i once had a writing teacher who said she kept every rejection letter she got as proof she was on a path towards something. that she’d made an attempt, put in effort. she might not have a piece of published work, but she could prove she tried.
she said each rejection is a new rung on a ladder. a piece of kindling in a fire. a seed in a garden that is not yet in bloom. and every seed planted is a seed worth counting, tracking, remembering, and celebrating.
i’m writing this to remind myself.
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