Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Rejection. Does it really suck? Nahhhh!
Today I got another letter. It essentially said in a lovely way, "Thanks but no thanks". It hurt for about a minute. However with the sting still there, inside I felt something else bubbling up. It is joy. I know rejection is probably the worst feeling in the world. I've had my fair share. No matter the reason--love, work, art, social ties it doesn't matter it always hurts when you pour yourself into something only to me met with -- rejection.
I propose we take a moment to reflect on what professional rejection, really represents. (I don't want to touch on romance as it is so individual and multifaceted.) Instead I would like to look specifically at rejection of your work. Perhaps this sharing is on a small scale, such as friends and family. It could also be on a grand scale such as submitting your work for potential publication or even a proposal that may put your job on the line. Art, the written word, business proposals (think Shark Tank) -- your work the thing that matters to you. The thing that you create in the center of your being and dare to share it with another human being hoping for some form of validation that you are not wasting your time/life.
LET ME BEGIN THERE:
IF it comes from your heart. It is NEVER something that is unworthy. Why you ask? Because you are worthy. It is not something that another can place a value on, it is YOU, and you are priceless. The truth is professional rejection makes us stronger as artist, writers, business persons. It often pushes us to try harder, stretch our thinking, to learn more, dig deeper. It betters us.
If you are considering giving up because someone/thing has turned down your work. Perhaps it was not your heart at all that you poured into that thing. When your heart belongs to your work, you can't put it down because another person simply said, "Thanks, but not this time."
In many ways, putting your work out there for another to judge or critic makes you a winner. Many artist, writers, business persons never take that leap. They sit in the corner hoping one day that someone will walk by and notice their work. They call it humility, what it really is -- fear (of rejection). It is okay to be strong enough to say I want people to see what I have done here. It's okay really.
Think if the greats never shared their work, but instead waited for someone to hopefully notice. Which more than likely would never happen. That would mean never a piece by Edgar Allen Poe, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Stephen King-- think where the world would be.. fewer movies that's for sure. Benjamin Button would be but a lost tale, as the Great Gastby. Never would just the single word "It" have sent shivers up my spine. Never would I have an image clearly in my mind when a person says "Cugo" or "Carrie". Single word titles that strike fear into the hearts of many. English teachers everywhere at a loss on how to explore the Gothic writings, the poor Tell Tale Heart still beating yet not a soul would know. The Conquer Worm never explored.. the horror of it all.
I learned a long time ago when I was so desperate to be a published artist that many times, it is not the work that is not worthy, but the circumstances. Perhaps your piece did not work in that "issue" or that time. That does not mean it never will. My first layout was published many months after I had submitted it. In fact I forgot that I had submitted it! I now have over forty layouts published in every major magazine in the industry. Why am I telling you this? It means you must keep trying. Don't give up!
Rejection is not a reflection of YOU instead it means-- that at this time-- in this place, right now it doesn't fit. That doesn't mean it wont EVER fit.
NEXT I would like to address the concept of "You don't do it to be published."
POPPYCOCK! I am going to turn my gear toward writing for a moment but this applies in many places. If you don't write to share your stories, then why are you writing? Keep your personal journal and it doesn't matter if the structure is solid, or the characters are developed. IT IS OKAY TO SEEK OUT PUBLICATION FOR YOUR WORK. It doesn't make you prideful, or any less the artist because you have a longing to share your stories/work.
It makes you a writer/artist. I am so tired of others saying... "I don't write to get published." I call you out! IF you are not writing/creating to be published then why are you sharing? Is it that fear that you will forever be rejected by the publishing houses? YES that is what it is. The fear that others may not find value in your work? YES that is what it is. I say to that... RUBBISH... keep submitting don't be a coward. It only makes you stronger when you are rejected. You re-read that piece or as an artist you may reconsider your color scheme/and design or even reconsider the proposal and how to make it stronger. Rejection changes your thinking. It makes you LOOK at your work. If you submit your work and it is rejected, use that to build your craft not tear yourself down.
Learn from rejection , don't be hurt by it. Yes the sting will always come, but when you feel that sting, when it hurts and you begin to question yourself, smack yourself in the face and say, "OKAY how can I make this better?" Then try again! and again! and again!
