I’ve been a writer since I first learned to write, but I decided in 2006 to try and make a go of it professionally. Let’s just say I had some warped understanding of the publishing world: “I’ll write this book, everyone will love it, and I’ll make millions,” I said to myself like a champ… or chump. You decide.

I wrote the book. A few people liked it. I lost money on the deal. Typical story.

If you’re a writer, or human, you’ve faced disappointment and discouragement, too. I’d bet money on it, and I’d make a heck of a lot more than I did with my first indie book, just saying. 

Rejection is a part of life—a stupid, annoying part—but it exists just the same. I’ve been rejected more than I’ve been accepted, so you’d think I’d be used to it by now. Well, Barbara, I’m not used to it. Not in the least. In fact, every time I get told “NO” I binge watch murder documentaries and eat all the carbs. And by all the carbs, I mean… ALL THE CARBS! This is not hyperbole. This is fact.

Then, the other day, as I got rejected from yet another job (I’m applying to become an assistant editor in the publishing world), I had an epiphany. What if I’m not actually being rejected at all? What if I’m being redirected? And with all of the power of She-Ra, a mic dropped in my mind. 

What if every “NO” was just another opportunity for growth? What if the closed doors were just opportunities to keep on knocking? At least these what ifs are far better than the other what ifs that constipate my mind. Those what ifs, the ones that make me feel insufficient and unlovable, those what ifs can chug castor oil. 

Does this mean I won’t feel the sting of rejection any longer? Of course, I will. I’m sure the next time I get dumped on, I’ll feel like a giant turd (pun intended). But maybe… maybe, next time, I won’t feel crushed. Maybe, next time, I’ll pick myself up faster. Maybe, next time, I’ll eat less carbs. 

Oh, who am I kidding? Carbs and I will never break up.