Pushing Through Disappointment

I’m a little embarrassed admitting I enjoy positive feedback. Sometimes I’m embarrassed – ashamed, even – that I need it. I’m a grown-up! Why do I need someone telling me my writing is good? Why do I want someone to tell me it’s good enough? I should be able to provide positive reinforcement for myself! It’s juvenile, immature – childish, even – to want someone telling you you’re fabulous, or (gasp!) that they love you and your work!

Unfortunately, I’m not at the stage of such enlightenment that I don’t give a flying fig what anyone thinks of me. I do care. I’d totally fail at being a good Buddhist. 

Probably most of us actually care what others think and want our work to be loved by all. 

So, my heart was pounding yesterday when I read through the email attachment with my professional critique from a US literary agent for the children’s picture book I completed. 

She had good feedback. 

Suggested a couple very easy fixes like sticking to “he said, she said” instead of adding words to replace “said." Like when I wrote “sneered, Tommy.” Changing “sneered” to “said” is fine. I’m not married to the word “sneered.” It’s not a poem.

The last sentence of the critique said she didn’t think the story had a “saleable hook.”  It was a swallow pride moment. Scratch that. It was a swallow pride day.

I had been (foolishly?) optimistic and eager to get this particular critique. Earlier, I had paid a children’s book author to critique the same manuscript. Her critique was very positive and said the story was “delightful” and what editors look for.

I felt proud when I heard the author's feedback. I felt proud of the manuscript. I had worked very hard and enjoyed every minute of it. The positive critique felt validating in some way, like “Yes! You can write. You can do this!” 

That’s not how I felt yesterday.

I really had to struggle with those little – or not so little – voices in my head telling me, “I told you so. What do you think you’re doing? You’re not cut out for this! Just quit while you’re ahead. Your writing is nothing special and that story is dumb. All your story ideas are lame and your writing is flimsy. You need to do something different. I don’t know what you need to do, but it’s not writing!”

I wrote in this post how I’m just learning to be courageous in my dreams and pursuing what is in my heart. I’m at this little tender, vulnerable, fledgling stage.

In the past, I would’ve listened, and listened hard, to those nasty critical voices in my head.  The truth is, in the past, yesterday’s news was enough to make me give up writing my story. I would’ve stopped editing. I would not have submitted it.

And this wasn’t even a QUERY or a submission to an agent.  It was a critique I PAID for. I ASKED for it! But I promise you this: I would’ve given up, dream shattered into ten million pieces. No lie.

But I didn’t do that. I told myself I’m not going to give up. In fact, I made myself …yes MADE myself…sit down and write yesterday. I didn’t want to. 

What I REALLY wanted was a gigantic Halloween sized bag of candy for trick-or-treaters. I really wanted to eat bags of KitKats and Rollos and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Luckily, I can’t buy anything like that in Yangon, which is a very good thing. (Right?)

Thing is, I was pissed off at writing, like writing was a person who had bitten me. Had hurt me and betrayed me.  Writing was NOT what I wanted to do.

But I did. I wrote. I didn’t write much. But I wrote enough to make me come to my senses and realize an action, like writing, did not hurt me or my little fragile ego.  Writing is my lifeline. Why the hell would I try to cut that line now?

Look, I know the children’s picture book market is extremely competitive. I paid the agent to give me a critique. She did.

I also know this isn’t like a big rejection in some ways because I have NOT submitted to agents or editors. I’ve only asked for it to be professionally critiqued by two people and critiqued by dozens of friends. LOL I got what I asked for.

I will edit this story and take on board her advice with the other two children’s stories I’m working on.

Would I really like to be published? No. I would really love to be published. That just means more hard work. And writing query letters. And being brave enough to actually send my manuscript to an agent. For submission. Not critique.

And that is what I’m going to do. 

For the first time in many years, I’m not giving up.