The April Recap of Scribblings and Strivings
What I wrote, what I read, and what I learned about trying again.
Several rejections made their way to me as April pollinated the air, and I’m choosing to view those as confirmation that I am putting myself out there. Words that remain fiercely cocooned in my password-protected, personal computer are not subject to the approval or disapproval of others. But they don’t go anywhere, either. And if I want to grow as a writer, opening myself up to rejection is healthy way to start.
When I first began submitting my writing anywhere outside my own blog, a response that said “we’re not going to take this” was enough to make me want to curl into a ball and shove the offending article into a draft folder and never pull it out again.
There have also been times when a rejection has raised my defensive hackles, and I've either submitted my piece someplace “easy,” or self-published it, just so I could see my words in print (well, the Internet equivalent of print).
Understanding your limitations as a writer is a good thing. Sometimes a piece just won't take off— the premise is misguided, the execution is wonky, or maybe you're just not the right person to tell that particular story or make that particular joke. It's OK to say “this doesn't work.” It's also good to recognize that you're not always the problem. Sometimes a piece is rejected because it simply isn't a good fit for the place you hoped it would find a home.
I think there's a lot to be gained from a confidence-boosting message of “keep trying, you'll find the right spot.” But I think there's a sweet spot in the middle, too, where you can look at what you have, accept constructive criticism, and rework the piece.
“Try again” doesn't necessarily have to mean “turn right around and re-submit to the next place on your list.”
It can mean “revise.” It can mean “this needs work.” And it can mean, “you’re almost there, but not quite yet.”
The truth is that every rejection stings, and that’s a truth that won’t go away no matter how high you climb. (So I hear. I haven’t climbed too high yet.) But what you do with that sting makes a big difference in how high you’ll continue to climb.
I took one of those rejections, read the comments from the editor who was telling me “no,” and did nothing for twenty-four hours. Then I pulled the offending article out again, took a deep breath, and ruthlessly cut out what didn’t work. I punched it up. I came back the next day and cut what didn't really work from the punch-ups (that hurt, too). When I submitted it to a different publication—one I really respect, whose “no” would sting but would be fair, I knew—I held my breath, again.
This time, it got accepted.
(You’ll see the finished product soon. But not today.)
I think the moral of this story is that there's no "hack" for knowing when you've made a piece of writing the best it can be. There's no secret formula to the submission process, and there's no magic editing wand. Sometimes you've taken something as far as it's willing to go, and it's up to you to decide if it's too near and dear to your heart to let go (at which point, self-publishing just so it can go to print is an option!) or if you need to “kill your darlings” and make it better.
Sometimes I think we newer, struggling writers assume that the reason our work isn’t getting published is because the right editor just hasn’t landed on it yet. We use success stories like J.K. Rowling and her legendary repeatedly-failed submissions of the Harry Potter manuscript as a fantasy crutch, hoping that we just haven’t struck it rich yet (but someday we will, and we’ll sell a billion books and be mega-famous).
And maybe, for some, that will be true. But the rest of us? Maybe we just need to edit a little more, and take out the parts we thought were good, and replace them with parts that were better. Even if we already did that! Do it again. And again. Writing is rewriting.
Writing is also what Anne Lamott famously called “sh*tty first drafts” and that’s what I’ve got on the burner now.
One of my goals for the month of May is to write 10,000 words of fiction. Now, 10,000 of almost anything else seems like a lot. (Dollars? Yes. Jellybeans? My gosh. Little craft pom-poms that get scattered and strewn throughout the house by an exploratory toddler? Don’t even joke about it.) But 10,000 words of fiction isn’t really very much. It’s 20% of the goal for National Novel Writing Month, if you want to put it in perspective.
But since I am working on setting myself realistic goals, in the hope of actually completing them rather than flailing in the dust of failure and wailing in defeat, I’m aiming for 10,000. If I write a little bit every day, I only need to do 334 words each time. If I assume (more realistically) that I’ll write five out of every seven days, then I’m still only looking at approximately 500 words a day. And that seems reasonable. In the words of the book my son is currently obsessed with (which, as a matter of fact, I can now recite from memory in its entirety), “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”
Now for some links to what I wrote last month!
April started off with a piece that took a surprising amount of research. (Surprising if you read all the way to the end, that is.)
The Reclusive Ghostwriter Behind “Little Women” and “Anne of Green Gables” in The Victorian Lady’s Column
That remark about setting realistic goals? Yeah, that’s a conclusion I drew from writing this piece about exercise:
Here’s Why I Always Hurt Myself When Trying to Get Back in Shape
I was delighted that this humor piece, which sat for nearly two years in my drafts folder (!) found a home in one of my favorite humor publications once I finally came up with an ending:
If You’re the First Husband of a Plucky Pioneer Woman in a Hallmark Movie, You Should Be Deeply Afraid in Jane Austen’s Wastebasket
Some (self-published, since I haven’t yet found a good landing place for my faith-based writings) musings on Easter weekend:
Good Friday Didn’t Go My Way, and That’s Kind of Fitting
This profile of a real, bona fide Victorian woman was also a lot of fun to write:
Martha Wright, Two-Hundred-Year-Old Feminist Abolitionist, Made Me Laugh Out Loud in The Victorian Lady’s Column
And, just for fun—a test-your-knowledge game made up of real and fake Jane Austen quotes. How well do you know her words?
Quiz: Did Jane Austen Actually Say That?
I would have liked to write at least one book review in April, but alas, it was not to be. Mayhap May will bring an essay on either Great Expectations or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (both very enjoyable re-reads) or maybe even some thoughts on Emily St. John Mandel’s The Glass Hotel, which was a new read for me and a stunning, memorable one.
But if I’m being realistic, the book I’m probably most equipped to write about this coming month (if we’re counting number of re-reads, that is—thank you, toddler son) would be King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub.
As always, thank you for reading! I’ll be back in early June.
P.S. From the archives (that is, last April)…
Ten Rock-Solid, Argument-Proof Reasons Why I Have Not Replied to Your Email Yet
I’m Ashamed of the Christian Response to Covid-19
Please, Keep Telling Your Joy-Filled Marriage Stories
P.P.S. And if you missed it, here’s last month’s newsletter!