It’s time to have a pity party…and guess who is the Guest of Honor?? Me! Yup. I have been shot down yet again for another opportunity, it’s hard to not take these things personally – since it is my writing that is not making the cut. Three separate events/opportunities/moments in time have slipped through my fingers. I know I shouldn’t say anything about them, I should just pick up my heart and my head, stick my chin in the air and continue forward. And I will – but first I need to get through the part where I am sad and then mad and then acceptance. Actually I am already at acceptance, not like I have a choice – so that leaves the sad and mad.
I have shed a profuse amount of tears on one of my denials – an anthology that I soooo very badly wanted to be a part of. I admire the many ladies that were in the first book and so the possibility of being in a follow up book had me euphoric. The topic was something I could relate to, being a walking shitastrophy and all. I knew I could hit this one out of the ball park. In reality I foul ball tipped it to the first baseman and was out before I even dropped my bat. I went with a safe submission because I didn’t want to piss anyone off and in the end I pissed myself off. That mistake will not be made again.
The second denial was for a national competition that I had no chance in hell of winning. But seriously somewhere deep down I thought…what if. What if my entry is picked? What if I am good enough? What if by some miracle upon all miracles my entry makes the cut – even honorable mention would be awesome. But another much more seasoned and nationally recognized writer won – and no doubt a better writer.
And then today came the third denial. The one that stings just a bit more than the others. The one that makes me question my abilities. The one that I thought, I really believed I had a solid chance at getting. When I read my piece, she laughed – I walked away feeling like I nailed it. Proud of the work I put forward. But it wasn’t to be. I was notified that in the end my piece was not enough to be a part of the group.
Writing might just be the hardest thing I have ever done. I have given presentations to CEO’s of Global Fortune 100 companies, I have graduated college with Dean’s list, attended school for my MBA (we had to move before I could finish it), traveled the country for work – being in multiple cities in one week, had two children, am raising a very spirited child, argued epically with my mother, watched my father’s health deteriorate till he needed a heart transplant to survive. But all that pales to writing.
Yes, I have done a lot, I have seen a lot, I have felt a lot – but nothing, nothing at all leaves me so humbled, so naked in a room full of strangers than writing does. And I love it. I love to know something I wrote makes someone smile. I love knowing that my humor is understood and appreciated by others – that I am not alone. That maybe my next door neighbor thinks I am an asshole, and the one next to her too, and yeah probably the one across the street does also – but somewhere out there you enjoy reading my stuff. That you laugh and relate to my insanity. It is what keeps me going.
I need to focus on this and stop thinking about that.
So thank you everyone who tunes in for my craziness and keeps me going. I appreciate you all more than you could ever know and as long as you will keep having me I intend to stay doing my thing…even if no one else wants me.
Excuse me while I go open a beer now and drown my sadness/anger over this latest WTF moment in my life.