The quest for perfection is spelt paralysis.
— Winston Churchill

When you accept imperfection, you create movement. Your writing moves beyond mere thoughts to actual words on a page.       

My response:

I have a few spots I like but my favorite is my dining room table.

The dining room itself is pretty bare — table, chairs, a few paintings and a plant — which makes my mind feel less cluttered. The room also has two windows, allowing me to work in natural light and to have something to look out onto when I’m working through a writing issue. 

I always sit in the same spot when I write, but I sit in a different spot when I eat with my family. The two have very different energies and I can’t imagine switching off.

What’s your response?

2:32 a.m.

My writer’s alarm clock goes off, again. Damn.

This time it’s a single line that wakes me:

The passing of time … or is it the passing off of time?

Those words exactly. Their precision forces me to reach, eyes still closed, for the flashlight by my bed. Where the hell is it? My fingers grope, find it. Crap, batteries dead. Grope again for the spares I keep for just such emergencies. And this is an emergency. The line is slipping away.

Flashlight on, I find the pad and pen I keep on my bedstand. I scribble: The passing of time … or is it the passing off of time?

Was this worth getting up for? I don’t even know what it means. But I do know that if I close my eyes and wait another line may follow. Hey, I’m no fool. A line is a gift that comes of its own accord and for its own reason. It’s not for me to question.

The passing of time … or is it the passing off of time?
The handing off of days and minutes …

Patience, Beth. Patience.

…as if they were a baton.

Okay, now I can go to sleep. But then:

Life isn’t a race, but a sprint.

Corny. (Apparently, I’m awake enough to critique.)

Life isn’t a race, but a sprint.
A stroll and trip on the pavement – bruised knees and egos.

Oh, no! Is this another gloomy premenstrual musing?

Life isn’t a race, but a sprint.
A stroll and trip on the pavement – bruised knees and egos.
A getting back up and slogging along.
A pirouette.

Pirouette? Interesting choice of words.

Sit, stretch. Your turn, your turn. 

Patience, patience. Finally:

Breathe.

Nothing more.

2:54. I fall back asleep.

7:05. I wake up and immediately reach for my pad to read what I’ve written.

The passing of time … or is it the passing off of time?
The handing over of days and minutes
as if they were a baton.
Life isn’t a race, but a sprint.
A stroll and trip on the pavement -
bruised knees and egos.
A pirouette.
Sit, stretch. Your turn, your turn.
Breathe.

I’m still not sure what it means or even if I like it. And I certainly don’t know why it came to me, specifically, let alone at 2:32 a.m.. But a gift is a gift and I’ll take whatever is offered freely, knowing it offsets the times I struggle to get something – anything – on paper.

I drag myself out of bed, head to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I sit and sip, and grateful as I am, think: Leave me alone. Find someone else. I’m friggin tired.

Rejection sucks. It’s debilitating, deflating and heartbreaking. And after 20-plus years of publishing books and articles, it still throws me for a loop. It likely always will.

Nonetheless, I’ve learned to better cope with it. Let me offer the following advice, which, alas, I’ve learned the hard way.

Accept your feelings

Feelings of rejection are not going to go away just because you want them to. They’re part of the writing territory.

Rejection is a good thing

You can’t be rejected unless you go public with your work, and you can’t go public unless you’ve actually written something. Most people want to write but never do. They lack faith and guts. They fear rejection and thereby turn their backs on their dreams. Doing so is more painful than rejection itself.

Aim for faster bounce back time

You can’t inoculate or insulate yourself from rejection. It’s out there and it will strike. The key is to bounce back as quickly as you can. Can is the operative word here. Wallowing is to be expected, but there comes a point when enough is enough. Identify in advance what that point is. Too, identify what your next steps will be. For example, preaddress envelopes to send to other editors or set up interviews with experts weeks in advance. This way you can hit the ground running, no matter how shaky your knees may be.

Related WriteDirections articles you should read:

“Beware of Pestimists” - http://www.writedirections.com/pestimists.html

“How to Stall Your Writing Career” - http://www.writedirections.com/stallcareer.html

“Becoming a Writer is Not a Choice” - http://www.writedirections.com/art_writerchoice.html

“The Writer’s Heart” - http://www.writedirections.com/writerheart.html

Try using this word in a sentence between lovers or lovers-to-be:
“Ratiocinate” (rash ee OS uh nate) — to reason. Example: “Let’s get into bed, not ratiocinate,” Bob said impatiently as Vera pushed him away yet again.