There is something in everyone’s basement.
The basement is a place where accumulations of treasures coat themselves with enough dust to make them seem immaterial—dispassionate and discolored. Technology that you were going to repair decades ago has gone obsolete alongside boxes of unsorted photos. Exercise benches languish; spare parts oxidize into the air. The smell over there catches your attention, but for another few weeks might be mild enough to ignore. That’s what the place is for, after all: ignoring.
It’s just a basement. It’s where you ignore colors and treasures.
It’s where you ignore your passions.
An unfamiliar road when facing rejection.
I’ve been comforted, lately, by a few other bloggers who seem to be experiencing more than their share of rejection from literary agents. The Daily Rejection is built around this recurring motif, and JB, like many writers, wonders when she will reach the “breaking point at which one accepts defeat.” This is a familiar question, and when I ask it of myself, I try to remember to give this answer.
Carly might be OK.
Of course, that exact answer only works for me, but I think that any writer—any human, really—can come up with a similar answer for themselves. Let me explain.