I was rejected from a writing job this week. It felt heartbreaking to me, a real blow to my self esteem. I thought I was good at what I do, but the comments I received on the piece I had written were horrifically brutal. And true. They said it was fluff and drivel and ‘poorly written’. This is the thing I thought I was good at, so to be told I was so inadequate at it made me feel absolutely rubbish.

But I also think I am not so green in the sense that it didn’t crush me totally. I was crushed, for sure. I felt the weight of my ineptitude sitting malignantly on my shoulders. But within this I also felt the small candle of resolve, and it did not blow out.

Okay. Ok. How can I use this to my benefit? Did I learn something? I did. I learnt not to write drivel and fluff. To make every word count. I also learnt a bit about hot tubs – not that that would benefit me in any way, nor be of use anytime soon, but I still learnt something. Will I give up trying to get a job that pays for my writing? Certainly not.

I think that counts.