Excitement

It is always wonderful to have a piece accepted. It gives me a sense of satisfaction and motivation to do more. It is encouraging. Not that I crave to be published. I do not even crave to be published with just any kind of publisher. That might smack of compromise if the publisher is not up by alley. Yet the thought may be present—just go if it, anywhere will do! I usually think twice, though.

A reason to keep on

I dislike my work being rejected. Loathe it. Who doesn’t? But being accepted after several rejections is a faith-building experience. I keep on going, then. It gives me a reason to keep on going. Why not? An acceptance of a piece keeps the ball rolling. Why stop? Only when my work is being totally outright rejected. When I get an acceptance, it will build confidence to submit the next one. It is like the tennis player scoring a game and goes ahead three games to two. There is a motivating reason to win the next game.

The pain of terminating

I hate cutting short a writing opportunity, one where my foot is in the door. It may need to be done on occasion, though. It is usually the employer or publisher that terminates an opportunity or a job, but sometimes the writer also does. Why, o, why, though? But if I cut short something, it is because I can see no way forward with the publisher. If I have been submitting unusable or unsuitable material, I am also quick to admit that I can change some things about my work that may be better for both of us. However, if a payback is not going to be obviously forthcoming, I would not bother. On the other hand, if a writer or employee is in the throes of a job and the publisher or employer terminates the job for good reason, the pain is on the writer’s side, and it is indeed painful. These situations are not very nice at all. But sometimes there is no way forward after a certain amount of time has come and gone and no further progress has been made. Why bother?

Rejection

I do not like writing about rejection, but it is something that unfortunately happens in the publishing world, although in a perfect world, I wish for better. Rejection is canny as it feels the same no matter who you are talking to. It always feels one-sided, because one party is doing the rejecting. The person being rejected can really feel its sting. But, strangely, as odd as it seems, rejections in the publishing world have a positive side. Who would have thought that?

Rejection makes writers know which publishers they do not belong to. The publisher sees you as unsuitable—which must be a good thing as you can tick that part of the world off on your travels. Been there, done that. Though when the writer gets acceptances, they find a place in the publishing world. I came, I saw, I conquered, in other words. I found a place to belong. Rejections and acceptances work out to decide who is where on the publishing map.

But it’s not only the publisher doing the rejection. The writer can reject the publisher as well. In the end, we all know here we stand on the publishing map. Writers have a place in or outside that world.

Joy

There are those strong souls who keep their joy of writing and can still write about things they would rather not write. I do not know if I would have written anything if it were not for the joy of writing when I first put pen to paper in a meaningful way. I reckon that when someone experiences the joy of writing for the first time is how all other writing begins. At least, that is how I feel.

Unfortunately, joy may not last. When I first played cricket, there was the joy of cricket for the sake of cricket, but then comes performing which may produce pain if one isn’t performing well enough. It can be the same in writing. One’s joy may not last.

Yet pain in writing can be useful. The initial joy in writing is really baby-like and temporal, but there is a time for the pain of learning about what we need to improve on. We go to school. In doing our homework, pain comes at night, but once we master something, there is joy in the morning. One moves on from the initial, euphoric child-like joy of writing to the satisfaction of mastering something.