Today, I received my first rejection letter. As an author. A big publishing house rejected my manuscript. I never even wrote for a long time out of fear as to how I would be rejected. What if I am not good enough to have public validation of my writing? Am I OK living with that? I mean, this is what I have wanted to be since I was a kid. "What do you want to do in life?" Ask 5 year old Harini or the 25 year old and her answer would have been writer. What if it is one of those things I want, but am not good enough for? What if someone tells me, sorry we cannot actually publish you? You are good, but not good enough?
I always thought of myself like this brilliant artist whose work would be appreciated because it was quite unique. Reality is different. Isnt it now? I think I have been able to handle this rejection quite well today ( I havent cried, yet) because of a few hard life truths I have come to accept.
I feel relief. I feel joy at having attempted. I don't know if I am going to be able to keep trying, I mean, I suck at handling failure, but I am becoming way better. I am continuing to write my second book, because someday, something will click somewhere.
My silence in the blog has been because of how busy I have been, trying to come to terms with who I am. I am not ashamed of who I was, but I think I can be someone better. I feel like a frog that has been put into a boiling water, that is jumping out in an attempt to save its life. Wake up calls come in different ways and mine, were not pleasant. They had a few very bitter, hard truths that only one person was able to tell me. That took me a lot of time to accept. Time in which I lost something precious, I never ought to have. My only regret in life. That is a biggie to accept. Wooo! I have not understood regrets till date. (A blog about it later)
I like to think I am perfect, but that is not the truth. I am a work in progress. If that was my best work, where is the fun in that? I really cant be perfect, because perfection is a moving target. Not a fixed one. I am going to keep trying. At least, attempting to try.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even in the next decade. But someday, I will get published. Until then, I will keep writing. I cant let go of my identity because someone else felt that was not me. I am opening myself to criticism and change. I am truly welcoming and hoping that it is there to stay.
Dedicated to the person that woke me up. From a self imposed slumber. I am sorry. (Possibly my dramatic proclamation that I faced failure)