Why rejection is so painful
Writing and rejection go hand-in-hand like Netflix and chilling or stress and breakouts. If you think being a writer will make you immune to rejection, I’m sorry to say, it’s inevitable. Like most writers, I started taking a pencil to paper when I was young. Around eight years old I wrote my first “story” — an unremarkable, unoriginal piece about a wizard named Merlin. I kept writing here and there, mostly poems and in my journal. Part-way through Grade 7, I moved across the city, which also meant going to another school. I kept in touch with my old friends and wished I didn’t have to make new ones. When I inched closer to high school, I decided to follow in the footsteps of two of my besties and applied to a specialized arts school, which had a creative writing stream. I sent in my grades and an essay, attended the in-person testing (all I remember is fervently writing a short story), followed by an in-person interview. No pressure for a pre-teen, right?
A few weeks later, I got the news in the mail (it was the ‘90s) — I wasn’t accepted. I know exactly the reason why (save the details for a future post). I was crushed. Demolished. A failed writer at the ripe age of twelve. But it was a good lesson for me to learn early on.
Rejection in writing comes in all forms. Whether it’s not getting into a school or program, a “no, thanks” from a potential agent or publisher, or criticism from readers. Being brave enough to create some form of art in itself is a bold act. Most writers will tell you they have an innate desire to write. It can be difficult to articulate. It might feel like a calling or an itch to make sense of the world through story.
But if creativity is a human need (maybe after breathing or eating), why is rejection so painful? Like feels like its physically ripping you from the inside out, painful.
According to science, our reptilian brains are hardwired to seek connection and receive approval from our peers. It literally helped us survive. If the group rejected us, then there was a higher probability we’d end up dead aka roaming the wilderness alone to try and find shelter and food, and hope to not get eaten by a saber-toothed tiger.
What’s interesting is researchers have found that the pain of rejection triggers the same neural pathways to that of real, physical pain. It’s so real that Tylenol was found to be an effective form of relief. So if you’re a writer who just got a big, fat “no” from someone (insert: agent, editor, publisher, etc), then popping an acetaminophen might help you feel a bit better.
It’s impossible to live in this world without experiencing some kind of pain. To be alive is to feel and writing is an instant path to feeling alive, even if that feeling is rejection. Next time you’re afraid to hit the “send” button, apply for a program or even finish that book you’ve been working on, remember, you’re not alone. Every writer has been rejected at least once in their life (probably many more times, otherwise they’re either a complete genius or a total liar). And two, it’s your job to create and release, not to stay attached to your creation because once it’s out there, it’s not yours anymore.
What I’m hoping you’ll take away from this is, while rejection is a painful part of the process, don’t let it stop you from writing. We’re going to hurt anyways, so why not create something while we’re at it.
