I have a special folder somewhere in a filing cabinet housed in a storage unit. It exists only to remind me not to quit with the extra benefit of teaching a bit of humility. In some ways, I did quit, but in other ways, I didn’t. A valuable lesson resides in the “other ways.”

The folder is full of rejection letters earned during my time of separation 20 years ago. I lived in an apartment, furnished with a sleeping bag, and spent a lot of time writing. (One of the poems from those days is titled “Write, Submit.”) I tried my hand at fiction (not my usual writing field) and poetry (something I’ve crafted all my life) and submitted works and proposals to various publications. Write, submit. One short story got a “Best Of” award for fiction in a university literary annual. On the other side of the scale is 100 rejections, give or take. I had several poems that made it through two years of review and focus groups for consideration for Father’s Day greeting cards. Alas, those were ultimately rejected, too.

Life moved on and over time I reduced considerably my submissions until I stopped. I did not stop writing, however (admittedly, my production rate has slowed considerably over the years). So, I quit submitting but did not quit writing. Therein lies the lesson. Committing to a craft (or something you care about) is more important than finding an outlet, market or audience for it.  That’s heresy, I know, in these days of social media influencers, “everyone-is-an-expert,” “build your tribe” and such.

This newsletter, “Listen to Life,” and the book that came from its early posts, are products of the days of writing, but not submitting. I’ve been told by some readers that these works are meaningful to them and I am glad for that. My book, Daddin’: The Verb of Being a Dad, is also the result of decades of writing, with or without a market/audience/outlet in mind. I believe it will remain important to me and my sons, and perhaps grandchildren, as time marches on.

I have always found a way to make writing a part of my job role, beyond the basic expectations of the job description. I have poetry and musings that I wrote on the back of my paycheck stubs while taking a lunch break on my job at Handy Andy; that was 52 years ago. While writing productivity may ebb and flow, the commitment to it remains. There is the lesson: keep going, never surrender, always upward and onward, find a way.

I aspire to regain the focus and drive that motivated me to write/submit. But, as the poem goes, write/submit is not easy to cope with. When the process is battering, it is good to take a respite. Rest, but don’t stop. Such is life.