Rejection and Negative Capability
Organizing poetry, the madness of pursuing rejection, and getting comfortable with the uncertain
Lately I’ve been working on organizing the poetry I’ve written over the last five years (and a massive pile of notes that are not quite poems). It’s a good project when I am trying to build up to the flow required to get deeper work done. I’ve found a few essays that I hastily drafted and submitted without the kind of revision and nurturing they actually required.
As I do this exercise, I’ve been wondering what that kind of nurturing should tangibly look like. Is it time or another set of eyes or something else entirely?
Nurturing kids, nurturing poetry
With my children, the act of nurturing evolves as they grow and their needs transform. As they require and pursue increased agency and autonomy, my role as nurturer becomes more of a curator, a boundary maintainer, and a lead learner.
My experience as a writer is evolving, too. I am growing more confident (not in my capability as a writer, but in my ability to stubbornly persist in my work), and I’m clearer about why I’m writing. It’s for my own healing, and it’s in pursuit of connection with other people.
I’m also getting better at receiving rejection. There’s honestly so much rejection. I recently got my first of the year, and it was exciting (almost). I have a handful of submissions out there, and I’m expecting that number to grow. But I hope a few will also be accepted/published along the way.
Rejection and vulnerability
Repeated rejection requires repeated vulnerability. You’re inviting a stranger into your soul and inviting them to say, “No, thanks.” Submitting and pitching requires a kind of madness I am still not sure I possess.
It’s wholly unscientific to persist at anything when the outcome is consistently bad. But occasionally someone says, “yes, I’d love to publish your work,” and that somehow offers sufficient moral sustenance to push through the madness of the next 30, 50, 100 rejections.
So I keep writing these peculiar little essays that sometimes read more like journal entries than thoughtful exposition. I haphazardly scribble and tap out half-poems in stolen moments during lunch and spelling lessons and in waiting rooms. If I’m lucky, many of them will eventually turn into something I want to send out into the world. But I won’t rush them. I’ll keep teasing out their strengths, sitting with and growing alongside each piece I’ve created.
Negative capability and capacity for uncertainty
The documents that I use to organize my poetry are called “i think these are done” and “i think these are done, too.” I’m not sure poems ever truly feel finished, but when I feel like they’ve been given enough time in the barrel and they’ve captured the essence of what I was trying to convey, I’ll add them to the document.
Years ago, I shared the name of my “system” with a friend, and he told me about negative capability. I bristled at the name. Keats explains it this way:
Negative Capability… is when man is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason…
[More on negative capability from the Poetry Foundation here.]
So much of my life has consisted of lessons in persisting and even growing comfortable in uncertainties. Parenting a child with a nervous system disability, exploring my own neurodivergence, choosing a different faith than my family of origin, walking away from the professional track I was on to work for myself… They’ve all been exercises in increasing my tolerance for discomfort and uncertainty—in forcing me to define where I do need to feel certain, and what is actually optional.
I’m frequently uncertain that I am actually a competent writer. I am not always clear that others see me as a good parent—and I’m uncertain why it matters to me that they do.
I’m sometimes unsure that I made the right choice leaving an upwardly mobile professional track for this homeschool mom, freelancer, poetry-writing life. I am pretty much never sure if I am loving enough or learning enough. I am uncertain that I’ll still want this life in five or ten or fifty years.
But there’s also a lot that isn’t uncertain.
I am certain that I will keep failing. I am sure I will keep asking questions. I can confidently assert that I will do many things wrong as a parent, wife and friend.
I know that I will do my best to reach out from a place of love and tenderness. When feelings are hurt or things don’t go the way we hoped, I know I’ll endeavor to seek connection with a heart for repair.
Finally, I am confident my priorities will evolve as I pursue love, creativity, and connection in new ways, and I am certain I will always have more to learn.
Bits & Bobs
Trying a new section here with an assortment of links and thoughts. Whether you like it or you hate it, I’d love to hear your thoughts so I can continue to refine what this looks like (yes, all 25 of you).
This poem by Jon Pineda is a favorite. I wrote a bit about grief last week, and it came to mind today as I contemplated the good grief that comes with offering my children increased agency and autonomy: let me finish this one thing alone.
We’re in a huge Pete the Cat phase over here. The books, the TV show, the soundtrack to the TV show. Elvis Costello does the theme song (and more) for the show. Today I’m listening to Veronica on repeat. Costello wrote this one with Paul McCartney and produced it with T Bone Burnett, so it was basically destined for success. One of my favorite happy-sounding sad songs, he wrote it for/about his grandma and her struggle with memory loss.
I just finished 1000 Words by Jami Attenberg. After hearing her on the London Writer’s Salon podcast, I dove into her book. I wasn’t aware of #1000DaysofSummer when it started, and it was so lovely to read these encouraging essays from Attenberg and other fantastic authors. Read it all the way through or pick it up when you need a little spark.
Heidi Fielder features weekly interviews with creative mamas, Mothers Who Make, and I had the privilege of reflecting on my own experience of creativity and motherhood recently. Read it here.
And while I’m doing some self-promotion… I was interviewed on the Rooted & Unwavering podcast back in December and the episode came out a few weeks ago. I chatted with Hylke about how and why I chose a professional downshift, mindfulness, parenting, surrendering expectations, and more. I’d love if you’d listen and/or watch: Spotify | Apple Podcasts | YouTube
Until next time, friends. 👋
Going back through past work and noticing patterns and themes, deciding what you want to work on next, and just seeing how far you've come can be so satisfying.
Thanks for sharing our interview! 💛