Earlier this week, I received an e-mail from a poetry magazine. It’s been a few weeks since I submitted 3 poems, so I was initially surprised yet excited to hear back from the magazine. And as I expected, my work would not get published.
Doubt and annoyance soon followed. Another rejection e-mail. Another “it’s not you, it’s us.” Another “feel free to submit something in the near future.” I understand that rejection is a part of the process. But after two years, it feels like my risks lead to guaranteed failures.
I’m at a point now where I can find confidence in my abilities. I don’t pretend to be the best artist out there, but I’m definitely no amateur either. What I lack in exposure, I make up for in experience and work ethic. So it hurts whenever I continually put myself out there and not get the recognition that could potentially build my brand. Meanwhile, my social media presence stagnates and my inbox is filled with rejections and empty promises.
But I’m not stopping here. This magazine and plenty others failed to acknowledge my talent. Writes who once saw me as equal, now see me as stranger. Despite these harsh realities, the horizon before me has my name on it. And I will chase it, with or without a co-sign.