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The dejection of rejection

Sigh, sometimes even the bread roll rejects its perfect match...

Just last week, I got a rejection letter about one of my short stories which I had hoped would make it into an anthology. I was quite confident I’d be successful – the story had been posted online a while ago and a lot of people had given extremely positive feedback about it.

And so to get that rejection was quite deflating.

When I asked to know the reasons for the rejection, the editors told me that the storyline – based on a single HIV positive mother – was ‘tired’ and brought nothing new to the literary world.

Fair enough - I was thankful to at least get this feedback and know where I had gone wrong.

But rejection still hurts.

Whether inflicted by the person you love intimately, by a group of people you want to be a part of, by a family member, or by some editor on another continent and different time zones away – your heart still bleeds and pours that acrid feeling of pain out into your veins.

And for a while, you fear doing anything so daring ever again. You feel like you are not good enough and just want to get back into the comfort zone of anonymity.

But if you choose to look at it the right way, you see the opportunity for growth that rejection provides. Rejection teaches you to be stronger and to hold on even when those around you don’t see what is in you that you know you possess abundantly.

It teaches you to do either one of two things with criticism – take it constructively and rebuild your confidence, or build a wall of fear around yourself.

Today, I got another rejection letter, this time from a newspaper. No explanation – just a polite email telling me they can’t use the piece.

The rejection is still raw so I don’t want to know what was wrong with the piece (I once again thought it was pretty good!). But I know that after I have had a chance to sleep over it and get my spirits back up, I will write an email in response and ask to know where I may have gone wrong.

Rejection is a process of hurting and then healing. It is all about accepting things, learning new ways and improving who you are.
And so I welcome these two rejections – grudgingly but maturely. This will not stop me trying…

Comments

Sharese's picture

Truth!

This is so true! Rejection does hurt- but if we can learn from it, then it is worth it. Also, if we didn't care about whatever we were rejected from (literary magazines, a person, a training session, etc) then that thing is obviously not important to us.

So to add a little bit to you what you said- often I think we should think about why we care about the rejection, is it because we care about the organization or person? Or does it have more to do with our own ego? I think that knowing why you care is also an important step in learning from rejection. Especially when it comes to people- are you sad because you care about the person, or are you sad because it affects your ego?

Thanks for bringing up some great points Fungai! This is a great topic. I look forward to reading more from you.

Much Peace and Love,

Sharese

Fungai Machirori's picture

Right you are!

Sharese,

This is indeed an interesting dimension you bring up. Why does one care about the rejection at hand? Is it about your ego being bruised or is it about caring about your craft/ the person so much?!

I dare say that in my case it is a bit of both but that it leans more towards an ego hurt. Sometimes you have an idea of how good you are at something or where you are at, and then someone completely disagrees and disregards you. Ouch, that ego bleeds!

Thank you so much for giving me a new way of looking at my rejections. I will definitely set some time aside to interrogate this a bit more deeply. And yeah, if I find that my hurt is more from a selfish stance than a desire for the greater good, then I have to have a serious rethink about what I am about and why I do certain things.

Big smile and hug

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

Fungai Machirori's picture

Interesting point of view

Sharese,

This is indeed an interesting dimension you bring up. Why does one care about the rejection at hand? Is it about your ego being bruised or is it about caring about your craft/ the person so much?!

I dare say that in my case it is a bit of both but that it leans more towards an ego hurt. Sometimes you have an idea of how good you are at something or where you are at, and then someone completely disagrees and disregards you. Ouch, that ego bleeds!

Thank you so much for giving me a new way of looking at my rejections. I will definitely set some time aside to interrogate this a bit more deeply. And yeah, if I find that my hurt is more from a selfish stance than a desire for the greater good, then I have to have a serious rethink about what I am about and why I do certain things.

Big smile and hug

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

Fungai, I hope you dust yourself up and look forward to more good than the rejections you are about to receive. I use to write in my personal journal how many times I was rejected, how it felt and what I will do next but these days I only write what I will do next to remind me of the journey I still have to take. Normally I would change the proposal to fit but later I discovered that there are many people who wanted it as it is and I was too busy focusing on just one company/proposer that I forgot to look for places where they will take it.

You are great but not everyone is going to accept that truth and sometimes they are right and sometimes you need to take their advice but most of the time you need to be strong and look out more for those who will take it. It might not be as it is but the changes might change your perspective and allow you to grow as an individual.

Your voice this morning reminded me of all the rejection I have faced, of telephone calls, of letters and sometimes of untold actions seen through my very own eyes and with support I am beginning to accept all things beautiful and ugly and I know that someday things won't be as horrible as today is.

