Losing Graciously
At any one time, I likely have 20 to 25 games of Scrabble going on my Scrabble Go app. As the saying goes, I win some and I lose some. Whether I win or lose, though, I always like to think I’m trying my best and that I’m improving with each game. If there’s an opponent that regularly beats me, I give myself a metaphorical pat on the back if/when I am finally able to best them. And when I lose?
Most who know me know me as someone who values competition, who “plays to win,” as they say. To that end, there have been many times in my life when I haven’t lost graciously (especially when playing games with family members). While I know, intellectually, that it’s silly to blame an opponent for beating me in a game, I have been one of those people who has, on occasion, expressed anger at an opponent for winning (again, usually a family member). The anger, though, is really at myself, of course, for losing. Perhaps there’s a tinge of embarrassment there, too, especially if we think we’re good at something.
In Scrabble, because of how frequently I play, I have found myself becoming practiced at the art of losing graciously. And when one of my opponents (most of whom are complete strangers to me) plays a 158-point bingo (this recently happened), I use the chat function in the app to say “Nice play!” And I mean it.
Learning to lose graciously is a skill that all writers need to learn because rejection–another kind of losing–is inevitable if you’re a writer who wishes to publish. And it doesn’t matter whether you’re an academic writer, a creative writer, a technical writer, or any other kind of writer.
It Is Glorious Even to Fail
A month or two ago, I found this “fortune” in a fortune cookie from my Chinese take-out. It says: “In great attempts it is glorious even to fail.”
I kept the fortune as a reminder of the joyful ludicrousness that is the act of writing, particularly in regard to publishing. If we don’t even try, there’s no possible avenue for success. As such, writers who are “failing” (by receiving rejections) are succeeding much more than those writers who have not even made an attempt (to publish).
There’s a saying that you can’t edit a blank page (the quote is attributed to Jodi Picoult). That is, of course, true. You also can’t publish anything if you don’t ever submit anything. Writing and submitting one’s writing are both courageous acts, and it is glorious to fail in either task because it means you’ve tried.
Failure Is Success.
I’m not actually a fan of the word “fail” (or of “failure,” for that matter). The word “fail” has a negative all-or-nothing connotation that really isn’t fair. I don’t believe that the opposite of failure is success. Instead, I believe that failure is success. At the very least, it’s part of the process leading toward success.
Failure is success. Sounds a little Orwellian, doesn’t it?
When you try to log on to a site and can’t remember your password, you might get an error message telling you that you have failed. It might not tell you explicitly that you have failed, but the inference is there. So…you try again, perhaps resetting your password, and eventually (hopefully) you succeed–you’re able to log on to the site. In this way, “failure” isn’t terminal; you have a chance to try again.
Likewise, in school, if you fail a test, that isn’t (hopefully) the end of it for you. You strive to do better on the next one and you hopefully pass the class. But even if you fail the class, you will often get a chance to take it again. In this sense, failure isn’t the end but the beginning. It leaves you wide open for future success.
When Work Gets Rejected
For many years, when I was only intermittently submitting work to journals, long before I completed either of my master’s degrees, almost every poem or story I submitted ended up as a rejection.
Back then, I knew a lot about writing; at the same time, though, I knew very little about writing. My understanding of writing at that time came from more of an intuitive place. I participated in workshops, took classes, and read books about writing; but, as they say, hindsight is 20/20. As knowledgeable as I may have been, I was also very green.
I expected the rejections (most writers I know take rejections as a natural part of the writing life), but they still frustrated me. They tended to be stock form letters: Sorry, this isn’t right for our publication. We wish you luck placing it elsewhere. Yada, yada, yada. (In this period of time, which stretched at least ten years, I did actually have a few poems published; additionally, I won a poetry contest and won an honorable mention in another poetry contest. So, it wasn’t all for naught.)
I’ve also received rejections stating that the rejection isn’t a reflection on my writing but of its fit for that particular journal. The most delightful rejection letter, though, that an author can receive is that with a personalized note, something like, “Jessica, thank you for letting us read this story! The staccato nature of the language is really effective at building the tension here. I’m sorry to say no, but it’s not quite right for [journal name]. However, we hope you’ll submit to us again in the future.”
