The Freedom in Saying “Nevermind”

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.

Fear of Rejection

In a conversation today with a co-worker (somewhere between money problems and V.C. Andrews novels), there came a short discourse on the fact that I have a fear of rejection.

The rejection isn’t about people or social settings. I do have social anxiety, but this was more about the fear of putting pieces of myself out there, things I love to do, with the chance that they’ll be rejected. The two main examples are knitting and writing.

I haven’t been knitting long, a few years for standard knitting and a few months for purling and some “extras.” I’ve made some neat stuff, including the Alien Illusion Scarf for Jon and a couple of multi-colored hats. They’re not the best made things, but I ‘m sure they’re better than the potential product of a baboon with knitting needles and some yarn. I have a couple scarves which are actually pretty and at one time, I’d really wanted to put them on etsy. I even set up a store.

Guess what hasn’t made it on etsy? I keep thinking it’s because I’m too lazy to do it. I’m too lazy to find the right angle and lighting to take a picture and oh goodness, even though I’m already on the computer for hours at a time, those extra clicks would just take too much out of me. But seriously? I’m pretty sure I’m just worried they won’t sell and that I’ll have wasted the time doing it and I’ll feel slapped in the face because no one will want my stuff.

I know that sounds ridiculous. People list things on there all the time that doesn’t sell. I follow some people on Twitter who relist regularly, and Craftastrophe has proven that people sell things for a lot of money that look like a can of paint and some cement threw up after a wild night at the bar. I know I’m not the only one who’s ever had something that no one else wanted.

Maybe it’s because I have no confidence in what I make.

Then there’s my writing. On any day, I’ll tell you that I love to write. On a good day, I’ll say that my writing isn’t too bad. On a bad day, or any day that I’m on the verge of writing a query letter or sending in a manuscript, I’ll say that my writing is horrible, there’s no way anyone would publish it, and there’s no point in even trying. Granted, there are a few more steps to sending in a potential novel than listing a handmade item on etsy, but I think my mind processes it the same and says “I don’t want to be rejected.”

My co-worker made a good point. “Either you never try and nothing happens. Or you try and something might happen.” It makes sense in that context, so how come I can’t get my head and emotions around it?

Conclusion drawn: At some point, I have to suck it up and just go for it.