The Ballad of the Unemployed

Whoever said "it's nice work if you can get it" was right on the money. Who hasn't struggled in finding a job in this economy?

Who, as a writer, hasn't struggled for someone to print their manuscript?

"I'm sorry, but your idea is not a fit for this agency."

"I'm sorry, but you're overqualified for the job."

"I'm sorry, but all our positions have filled."

They're always sorry, aren't they? But not sorry enough to send you on to a place they know would welcome your story with open arms. They're sorry, but not sorry enough to suggest how your on-paper skills might be better utilized in a different firm.

And you feel bad, and wonder what you could have done to ace the interview, to make your resume stand out from their slush pile of desperate job-seekers, to make that agent fall out of their chair in stunned shock at the revelation of your magnum opus. To be seen for the amazing, brilliant, gifted asset you would be to their fine establishment.

We criticize ourselves for failing to be what someone else wants, and that is the cruelest rejection of all. Why so much self-hate for what amounts to pay that will never stack up to the quality of the work you do, and a thousand pounds of stress on your shoulders?

Why do we hate ourselves when we just haven't found our place in the sun?

A sequoia could never grow inside a house without breaking through the roof in its desire to reach for the sunlight. The next Bill Gates doesn't belong flipping burgers in McDonald's. And the next Great American Author doesn't belong with second-string help half-heartedly slapping together a one-day promotion on the company Twitter feed.

Yours is the path to greatness, and all journeys take time to get to where they intend to go. That "NO" is just a sign-post saying you're getting turned around, and need to get back on your path.

Stay the course. The future is patiently waiting for you. You are the seed of a mighty sequoia, so stop trying to be a houseplant.