Closed doors, open doors and waiting for that one “yes”

I didn’t win, and that’s a good thing

About a month ago, I learned I was honorable mention in a writing contest. When I got the news, I did the happy dance, jumped up and down like I was on a pogo stick and told anyone who cared enough to ask why I looked like a gleeful idiot.

A month later I learned that I did not make the final 20. Surprisingly I wasn’t disappointed or surprised.

I expected it.

Why? Am I just that much of half-empty person?

No, I knew that my story was a sweet story of resilience, overcoming fear. But the contest I entered generally wants stories that are painful, gasp-worthy and sometimes just plain weird.

I entered anyway because maybe this one time, there might be a chance.

I read the winning story, and I just didn’t get the appeal. The second place story was better. Only once have I read a story from the contest that lingered with me. It was truly brillant honestly. The second one was also a previous winner in a different contest, and the fairness factor in me thought well, what one contest wasn’t good enough?

This could be my reaction. Why does the one author feel the need to submit again? Wasn’t one contest win good enough? It’s hard enough for writers to break through, but you already have and now you need validation again?

But here’s the thing, feeling this way isn’t going to change the outcome or really make me feel any better. Raining on someone’s parade doesn’t make the sun shine brighter on me.

It was one person’s opinion.  Just like the judge of this particular contest. She had her own experiences, what she liked to read is a heavy influence when she reads stories. The same is true for us.

Take for example, you read a book and you loved it, and you describe it someone. They pick up that book and decide after a few pages that the story isn’t for them. Does that devalue the story because you liked it and your friend didn’t?

Of course not. It means that not every story will resonate with every person.

A friend mentioned to me that she has never watched Star Wars. I told her that she was truly missing something special. But my fear is that after talking it up, she will be disappointed because it’s not her “cup of tea.”

Maybe Star Trek is more her jam. Maybe not. Maybe Bridgerton is really what she likes. Or maybe she likes a true crime documentary.

We live in a world of choices, and it’s really a wonderful thing. I have a choice to wallow in my disappointment and be rejected yet again and never send the story to another contest or publication.

Or I could research new places for my story because maybe this contest wasn’t quite the right home for it.

Here’s some interesting facts. Stephen King submitted the story “Carrie” 38 times before he finally got a yes. Let that sink in for a minute. He addressed 38 envelopes, bought 38 stamps and saved every rejection. Jack London was rejected 600 times. Louis L’ Amour was rejected 200 times. All of these people went on to be highly successful.

When I live in the world where no is the only answer and choose to give up, I might miss out on something marvelous. When I look at that closed door, I never see the one opening off to the side of me. Maybe the open door isn’t as pretty or intricate or fancy, but it’s open, waiting for me to acknowledge it.

If I give up, I would never experience the beauty of the moment when I hear that  one “yes.” Because that yes will be beautiful, life-changing and satisfying. And I will scream it at the top of the mountains.

You lose your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.