This is where I date myself. Not date myself in the wine and roses and happy ending way (although I’d be a sure thing, so it’s not a bad idea), but a “lemme show you how old I am” kind of way.
Who remembers TGIF? Always had THE BEST shows, right? When you were younger you lived for TGIF. The Tanner family, the Winslow family, the Matthews family… they were all extensions of my own. I loved them dearly.
Why am I thinking of TGIF? Because this #WriteOnFriday I am exceptionally grateful it’s Friday. My mantra can easily be summed up by the four letters that defined happiness in my childhood: Thank Goodness It’s Friday. (Before I get shouty comments… I know the actual TGIF stood for Thank Goodness It’s Funny. This is called indulgence. Leave me alone.)
It. Has. Been. A. Week.
And the worst part? My brain has been eerily quiet. Even during the phases of my life where I wasn’t actively writing daily, I always had those voices in my head. Weaving stories that lulled me to sleep. Whispering the tales of their lives anytime I encountered silence, and even often when I didn’t. But this week has rendered my imaginary friends mute.
I had a rough rejection. It came at a hard time for me and it was a submission I’d pinned my heart and soul to. I know, I know. That’s a mistake I’d warn anyone else against, but you just can’t help it sometimes. We’ve all done it.
How did I handle it? Honestly in the worst way possible. Something I’d never recommend. I locked myself away. I cried. I sobbed the kind of sobs that are from your soul and so deep that you don’t even have tears. Yes, I know writers have a flair for the dramatic, but not one word of that was embellished. In the interest of full disclosure there were a couple of other things that fed into it as well, but… yeah. I’m still reeling a bit and my normally sensitive heart is bruised and sore.
Why am I telling you guys all this? Because I want a pity party? Because I need sympathy or attention? Nah, none of that.
I’m sharing because it’s real. Rejection hurts. Facing it in the solitary lifestyle that’s typical for writers can make it worse. Being turned down professionally is only compounded when it’s a darkness you face alone. But, as the saying goes, you’ll never know how strong you are until it’s your only choice.
So even though my voices are quiet, I’m writing.
Even though each word is a struggle, I’m writing.
Even though it’s the very last thing on the planet I want to do right now, I’m writing.
Because strong is my only choice and writing is my greatest passion.
And if you find yourself with an ugly R staring you in the face, know you aren’t alone. I’m here and I won’t let you go through it solo. Reach out anytime, friend.
Amelia Foster 