I’ve been thinking about these topics lately. I don’t suffer from any form of clinical depression, let me get that out up front. But it seems to me that many of us that are drawn to writing struggle with depression. I wonder if the depression is fueled by the rejection; those long hours, sitting in front of a computer, pouring our souls into a manuscript that is nothing more than a failed pregnancy of hope, stillborn to all but the writer who sees a vibrant, living work. We come in knowing of the rejection, yet somehow believe that “I’m different”.
The good news for me is that I’ve discovered that NOT writing causes my bouts of anger. My frustrations with the world melt if I can put a thousand or so words down. Rejections hurts but hey, it’s just rejection. A guy learns to deal with rejection or he never gets a date, am I right?
I think a lot of us use depression as an excuse. “I’m not going to submit, because I can’t be rejected if I don’t” Bullshit. Submit anyway. I remember when I was young and stupid, and rejections/submissions were done with snail mail because the internet was new and scary. I saved the rejections, plastered my bulletin boards with them. They reminded me that I was working, that I was doing something. I was going somewhere.
I wish rejections were still on paper. I can’t really enjoy a rejection, sent electronically, printed then pinned to the wall. Somehow, they hurt more when I can’t use them as motivation. Or maybe, I’m just using that as my excuse.