
Originally Posted by
alan.r
I can absolutely relate.
This has been a huge part of my life for years and years, and I appreciate that you bring it up here and am interested in what others think about his. In American life, things basically run this way: win the game, make the play, get the grade, etc. It's how we're brought up (most of us), and so we're constantly looking for that praise (some of us, as Chet suggests, are possibly looking for criticism): in either case, some kind of recognition. As someone who was/is trying to be a writer (and am pretty competitive), I sent and still do send out lots of fiction, to journals all over the country, hoping to "win". If things went well (got some publications) happy-verision-of-me; if things went poorly (rejection-upon-rejection), exceedingly-depressed-version-of-me (not too nice to be around).
This was extremely difficult but it was only difficult because I didn't know how to look at my own mind: when I got a bunch of rejections in a row, I'd think, "I'm a failure, utterly failing at this writing thing." When I say 'writing,' I don't mean, you know, whipping up a story and sending it off, either. I mean months, sometimes years of work on a particular piece, and then sending it out, along with maybe five or six other pieces, also worked on for years, and then over the course of a year, receiving somewhere around 100 rejection letters; like having a baby come back and someone going, no, this one isn't any good. And things would spiral from there: "I'm not supporting my wife, I have a crappy job, I'm not being a good husband or partner or even friend, and I'm selfish, working on my own shit day and night which no one cares about and neglecting friends and family" - well, don't want to bore. You get it. There were times I was desperate, absolutely desperate with want, want for some recognition, something, but even if a story got picked up, it wasn't good enough, I wanted more, needed more recognition, and sometimes, the praise was even worse, etc. It really bled into my entire life.
Anyway, I can't say how much sitting has "helped." I remember when I first began, the first few weeks even, my wife said to me, Where's all the stress, all the anger, the depression? I had made other changes already, but this was different, and I didn't know how to answer, and said, I don't know, I don't know! I still get little bummed with a rejection, still a little happy, a little fearful with a publication, but now I can see the mental drama, the wanting before it even starts, and try not to cling, attach to these things. Doesn't work all days, but to the best of my ability, I drop the rejection, drop the praise, too. Maybe just a little smile when each come. It's been a great teacher.
I don't know, has me thinking of the second noble truth, really. I've got to stop rambling on Treeleaf. In any case, again, and the point of this and probably what I should've just said: I know what you mean.
Gassho,
Alan