Take care of yourself and keep on writing....don't ever stop because you are GREAT!

Rudzanimbilu Muthambi

Fungai Machirori's picture

Thanks love :)

Thank you SO much my dear sister. This really makes me feel a lot better. I am glad I can talk about it with other women and get so much comfort and gudance. On the call yesterday I kept wanting to say "Kunjani sisi" to you because everytime I hear that lovely South African accent, I just want to break into some Zulu!!! I lived in Midrand and Pretoria for a while so I learnt a bit :)

Thanks again. You have really helped me feel better. I won't stop as you say. And I will interrogate whether the piece was just not right for the particular publication, or was just not right fullstop. Sometimes we forget that perspectives on things differ...

Sharp sharp!

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

Rudzanimbilu's picture

Sure my sister!

It was wonderful to hear your voice from a far away place Sjabulile - Happiness for girls and Njabulo for Boys. I actually noted the double standard today because I was on your blog. Something great is going on in there and the debate, the arrogance and the ignorance made me laugh so much. I don't know how you keep it together and how you exercise your patience with so much passion with your blogger. I've always been a silent blogger but I was tempted to condemn, to laugh and most of all to shout out loud and thank you for bringing this absurdity up in our own African countries. I wish you all the best of luck with your studies. I'm a South African but after watching the Burning Man, I was embarrassed to say it in public for a while. I am finding statements to use as a form of retaliation like "we are not all like that", we don't like what people did in Ramaphosa Township and some of them there participated in burning the Mozambican but not all of us.

Midrand and Pretoria is quite chilled I do hope you had a good time. Let me know when you come back so we can meet. I love Zimbabwe.

Sharp sharp!

Rudzanimbilu Muthambi

Fungai Machirori's picture

How I fought back...

When I first went to SA, it was very obvious to me that some people where thinking to themselves, "Oh no, not another one of Mugabe's people." I remember once having to step out of a room because one man made joke after joke about Zimbabweans and I felt to annoyed. I felt like going back home and at least not always having to feel like a makwerekwere.

But it goes both ways. Many Zimbabweans also have certain beliefs about South Africans and are not willing to mix. My friend who has been in SA for 10 years still doesn't want to learn a word of Zulu or Xhosa because she hates South Africans.

If people fear and hate each other, they can never mix or learn from each other.

What I have always chosen to do is to try. I know not everone can ever like you but you must at least try to learn about different people. I always made an effort with my Zulu and people always felt more willing to speak to me when I said "Sawubona" or called them "Sis XYZ" etc.

Sometimes it's the little efforts that matter the most. Once when I was in a taxi, I said to the driver, "Sengiphuzile." What I meant was that I was late but I realised that what I had said was that I had just drunk beer! It was quite funny!!!

I don't think there is ever an excuse for burning another human being or making them feel less like a person. But I really wish that people would take more time to try to understand each other in love.

Even now at my university, uSis Thobile no Sis Charlotte bayazi ukuthi uFungai uyazama ukukhuluma nabo. Kungcono ukuthi umuntu azame nokusaba okungasabekayo.

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

Amei's picture

Fungai - rejection to determination

I was feeling for you while I read your post. I felt a lot better when I read your last sentence.

'This will not stop me trying…' after reading line I am proud to know you. This is what we need. Hope and determination.

Thank you for sharing. This is a topic I need to reflect on myself. All the best for your writing.

With love
Amei

Fungai Machirori's picture

You are such a help

My heart was quite heavy as I wrote. And then I realised that the heaviness must culminate into something positive and light and freeing. The last sentence is my trumpet call to greater heights and success.

Thank you for your kindness and for taking the time to soothe my bruised little soul. I am looking at this more holistically now :)))

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

So what. They or you just have not connected. No worries, be happy. Move on. Writing, like any artistic expression, is subject to the experience of the beholder. You each have separate realities/truths/pasts/purposes. Theirs may not be yours. This means nothing more than not this one, not this time, and keep going. Self-definition is a more trustworthy path to continually reveal your own happiness. Yes, it stings your heart and this, too shall pass. But do not pass on the stories you have to share. We need to feel what you feel, see what you witness, and be touched by your tales.

JK Rowling had more than a hundred rejections I believe. Now she is one of the wealthiest women/writers/mothers on Earth. You have something to say. We are listening until the rest wake up to your brilliance. Looking for your perfect match? Let us be what you need for now.

Naturally grateful,
Kat Haber

"Know thyself." ~ Plato

If you can find time for this, I strongly urge you to have a read. When you mentioned JK Rowling, I remembered that my lovely friend from India sent me this speech about a year ago when we were both jobless and scratching around for some hope and inspiration. I forget sometimes how far I have come and let two little rejections get me on a downer! But that is to be human, I believe.

