Since we’ve talked about writerly emotions, why not that feeling so many of must live through, despondency? I don’t like to be Debbie Downer, but rejection can do terrible things to a writer’s ego. After you are told no for the umpteenth time, it’s easy to see how feeling darn near hopeless can grab a writer and hang on like a Gila monster.
Writing Tip for Today:  I define despondency as the state in which a writer has been buffeted by the winds of rejection so often that he/she can no longer stand, but at the same time, a tiny flame of either hope or desire burns within. In Twelve-step speak, detachment is the obvious answer. If you no longer pile all your dreams in one basket, then you can’t be hurt, right? Here’s why writers shouldn’t detach for long:

• Detachment numbs the senses. We detach from painful things like rejection in order to stop hurting. And rejection, whether for a haiku or a book, hurts. Yet without the ability to feel pain, we dull our senses, and writers rely on them to produce work that resonates.
• Detachment makes you stop trying. If you stop submitting, stop agent-shopping, stop writing, you may miss the opportunity that is just around the corner. Rest upon your fellow writers and your support group if you must, but don’t stop.
• Detachment breeds bitterness. Writers who adopt a “sour grapes” attitude are a pain to be around. “That publisher only wants inane dreck,” doesn’t get you anywhere except into the Grouch Club. Maybe this is where the word “curmudgeon” originated.

When you suffer more than your fair share of rejection, vent, whine and cry for a time (my time limit is 24 hours). Detach if you must, but use this as a way to go in a different writing direction, not as an excuse to sink into despondency. If you stay there, you’re the only one who’ll suffer. Show the world what you’ve got by soldiering on. Have you hugged a writer today?