It was already a rough week at work when the email I had been waiting for finally arrived.
The week before, I wanted to give my writing a chance to reach new eyes. So I shared it with a platform I admire, hoping they would see what I see. The reply finally came back rather unnerving. Don’t get me wrong, I am not thin-skinned and I can definitely take rejection. I would even like to think they probably meant well. But I still cannot help seeing the email for what it was.
It was not cruel. It was not dismissive. But it carried something else that stung just as much: a patronizing tone. They probably meant to be encouraging, but the delivery was condescending. Instead of engaging with the actual depth of my writing, the reply defaulted to giving me “growth tips.” That is why it stung. Not just because it was a no, but because it read like my work was not really seen, only my stats.
When I share my work, I am not only putting words on a page, I am opening myself. And when the answer comes back in a way that makes me feel like I was not truly heard, it presses harder on the bruise.
I sat with that feeling for a while. At first it made me a little upset. Then it made me question why I write in the first place. And after wrestling with it, I realized this: the work matters more than the room. The page matters more than the platform.
A “not now” is not the end of the story. It is data, not definition. It tells me where to invest my energy, not chasing closed doors but tending my own garden of words. Writing here. Writing now. Writing consistently, even when no one is clapping.
So this is where I am: choosing not to shrink because of a closed door, and not to bend my voice just to fit into someone else’s room. If growth takes time, then so be it. If building quietly is the path, then I will take it.
Because at the end of the day, nobody’s worth should be measured in platforms. My worth is in the words I choose to honour, the truth I choose to write, and the God who sees every unseen effort.
So yes, this week was heavy. But it also handed me clarity: rejection is just redirection. And sometimes, the hardest part of hearing “not now” is not the no itself, it is the way it is said.
If you are reading this and your week was also not great, take this with you. A closed door is not a closed future. Keep your hands clean, your craft sharp, and your heart soft. Let a no push you toward your own table where you set the tone and the menu. The guests will come when it is time.
I will end with this. I never needed a crowd to share my story. I needed a pen, a page, and courage to tell the truth. Today I have all three, and that is more than enough.
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