How to Be Rejected—Kate Gaston

Series: How to Write Poetry

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by Kate Gaston

Let’s suppose, for a moment, that writing is like fishing. 

You set out early one morning, and as the sun begins to rise over the treetops, you set your mind to the day’s work. You have one goal. To catch a fish. But not just any fish. The big fish. You cast your line far out and away into the subconscious murk, hoping to snag that big idea, all your senses alert for the silver-flashing scales of the muse. 

Hours pass, and the morning ripens around you. Your eyes remain trained on that bobber, placidly floating on the surface of the water. As you sit, waiting, jiggling the shiny lure, you daydream about that fish. In your bones, you sense its presence. Somewhere, lurking in that murk, exists a real humdinger of a fish. 

If you can succeed in catching this fish, it will—you are almost sure of it—provide for your every need, maybe even your every desire. It’ll feed your family. It’ll put you on the map. Everywhere you go, people will clamor to hear the story of how you wrestled this fish out of the depths with nothing but sheer determination. 

Hours, days, weeks pass as you cast about for that elusive big fish of an idea. Reluctantly, you reset your expectations. You know the fish is there; you’re not giving up. But while you’re waiting for it to bite, you begin to take stock of all the other weird stuff you’ve hooked on your line. Rolling around in the bottom on your boat is an odd assortment of tin cans and old soda bottles. This hodgepodge of ideas—the flotsam and jetsam of your mind—aren’t exactly the big fish you’ve been waiting for. But you write them all down anyway. Might as well, since you’re passing the time.  

As a writer, your work is to put words on a page. The words sometimes aren’t particularly good words. Every idea won’t be the big fish. And on the hard days, you’re happy with any old tin can of a word. After you’ve created new work, you must often safeguard it from the withering blasts of your own negativity. You steel yourself against those brutalities, cocooning your work with words of affirmation. You sprinkle on the creative Miracle-Gro of artist dates and Morning Pages. you surround yourself with friends and love and gentleness in an effort to give space for these fledgling creations to flourish.