Coping With Rejection (Long)
Crossposted from my personal blog.
Transom: an opening over the door or through the door (often with a window which could be opened to cool down the room).
Over the Transom: especially in older days of publishing (i.e.: most likely before the 70s), writers/postal carriers routinely delivered manuscripts 'over the transom' when the publisher wasn't there, though those openings.
Slush Pile: the pile of unsolicited manuscripts an agent/editor/publisher gets (conjecture speculates that when the editor would get back to his/her office, wading through the manuscripts delivered over the transom was a lot like wading through slush)
One of the questions I'm asked about a lot--especially by both aspiring writers and other creative souls--is how to handle rejection. How do you handle it when people keep telling you "No, your work isn't right for us" or "No, you're not ready to publish yet" and "Sorry, just not what we're looking for"?
First: just accept that rejection of any kind isn't easy. Whether you're asking a woman out on a date and she says, "No thanks" or you ask your teacher if you can pretty, pretty please take charge of a science experiment and he says, "Fat chance, you'd blow up the school," it can sting. But there's a difference between those rejections and when a publisher or agent says, "I'm sorry, it's not right for me."
That difference is one you have to learn in this business or you'll never survive. The difference is this: rejections you receive as a writer or artist are seldom personal.
I know, I know you think they are. After all, what's more personal than our work? Than the novel that came out of our imagination and sweat and long nights over the keyboard, or than the painting that came out of our imagination and days spent straining our back at the easel (or in some cases, keyboard). But ask any author who's made it over the hump and managed to publisher in any form of traditional publishing will tell you this: A rejection slip is rarely personal and you simply cannot allow yourself to take it that way.
To understand this, you have to understand that the average onslaught of unsolicited manuscripts is overwhelming. That's why a number of agents specify query only, and a number of publishing houses only accept agented material. When you send something in unasked for it ends up in the slush pile. And slush piles for almost every publishing professional are generally huge. I Googled some images and found some daunting pictures of slush piles.
Scroll down to the fourth row of pictures to see Tor's slush pile
; and then there was Annick Press
; Chronicle Books
; and then I found: a former editorial assistant's slush piles
and her coworker's.
Are you beginning to get the idea? There are tens of thousands of manuscripts floating around on the slush piles. And only a minute fraction of those can/will be published.
Are all the rest bad? Well, some are and I've heard some pretty spectacular horror stories about bad submissions, but the answer is no--there are plenty of manuscripts out there being rejected for reasons other than the writing, some of the more common being:
A) The manuscript was good but not quite ready for publication (and trust me, when my work was in that category, I didn't know it--I really didn't. I honestly believe that most aspiring writers don't know their skill level isn't publication-ready).
B) The manuscript was sent to the wrong publishing house. Never send something to a house that doesn't publish your genre, or an agent who doesn't represent your genre. This would seem common sense but you'd be amazed by how many writers just scattershot their work. Do your research first. You cannot get away without studying the markets--you must be prepared to research the industry and that involves getting your butt to the library or on the computer and looking up the publishers or agents, reading their specs, and paying attention. It does NOT involve asking published authors to help you get published or to do your research for you.
C) The agent didn't love it. If an agent is going to sell your work, they have to believe in it wholeheartedly. And even if a project is good, if they don't really love it, then they aren't going to be able talk it up to the editors. Not everybody is going to like every book or idea--be they reader, agent, or editor.
D) There are so many errors in spelling, grammar, manuscript formatting, etc., that it's just a bitch to read. And with all the other hundreds of submissions right there at their fingertips, an agent or editor is likely to think, "Too hard on the eyes, too much work to clean it up," and slap a rejection on it.
E) The agent's list is full--they have as many clients as they can take on right now.
F) The publisher's list is full--they've filled the slots they have open for books.
G) The publisher just bought a similar book last week.
H) The agent just took on a client with a similar book last week.
I) By the tone of the query, the author seems difficult to work with.
So you see, only A & I are truly personal. Reason A is part of the learning curve. Reason I is usually hard to fix because very difficult people often refuse to understand/accept that they *are* difficult and tend to resist changing their behavior.
Reason B & D are directly the writer's fault and could be avoided if the writer took the time and effort to make sure they were giving themselves the best chances to be read.
Reason C is arbitrary--it's all a matter of personal taste and the only way to minimize this is to send your work to an agent who reps books that seem similar in tone to your own work. It's personal and yet, it's not. Kind of like falling in love. Just because most people won't fall in love with us doesn't mean we're unlovable--it just means the chemistry isn't right.
Reasons E, F, G, and H are beyond your control and have nothing to do with your writing whatsoever.
So we've established that it's likely you're not being labeled a bad writer by receiving a rejection.
