Remembering my "why"

Because if not, these rejections might take me out

First rejection email: 5/27. Second rejection email: 6/5. More rolling in. I’ve been told this is the nature of being a writer and submitting work to several publications. The odds are low and publications are competitive.

I first submitted to a magazine years ago and got an immediate rejection. I was part of the slush pile. I also hated the poem I submitted, so it didn’t really faze me. These recent ones though, oh they stung. I was so deeply proud of these poems. I held them close to my chest for a minute before deciding to take the leap and submit. This first recent rejection stung bad because it sounded like I was so close.

It’s one thing to be rejected, but an entirely different thing to be in the runner up pile. Since I came so close, I thought maybe I might have a real chance with the others. Then the second rejection came.

Making it to the last or near last round cannot be my fate. Nothing fuels me more than being “almost” good enough. So I got on my grind and started studying and practicing more.

But at some point, I had to stop and remember my why. I recently joined a session with the Poetry is Not a Luxury Club with Sasadya Jayde’s community and was reminded of the reasons I write. Reading the Poetry is Not a Luxury essay by Audre Lorde gives me a different takeaway every single time. That last session and reading was so so healing and really anchored why I do this.

I started writing because I felt called to. Then I kept writing because it felt good. It was my therapy. It was the form my imagination wanted to land in. It was the way my soul wanted to reflect my subconscious thoughts to me. It was the mode I could most easily express myself. And now, coming back home to this practice, writing is my liberation from the rigidity of the world, from corporate life, from uniformity. It’s a tool of self-discovery. Self dialogue. Self-acceptance.

The type of writing I’m called to is all experimental or hybrid, which makes sense with my desire to escape defined forms. Prose poetry. Free verse. Lyric, fragmented, memoir-style essays. I like writing that reflects humanity. The way we speak, think, breathe. I like writing that fits outside of the box. (Shameless plug for my collection of poetry, The Box)

I remember first approaching writing beyond just a hobby. I wanted to do things “the right way”. I wouldn’t start a publication or even think about a book until a full plan of taking courses, pursuing a degree, etc was fleshed out. Thank goodness I eventually let that go. I learned far more from just jumping in.

I remembered how I followed the path to a corporate career perfectly. Got the grades. Got the degree. Did the internships. Found the best paying path. And I hate every single moment of it. I hate every moment of my corporate life and always have, outside of the amazing people I’ve met along the way. So why would I replicate the exact same path in my journey with writing? Why would I start over again, taking back-to-back courses to get better at writing more competitive pieces for these competitive publications, to compete for the best MFA program, to apply for competitive book deals, to compete for a spot on the shelves, and compete for more sales, and on and on and on.

And to be honest, with all of the workshops I’ve taken recently, a decent number of them have acknowledged the fact that the rigid rules of the craft originated with old white men. Several times, I found myself slowly erasing my voice and natural flow to sound more like “real poetry” just to make my work more marketable. I refuse to turn writing into the exact same struggle I’m living now. Yes, of course I want to be great, but not the “traditional” way.

With this in mind, I’m trying to view these rejections through a new lens. They are trophies of validation. At least one person from the editing team of these publications, likely a few people, read my work. And enjoyed it. Debated on its fit amongst the others. Others that have taken more traditional routes like an MFA, several published books, etc. Folks likely with far more years and practice with this craft than I have yet. My work sitting next to theirs is one of the most honorable positions for me at this stage of my writing journey. Especially since the poems I sent are more experimental or hybrid, and written with passion and just a few workshops of craft knowledge. I can only hope these are foreshadowing glimmers of what’s possible for me when I’m more practiced in the craft. But if it all stops here, which I doubt, this has to be good enough.

Writing for liberation, expression, discovery, and therapy has to be the reason for it all. Then whoever chooses my work in the future, if ever, will be a bonus to my journey. Not my reason why.

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