One on the Board: What Changes When Someone Suddenly Says Yes

Working in my writing studio, revising essays and tracking submissions. One rejection (and acceptance!) at a time.

For months, my inbox was a wall of polite no’s.

The kind of rejection that’s just part of the deal.

Submit... Wait... Get a form letter...

Keep going.

That’s what I expected when I started submitting last fall. Shortly after beginning my MFA in Creative Nonfiction. My professors and classmates pushed me to start submitting. Not because they thought I’d get published overnight (I sure didn’t), but because they knew I’d learn something from the rhythm.

The sting.

Still, I won’t lie. Some part of me hoped.

Because of course I did. I didn’t start writing just to keep it in a drawer.

And then, YES.

Pithead Chapel is publishing my debut essay on May 1. It’s a piece about wanting, about breaking open the version of yourself shaped by everything outside of you, and about choosing something different.

When I read the email, I literally jumped up from my desk and sprinted outside like a feral animal with a secret. I called my people. I let them scream with me.

I let it be real.

A a retired Marine classmate of mine sent me this:

"I’m super proud of you. You deserve it. It’s a great piece. As a mentor once told me when I got promoted to corporal in the service, “let it go to your head.” You’re a published author, worthy of praise and appreciation!"

So that’s what I’m doing.Letting it go to my head (a little).Letting it mean something.

What Changes After Getting Published?

Not everything. Let’s be honest: it’s one acceptance. A tiny light in a long hallway. But once that light flips on, you start walking differently. You carry your voice a little louder. You sit down to revise with just a touch more certainty.

The old self-doubt doesn’t vanish, but it shifts.

You don’t read your drafts thinking, “Who would want this?” Instead, you wonder, “Could this be the next one?” That’s the change. Not the removal of fear, but the addition of possibility.

It doesn’t mean I suddenly know what I’m doing. But it means something I wrote connected. Someone read it and said yes.

That matters. That counts.

The Submissions Don’t Stop

This “yes” didn’t end the 100 rejections goal, it reframed it.

Before, it was all about endurance. Send, get rejected, repeat. It still is, in a way. But now I know what’s possible.

Now I know a single “yes” can land when I least expect it. After dinner, during a busy week, on a random Saturday afternoon.

I’m still submitting. Still stacking rejections, still showing up for the work. Only now, I’m keeping score.

Not just to track the no’s, but to make space for every yes that’s still coming.

What I’m Reading…

This month, I’ve been reading A Girl’s Story by Annie Ernaux.

It’s slim, sharp, and emotionally brutal in the best way. Ernaux dissects memory, girlhood, and shame with the precision of a scalpel and the weight of a survivor.

Her words don’t flinch, but as the reader it's hard not to when they hit so close.

I shared more thoughts on why this one stayed with me over on Instagram. Join me there if you’re drawn to the kind of writing that cuts through the surface and leaves you a little raw, a little seen.

Just the Beginning

If this hit something in you, I’d love to hear about it.

Send a note on Instagram. Forward it to a friend. Or just let it sit with you awhile.

I’ll be over here, writing and rooting for our collective next yes.