Ding Dong

Some people describe setbacks and rejections as opportunities.

These people are annoying as hell, and I refuse to be one of them!

Rejection is ass. Rejection makes us question something we were proud of doing, being, or participating in - or wanting to, desperately - minutes before.

You apply for a job you're sure you can do well, and hope you'll get the chance to prove it - until you get a no. You apply to the college of your choice, ready and willing to become a proud Tiger or Cowboy or Acorn or whatever - until you get a no. You write a story, a poem, a children's book, a novel, and submit it to an agent or editor, with dreams of people reading it - until you get a no. You start to wonder if you'll ever get a job, get into a school, get published.

Does God open a window when he closes a door? Because I don't know about you, but I prefer to do my coming and going through a door. (Are we trying to get in or out in that scenario? If there's a fire in the house and you can't get out through the door, then hell yeah, a window will do. But if you're trying to get in and the door doesn't open, and you find yourself saying, "Hey, look - there's an open window. I'll just go in that way," then you're likely to find yourself staring down the barrel of a .45.)

I got another no this week, and for the past two days, I've questioned whether I'm good enough to ever be what I want to be. This rejection is not an opportunity, and it is a failure. (Didn't think I'd say that? Well, I said it.) So I spent a couple of days trying to decide if I should give the whole thing up as hopeless or stubbornly continue to fail because I refused to take no for an answer.

This morning, I realized that I don't believe in destiny. I am not my past failures, or the past failures of others. I can learn from my mistakes. And I can change my plans, my direction, and if need be, my desire to write in a specific genre. I should continue to try to write for a living as long as I want to write for a living. I'm not ready to give that dream up. So I won't.

One or a hundred noes doesn't mean there isn't a yes out there somewhere.

I've just got to find the right doorbell to ring, because I'm sure as hell not trying to go through any damned window.