Be strong and don't EVER let anyone/thing make you feel small or less valuable. You are still learning and trying a work in progress until your last breath is taken.
I have a final quote that I want to share...
"A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit." Richard Bach (Freedom with Writing)
That says it all. Never give up-- not on the things that matter.
Oh and this is good too!
UPDATE: I have submitted to two more magazines after writing this post today. Fingers crossed but if it's not to be, that's okay. See makes us stronger ;)
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Poetry-- Why not give it a shot.
“Unnoticed Bits of Commonality”
By: Erika Hayes
Mundane.
Commonplace.
Ordinary.
A pen,
A cup,
A sin
Existing in the everyday
What is the
significance of
words,
lies,
stories;
These that
haunt mankind.
Always the
unnoticed
laboring
the daily grind.
These that intrude
on our life,
“I need a
pen!”
“Where is
my cup?”
“I hide my
sin.”
The tidbits
of humanity
Create
the words,
the lies,
the stories
of our
unnoticed bits of commonality.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Second World - New Short Story
Here we are again. I have a short story to share with you. PLEASE leave a comment and let me know what you think. It was a fun piece and I enjoyed writing it. Thank you again for sharing and taking the time to read my story.
Second World
By: Erika Hayes
Charles
Nibbly sat in his blue-grey cubicle drumming his fingers. He stifled another yawn and shook his
head quickly from side to side. He sat straighter in his chair and looked at
his reflection in the monitor. He saw the wily cowlick that cursed
him for his entire life had successfully fought off his attempt to tame it with
gel and hair spray. He rocked back in
his chair he pressed his fingers to his eyes then down to his neck and massaged
the knots that had sent sharp pains down his back.
He placed his elbows on his desk and pulled
himself forward. He switched between
Facebook and his Second World game to break the monotony of his day. As he clicked between the two and commented
on political post and a few funny memes on Facebook that made him stifle a
hearty laugh. In Second World, Charles a mighty warrior defended his scantily
clad bosomy computer generated dream girl from an evil magician and his fleet
of fire breathing dragons. It passed the
hours and helped to keep his over qualified mind busy waiting for the next
routine assignment thrown at him by his under qualified supervisor. He felt no guilt for using the company time
for his internet indulgence. His job was
dull and simple. He often wound up his entire day’s tasks in less than thirty
minutes.
To
avoid awkward interactions with his manager Charles occasionally looked up,
feigned frustration and tapped on his calculator. He found that it the best way
to give the appearance of diligent work. He lifted his long lanky limbs into the space
above him to stretch his tense muscles. Rolling his shoulders, he longed for a
life with some adventure. His
postgraduate degree in predictive analytics proved useless
and the economy kept him locked to his desk.
With his
work for the day all but done, his thoughts returned to the epic battle he had
completed before work this morning. After many attempts, Charles had finally defeated
a formable foe in Second World. Inspired
by his achievement, he decided today would be different. He would do something that was truly brave.
He didn’t know what but he knew something had to change. He pushed his thick black rimmed glasses back
to the proper resting place on the bridge of his nose. The familiar chime of a Facebook notification
drew his attention. Or maybe nothing will
ever change he thought. He loosened
his Dr. Who bowtie and threw it in his desk drawer. He clicked back to Second World game where
his beautiful companion stood in the same spot waiting for him legs and breast severely
exposed. He liked that feeling. A woman waiting for him.
Monday’s
were drudgery for Charles he longed to return to the weekend activity of questing
the lands of Second World with his cyber friends. It struck him odd on several occasions that he
had a stronger bond with strangers than his own parents.
Some days Charles felt he should be
embarrassed to be twenty-six years old and still living with his parents, but
he had no reason to find a place of his own. He had job and no bills to speak
of and his mom insisted on doing his laundry. No girlfriend of life either he reminded himself.
A digital
trumpeter signaled that his new quest had begun. The world around him dissipated. Time loses its hold in Second World and soon
his fifty-minute quest was nearly over.
The reward would be the accolades of Xenra his lovely curvaceous
computer generated companion. She would promise a great rewarded when they
entered the platinum member’s, Master’s Private Chamber. Her high-quality graphics gave her a realism
that enticed him to continue to quest day in and day out. Her program gave her all the right words and
sounds when he was alone in his room. Produced to make him feel worthy, and for
now, he was satisfied with her fawning. It was worth the $14.99 a month.
