|
||||||||||
|
Subscribe to the Absolute Write Newsletter and get the Agents! Agents! Agents! report free! Click here.
|
Win a 1-year subscription to Writer's Digest by subscribing to Absolute Markets-- all paying markets for your writing. Click here. |
|
| |||||||||||||
|
|
A Different Fear of Rejection By Rachel Hartman
"Rachel, you can’t hide it forever." My husband, Mike, was trying to be patient. But we were having the same conversation for at least the twelfth time and it was headed to its usual place-- a dead end. He was right, and we both knew it. I couldn’t keep my writing career a secret for eternity. But I wouldn’t budge on the matter. I wanted to stay undercover, to continue working as a stealth writer, only coming out when no one else was around.
Besides, in my defense, I hadn’t kept my writing a secret to everyone. It was certainly not a secret to editors, writers' groups, and various online forums. I was not secretive around Mike, my biggest supporter. I had even mentioned the writing thing to a few close friends. But I hadn’t shared this bit of news with everyone in my life. In fact, there were two figures in particular that I had not yet worked up the nerve to tell. Two people who knew me from birth, had raised me in a loving home, and even though we lived far away, still called me once a week to chat. I was hiding my writing activities from my parents.
This problem led to the ongoing discussions about why I wouldn’t tell them. Perhaps it boiled down to the fact that I was afraid of rejection. Not the kind that came in the rejection letters I regularly received. Those letters had a comforting ring in them compared to what I feared my parents’ response would be.
I’ll admit that this fear was rather ungrounded. I have wonderful parents. If there were a school for parenting, they would have graduated top of their class, decked out with awards and stars. They had always been supportive of my choices in the past. When I left home and moved abroad, they applauded my decision. My choice of mate had been no different. Their relationship with my husband could be described as "love at first sight." So why would they be any different about my writing?
Maybe it was because I had gone to college for a degree in accounting. Their favorite phrase about this choice always began with the words, "It’s so practical." Due to my husband’s job, we moved frequently, and they took comfort in knowing that I could pick up a steady paycheck wherever we lived. Now, writing and crunching numbers are not exactly in the same field; in fact, they could be used in a dictionary to fully expound on the meaning of "opposites."
Partly to appease my husband, and partly to prepare for the pending, inevitable confrontation, I came up with a plan. I would make my writing public, and inform my parents of my new path, after I sold my first piece. A few months and many rejections later, I received a different looking piece of mail. It was an acceptance letter. My first sale was in the bag.
After a celebration toast, Mike set down his wine glass and asked about the upcoming announcement. The what? Oh, yeah. I fidgeted in my chair. I looked down and pushed my wine glass away. Well, I told him, maybe I will wait for just one more sale.
And so we waited for one more sale. And then another. After selling my third article, he stopped asking about it. Instead, he took a different approach. "If they ask about it, you can’t lie, Rachel." He was right again. I had not lied about it and did not want to. I agreed that if it came up in conversation, I would be open and honest. This turned out to be relatively simple. How often did people call me out of the blue to see if I had thought about writing as a career? Not my parents.
Still, I avoided the subject at all costs. I knew my parents wondered what I did in my free time, which was, of course, the time I spent writing. I talked about cooking. I thoroughly explained the new recipes I was trying. I went over the details of creating a thick, spicy curry. I could almost hear them thinking, "She spends all of her time in the kitchen? Is this our daughter?" But I wouldn’t budge.
Mike’s next attempt of persuasion included building my self-confidence about writing. If the number of sales under my belt didn’t help, I must need to build my mental stamina. We practiced. We invented "what if" scenarios. I sat up straight in my chair and told Mike how excited I was about my writing career. I stood in the bathroom and told the mirror about my accomplishments, smiling and twinkling my eyes. Then the phone rang. Was it Mom and Dad calling? My stomach clamped and I staggered toward the phone, shoulders slumped.
Life, as it always does, marched on. One morning I turned on the computer, checked my inbox, and saw that my mom had sent an e-mail. In the subject line was the name of a publication that had accepted one of my articles. I gulped and clicked to open the e-mail. Sure enough, she had been reading the magazine and stumbled upon my article. She was surprised, but excited about what I had written. I smiled to myself. More conversations would follow, but my writing activities were officially out in the open. Now that wasn’t so bad after all, was it?
Rachel Hartman is a freelance writer who has lived and traveled extensively in Mexico for more than five years. Contact her via e-mail at rachelmhartman@gmail.com.
|
Sponsored links 
Make a Real Living as a Freelance Writer! How to find a book publisher |
Text on this site Copyright © 1998-2007
Absolute Write, all rights reserved.
|
