The last couple of days have been good days. Well, great days really. Which is surprising because the days before were not.
They were just like a lot of days we all have. Days you’d rather forget. Days when you doubt yourself and everything you’ve become.
Days when you look in the mirror and wonder when you got so lost you’re not even sure you want to find your way back.
When I started to work on becoming a writer, a real writer, not just someone who had a drawer full of poems and stories that no-one would ever see, I told everyone – including myself – I understood rejection.
I had no idea that it actually hurt, physically hurt, when people said thanks but no thanks. They really do say that. And they’re telling me my writing isn’t good enough.
That for every ‘not bad’ there would be a hundred ‘not right for us’ or ‘thanks for contacting us but we’ll pass this time’ e-mails and letters.
You don’t notice it at first. The little leaks in your self confidence. They’re like the cam belt in your engine, wearing away – then boom. Engine blows up, car, well time to get a new one.
It sounds so self pitying. It was.
Then I tried for a guest blog spot I really wanted the other day. I sent it off, expecting to get the ‘thanks…’ e-mail. I did, but they asked if I wanted to rewrite it and send it in again.
Yesterday they said thanks. Nothing else, no maybe next time, just thanks, that’ll do. I felt like Babe for a minute there.
Then I got a little excited. Two littles actually.
This morning I got up to deal with a neighbour who had torn out my hedge when I wasn’t looking. Expected a battle. Instead I’m getting a new fence – for nothing.
Can you see where this is heading?
Off I went this afternoon to my local writers group. After a month struggling with chapter 6 of THE BOOK, I put it aside and started chapter 7 instead – yesterday.
These ladies are good, really good writers, and I knew I had to have something. Chapter 7 is almost finished, and for a first draft it’s making me happy.
I am feeling the contentment when I get home. Checking my e-mails there was one there from a poetry magazine I had submitted 3 poems to a while ago, hoping 1 might be accepted. I didn’t want to open it and ruin what was.
I am so glad I did. They want all 3 poems. All 3.
And I remembered something. Something I’d forgotten on the other days.
Why we have the other days.
They turn good days into great days.