But what about those form rejections? Aren't they cold? Well, use your common sense. Look at the huge stacks of submissions on the slush pile. An agent's first job is to attend to current clients' needs. An editor's first task is to edit the books the house has already bought and assigned to them. Most agents and editors take work home with them. Every night. There's not a lot of time to respond personally to every submission when hundreds pass their desk every month. (As to the question of agents/publishers not responding at all--that's a whole 'nother ball of wax and better left for a different blog). So accept it: form rejections are part of life.
But at some point, you may receive a handwritten note, encouraging you to submit something else. Or a jotted note that says "Good, but not quite right." Trust me, people: editors and agents don't say things like that if they don't mean it. Those handwritten notes on rejections are golden because it means they saw promise, or hope, or potential--enough that they just had to jot a few notes even with their insane schedules. Value those. They're the closest to "Yes" that you'll get without it being an actual "Yes."
OH--and before you start thinking that once you're published, you'll never receive another rejection: Sorry, it happens all the time. I have talked to hundreds of authors over the years. Most of them got rejected at some point even after publishing 1, 20, 70 books. Yes, rejections can happen after 70 books on the shelf.
I have seven novels in the closet that I wrote before I got my first contract (which was for nonfiction) and dozens of short stories. NONE of those seven novels and only a couple of the short stories were published. None of them will ever be published. Why? I simply wasn't ready--the books weren't quite *there* yet. I've accepted that. Did I know it then? No, as evidenced by the hundreds of rejection letters I accrued over the years. I counted the rejection slips I got on one novel--from editors and agents combined, I received seventy nine (yes, 79) rejections on that book. Some were handwritten and encouraging, most were form "Not right for us" slips. I've probably received over six hundred rejections in my life from short story and book submissions. I've been submitting since I was 14 years old, so they started coming early.
So how did I keep on going? How did I learn to handle it?
I'll tell you my trick: I've always seen every rejection slip as a badge of honor. Why? Because it means, to me, that I'm trying. That I am actively out there, working my butt off to sell my stories. Before I was published, to me it meant that I was playing the same game as the 'big boys'--I wasn't hiding my writing in the closet, afraid of being told no. Nope, I saw those rejection slips as being one step closer to publication. For me, they gave me hope because it meant I wasn't giving up. And I knew all the above--I knew that the odds were tight. I knew that it would take time--maybe years (and boy did it take years) before I managed to sell. I kept hoping with each one, but I set my vision on the long-term goal, not just the immediate sale. I wanted it bad enough to keep going.
Did I ever cry? Oh sure. I did. Especially when agents would ask for a partial and then send it back. Did I get angry? Yeah, because rejection sucks. But did I give up? No, because I knew giving up would be the real failure.
There are several versions of this around but here's mine: When you get a rejection--if it's to a short story or article, or a simple query letter, you have permission to mope, whine, bitch, stomp around the house for an hour, and eat a candy bar. Then you print out a clean copy of the story or article, and send it to the next magazine/publisher/agent on your list.
If it's a book partial: you get a day to do the same and you can have chocolate fudge pie or ice cream, or even fettuccine Alfredo made with real cream. Oh yeah, pile on the sauce. But, tomorrow: you need to get back to work on your current project after sending the rejected one off again (if it's not already out on simultaneous submissions).
If the publisher/agent requested the full manuscript and then rejected it, take a couple days to breathe, play, eat good food, shake it off. Then read their letter--if they made suggestions, consider them and how they'd change the book--be calm, detached, and really think about what changes they might suggest.
In the long run, it boils down to this: you have to grow a thick skin and accept that rejection is part of the business. Because if you manage to get published, rejections won't just be from editors and agents, they'll be from some readers who hate your work, who think you can't write, who might just trash you on their blogs (at some point, every writer I know has gotten trashed and sometimes viciously, including myself).
When (not if, but when) that happens, remember this: just because one person--or two--or a dozen--readers don't like your work, it doesn't mean they're right. Just ignore the ranting and go on with your work. Because no author can please every reader and there will be people who buy your book and hate it.
On the other hand, while praise is wonderful, don't let it become the prop that supports your work. In the end, it's all about loving to write, about the writing itself, and--if you're smart, talented, and have a bit of luck--you might be able to make a living from your work. I know a number of self-supporting authors who do just fine, but it took most of them years to reach that level (as it has for me).
Oh…and two caveats:
One: unless an agent/editor invites you to submit a revised version of the work, don't. If they want to see it again, they'll ask. Resist the urge to send in a revision, even if they offer suggestions, unless they've asked for it.
And two: NEVER, EVER write a nasty note back to the editor--you will fuck yourself over big time by doing that. Believe me, the publishing industry is incestuous and you will be remembered and NOT in the way you want. I'm serious. Don't screw yourself over and trash your chances by being an idiot. If you write that nasty letter, tear the damned thing up after you write it. And whatever you do, don't write in email form--it's too easy to press send instead of cancel/delete.
Yasmine