Encouragement to submit to a journal again is always a positive thing. I’ve received quite a few of these kinds of rejections in the last year.
Rejection Reflection
While a rejection may not be a reflection of the writing itself, it is (in my view) a positive reflection on the writer. That is to say, the more rejections a writer receives, the closer they come to publication.
Additionally, rejection allows for the writer to reflect on the piece of writing. With each rejection I receive, I tend to revise the piece and resubmit it (to a different journal, of course). Often when I revisit a story after it’s been rejected, I think, ugh, I can see why they rejected it. We are often much too close (emotionally) to a piece to see it objectively. But as time goes by, we (hopefully) gain more insight into the craft of writing and are also better able to separate ourselves from a particular piece and look at it more closely and with a more objective eye.
Self-reflection is essential for writers. It’s essential for anyone really, but it’s especially important for writers. We need to reflect on the craft of writing regularly, and we need to learn to lose graciously. Just like it can be frustrating or embarrassing to lose at Scrabble (or any game), it can be frustrating or embarrassing to have a piece rejected over and over again. Especially if we think the story is good. Especially if we think we are good. It can make us feel like we’re failing over and over again. I assure you, though, we’re not. Writing is, at its core, a humbling act. And remember, too: Failure is success.
Submit, Submit, Submit!
In the last four years (and primarily in the last two), I’ve made 59 fiction submissions to journals; many of those were the same few pieces sent to multiple journals (usually with revisions in between). Four pieces were selected for publication. I currently have eight separate stories out for consideration. As rejections come in, I will revise each of those stories as needed and resubmit them to other journals. That’s the nature of the writing game, particularly for those of us who write short fiction.
I must emphasize how especially proud of myself I am for having eight “finished” stories currently out there awaiting rejection. It has long been my goal to have a rolling inventory of stories; that is to say, when a rejection comes back, I revise the story and send it somewhere else. With enough stories out there, I could be receiving rejections on a weekly basis! How exciting! Having more stories out there increases my chances for publication. It also, by its very nature, increases my chances for failure–but such glorious failure!
Much like every part of writing, the submission process is a process, and it’s intwined in the revision process. Each part of the process (as is the nature of any process) gets the writer closer to their goal.
Failure Is the Only Option
You know the quote, “Failure is not an option“? Well, in writing, I think failure is often the only option. When it comes to writing, failure equals progress. And not just progress but glorious progress! It’s glorious to “fail” as a writer because it means we’re trying. It means we’re improving as writers and getting closer to “success.” (What is meant by “success” is a topic for another post, although I touch on it a bit in this previous post…)
Cheers!
Failure is glorious, and it teaches us what it is to be human. I don’t know about you, but I have learned from failure multiple times (and not just in regard to writing). And learning, to me, is a huge part of writing–perhaps the most important part. We never know it all, no matter how many degrees we have.
So, here’s to failure! And to subsequent success! Cheers!
9 Comments
Maryann Aberg · December 10, 2020 at 6:15 am
Have you been able to determine why your writing submissions might have been rejected? Can you suggest an effective method for writers to conduct such an analysis? For instance, what is the relative importance of “content” and “form” in constructing powerful narratives? What is the value of understanding and speaking directly to a particular “audience” for each piece? How might the answers to these and other questions help writers improve their work?
Jessica Klimesh · December 10, 2020 at 9:31 am
Maryann, thanks for your comment!
