Rejection hurts. Writers tell other writers, “You need to develop a thick skin.”

I don’t know how to develop a thick skin. When I became a pastor’s wife, a friend called and told me that God was going to heal my skin. I looked at my arms with their age spots and told her I’d be glad to have God heal my skin. She said, “I’m not sure that’s what He means.”

“If He wants to toughen me up, I’ll take that as well.”

He has helped me to hear things without making them such a part of me that I thought I’d crumple in despair. When it started happening, I wondered if I looked like I cared at all. I knew I did care, but felt like a wall separated me from too intense pain.

I’m not certain it has applied to writing rejections. I got another one on Friday night. Part of the problem was that I was sure it would be accepted. I plummeted downwards. Then two weeks later I brought it out for editing at a writers meeting. Other writers edited it, one person with zest. Aah, more pain. I tried to ignore my angst and listened carefully. Okay, I can take out the extraneous detail that no one cares about but me. Set it up like a three act story, even though it’s non-fiction? Possible to do. What’s the take away for the reader? Important to think about.

I’m going to re-submit this tale, once it’s changed. Hopefully, expectations will be moderate. I think I’ll re-read Strunk & White’s book, The Elements of Style. After letting the work rest a few days, I’ll re-read it. If it seems okay, I’ll send it out again. “Lord, help me.”