A friend of mine once told me she stopped engaging with her creative writing because there was no easy way to monetize her work.
I assume I responded to this with a challenging pushback that the reason to tell stories and to write doesn’t have to be locked into a specific measurement of success or to believe that publishing and money are the end-all-be-all as it comes to writing. But this person still doesn’t write (that I’m aware of) and we all have our different situations and circumstance and have (or lack) means that limit our ability to lean into something like writing. Those circumstances and situations and experiences all exist and are real, and especially in the world we all are existing in today, not everyone in the world or in the US or in your state or city or neighborhood or block may have the means to do so.
There is also a limited, binary way we are taught to view success and value as creative writers, as storytellers, and as folks wanting to get their craft seen by the world. Success can be seen so simply as: you get published, you get paid. Either your stories or poetry or writing gets published in a literary journal or a major publication or a manuscript gets released by a major publishing house. Seeing this as a success is great and if you see this in a simple binary of success-and-failure, not achieving this is a loss—WHICH IS NOT TRUE. The publishing system that we exist in is built upon competition, reinforced with limited resources, and assigning value in alignment with that success module, one that will be drenched with failures.
So, it becomes our opportunity to reclaim the rites of rejection that we endure at multiple levels and rewrite our own story of success by reframing our wins.
Depending on when you find yourself as a writer or a storyteller, rejection may not fully be present. I, as a wee-Wanz, started writing in the form of crafting picture books in my Kindergarten era (where I was shared as Author of the Week). Now, yes, that was definitely a mini-childhood ego boost, but I wrote those truly for myself and my friends. My writing wouldn’t experience any type of rejection until it began to get graded, with feedback, about how I wrote (i.e.: how I was holding my pencil, how my writing looked) and eventually what I was writing about (i.e.: grades from teacher). And that might result in a piece getting sent back, feedback being offered, but in an environment like school, feedback and grades carried a heavy weight for many of us that a bad grade could unravel our little developing nervous systems.
And as someone who majored in Creative Writing in the college years, that space for feedback (with some judgment and rejection) spread to classrooms, where peer edits that pushed more personal thoughts and prospectives that could fuel thoughts of failure for many. What a ways-away from the carefree day of just writing for yourself and your friends. (The challenge here is to become a better writer, through hardship comes growth, which I agree, but the basis and systems centered around rejection can be isolating.)
(As a quick aside, the other place of wins/victories that likely informs this Substack and my writing world now was being on FanFiction.Net in my younger years writing on particular shows that I liked. And I wrote A LOT, even had one writer create a spin-off of something I created. But there was a rating system in FanFiction.Net that also allowed for space for comments—occasionally, I’ll look back and reread comments, including one that says, “God, this reads like a middle school wrote this!” which is written as an insult… except I WAS in middle school. So, bam!)
Even if feedback is the goal, rejection is at the center of so much of our writing (creative or otherwise) in educational settings. We than carry that same sense of rejection (and sometimes feedback) into the publishing world. You submit a story to a contest. You seek out funding in a grant. You apply for a fellowship or a mentorship. Rejection is looming around the corner at every opportunity—because this is the system we exist in. Even here, a post on Substack goes on seen, unliked, uncommented, it’s passive, but it might still feel like rejection.
Many writers reframe this though—it’s a rite of rejection, an experience we all go through if we aim to get our work out there. There’s bravery in visibility, in vulnerability, in the very act of wanting the world to see your work, especially in a world cursed with urgency.
It may take time for our stories to find their homes—they’ll endure rejections, mayhaps receive some revisions, and ready themselves into the right home when it is found (or even, when it is self-made). Rejection becomes a ritual that may feel defeating alone within this system, but it can be the opportunity to work outside of the existing system to share your work, post on here or elsewhere online, self-publish, create a zine, etc.
And the key idea here is: alone. As we return to the idea of a writing community, if your confidence and inspiration was soddened by the collegiate experience, take claim to a new iteration of a writing community. The formality and feedback in those spaces often came from a rigid structure, that centered rejection of ideas over feedback and conversation of idea.
Reframing our wins begins just by deciding what a victory and success could be: the gift of genuine feedback is one such win.
A win can begin with the simple act of sharing your work, hearing a laugh from something you wrote, a reflection out about how it made someone feel, and expanding the world you crafted by allowing another to be a part of it.
If there’s someone who’s read your work and is compelled (with consent) to share ideas that the work gave them or feedback/ideas to further it, when it is done well, that feedback feels centered in community and growth (and not just the rejection of a rigid framework).
Simple praise, especially if you decide to read something you just crafted from a writing prompt is so important for confidence building. And sharing it aloud is a win!
Getting a chance to revise your work, either from your won edits, peer thoughts, or feedback offered from a workshop is a win. Allowing yourself to write in community to further your vision of your work is a win.
Finding groups, participating in workshops, listening to other creatives, and being a part of a greater community is a win as well — in a system that believes writing is a solitary act, crafting and creating in community is a win in and of itself.
And yes, getting an award or recognition or published is a win as well, but those can’t be your only wins. Reframing our wins to be meaningful and plentiful allows us the strength needed to move through the rites of rejection—
seeing that list of no’s, compared to your list of milestones, victories, successes, especially those self-led or led with your homegrown communities, may end up meaning more to you to be “successful within the system.”