Thorns, prickles, and roses

BY JANINE CROSS

People are not like roses.

For starters, we don’t have thorns; though technically, neither do roses. Thorns are modified branches or stems, as found on lemon and mandarin orange trees. Roses have prickles, which are modified epidermal cells.

Unlike the thick, waxy epidermis of the rose bush, human skin is soft and woefully devoid of defensive pointy prickles. Yet as writers, we’re often told that to achieve success, we must “grow a thick skin” against rejections. Well, I’m not a fragrant, showy bloom, so it’s no good telling me to grow a thick, defensive skin, with or without spiky protuberances. As a human, I’m not meant to.

Human survival depends upon a cooperative society. Many of us buy food farmed by others, live in dwellings built by others, and wear clothing sewn by others. We depend upon group members to learn skills necessary to survive in diverse and often hostile environments. As psychologist and neuroscientist Mark Leary says, humans have “a pervasive drive to form and maintain at least a minimum quantity of lasting, positive, and impactful interpersonal relationships.”1

It’s been this way for eons. For our hunter-gatherer ancestors, individual survival depended upon being an integral part of a community. The more sensitized you were to the risk of ostracism and rejection, the quicker you could correct negative behaviour and ensure your continued existence in that community. This sensitivity to the risk of ostracism and rejection became, and remains, a necessary human trait.

Neuroscientists have used brain imaging to track neurological responses to rejection and exclusion. People who were left out of group events displayed the same brain activity associated with physical pain.2 For us writers, then, the emotional pain of rejection— of being excluded from the “group” of the magazine or anthology or publishing imprint to which we’ve submitted our work—is a very real, physical pain.

When our work is rejected, alarm bells clang inside our heads—at risk of ostracism; at risk of death! This alarm is intensified by the fact that we humans often see our work as part of our identities and an extension of ourselves. Evolution has formed our underlying neural and cognitive mechanisms to be this way as a means of survival, so “growing a thick skin” in response to rejections is counter to two hundred thousand years of our species’ development.

So how do we deal with the actual physical pain of rejection? Here are a few science-supported techniques:

• Take the piece that has been rejected, give it to several trusted people, and ask them to say only nice things about it. Make it clear that this is not a critique but a shower of rose petals only. You need this unconditional positive regard to reinforce your sense of belonging. You need to know that you’re not being ostracized from your community and at risk of death.

• List some books you’ve enjoyed and why. This immersive task in your favourite garden of literature will disrupt negative rumination with meaningful distraction. Research shows that individuals who engage in tasks to disrupt negative thoughts are less likely to experience depressive and anxious symptoms.3

• Volunteer with a writing organization. The role of community and perceived belonging is critical to psychological well-being. There’s a strong positive relation between an individual’s sense of interpersonal belonging and their ratings of happiness and subjective well-being.4 Being a part of a community also increases networking opportunities that provide a wealth of information during times of ambiguity. In addition, helping others boosts your self-esteem while serving as a reminder that you are not alone.

• Prune away the gnarly urge to engage in a public (social media) reaction. Focusing on a rejection is akin to focusing on what you can’t do, instead of what you can. As psychologist Guy Winch explains, such negative entanglement makes individuals less likely to perform at their best, which in turn drives them to focus even more on their shortcomings.5 This emotional spiral enhances feelings of helplessness and demoralization.

• Remind yourself which writing skills you’re good at—comedy? prose? similes? Listing your strengths will help you heal your self-esteem. If you’re unable to rise above self-criticism at that moment, compose a letter to your favourite author as if they’ve just suffered this rejection, and tell them why their work has worth. Then read the letter aloud to yourself: this is the same message of self-compassion and support that you need to hear. Reading out loud boosts the staying power and positive impact of the message.6

• Go to a restaurant and notice how many entrees you don’t choose and can’t afford, even though they appeal. Then visit a library and notice how many books you don’t choose. Editors and agents are like the rest of us: they have budgets, likes, dislikes, and time constraints that can change hourly, daily, monthly, and yearly, depending on mood and circumstance, all of which may have nothing to do with the quality of your work.

The next time you receive a rejection, don’t bother trying to grow a thick skin. You’re a human, not a plant. You evolved to enjoy the rose blooms and feel the prickles. Heal your emotional injury by replenishing feelings of social connection and reviving your selfworth. And if someone tells you to grow a thick skin? Show ’em the verbal equivalent of some thorns.

1. Roy F. Baumeister and Mark R. Leary, “The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal Attachments as a Fundamental Human Motivation,” Psychological Bulletin 117, no. 3 (1995): 497–529, doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.117.3.497.

2. Naomi Eisenberger, Matthew D. Lieberman, and Kipling D. Williams, “Does Rejection Hurt? An FMRI Study of Social Exclusion,” Science 302 (October 2003): 290–292, doi.org/10.1126/science.1089134.

3. Susan Nolen-Hoeksema and Jannay Morrow, “Effects of Rumination and Distraction on Naturally Occurring Depressed Mood,” Cognition and Emotion 7 (November 1993): 561–570, doi.org/10.1080/02699939308409206.

4. See note 1.

5. Guy Winch, “Why We All Need to Practice Emotional First Aid,” November 2014, TEDx Linnaeus University, 17:15, ted.com/talks/guy_winch_why_we_all_need_ to_practice_emotional_first_aid/up-next.

6. Noah D. Forrin and Colin M. MacLeod, “This Time It’s Personal: The Memory Benefit of Hearing Oneself,” Memory 26, no. 4 (2018): 574–579, doi.org/10.1080/09658211.2017.1383434.

Janine Cross is the author of Touched by Venom, voted by Library Journal as one of the top five sci-fi/fantasy novels of 2005 and the first book in The Dragon Temple Trilogy. She’s also the author of Shadowed by Wings, Forged by Fire, and The Footstop Cafe As a private pilot, she writes articles for aviation magazines.