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.

Tammara Webber

New York Times and international bestselling author of contemporary romantic fiction