Can We Just Get Honest About Rejection?

I walked out on the porch and they all stopped talking. Three sets of eyes looked up at me from the sidewalk. I heard them talking about going out for lunch a few minutes before inside the house and had come out on the porch to ask if I could join them. We had been meeting every Saturday morning to talk about our writing for months now and I assumed they liked me enough to invite me along.

In an instant, I knew I wasn’t included. Fearing rejection before I even made the effort, I said goodbye and walked to my car.

Years later. An email. Hello Catherine. Thank you for sending us … We won’t be able … We wish you the best …

An email. Dear Catherine. We appreciate the chance to … but … With all thanks and best wishes.

An email. Dear Catherine, Thank you so much for submitting … Unfortunately, we are going to pass this time … All the best.

Denied. Turned down. Rebuffed. Whatever you call rejection, I’m used to it. So used to it, that I don’t avoid it like I used to. Not having my writing accepted is part of trying to put it out there. But each email a little sting in the heart. It feels the same in my body as it felt that first warm day of spring on the sidewalk. In the same way, what didn’t get said that day was what hurt the most.