Then it comes like a sucker punch to the gut, and you realize that all of the preparation in the world could not be adequate enough to fend off the hurt that you feel.

Rejection comes in several forms. Sometimes it comes with a list of things that are wrong with your story. Sometimes it comes with a list of things that you can do to improve your story. Sometimes it comes with no explanation at all, and you are left alone to scratch your head and wonder what you did wrong.

What comes next tells the true tale of who you really are. It is the story behind the story.

Do you dismiss the criticism and vent to all of your friends about how some stupid person had the nerve to find fault with your work? Do you ignore the advice and eat seven bowls of chocolate ice cream all the while mumbling that someone didn’t recognize genius when they saw it? Do you throw your hands up in the air in defeat while pitching your manuscript in the trash? Do you walk away and never attempt to tell a story again?

Or do you work through the hurt and then take a long, hard look at your manuscript with honest eyes? Are you willing to do anything and everything within your power to become a better writer? Are you teachable?

Your reaction to rejection reflects the truth about you.

Having recently faced a publisher’s rejection I have been pondering this concept, and I have come to the conclusion that it is applicable to more than just the writing aspect of my life. You see, at the exact same time that I have been facing rejection as a writer I have also been facing rejection in some relationships.

The reality is that a life fully lived is going to require some vulnerability on my part. I am going to put myself out there…and I am going to be judged.

Inevitably, rejection will be a part of the process at times, and there is nothing that can be done to adequately prepare for pain that is soul deep. Sometimes it will come with a long list of my faults. Sometimes it will come with some advice on how I can improve. And sometimes it will come with no explanation at all.

What am I going to do with this experience? Will I retreat in fear? Will I lash out in anger?

Or will I work through the hurt and take a long, hard look at myself with honest eyes? Can I learn something from this process that will make me a better human being? Am I teachable?

As a person, and as a writer, I wish that I could say that my first reaction to rejection has always been mature and well thought out. However, if I am going to speak honestly I have to say that I have felt hurt and angry and afraid.

But I have felt the unwavering gaze of God on me in the swirl of my emotions. He is my one true thing. The One who sees all of my faults and does not walk away. The One who loves me in spite of me.



~ Tracy Bowen

I was raised in an atmosphere that put a lot of emphasis on appearance, but there was all manner of evil hiding beneath the dignified, saintly facade. I learned early on that the ugly stuff is supposed to be hidden, and I became a hard core people pleaser. The result? Someone who internalized a lot of pain and anger. It ate away at me like an insidious cancer, leaving me panicked. So then I ended up doing a lot of things that gave me the illusion of control...like keeping a perfect house. I fell into the clutches of an enslaving lie: If the outside looks good, that makes up for the fact that the core is appallingly rotten. Enter Facade Tracy--the Queen of Cover-Up. And no, I am not referring to make-up.

By the grace of God I met someone who helped bring the pain and anger from my past into His light. For the first time in my life I was real before Him. Not that He hadn't known me before, but I have come to learn that the acknowledgement of who we are is not for His benefit--it's for ours. The discovery of His love for me--just as I was--and of His trustworthy character, changed my life.

This area of authenticity is a place God is continually working on. You would think I would just learn my lesson and be done with it, but apparently I am hard-headed. Who knew? Being honest about my past before Him was wonderful and freeing, but the clutches of the facade are long-reaching, and to this very day, its tentacles are grasping at my heels.

It is hard to be real with myself. Honestly, there are some things about me that just ain't pretty. It would be easier to pretend they don't exist and go bleach something. It is hard to be real with people. Let's face it...people can be very judgmental. We all love a good fingerpointing session. It distracts us from our own faults.

I am sickened when I realize just how much time and energy I have put into efforts that make me feel in control of my life, and worrying about what others think of me. God has been killing Facade Tracy. She is dying a slow, painful death. He is rooting out the motives behind my every action. It has been downright painful.

But I have met an interesting gal: Authentic Tracy.

Facade Tracy wants everything to be perfect at all times because that makes her feel in control. Facade Tracy does not care if her family cannot be comfortable in their own home because they fear messing up her hard work.

Authentic Tracy also likes clean...but she knows that family is more important than things. Authentic Tracy knows that she can't be a good wife, raise cherished children, go to school full-time, and write books while living in a spotless house. Perfect simply isn't on my agenda--I don't have time for it. Something has to give.

That something has turned into a dust bunny behind my fridge that is so large I am thinking about buying it a collar and giving it a name. It can be our new family pet.  

There is not an area of my life that has not come under His scrutiny. Why do I wear the things I wear? Why do I go the places I go? Why do I act and react the way that I do?
I don't want to make people happy with me. I want God to be happy with me.
I don't want to be in control. I want God to be in control.
I don't want a fake, plastic life that only looks good from the outside.
I want to be real.