The submission process tends to be much more complicated than looking for ways to improve one’s work, though that, of course, can be part of it. Overall, it’s a highly competitive process. Journals are reading hundreds or thousands of stories and have to pick just a small number to publish. One of the general rules is to always read a publication before submitting there so that you can get an idea of what kind of work they’re looking for. Some places like more conventional writing; others are open to experimental work. Writers expect to receive lots of rejections just because of the nature of the process. For me, a large part of the process is also deciding which journals to submit to. There are endless numbers of them, and it can take hours (or days) trying to find the right journal for a particular story. Rejection in and of itself doesn’t indicate poor writing (though it, of course, can); it often just means it’s not the right journal for that story. The last story I had published was one I had submitted to a number of journals, with only minor (or no) revisions in between. Many journals allow for simultaneous submissions in part because the rate of acceptance for most journals is quite low. Submitting, one might say, is as much of an art form (in some ways) as that of the act of writing. I guess my point of the post is the importance of rejection. It would be very rare for a writer to publish without receiving lots of rejections. There are always anecdotes of famous writers who have papered their walls with rejection slips or who make it a goal to get, for example, 100 rejections a year. Rejections are a kind of rite of passage in that sense. The more, the merrier!
As for your question as to “content” versus “form,” it’s not a quick answer. For me, personally, the form must match the content, but I also tend toward experimental forms. Many journals don’t want experimental, so I have a harder job of finding appropriate journals for my work 🙂 .
Karen :) · December 10, 2020 at 1:30 pm
I needed this encouragement today, thanks, Jessica. Keep writing!
Jessica Klimesh · December 10, 2020 at 1:43 pm
Thanks for the feedback, Karen! I think I wrote it in part as encouragement for myself, too. It’s easy to start doubting one’s ability without keeping in mind the bigger picture. (I had been wanting to write this post for a while–it just took me a while to get it done 🙂 .)
Karen :) · December 10, 2020 at 1:55 pm
I’m not certain if I’m overly sensitive, but I even become discouraged when one post doesn’t receive as many views as another. Crazy!
Jessica Klimesh · December 10, 2020 at 2:13 pm
I can totally relate!!
When we write, we are baring ourselves (essentially). We are divulging parts of ourselves in an–often–very public way (e.g., blogs). So, I think it’s natural to feel that uncertainty that leads to discouragement if we feel our writing doesn’t speak to others the way it speaks to us. We feel exposed and maybe even embarrassed for sharing our thoughts. I think discouragement, then, is a natural result of that, even if it isn’t altogether rational. I think I said this in the post, too, but writing and sharing one’s writing are very courageous acts. Writers are brave, especially considering that some of us tend to be introverted and “private.” 🙂
Karen :) · December 11, 2020 at 5:16 am
I hadn’t thought of that vulnerable perspective but oh my, your words ring true for me! Yes! This makes sense now. We must be courageous to share ourselves with the world, and then feel as if we are ‘cowering” as we wait to see how people accept us or our perspectives. Thank you so much! Onward… 🙂
Amy Christensen · December 11, 2020 at 4:27 pm
This is a good post and so needed for all of us who are trying to write for public consumption. I feel the same way as you and Karen, as far as feeling a little bummed when people don’t comment on my blog. I try to tell myself that people are reading, they just are not taking the time to comment. I have had people tell me, they love my blog, but they never comment. That’s a little different than writing to publish, but the emotional investment is still a large one. I think it is easy to fall into a despondent frame of mind with regard to writing, because without the feedback, you don’t know if what you are doing is working. I need to work on getting more rejections! Ha, ha. That’s awesome that you have so many things out there to get rejected. Thanks for sharing your insights. – Amy
Jessica Klimesh · December 11, 2020 at 6:30 pm
Blogging does indeed entail a large emotional investment. In some ways, in fact, it might even be more of an emotional investment than a story being sent out for publication. With a story, there is someone else–likely more than one person–making the decision as to whether to publish your work. As such, if they choose to publish it, you might feel confident about it, more so than you did before sending it out. With a blog, though, we are making our own decisions of whether to publish it or not–most of us don’t have outside input as to the quality of the blog. As such, we hit “publish” and hold our breath, hoping to get some positive feedback from it. Like you and Karen, I also tend to feel insecure about what I’ve written if I’m not getting comments/feedback. It just makes us feel so exposed and unsure about our words. While I think it’s important that we feel confident in our abilities (without needing for the “likes” and comments), I think we must also acknowledge that we’re human–I believe it’s human nature to seek approval from others, even if, intellectually, we know it’s silly to do so.