To recap: rejection has been redefined, replaced, and reframed. It’s time to reduce it.
5. Reduce
I’m done gatekeeping my secret to my healthy relationship with rejection. It’s not having three therapists at once (two of them named Gabi) but this:
After years (and years) of rejections and acceptances and regrets, my brand of writing is LOWEST EXPECTATIONS.
First, I experimented with HIGHEST EXPECTATIONS. I moved to New York in 2010 to be a celebrity, and I named my WiFi network “Famous.”
After MFA school I submitted the shitty first draft of my book—that I did not know was a shitty first draft—for fellowships I didn’t get and residencies I didn’t get and writing competitions I didn’t win.
I was incredulous. I was offended. I was heartbroken. Because: I was “deserving” and I was entitled and I was delusional. In my mind I was spending the time and the money I hadn’t won (THAT I SHOULD HAVE WON).
So, every rejection was the end of the world, and it would take me six months to recover. I’d receive one (1) rejection and decide to quit writing and apply to law school and marry. I’d ask anyone who would answer me if I should quit writing, if I was a writer, if I should keep writing.
My problem wasn’t my writing but my expectations for my writing. “The root of disappointment is unmet expectation,” I heard a white woman on TikTok say, paraphrasing cis-male playwright William Shakespeare’s alleged words, “Expectation is the root of all heartache.”
Once I converted to LOWEST EXPECTATIONS, I reduced my rejection hangover. I shifted my goals from “famous” to “don’t go back to sleep,” and now, I feel like I’ve “made it” when I stay awake. Now, I assume my writing will be rejected; I submit it to be rejected. Now, I plan three back-up outlets to resubmit to when (not if) my piece isn’t accepted. Now, when (not if) my writing isn’t accepted, I’m devastated for 1-5 days only.
(Once more, with feeling: rejection always sucks. You don’t learn to stop being devastated. You learn to work through devastation faster.)
Now, I get more done and self-sabotage less and will never go to law school.
To reduce rejection hangovers:
Set low expectations for yourself. Even lower than that.
Assume rejection. Expect rejection. Pursue rejection. Dream of rejection. Vision-board rejection.
Switch goals from “get published twice” to “submitted twice,” or even better, to “revised twice.”
Instead of “write a bestseller,” try “write one sentence that makes me laugh or feel something, anything.”
OUT: “Win award.” IN: “Write like an idiot for 25 minutes and survive the day.”
Redirect thoughts to “the slush pile” rather than “The New Yorker” for your writing’s home.
Plan back-up venues to resubmit to when your piece isn’t accepted. Not if.
Say “when this is rejected . . . ” vs. “when this is accepted . . . ” or “if this is rejected . . . ”
Note: this violates the law of attraction, but I’m okay with that.
Once you submit, forget you submitted. Work on and invest in something else.
When my book was “out on submission” to publishers (10 years after I began my shitty first draft), I gave vaginal birth (after 36 hours of labor, no epidural) to my son, pictured below. I cared so much about his poop schedule that I forgot to care if my book would be rejected or not.
Separate what’s in your control vs. what isn’t.
We are not in control of acceptance or prestige or fame or fanfare or reviews or opinions or gossip. We are in control of showing up and working as hard as we can and shooting our shot.
We cannot control going viral or winning anything. We can control how much we revise and submit.
We can’t make anyone do anything, but we can make someone feel something. We can write our very best, but we can’t make everyone or anyone like it. We can’t grow dogs in our bodies, BUT WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO.
How do you reduce rejection hangovers? What compliments do you want me to pass along to my dog? Don’t you think that if women were multi-billionaires, then we wouldn’t go into space but would figure out how to gestate and birth our pets?
Next on Tragedy Plus Time:
Part 6: Rethink
Hear more about my dog in my upcoming seminars:
How to Write a Tragicomic Memoir
October 8th (Sunday)
2-5pm EST
Online, via Writing Workshops
Learn to make readers laugh while RIPPING OUT THEIR HEARTS in a full-length sad, funny book about yourself and your exes. I’ll go through all my rejections and what they taught me about how to write a book.
*
October 17th (Tuesday)
7-9pm EST
Online, via Quebec Writers’ Federation
Like this newsletter but with handouts, my face, brainstorming exercises, 10x more information, an AMA, and communal crying.
ICYMI: I’m Elissa Bassist, and I teach short conceptual humor/satire writing, funny personal essays, tragicomic memoir, emotional emails, and that’s it. I edit the “Funny Women” column on The Rumpus, and I wrote the award-deserving book Hysterical. I am probably my therapist’s favorite.
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I, too, love this so much. My mom says I’m negative. But I’m just setting realistic expectations! Maybe what she perceives as negativity is actually what keeps me sane, grounded, and happy!
Really enjoying this. Hilarious stuff. 'First, I experimented with HIGHEST EXPECTATIONS. I moved to New York in 2010 to be a celebrity, and I named my WiFi network “Famous.”