#the catalyst

Icarus grips the edge of the vanity, staring at his reflection

I’m welcoming Andrea Goyan and her new book, The Catalyst, to the blog, with an inspiring post for all those writers out there #blogtour #scifi #writersadvice Thank you for inviting me to write a guest blog. I’m delighted to be here with you and your readers.  My post today directly relates to writers, but I think anyone who navigates risks, rejections, or affirmations will relate on some level because I we all face similar angels and demons.  “Thank You for Sharing Your Work with Us. Unfortunately…”   —Random Editor Ouch. These or similar words of rejection litter every writer’s email inbox. If you’re submitting work, receiving lots of them is part of the deal.   I want to recognize that sending stories (or anything) out into the world is an act of courage. Opening ourselves up for criticism or rejection risks bruising souls and fragile egos. It is not easy. But the need to be seen and heard—read—keeps most of us in the game. “Thank You for Sharing Your Work with Us. We’d be delighted to publish…”  —Favorite Random Editor  Yes! These are the emails we live for. But as fabulous as those acceptances, encouragement, and love are, those joyful feelings are fleeting. Fairy dust that blows away with the first breeze. The need for more, more, more feels akin to an addiction.  “Can you help us out?” —Magazine Editor  When I started submitting short stories to small markets seriously, I was thrilled that the online process was loads easier than the old-fashioned, snail-mail way. Faster, easier, less wasteful, but as nerve-wracking as ever. And rejections…ugh. Each one stung like a blade slipped between my ribs, touching my heart. I commiserated with other fiction writers, weeping onto my keyboard. Wondered why or if I should continue. The game seemed impossible. But I did continue, and a funny thing happened. I met a ton of other writers, and my writing community grew.  I watched how other writers managed their submissions, and found that the more I submitted, the less precious any one submission became, and its rejection hurt less when I had other pieces out for consideration. Every successful writer I know submits all the time. They look like they’re accepted and published by everyone, but they still get tons of rejections. It’s a numbers game. The more pieces out, the more potential, the more noes, and the more yeses.  More visibility led editors to ask for my help. I accepted, and I learned some surprising things along the way. Some of my most valuable insights came from being a slush reader for a magazine and serving as a judge for a few contests. The positions were different, but the similarities showed me how random a lot of editorial decisions are. They aren’t only about if the story is good, tons of great stories are rejected—I’ve rejected some. There are ineffable lists of criteria beyond any writer’s control. I found a lot of peace in that knowledge, and it made the rejections less personal—of course, they’d never been personal. They simply felt that way.  “Your work is more important than how you feel about it.”  —Claudette Sutherland, Mentor She’s retired now, but those words were like a mantra for Claudette. Her students oohed and ahhed whenever she said them, while I secretly wondered what the hell she meant. What I felt mattered to me and still does. It took me years to understand she wasn’t attacking my feelings. I believe she wanted us to get out of our own way. Stop whining about all the reasons we didn’t do and just do. Stop editing our work and push forward. Tell our egos to take a back seat for a while and set our creativity free.  “I can do this.” —Me, circa 2025-26 This past year, while I’ve been continually working on The Catalyst, I’ve been too busy to worry about rejections. Too busy to send out many submissions either. The novel’s deadlines were fast and unrelenting, and they forced me to move. To do. Always stepping forward and outside of my comfort zone.  I met the challenges and learned that what really matters, what really heals my bruised ego and feeds my soul, is the wo...

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