Swirling head

A picture of a writer rejected:

I am coming down to the sad, quiet weeping of the the reality of being rejected as a writer, the sadness swirling inside the soul inside the place where the pleasant solar plexus should radiate the joy of life. Oscillating the choppy waters of feeling bad and how to better respond, but I don’t. My would-be books are on the backburner now–I will not touch them–they are not good enough as the rejection has shown. No, not at all. I will not do them. In the head space, a nagging thought about to interrupt the comfortability of giving up. I shouldn’t submit again, but maybe I will. Ha. I don’t feel like it…

In months if not weeks, maybe days, I will be back, when the moment arises.


How can a writer let humanity flow in their stories? How does a writer share the human touch that the readers need? If people are not relating to you humanly, there may be something missing in the relationship for them. Therefore, the “human side” rather naturally flows including when one is only using words in writing. For me, what is natural in some writings is being real and transparent. Being human is being real to the core (not having to say that all the time). Ideally, I am not pretending to be human for the sake of getting published (it won’t work and the editor will notice), but to be honest, while sharing those relatable human traits (liking coffee at 7AM) that make the reader relate while the emotional pull makes them empathize with somebody real.

Not for granted

My devotion was written, edited, submitted, now in process of a month’s evaluation by the editors, then I am notified of its status. Writing it was a bit of a labor, even at 300 words. It’s just getting it right that counts even with good material — I do not take for granted getting a piece rejected these days, after several set-backs where my work, which I thought was good, was rejected.

Eye on it

Writing is always a nuisance when you got a zillion other things to do in the order of a day. Writing is always in view, though. And in fact I am onto a devotion right away! And a zillion other pieces. They say my enthusiasm is infectious, it seems that way, but they also say I have a way with words, so I can make things sound enthusiastic when they are not. But I do have a piece to get onto rather promptly and am looking forward to writing it–it’s just the matter of getting it right that frightens me.

Like no other

The light comes alive, as a flicker across the window, the dawn has broken in. It could be any day. But I saw the light today. New Years Day. Like creation sent its rays down into this place. Like a new beginning, a start like no other. Like no other, yes, like no other. A new day has dawned. The heavens did not yawn. The feeling overcome him.