His fantasy
world shattered when the smooth voice of Erin Wu cooed, “Hi Charles.” He slipped
smoothly into this world when he looked up and saw her noteworthy jade green eyes,
thick black hair tied in a messy bun and her slender athletic body.
His eyes
shifted to his computer screen. Xenra stood nearly bare outside the Master’s
Bedchamber waiting for his command to enter.
He quickly clicked the lower left edge of his computer desktop to hide
the evidence of his conquest. “Oh!” His voice squeaked. “Hi Erin.” He cleared
his throat. “Uh—How was your weekend?”
“The
usual.” Her long French manicured fingers rest on the ledge of his cubicle.
“You know nothing too great.”
“Sorry to
hear that.” He pushed his hands over the top of his thighs to smooth out the
wrinkles in his khakis. “So what can I do for you?” He was trying to play it cool
while his mind was absorbing every movement, sound and sight of her. Her floral
perfume wound into his space and he was enchanted. It held him; he longed to wrap
himself in it, in her.
Leaning
around the corner of his space to afford more privacy Erin almost whispered, “I
was wondering,” she paused took a brief look around, “do you play Second World?”
He thrust
his chin back and cocked his head. “Uh—yeah.” he was genuinely taken back by
her question. “Why?”
“Can you
friend me? I don’t have anyone to quest with. I just got started and well,” She
smiled and his heart skipped. The dark
red lipstick against her warm skin made her perfectly white teeth even more
attractive. “It’s just—I need someone to
show me around.”
Charles was
surprised to learn that someone as breath taking as Erin Wu would be playing
Second World. He assumed that most the
people that played Second World were more like him. While Charles preferred NPC (Non-Player
Characters) because the computer generated companions were always willing to go
to the Master’s Bedchamber, if Erin Wu
wanted to quest he was happy to show her the ropes. He would gladly skip the
Master’s Bedchamber for real time with Erin Wu.
“Oh uh,
sure. What’s your tag?” Her face
contorted in confusion. “Your user name” He clarified and smiled up at her
while grabbing a sticky note and a pen.
“Vixen342634”
her lips pouted, “it’s stupid, but it was all I could think of when I signed
up.”
He looked
up from his scribbled note. “Oh it’s not stupid.” He placed the note with her
username to his computer screen, “Do the numbers mean anything?”
Her cheeks
flushed a bright red. “Yeah, I uh—it’s my measurements.”
He couldn’t
stop himself. His eyes traveled up and down her body, “Oh I should have
realized that.” His eye widened when he reached her smile he looked down
quickly. “I mean—uh well—nevermind.” His face burned. The blood in his body was
struggling to determine which route to take, northern or southern. He shifted in his chair. “Oh well, yeah—” His leg was jiggling up and down like a
sewing machine. “I will find you and we can maybe quest today.”
“Thanks!”
the elevation in her voice gave him hope. “I wish my boyfriend would play.” Her
eyes downcast “But he said it was a stupid time sucker for nerds.”
The
shot to his chest was quick and sharp. A
boyfriend, of course she has a boyfriend.
She added softly. “ Um—not that you’re a nerd,
it just he’s kind of a jerk. He just doesn’t get it. You know, like you get it.”
She looked up again and held his gaze.
Charles
chest warmed. Hope flickered and he smiled.
Was she coming on to him he wondered.
Stupid look at her, there is no
way she is coming on to you! “Oh—yeah
that’s cool. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He held his breath.
“Yeah,
but—well never mind.” Her eyes suddenly appeared glassy.
“Oh! I’m
sorry I didn’t mean to pry.” He handed her a Kleenex from his desk. “I—I just never heard you talk about him is all.”
“It’s
okay.” She accepted the tissue and flashed him a quick smile. “I think one of
the reasons I want to play is well, sometimes I just need to get away.” She
looked up than back down again. “I knew
you played and I thought—“
She was
confiding in him. He knew that was a
good sign. She needed someone, and he
could offer his small but strong shoulder. “I just want to—I don’t know I wanted to...” Her
large almond eyes flickered as she tried to hold back the inevitable tear.
