chances i wish i had taken that i held myself back from. but, now i submit my work almost every week. i let the rejection rain down on me, and move on. and some days, i get really lucky. most recently, my two poems were accepted to fifth wheel press, a queer baltimore based press that will publish their anthology “come sail away” in winter 2023. which is mind-blowing.
the worst thing you could ever do is give up on yourself, and what you love. i’ve done it. but the siren’s call of writing always pulled me back in, because i love it. and i love it for me, not for anyone else.
so keep trying to do the thing you love. your brain and your heart will thank you.
with that, i’ll leave you a poem:
-
wild pine and spiced orange
body products are 60% off
today, so i write back
to the ad that slithered
into my inbox
to ask if the scent could
mask the stench of embarrassment
i get when i ‘forget’ to eat
the leftovers i tucked
in the back of the fridge
again, and order chipotle
for the second time
this week
when the no-reply bounces back
at me
i decide not to spend another dollar
hoping capitalism fills this void.
xo,
strega clare