Do you want to BE a writer?

My whole life I've been telling myself (and anyone else who'll listen) that I want to be a writer. But except for a lot of high school and college essays and a handful of poems and stories, I never wrote anything. I had plenty of ideas in my head, numerous first chapters, but nothing that justified saying “I am a writer.”

The summer after I graduated from college and got married, my husband convinced me to actually sit down and be a writer instead of just talking about it. With my sister- and mother-in-law, we started a weekly critique group, and for the first time I experienced that satisfaction of really writing, really accomplishing, facing stumbling blocks and overcoming them. I wrote a rough draft of my American Revolution historical novel, The Bee Hive, in six months, and even though it was difficult to get over my bad habits, I was just really, incredibly happy that I was finally doing something to pursue my dreams.

Then... I entered the world of submission. I started in 2007 by submitting The Bee Hive to a CT statewide contest for unpublished writers, the Tassy Walden Award for New Voices in Children's Literature. When I found out I was a finalist, I squealed and danced for at least a few days, on and off. It was finally here—that elusive moment—I was going to be published! I knew winning the contest was no guarantee of future publication, but I figured, if an agent judge had chosen the ms as a finalist, it must be pretty great, right? (Ok, I can hear you snickering. I was extremely naive.) An editor from a respected house asked to see all the YA finalist mss, so I fixed a few format errors and sent it off.

Six months later...it came: my first rejection. I only realized later how amazing it was to get a personal rejection with a few nice comments and some constructive criticism in it. All I saw was: SHE HATED IT.

Fortunately, I'm ridiculously stubborn, and my husband wouldn't have let me give up anyway. I kept writing, writing, writing, and kept submitting, and kept getting rejected. Over the next two years, I was once again a finalist and once a winner in the “Tassy”, got half a dozen form rejections and about twice as many nice, personal ones. The worst was a copy-pasted form rejection in which the editor said a few kind things about enjoying my chapters, but Lily just wasn't right for her house—which would have been really nice, except my book was called The Art of Elsewhere, and there was no one named Lily in it at all.

By early last year, I was starting to feel really worn out and discouraged. I felt I would never meet my goal of being published. I felt disgusted with myself for trying, when obviously it wasn't meant to be. I was reluctant to spend any more time revising things or writing anything new, when none of my previous changes had made much difference in the long run.

Then I remembered: I want to be a writer. Which means: writing. I recalled my initial excitement at just getting words down on paper, finding that perfect scene, spending time with my characters, in their world. I had become so preoccupied with the worry of submission, that I had forgotten the reason I started writing in the first place. I had stopped wanting to be a writer—I wanted to have been one.

With this epiphany in mind, I approached revising my work with new vigor. I didn't need quick fixes for problems with my ms: I needed to make it perfect. I found that keeping my focus on writing and away from submitting allowed me to enjoy the process as I first had.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still submitting, now that I have a finished product that I'm happy with—now that the voice in my mind that used to say, “Maybe no one will notice,” is finally silent. I still very much want to be published. But I realize that every rejection brings me closer to that goal. Every form rejection is just a step along the path, and every personal rejection is a rare gift that allows me to grow as a writer and hone my skills.

On our recent trip to Amherst, Massachusetts, we drove by Emily Dickinson's home (we wanted to go inside but it was closed for repairs to the roof). Emily Dickinson has always been a bit of a mystery to me; I admired much of her poetry, but I couldn't understand her attitude towards publishing...she called it something like, “the auctioning of man's soul.” Since my desire to share my stories is so strong, I will never agree with her, but I see that there is truth in her perspective. By developing herself as a writer rather than become obsessed with publication, she was able to become a truly great poet.

So, fellow writers, congratulations on all your accomplishments, large and small. Here's to being writers! And I'd love to know: what gets you through rejection?

Except chocolate, that is. Chocolate is a given.