Enjoy...

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination
Harvard University Commencement Address J.K. Rowling

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.

The first thing I would like to say is 'thank you.' Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I've experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world's best-educated Harry Potter convention.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can't remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see? If all you remember in years to come is the 'gay wizard' joke, I've still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called 'real life', I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension.

They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person's idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.

Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.
I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.
Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people's minds, imagine themselves into other people's places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people's lives simply by existing.
But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I've used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister..

So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives.

Thank you very much

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

Mei Li's picture

THANK YOU

Oh, what a wonderful speech!

So many good things to say about it, but I want to talk to you about rejection instead.

I was accepted into a creative writing program last year. One of the first conferences I attended was led by the editor of a local literary journal. She said something important that I had forgotten when submitting work for publication...to research the places one submits to. You can gain an understanding of the types of literature they typically admit, and what is frequently rejected. You have to find a home for your pieces - poems, essays, stories - whatever you may write. And there is always some place that will benefit from investing in your voice, but sometimes it takes sending the same story to 30 different places to find the right one.

I wanted to understand this process better, so I volunteered for the local university's literary journal. The Hayden's Ferry Review accepts submissions from all over the world. My job as a volunteer reader was to read the material and say whether or not it should go on to a second reader, and then to an editor. I learned a lot volunteering. I also gained a lot of confidence in my own work. I realized I already knew not to start stories in certain ways, not to use certain words or sentences, what cliches to steer away from and which ones could be safe under the right circumstances. It helped me build my own work.

The JK Rowling speech...I love this part the most: If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

If you ever need feedback/constructive criticism from another writer, let me know! I know sometimes editors have time only to scribble a sincere, or not so sincere, sorry we are not interested letter. I love writing workshops for the criticism, it helps.

Keep writing, I will keep listening!

"...our compassion is the practice of unconditioning." Jakusho Kwong Roshi

Fungai Machirori's picture

Thanks :)

Thank you so much! Yes, yes - everything you say IS right. And I will definitely take you up on reading my stuff. I guess sometimes rejection hurts even if you realise it is not a reflection on your aptitude. And the heat of it yoy want to be defensive and prtotective of yourself. The guys who rejected my first short story have asked that I submit a second one for consideration for their next intake. But I feel naked, exposed and scared to be rejected again. I know it's all part of the experience of life, but it's a real soul pain. I am still in two minds and I'll see if I feel up for it...

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

Daydri's picture

but wait there's more

so great to read your post and especially the comments
already a wry smile tugged at my monday mouth when i saw the picture of the hot dog
but then it got even better - to read about your experience in and of south africa
and this speech - thanks so much for sharing
about something(s) i'm dealing with too right now

xx
d*

Fungai Machirori's picture

Monday mouth!

Monday mouth - I like that! I had a Monday lack of mouth, brain and body! I was up far too late doing far too many different things last night - creative energy knows no time!

I am really glad, happy, ecstatic that when you read these trinkets, you feel helped in some way. I almost didn't write this piece because in the back of my mind I thought it was a bit childish and sulky and that it would reflect badly on my go-getter, devil-may-care persona.

But heck!

Better an honest human being than a synthetic one. Better to learn from you lovely women than to keep everything bottled up inside.

So, what's the body part for Tuesday? Tuesday toes?!

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

vivian's picture

Rejection, Such a vital but

Rejection, Such a vital but common topic. As you rightly mentioned, It hurts but can bring growth and improving.

Your conclusion is great. It shows persistence and perseverance. It sound like the voice of an achiever and one who would not surrender unless something happens.
Keep writing, you may not know which one that will be accepted. I have learnt something here.

Cheers

Vivian

''Every woman have a story at every stage of Life''

Fungai Machirori's picture

I am a fighter

This weekend, I will be writing a new short story to send out, another article for consideration. I felt down when I wrote this - I don't like not being deemed good enough ( I don't think anyone does!) - but I am a fighter. I can take this graciously and learn from it. I can rise again!

Thank you for the encouragement!

from today i live out of my imagination
i am more than my yesterday
tomorrow i plant a new seed
nothing that lies behind easy
nothing that is ahead real
my within is all i have today
*Napo Masheane*

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WWW: Women Weave the Web

WWW: Women Weave the Web

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World Pulse Voices of Our Future

World Pulse Voices of Our Future

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Announcing Our Prize Winners!

Announcing Our Prize Winners!

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Nobel Women's Initiative

Nobel Women's Initiative