i'm a published writer who's afraid of people reading her work
and is publishing her first substack post!
I am in a field of rejection, and fear rejection to my core.
If anyone knows what is missing or wrong with his or her writing, it’s the writer. We’re aware of our rushed endings, flat characters, or comma splices (guilty). We’re also, sometimes, at a loss for correcting them. In our field, rejection comes from publishers, agents, editors, and oftentimes our readers—the very people we write for. Those we hope to entertain, educate, and to bring a little bit closer to us. But what about when a writer rejects themself?
“But in the end, stories are about one person saying to another: This is the way it feels to me. Can you understand what I’m saying? Does it feel this way to you?” –Kazuo Ishiguro, 2017.
It might be cliche to say I started writing when I was a child, but it’s true. Photographs capture a little girl writing (and performing) stories, and my hard-drive archives an assortment of op-eds, short stories, and film taglines dated back to my high school writing class, somehow, fifteen years ago.
Yet, despite this early passion, I hadn’t considered writing as a career. I believed the Edgar Allen Poes and Dantes of the world were out of reach for someone like me. It wasn’t until college when I toyed around with potential majors like criminal justice and psychology, that I finally gave writing a try.
At twenty, I wrote a short story entitled Bruises and Bones, which later became my first full-length thriller novel, A Cure Through Love (2023). A therapist is the prime suspect in a patient’s deaths, and it explores the consequences of power and when we don’t know we are being abused by them. In 2024, I published my second thriller, You Made Me Kill You, a story of psychotherapy, and with themes of the dangers of revenge and our own morality.
While I proudly published these books at the time, I am still aware of each of their flaws—a quickened ending, awkward transitions, and grammatical errors despite professional editing. This has me terrified to publish again, of being judged and rejected because of those mistakes.
“I have not failed 10,000 times. I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those 10,000 ways will not work. When I have eliminated the ways that will not work, I will find the way that will work.” —Thomas Edison on making the lightbulb.
Due to my fear of rejection, I missed out on engaging with readers in a deeper way, in person marketing, possibly forming friendships with fellow writers, and other opportunities. I let my shame override networking, gaining new skills, and even starting over. I hid behind my flaws, believing they protected me, but they only held me back.
I know where I need to improve and welcome that criticism, but then I punish myself when someone points out those flaws. Not because I think I’m a know-it-all or because I believe the work is perfect, but because, on a layer deeper than the pages, it’s confirmation that I don’t belong in this field.
But this Substack is my step forward. These flaws or “failures,” like making a lightbulb (see quote above), did not show me how I failed, but rather the ways I can work towards success. I invite you to read, reflect, and grow with me as I share stories, essays, and poems that explore what it means to be human, and all the messiness it entails.
My name is Allison. I’m writer. I’m thirty years old, and I’m currently and MFA candidate at my dream school. I can’t be perfect, but maybe I can aim for being good.
“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” —John Steinbeck, East of Eden
