..of any kind is hard to handle. Those you love leaving you, friends who move on..but the one I struggle with the most is rejection of my writing. These fragile little things that I send out on the US Mail..
I found out I did not win the book competition I entered. They picked a book of essays about maternity. I have to face the facts: My firefighting memoir is. Not. Good. The agent(hi Janet!) who requested the full manuscript (here I can insert some snobby writer lingo: a "full" means the whole thing; a partial is..okay maybe it is pretty self-explanatory. Forget it) also agreed it was. Not. Good because it was too much like a series of episodes rather than a story that stuck together (kind of like peanut butter). Well, I agree with her, so I am at a point where I have to decide whether to chuck it or ruthlessly cut and paste.
Rejection can make me a better writer, though; a better girlfriend, a better friend. So back I go to the writing, because something in me makes me do it. It's the same thing that made me keep running in two marathons; the same thing that pushes me up the trails or to keep skiing even though I am Not. Good. at that either.
Wilderness and writing are entwined for me. I can't separate the two. Being out there makes me a better writer. Writing helps me understand why I need to be out there.