Keep Going

Rejection and the Quiet Reminder to Keep Going

The little voice whispered, keep going. Don’t quit. After countless whispers and seemingly silent nudges, I restarted writing.

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Recently, I received a rejection that was especially difficult to swallow.

It stung even more because it was for a project I had poured so much of my heart into—a project I had been working on for a while—three years to be exact.

This story began as a simple note on my phone, rediscovered during a long cross-country flight in May. Around that time, I started collaborating with my writing partner, who read my essay and immediately saw its potential. She encouraged me to explore where it could go and generously offered to help refine it through several rounds of edits.

In the second round, we delved deeper into the message I wanted to convey and the takeaway I hoped to leave with readers. The third round was more ruthless—lots of cuts to streamline and strengthen the narrative. When I thought it was finished, I realized it needed one more pass. So, I invested in professional edits, which, in my opinion, elevated it even further.

The essay was personal. It was something I knew well—being a working mom.

When I finished, I was really proud of it. I felt excited.

I submitted it eagerly, then anxiously waited.

The day I got the rejection, I was in the kitchen. I had just finished cleaning up, about to queue up my current show. That’s when the email pinged my phone. I opened it and saw the rejection. I was flooded with a mix of emotions.

I sat down with my husband. "What happened?" he asked.

I shrugged it off, saying, "No big deal. It’s part of the game, right?" I even joked, "Maybe I shouldn't be wasting my time writing. I could be doing something more productive."

But inside, I felt awful. At that moment, I decided I was done. Completely done. I was quitting writing.

I opened the rejection email again, and reread it. One of the comments stuck with me: Could you include more universal elements?

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Around that same time, I had to buy a new printer. After inserting the cartridges and connecting it to the Wi-Fi, I crossed my fingers and hoped it would work. I'd had such bad luck with at-home printers in the past. But this time, when I opened my laptop, there it was—the essay, sitting at the top of my screen. I decided to print it out.

Maybe, I thought, I could read it over on paper, with a red pen in hand, to see what more could be done. Could anything else be done?

Instead, it sat there, forgotten, on the shelf next to the printer. I was cleaning up my office later when I found it again. On a whim, I grabbed an envelope, folded the pages, and addressed it to no other than my mom.

I figured, at this point, it deserved to be read by someone. So I dropped it in the mailbox.

I forgot about it until my mom texted me. She told me she loved the essay. I told her about the rejection, and her response was simple: Keep going.

In that motherly way, she reminded me of all the other rejections I’d received in the past, and then asked me, What would have happened if you’d stopped then?

She’s right, of course. And she’s persistent. She continued to check in, whispering, Don’t quit.

It’s worth mentioning that, at this point, I have a folder in my email full of rejections, so I’m no stranger to them. But this one felt different—it was personal. And I own that feeling. I’m okay sharing it.

I’m currently in the process of finding a home for this piece. If it doesn’t land anywhere, maybe one day it will appear here on my Substack. Either way, I’m beginning to realize that my writing is worthy. And that’s why I’m going to keep going.

As they say, don’t quit.

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale —an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Whisper."