It started on Friday July 30th on our way to pick the Nigerian songwriter and singer, Ric Hassani, from his hotel. Fidelis was driving, Divine Martins was in the front seat rolling out gist and quotes and laughs, I was in the back seat juggling two phones and calls with Ric's manager and a taxi driver. We were on our way to making something that's never happened before - something none of us saw coming, something perfectly divine. (A great story for another day; I will write about this).
Everything was happening so fast, unscripted and coming to reality. The faster we drove, the closer we got, the happier we became. Google map was showing us the way; her voice so reassuring.
In the middle of a call, in the middle of the road, some kilometres to our destination, I got two email notifications. I checked to see if they were related to our journey, to our meeting Ric Hassani. No, no, no. They were entirely unrelated to the drive, unrelated to the groove of the evening.
They were rejection emails for me. Two heartbreaking rejections from two magazines I had sent prose and photography pitches to. I was super hopeful that those pitches would get yeses. I honestly wanted the yeses. And I needed the money.
I read out a line from one of the emails: "...though we both really enjoyed your piece, we unfortunately couldn't find space for it in this issue." The disappointment echoed in my voice; I could feel it myself in my throat. The email continued: "We hope it's encouraging rather than frustrating for us to tell you that you were on our shortlist, and if there was a little more space in the magazine you would have made it in. We found your piece incredibly affecting and gorgeously written."
I scrolled to the bit that said, "all the best".
The heartbreak was written all over my face. We were still driving. We didn't pull over. Fidelis and Divine said things to sympathise with me. I don't particularly remember all the words they uttered, but one I will not forget was what Divine said: "We will find another space". It struck me. It showed me something bigger than rejections. It showed me a new space - and a new understanding.
Divine again: "I have always known you to handle rejections well, and then this hits you really hard. I feel the heartbreak. But don't worry ..."
There was another call from Ric's manager. The hotel was no longer in that distant corner away from us. Almost there, a few metres to our destination, my two rejections melted away. We were screaming yes and yes and yes. A yes-music, if you like. We made it.
Ric Hassani was in the car with us. Words cannot carry or contain our thrill.
Before this day, I had received ten (10) rejections in the space of ten (10) days. One rejection every day. One of the rejections was a from a publisher. Another one came from a literary agent whose email I will frame, because it's one of the sweetest emails I've received from the business side of writing.
Always there in my inbox, a new rejection. I feed on rejection. I make soups with them. I pick the poems, the photographs, the stories and make new lives out of them. I have mastered the art of moving on.
So, this is a brief history of my July publishing life.
The rejections continued into August. Another publisher said no. 2, 3, 4 rejections. On a Tuesday, I received from Stellium Literary Magazine saying:
"Hi,
I'm writing to let you know that Stellium has nominated your work for next year's Best of the Net anthology. We're going to make a post about it on social media soon but I wanted to give you a heads up and also say congratulations!"
The next day (August 11th) I was sent a digital copy of Australian Poetry Journal Volume 11 Number 1, where I have a poem. Print copies already on the way.
Same August 11th, two new rejections flew in. One of the emails read: 'Personal rejection from ...' They were impressed by the work, but didn't feel the pieces were right for the publication.
August 12th, another rejection. A portion of the email read:
"We were very moved but these poems and sat with them for a while but ultimately decided they weren't a good fit. I personally was intrigued by your poem 'Curves'. I loved the play on the A/B format that this had. We hope to see you submit to us in the future."
I should say that none of these rejections stopped me from writing or putting my work out there. In fact, it was during this time I discovered this coffee platform and decided to get on board and set up my page - to share and document, to be as raw as I want to be.
I come as raw as I am, just as I am.
August 15th, a new rejection. August 15th, an acceptance of four poems for the upcoming issue of a magazine. August 16th, a new rejection. August 17th, a message from my phone network provider in the UK. August 19th, another rejection. August 20th, the August 2021 edition of the alumni e-newsletter from the University of Kent. August 24th, a rejection from Canada.
August 25th, an erotic poem I shared on this page - something to wet the Wednesday.
August 26th, a rejection from Australia. August 27th, exactly two months to my 30th birthday. August 27th, a message via my website asking if they could hire me to write a funeral poem. August 28th, a contributor proof for a poem about mermaids; the poem is titled 'Mammiwata Bay'.
August 31st, two poems accepted to be included in an anthology to be published in December. August 31st, poems rejected by another magazine and a note accompanying it saying: "However, we are pleased to inform you that your photography submission has made it through the first round and is still under consideration. At this point in time, we expect to have a final decision for you by October 15th."
September 1st (at exactly 2AM), as I type this post, I receive word that my Mammiwata Bay poem went live August 27th.
Why I have decided to share this? Why am I so explicit about rejections? I am sharing my process, stories and documenting them because of space. Because that space is not enough for all of us. Because the space is enough for all of us. Because you and I are not alone. Because the sky is not alone. Because I am a magazine editor myself and I send rejection letters to writers. Because I am human. Because disappointments and joys we will always meet in this journey of life.
And as Divine said, we will find another space. See the other side of the sky, friends.
PS: I shall be writing about what space now means to me, or what I understand from Divine Martins' encouraging word. Stay tuned, and keep making and/or finding new spaces.