Upon receiving two rejection letters from reputable institutions, I wonder, do I really want to write? I’m taking this memoir writing class, which is great, but I don’t write as often as I should. I watch moving pictures, I socialize, I putz around on the internet, I talk on the phone, I don’t even read as much as I should! What the hell do I really want to do with my life? I’m a writer, that’s set in stone even if I don’t write. The question is, am I really cut out for this?
I was afraid of feeling like this – bummed out, unenrolled in the possibility of moving past getting rejected, giving up and going the other route – helping writers because I couldn’t cut it as one.
I’m on the track to become an agent if I continue with this internship. Essentially, I started the internship to have experience in publishing. The goal was to be surrounded by words for inspiration. I love my internship to pieces; it’s the highlight to my week every week. I enjoy reading queries, helping out folks on the ‘net write better queries, and discovering new talent. But I’m forgetting what’s important to me: writing! And it’s the one thing I’m not doing enough of! I even skipped my memoir writing class this week because I wasn’t in the right place to write. When it was exactly the kind of environment that would have made the rejections easier to stomach.
It’s okay to feel this way; I’ll sit in the space and then the moment will pass. I’m sure of it.
For now, brace myself for the results as they trickle in and not lose faith.