Original source material
-Doctor, my brother thinks he’s a chicken.
– Well, why don’t you turn him in?
– I would, but I need the eggs.
Rejection stings. Yesterday I was turned down by a publisher for a technical book and their feedback was pretty raw. But this is the deal with writing. You doubt yourself yet still manage to push yourself to write, you get rejected, you go back and start all over again. It’s a little like falling in love. You know it might hurt but you can’t help yourself. That is writing, its being in love and seeing no way out. At least that’s how it is for me.
Let’s be honest, I am nowhere near as prolific as I should be. An almost paralyzing fear of failure means stories are turned over and over in my mind until they crumble away like worn papyrus. My merry-go-round consists of this: I don’t write fiction because it won’t get published, so I end up writing nothing and still earning nothing. This is of course idiotic. Instead I end up doing technical writing that is poorly paid for which I never get credit.
I blame my primary school teachers. It was there that I discovered I could write. I was 7 when I got a sticker for a story I wrote. The sticker said ‘Excellent Work’ and had a picture of a tiger on it. The second thing I wrote was a poem that got photocopied and pinned outside the headteacher’s
office. With a winning streak like that the only way is down. So who knows? Perhaps that photocopied poem is the closest I will ever get to publication. With writing there is rarely security financially or emotionally, but we keep going. As Woody Allen famously said at the end of Annie Hall ‘ because we need the eggs.’