Number of rejections I’ve accrued for 2025 so far: 44
What Do You Really Want?
How often have you “settled” for something? When you really wanted something else?
“I really want X, but I can’t get it, so I’m not going to even try. Y is good enough.”
Sometimes, of course, we have to “settle.” If you want raspberry sherbet, but the only offerings are vanilla and chocolate ice cream, you have to choose based on the options available. (Or opt for neither.)
But I’m not talking about a social negotiation kind of “settling.”
I’m talking about things you have control over. The things that speak to you: to your heart, to your soul. The things that move you, make you dance.
As writers, we don’t have control over whether a journal will accept our work. But we do have control over our work and whether what we’ve written matches our own unique vision for the work.
And we have control over our revision process and when we deem a work “finished.”
I’ve often been told I was “brave.” My mother said it a lot. And, in 2013, when I set off on a solo cross-country road trip, I heard it from others, too. She’s so brave.
The reality, though, was that I was going after something I wanted. I had never been to the Pacific Northwest and wanted to go. It can be scary to do something alone, but if I wait until I have someone to go with or until circumstances are just right, I might never go anywhere or do anything.
Maybe it’s bravery. Or maybe it’s necessity.
Maybe it’s a little of both.
For me, though, it’s simply part of trying to be my best self and respecting my soul’s desires.
Aim High
One of the pieces of advice I often hear from my writing peers/mentors is to aim high. Submit to the journals with low acceptance rates. Apply for the competitive fellowships. Try for the things that seem impossible.
Perhaps it’s simply good life advice, too. Aim high. Know your worth.
But, importantly, along with it: Expect rejection. Embrace rejection.
Rejection in life is a given. Rejection in the creative world is likewise inevitable.
One way to reframe rejection is as a kind of proof that you’re trying. That you’re aiming high. That you’re going after something you want.
And in that way, rejection really is a positive thing!
Living Bravely, Writing Bravely
Merriam-Webster online lists one of the noun definitions of practice as “the continuous exercise of a profession.”
One of the verb definitions is this: “to perform or work at repeatedly so as to become proficient.”
You’ll notice that both definitions—and, in fact, most of the definitions for practice—include the idea of something being done again and again.
One of the definitions of brave is “having or showing mental or moral strength to face danger, fear, or difficulty : having or showing courage.”
In the context of writing especially (or any creative endeavor), I believe that practice and bravery are inextricably linked. To keep trying for something, over and over again, is both brave and a part of the practice of improving at a craft.
In ninth grade, when my English teacher introduced our class to a public speaking unit, she prefaced it with something like, “I know that speaking in front of others may sound awful, but you’re not alone in feeling dread.” She then cited some statistics (which may be outdated now, nearly 35 years later), telling us that more people feared public speaking than feared death.
Although I was a notably shy kid, I wasn’t necessarily timid. I acted in school plays, landing a considerable role in the eighth-grade play, and even went to an acting camp one summer in junior high.
Though I was quiet in school, the idea of speaking in front of others didn’t scare me, and I remember wondering how all these kids—many of whom talked all the time, often incessantly (or so it seemed to me), who were clearly not as shy as I was—could possibly be afraid of standing up in front of their classmates and talking. They did it all the time!
Our “speech” assignment was really just to recite a poem or some other writing of our choice; I don’t believe we even had to memorize it. The goal of the assignment was simply to get comfortable standing up in front of others and talking—making appropriate eye contact, controlling our volume and speed of speech, etc.
I ended up getting a 100% on the assignment, and I recall my English teacher saying that it was the first 100% she’d ever given on that particular assignment (and I think she’d been doing it for about twenty years).
The key for me was practice. I had practiced it so much that I pretty much had the poem memorized, allowing me to give proper eye contact to my teacher and peers. My stage experience certainly helped as well.
I don’t think bravery and confidence are the same thing, though they can be intertwined. For my speech, perhaps I was also brave, but practice had ensured that I’d be confident.
People would say I was brave to audition for a school play, to travel cross-country alone, etc. But, I wonder, what is the alternative to being “brave”?
If you regularly read my Substack, you may remember that for 2025, I chose the guiding phrase “taking risks.” While “risk” can mean different things to different people, to me it means putting myself “out there” in a way that aligns with my creative goals. And it means being true to myself and my desires—what my heart wants, what my soul seeks.
It means maintaining a writing practice in which I try, fail, and try again. Over and over.
It means living bravely.
Practicing. Trying again and again. Failing again and again.
But also succeeding.
And changing the mindset to:
“I really want X, so I’m going to keep practicing, keep trying, and even though I may not always get X, I will become a better writer and will feel proud of what I do accomplish because of how it aligns with my creative vision.”
That, to me, is what it means to write bravely. To live bravely.
Writing News
The Porches
At the end of April, I returned home from the Porches Writing Retreat in Norwood, Virginia, where, as the winner of the 2024 Nancy Ludmerer Fellowship for Flash Fiction, I was a writer-in-residence for five days. It was an experience I relished. Not only did I have time to focus on my own writing, but the serene setting kept me grounded.
I communed with nature.
I communed with myself.
I communed with my writing.
Latest Publication
While I was at the Porches, I received the happy news that my story “This Is Very Concerning” had earned an honorable mention in Gooseberry Pie Lit’s 2nd annual contest; the winning stories and honorable mentions were published this week and are all truly delectable!
Join Me for a Free Discussion about Revision!
To me, revision is an important aspect of this idea of writing bravely.
Because revision can be hard. Because it can be unwieldy and sometimes frustrating.
But it also can be rewarding and is a crucial part of the practice of writing.
If you’re interested in a discussion about revision, I invite you to fill out this quick Google Form—it’s just a few brief questions!—and I’ll send you a link for a Zoom for a free discussion, happening Wednesday, May 21, 2025, at 5 p.m. (EDT). (Even if you’re not able to make the Zoom at that time, filling out the form will help me in gauging interest for future Zoom discussions.)
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I LOVE this! I think my biggest takeaway is we just have to go for it, rather than waiting for all the circumstances to be just right. If we wait for the perfect moment, we may never start! Great piece :)
You are an encouragement and an inspiration for us writers, Jessica! Thank you for this message today.