On Rejection: Freya J. Morris

Rejection to founding a Prize

Welcome to this week’s edition of On Rejection. Today I’m excited to bring you Freya J. Morris’s story—she is an award-winning writer, the author of The Fun Project, and the founding Director of the Oxford Flash Fiction Prize. In 2021, they were awarded DYCP Arts Council funding for their novel in progress. I think what she has to say about getting rejected and continuing to write anyway is really powerful and I’m excited for y’all to hear from her.

I also want to let you all know that there’s still time to enter the Oxford Flash Fiction Prize! The deadline is 31 August, so if you write flash fiction, take your shot!

If you’re just discovering Collected Rejections, welcome! In this world, writing is still fun, rejection is not a bad word, and we’re all here to grow as writers. If you’re into that, subscribe to this newsletter here:

Hi Freya! Tell us about a time you experienced rejection.

Oh man, where do I start? Brace yourself because this is going to be a deep dive. If you want people read your writing, then you can’t avoid it. The worst rejection for me came last year when I put something out into the world that got knocked down - over and over again in Netgalley reviews. It broke me, over and over again. Not because they were terrible, but because they were lukewarm at best and cutting in criticism. I had worked on this book for years. And now I was getting 2 and 3 stars reviews and no love at all. I lost courage and hope, and pulled the whole thing. 

How did you get over it?

Can you ever get over it? I got through it. I learned something about myself that remained hidden from me. A piece of the puzzle about what drove me and how I could work differently. When the ultimate rejection happens then you uncover some deep scars, some beliefs you didn’t know you had.

Mine were all about being ‘special’ vs being ‘average’. I was told as a kid that I was ‘average’ and because I always worked hard to be ‘average’ I took that to mean I wasn’t very smart. My parents also believed that you shouldn’t encourage kids to go for their dreams because they might not be good enough to do it or suited to it and that ultimately led to disappointment. This belief had ingrained itself into my soul in ways I didn’t realise. The rejection of this book was proving them right. I wasn’t good enough to be a writer.

But when I look back at all the times I was striving for first place or striving for the top, intellectually, I was alone. And we can only reach great places with others to help us. Books have always helped me, but they could never tell me where I needed work or assistance. I needed teachers and mentors and groups. The independence-to-a-fault is a family trait. And it does not always serve me.

But the experience of rejection brought me closer to my partner. As an academic, he understood. He also grew up with that encouragement and support I had missed, and so knew what I was missing. He made me feel special, and that was all I needed.

Also, it helps that for me, the worst has now happened. It’s done with. And I am lucky I had to power to pull the book off the shelves and not have gone through it publicly. I could heal in peace. There were some good things to have come out of it all too: a new passion for print-making, a closer connection to my partner, and a desire to ensure that all my endeavours are enjoyed as I do them, and not put stock in the end result to make it all worth it.

If you could go back and tell yourself one thing?

This will hurt.

When I was teenager at a camp, someone got out a ten-pound note and said: ‘how much is this worth?’ Then, he screwed it up, and said, ‘now how much is it worth?’ Then he stood on it, shoved it in his pocket, and ‘now, how much is it worth?’ ‘No matter what happens to you, you never lose your worth.’

I never forgot it. But I never accepted it. Part of me believed that some people were always worth more than I was. I may not lose my £5 worth, no matter what happens to me. But some people are worth £50 no matter what.

Rejection and worth. Are they intertwined for everyone? I don’t know. Can they be separate? I’m not sure there was anything that could have been said to me that would have helped make any of it better or different because it was a journey I needed to go on. I tried at the time to minimise my reaction to reviews by only looking at them when I was ready, and I made sure to talk about them too (something I had been learning from my chronic pain app). In my head, I knew reviews shouldn’t do this and that. I knew a lot about what I should be thinking and feeling, and I willed myself to be that way. But it didn’t really matter because I was ignoring my heart, and who I was deep down. I wanted to be better than that. But ultimately, I needed to address why a stranger’s opinion and star ratings were rocking my sense of self. And that went deep. It went back to my childhood with a sick brother who was considered smarter as I got lost in the shadows. From a father who believed it was wrong to look for attention. I needed to express the sadness of that lost little girl, who felt alone, silenced, and allow her to find comfort, a voice. I think my writing comes from that. The need to be heard. So the rejection stings even more when it fails.

But that’s OK. The pain is OK. Recognising it is important. Valuable. There’s nothing wrong in wanting a voice and to be special. I was lucky that my partner helped me heal during that time. He listened. He heard me. And I heard me too. I listened to me instead of dismissing those feelings and thoughts. They were valid. And that was what I needed. It did suck. And that’s OK.

So for anyone going through rejection – don’t ignore the pain. It’s valid. Sit with it. Find where it is. Tend to it so that it can heal.

How did you get into flash fiction? Does working on the Prize impact your writing at all?

Hell yes, and also no! I barely get much fiction writing done these days – especially writing flash fiction. I love the form and I’ve learned so much from it. The lessons bleed into everything I do. But I am writing more in other ways. I’m passionate about people (everyone) having opportunities to flourish and I felt a need for things to change a bit, which is why I set up the Oxford Flash Fiction Prize. I need purpose in my life, to feel like I am contributing to something bigger and so this does that for me in a way my art can’t right now. I’m still trying to figure out how to make writing fun and enjoyable for me, and not something I suffer or labour over, which is why I started The Fun Project. But I also feel myself stretching out beyond writing, and into myself as an artist and facilitator, looking for ways to be creative with writing, sharing writing, whilst also bringing together other art forms.

What are you working on now?

I am working on a lot of lino prints, and I have finished my first draft of a novella. I’ve really tried to do it all differently this time. I wanted to write for enjoyment. No more toiling. No more suffering. No more trying to rush it. No more trying to prove myself to be something better. This time, it's for me, for the journey, rather than the destination.

And so far, it’s working.

You can get a copy of Freya’s collection This is (not about) David Bowie wherever books are sold. It was published by Retreat West and received a special mention in the Saboteur Awards for Best Short Story Collection in 2019.

You can join Freya on Substack and join her on her quest to have more fun in her creative life with The Fun Project.

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Don’t forget y’all, this Sunday we have our monthly virtual write-in. It starts at 9 am. You can RSVP here.

And tonight we have our Submission Session for 100 Rejections folks. If your finger has been hovering over that submit button, now is the time! Come join me at 6 pm PT for that.