Thank you so much for entering …
I knew where this was going; they were not the words I wanted to read. I wanted a “Congratulations!” not a “Thank you.”
My writing for a devotional book had been rejected.
I could hear the wicked witch in my head start to tell me … not good enough … didn’t measure up … all those hours were wasted.
I sat at my computer in June, writing, editing, and deleting to get to 600 words. That is not a lot of words to be allowed for a writer. I polished and tweaked and hesitated to press SEND. Eventually, with fear and trepidation, I submitted my writing.
I waited. I hoped. I kept checking my email once August came around. Over 400 writers hoped their words would be included in a book to be published next spring. Forty would be chosen.
On Aug. 3, I opened my email to see the words I wrote at the beginning of this column. Can we have a drumroll? The words, “Thank you, but unfortunately …” From the editors came a “No.” Can I be honest and say that I do not like the word, unfortunately?
So now that I have been rejected, what will I do with that rejection?
I will print it out and use it as a catalyst to keep me writing.
The wicked witch in my head tells me, “Oh, my pretty, you don’t belong at the table with all the chosen writers.” (I hope you read that like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz.) I’m not trying to get you to feel sorry for me. I’m not waiting for anyone to tell me I’m good enough.
You see, I can’t NOT write. It’s just so much a part of who I am.
Writing is how I process my thoughts and my feelings. As I hold my pen or tap the keyboard, I am in my happy place.
Photo provided by Janet Hart Leonard
After reading the email, I stopped, held my coffee cup, and read a column I wrote a year ago about disappointment. It tugged at my heart. The funny thing is that I don’t remember what I was disappointed about while writing the column. Today, it no longer matters.
Disappointment is part of life. It can settle me into the valley of discouragement or shove me to keep trying. I’ve never been one to wallow in the valley of woe is me.
Get back on the horse after being bucked off and ride like a rodeo champion.
Face the pitcher who struck you out and hit a home run.
Write like your words matter … because they do.
Those are the words I choose to hear.
What if my words help someone with a hurting heart, someone who has been told she will never be enough?
What if my words make a difference to a mom struggling to understand why being a mom is so complex, no matter the age of her children?
What if I can give words of comfort to a daughter who is caring for her elderly mother, and it seems like whatever she does is never enough?
What if I can make someone laugh when they want to beat the tar out of someone who has worn the niceness right off them?
Those questions are some of the reasons why I write.
Words can take a reader to the heart of the writer who has walked the same journey. “Me too,” the reader says. They need a glimpse of hope. Someone who has walked through that door before can only open that door of hope.
Choosing the words can sometimes feel daunting. When they come to my fingertips, I want to type “Hallelujah!” as I find just the words my heart wants to say.
I will have more words. Whether I am ever in the chosen forty, I will still continue to write. They say to find your reader and write to the ONE. I’m never sure where my words will go. I pray my words find their way to the reader who needs them.
Next week I will share the devotional I wrote that was not chosen. The one who needs to read my words could be someone who reads my column. Perhaps they would have never read them in a devotional book.
What if you never see a glimpse of hope or the possibility that your prayers will be answered? Will you still trust God? Do you lean unto your own understanding of your situation, or do you wait confidently for God to give you the strength to endure whatever happens?
These were some of the words I wrote in June.
Stay tuned until next week. If you choose to read my words, you may be the one who needs them. The truth is … I needed to read them.
Rejected? Yes. But I am very much … okay.
Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.