“I
understand if you don’t want to talk about it.” He fought the urge to stand and
embrace her. “We can stick to the game. Sorry.” He clinched his fist and struggled
against the instinct to punish himself.
“I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“No. It’s
okay, really.” She dabbed at the tears that made her already long dark lashes
appear even darker. “I—I could use a friend right now.” she took in a large
breath and exhaled hard. “Can we maybe
talk later?”
Friend, of course friend. I am always their friend. Damn it! He was lamenting when he realized she was staring
at him waiting for an answer. “Sorry—I
just— I mean, you…”
She forced
a smile. “I understand, work and all.” She looked down at her shiny black
stilettoes. “Maybe later?” The small streak
of makeup under her eye had drawn his attention.
“Oh no, I
was listening it’s just that you have a little smear,” he reached up and wiped
the smudge away. “right here.” He pushed back in his chair and crossed his foot
over his knee. “I have time right now, I mean if you wanna talk.”
His reward
was another big smile. She tilted her head down and touched her cheek where his
hand had rested. A warm glow flushed her
cheeks. She looked up and her eyes had changed. No longer were they sweet and
innocent but a sultry look held him mesmerized. Her voice had softened to a
purr. “I would love that.” She turned
slowly never taking her eyes off his.
Charles attempted
to clear his head with a slight shake. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He knew
that today he was tired of being nobody. No real woman had ever looked at him
that way. His pulse quickened. He shifted in his chair. A bead of sweat
trickled down his chest. He caught his breath. He lifted his hand to stop her
from leaving. “Hey you wanna grab some lunch?”
Many times, he had dreamt of asking her out.
He never believed the opportunity or possibility would arise. He had practiced
repeatedly at home in his bathroom mirror. It would be romantic and memorable.
His palms
were moist. He licked his dry cracking lips. I’m so stupid, ‘wanna grab lunch?’ really? How frickin’ romantic was
that? His thoughts bounced but time
seemed to stop as he watched her for any sign of rejection. The sounds of the
office melted into nothing. He tried not to hold his breath, but found himself
becoming dizzy at the lack of oxygen.
Erin turned
and gave her full attention. She looked
around and gave him her coveted sexy half grin, “Yeah that would be nice. What
time?”
He looked
at his desk clock, lifted his arms and locked his fingers behind his head as he
leaned back in his chair. He could not believe how strong he felt. “Now?” Surprised at his own courage, he sat up
straight again and leaned toward Erin cocked his head. He decided this was his moment then blurted
out, “Or.” Shocked at how loud he had started he deepened his voice and
continued, “Or, we can do dinner.”
She arched
her eyebrow cupped her chin between her thumb and fingers, looked up as if she
were deep in thought. “Hummmm.”
He
attempted to make his intention boldly clear. Charles Nibbly was asking Erin Wu
out on a date. He could barely hear over
the pounding of the blood in his ears. He
lifted his hands and large lump formed in his throat. He thought that he needed
to give her an out and stuttered, “Or, Whatever. You know.”
Then he fought to manage his breathing.
“How about
both?” her mouth upturned into a half smile.
“Yeah,
really?” His voice cracked again like a prepubescent boy.
She let out
a soft seductive laugh. “Really” She leaned over his desk. His eyes immediately
drawn directly to her round ample bosom pushed up in a lacey black bra. She
planted a warm soft kiss on his cheek. “Maybe breakfast?” the purr in her voice
left no question to her intention.
Charles
felt the heat of her breath in his ear.
The hair on his arms stood erect with anticipation. He relished in the
softness of her lips still fresh on his cheek.
He had spent many nights alone in his room with Erin as the center of
his fantasies. He tried to deepened his
voice, “Okay, well let me just shut down my computer.”
He moved
his cursor and hovered over shutdown icon he reached for his jacket, smiled up
at Erin and winked. “Then we can get out of here.”
“Oh and
Charles,” leaning deeper she took his hand.
Her long black hair fell from its makeshift bun and cascaded over her
shoulders. The sweet scent of her perfumed hair coiled into his nostrils. He
breathed in deeply to take in every second of this moment.
“Yeah?”
“It’s time
to wake up.”
He blinked
his eyes, looked up at his computer screen just as Erin Wu walked passed his
desk, and cursed quietly “Damn it!”
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