I finished this baby blanket and I tried a new border on it and I love it. It’s the first time I’ve experimented with back-post double crochet, but it’s awesome.
I also finished a story. I don’t think it’s very good. It’s not very bad either but I’m going to have to come back and look at it later.
I keep getting rejected, too. I feel like we’re not supposed to talk about rejection, but it’s weird not to. It’s an enormous part of writing. “Hey, I wrote this. Do you want to do something with it?”
To me, and maybe this makes me kind of snobby or something, but that’s the real difference between writing as a hobby or a pastime and being a writer. Not whether you’re published, but whether you’re being rejected. It’s easy enough to call yourself a writer if you write in such a way that you never have to feel the teeth-kick of a “no” you really wanted to be a “yes.”
It’s hard to feel like a writer when you’re being rejected. Do you suck? Does your story suck and you just can’t see it? Should you give it all up and sell baby blankets with cool borders to tourists but no one will tell you because they don’t want to hurt your feelings?
But it’s in being rejected that your identity as a writer is forged, I think. “No.” Okay, what are you going to do about it? If your answer to that question is “I’m going to send it out again” or “I’m going to write something they will want” or “I’m going to write something better and when it wins a big prize, in my acceptance speech, I’m going to say, ‘Fuck you, all the “no”s’,” then you’re a writer.
And if you hear “no” and never write again, then you’re not.