The opposite of failing

Another one in the mail today. “Thank you for your interest in our stupid magazine. We read your material carefully, but decided it is not what we are looking for right now. Best of luck elsewhere, wanker”

At one point, he had started to collect rejection letters from possible employers, editors, publishing houses, production companies and magazines. The letters had really piled up over the years, and he simply couldn´t throw them away. Each one was significant, a testament of an era, marking a closure for a particular dream. Each one of them had built his character, and made him slightly more bullet-proof.

You simply tell yourself there´s a million reasons why that person rejected me. Maybe they hadn´t had their breakfast, or were going through divorce, or suffering from hemorrhoids. Is that self-delusion or self-esteem, hard to say? But over time, you build up courage to try again.

Once you have dealt with the shame and self-doubt, “what was I thinking, they have real writers”, you move on and decide you don´t suck. The more rejection you get, the less it stings. And one day, your blood pressure will not budge a single digit upon reading. It´s a shame really, he missed the thrill he used to get. In fact, what´s the point of this, if you don´t even feel it anymore.

Oh, another one just popped in his email. The editor of something saying, “thank you for giving us a chance to read blah blah”, and continuing saying something about “payment”, and “working over the details over the phone”…wait, what?

He put on his glasses and read again, from the beginning. This one was different alright. He couldn´t work it out. It seemed that this publishing house wanted to, not just to publish his story in a collection, but also pay for it. This did not compute? That´s like being invited to a party, and be paid for attendance. Why didn´t it say anything about this “not being a good fit for us”, or apologizing for “not being able to give more detailed feedback”?

He checked his calendar, and double-checked this was not opposites-day. It was not the 1st of April either, the sender was not asking for his credit card number, and the email address seemed valid.

This feeling he was having, was something else. What was this? There are a million courses, books, and support groups that help you deal with disappointment, but not a single one to help you with accomplishment. What to do, when the proverbial balloon doesn´t pop, and there is no sad trombone for soundtrack? High five someone? Yell out “Yoo hoo” while shooting two pistols recklessly in the air? Open a bottle of champagne only to spray most of the content on the ground? He didn´t know, and it felt amazing. It seemed he had a lot to learn after all.