Reframing rejection
And an entreaty to myself...
I’m writing this squeezed between the margins and juggle of the Easter holidays… Between the piles of craft things that are scattered across the dining room table and against the soundtrack of my children who are playing a long and convoluted game of guess the object…
Right now, my work is now a patchwork of jobs, bringing with it uncertainty and precarity. Where once, there was stability and security, every month things look differently for me and my family. My dream of making a living through writing and writing-adjacent roles seems to get more distant and out of reach by the day and the age of AI means that many sources of previously more stable income that I could have relied upon have shrunk or completely disappeared for me.
Yet this is not a pity party and the situation I face is not unique. In fact, I am far from alone and this week, I have found huge comfort in Rosie Spinks article on this very subject (if you haven’t read her work, go and seek it out now and watch out for her book that is coming soon).
While there are sleepless nights and an undercurrent of stress, I’m trying to look at all the things I can learn from these times and the ways I can reframe, unlearn and find a way to sit with the sense of in-betweeness of it all. It’s hard but I am trying to sit with all the feelings and acknowledge that at times it’s hard to keep on, keeping on.
The arrival of a writing rejection in my inbox recently, provided an opportunity to reframe and rethink things. As I read the email, which was kind and useful in the feedback I was given, it confronted me with an unusal and unexpected feeling…
A sense of relief.
For many years, I’ve been tinkering with a story that won’t leave me. It’s a story about the history of our house, a story about what it means to return to a place you once called home, a story about chronic illness and finding a way to live with it. It’s a complicated and convoluted story, one that doesn’t have a clean narrative arc, one that doesn’t end neatly or in a ‘commercially satisfactory way’, one that, like life, is messy, confusing and confronting…
To receive a rejection for this story (one that I have invested so much unpaid time, blood, sweat and tears in) should have been a sucker punch. Yet my overwhelming response was a sense of peace.
Where before I would have spent the week (ok tbh at least six months!) moping about, wallowing in self-pity, the rejection prompted a highly welcome and unexpected reframe, a welcome realisation, that for the moment, I can leave that story be. And that in doing so, it neither diminishes nor demeans the value of the process, but that sometimes letting go, is actually the best way to go.
Sometimes, we simply need to lighten our load for a while.
It’s so tempting in these times, to turn to doom scrolling and despair, to let the disappointment and fear tip me over.
And yet, I’m trying hard to let things be, to let the dust particles shimmer in front of me and guide my gaze back to the presence. In doing so, I’m trying hard not try to fight against or outrun what’s happening and just let allow a sense of curiosity linger.
Maybe it’s the onset of perimenopause, maybe it’s the perpetual undercurrent of uncertainty, or perhaps it’s simply the start of Spring… But recently I started making some notes to self in my notes app. A small act of resistence against despair, a little list of reminders to return to when I start to wobble and falter… So, I thought I would share them here too…
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedAn Entreaty / Notes to self
Teach me the quiet satisfaction of things taking time
Direct my smile to a stranger and back again
Tell me about the stone-in-my-shoe discomfort of not getting it right
Gift me the stomach-fluttering anticipation of forever being a beginner
Remind me about sky time before screen time
Guide my gaze away from distraction
Trip me up with the beauty of this world on our doorstep
Give me curiosity over convenience every day
Speaking of notes to self, I thought I would reintroduce my Small Acts of Attention cards, as there are only a few sets left.
One small moment in your day.
A time to pause.
A little while to reflect.
One word.
One small act of attention.
Sometimes you need to return to the small…
To the quiet, often overlooked moments that otherwise pass us by…
But in a world that seeks to distract and deflect our attention, sometimes we need a little encouragement to look at what is right in front of us… To guide us back to what is within reach.
My Small Acts of Attention cards invite you to take a breath, to take one brief moment to linger in the luminosity of the present.
Each set contains forty carefully selected words to help you pay closer attention to yourself and your immediate surroundings.
You can use them daily, weekly, monthly, whatever fits with your routine and into your life.
You will also receive a little cotton pouch so you can carry them with you whenever you need them and a small selenite crystal—known for its calming properties.
Whether you are looking for some daily inspiration, a moment of quiet reflection or would like a prompt to help you journal or write, each card is intended to be an invitation to help spark a moment for you to pause and reflect.
I’m hoping to run my co-writing sessions again very soon, as I miss sitting in community and writing so much… In the meantime, if you’re local to Cornwall, I’m delighted to be back Clemo Books next week for my next Clemo Writers’ Club on Wednesday 22nd April. There’s just a couple of spaces left.