I was like Robert Peary embarking for the North Pole—that is, if we can pretend for a moment that the publishing world is a vast, icy, unreachable landscape and I am much, much braver than I am. No, there weren’t endless miles of frigid peril before me—just one tiny button: “submit”—but somehow the two seemed about the same. For years I had told my colleagues, with an air of superiority, that I wasn’t interested in publication. The truth was, I was afraid to fail.
And I did (mostly). Like most authors venturing into the wide world of publishing, I was greeted with more rejection than acceptance. Without a guide to help me navigate the landscape, I became anxious and eventually, depressed.
Though unpleasant, this isn’t abnormal. Even animals show signs of depression when they fail, and some researchers think this innate response prevented our ancestors from getting hurt when they were defeated in a physical challenge. When we’re depressed, we back down. But today, we don’t need to back away from failure. As I said, the publishing world is a broad landscape, with endlessly varied aesthetics and groups. Unlike our ancestors who had only one community by which their value was determined, as authors we have many tribes. If one group rejects us, we can find another home.
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