I recently posted on being rejected. At the time, it didn’t occur to me that there could be a chance of me ever being the rejecter. That opportunity came a few days later.
When I say I was the rejecter, I wasn’t really rejecting anything. What I was actually doing was changing my mind about something I thought I wanted to do.
I found an opportunity on a writing forum. It sounded like fun and something I could easily fit into my writing schedule, so I applied. I applied for two different topic positions, thinking I had a good chance at one and a not so great chance at the other. A few days later, I got the rejection email for the one I thought I had a chance at. No big deal. I’d just wrapped up the rejection post and figured I wouldn’t get the other one either.
Turns out, the people doing the accepting had a different idea because I got my welcome letter the next day. I went to the page to read the training tools and the welcome information and was quickly hit with the nasty feeling of dread. It wasn’t that the rules were hard to follow, nor was it anything different than what I’m already doing. It was partially the fact that even though I applied for it, I really had no idea what to write on the topics they were giving me. It was mostly that they wanted me to commit to 10 to 20 articles a month.
I’m somewhat of a writing commitment-phobe. I like to do it in my own time with no pressure (unless I’m putting it on myself). Short term commitment is fine. I’m okay with claiming assignments as long as I know that I can release them back into the wild if I need to. But considering I’m writing for two other platforms, trying to maintain at least 2 blogs, and working 40 hours a week, there was no way I was going to be able to kick out that many articles for this site, not if I still wanted some downtime now and again.
So I did what I probably wouldn’t have done in the past: I declined the position. It feels weird to decline a position I applied for in the first place, but it shouldn’t, right? People do that in the job world all the time if something doesn’t feel right them. Writing shouldn’t be any different.
Plus, I have a feeling they would have told me to take a hike after the first month when I fell way short of their expectations.
The feeling of relief I had after sending that email was huge, and I realized that most of what stresses me out is stuff that I take on when I really could have just said “no” and not worried about it. In this case, I can continue to write for the platforms I enjoy writing for, I can keep my blogs, and I can still have time to watch Doctor Who and knit a scarf every now and again.
“No” is a good word. “Nevermind” works just as well.