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Beating the rejection blues
Every now and then I get an email from a reader that needs a public response, not just a private one. And this week I got one from – well, I shan’t tell you who it was from, but we will call her Samantha Santana. (I’m in a mood for As and Ss. Her middle names are Sara Amanda. Her daughter is Sandra Martha.)
Samantha wrote:
A newsletter on beating rejection sadness would be very helpful. Even you may have suffered your share?
It is lovely to indulge oneself in magical dreams of scribbling for a living but what if the dream becomes clotted with misery? How does a quirky scribbler elevate themselves so they too can feast on a drop of sunshine? And how does one stop reading news of celeb book deals for juicy 7 figures and “content providers” who’ve bagged lovely agents without scribbling a word! And have the strength to deal with REJECTION with panache and dignity.
And how do we little minions of the lit world who don’t have sisters or aunts or cousins called Araminta or Rowena navigate this vast cess pool of pirates and peddlers who want to sell not so much the book but the author are they marketable will they appeal, ra ra ra.
Where are we on the literary radar and will we ever be more than just jolly hobby enthusiasts?
Well. Where to start?
I haven’t as it happened suffered a huge amount of rejection: my first book sailed through to publication. My adversities came later, when I already had the shelter of an agent and a track record. But Lord knows that rejection is a standard part of the writer’s life. Agents saying no. Magazines saying no. Publishers saying no. Publishers saying yes, then no. Agents saying yes, then being useless, then saying no. It can easily seem that most authorial pathways end with a single short and round-syllabled word.
But defences against the gloom do exist. Here are some:
1. Sisters, aunts and cousins called Araminta
On the one hand it’s true that Planet Agent draws deeply on a narrow section of society – whiter, posher, more liberal-artsy and more female than the world around them. (They aren’t all called Araminta, but my first marketing person was called Venetia, and I do know what you mean.)
But although the demographics of Planet Agent are deeply skewed, the planet is fundamentally meritocratic. It’s not looking for writers-with-contacts. It’s looking for manuscripts to love.
My first agent, it turned out, knew my sister. But I only found out about that relationship later. What secured the deal was that my manuscript – a slushpile submission like everyone else’s – kept her up at night reading it. She made the offer before she knew that I was my sister’s brother. The manuscript was and is the the thing that matters more than anything else.
2. Celeb book deals for juicy 7 figures
Yep. If you’re a celebrity or (yuk) an ‘influencer’, you can get a book deal that will stuff your pocket with a few more dollars, pounds, and rupees. But so what? Those people sell books, yes, but they aren’t of our world, not really. They often don’t have the esteem of the agents or editors who handle them.
When Pippa Middleton, sister to a future queen, writes a book called Celebrate, does anyone in the entire world think she’s been selected for her literary merit? Is it any surprise that if you Google the book, one of the top-ranked search results is a piece from Buzzfeed entitled, Pippa Middleton’s 19 Most Painfully Obvious Pieces of Advice? Sample entry: ‘Star-gazing is best in pitch darkness on a very clear night.’
So who cares about those celeb deals? Who really cares? That’s just celebs living in celeb-land. They have nothing to do with us.
3. Magical dreams of scribbling for a living
To be clear, most authors don’t write for a living or, rather, the writing forms only part of a broader portfolio income.
I’ve been a pretty successful author over the years – multiple six-figure deals, film sales, lots of international sales, and so on – but still. Writing income is lumpy and uncertain. There are bad years and good years. It’s not a coincidence that I built Jericho Writers. It’s not just fun; I’ve needed it. The same thing, roughly, is true of most authors whose books lie face-up on the front tables of bookshops. Most of those writers will have other sources of income. The few who don’t are exceptions, and always blessed by luck, not merely talent.
4. A quirky scribbler of panache and dignity
Most people who start writing books don’t finish them.
Most people who do, don’t do nearly enough to edit them into shape.
And even when writers really do work hard and seriously on their manuscripts, a majority of those won’t sell because they’re not yet ready for the market.
It’s easy to fall into despair at that point, but that’s only because your view is still too narrow. The first manuscript, often the second one as well, is usually a learning project. Not always, but often. It’s where you learn the structures, techniques and disciplines. You can supplement that on-the-job learning with writing courses and manuscript assessments and all that (those things will hugely accelerate your path), but you still have to learn.
Dancers go to dance school. Painters go to art college. You don’t have to do a university-style course, but you do have to put in the hours learning the trade. That’s not failure; that’s diligence.
And if the first project doesn’t fire, then, after a certain point, you just need to ditch it and start something else, full of the learning and insight you’ve accumulated on the way. (My plea before you start that second project? Nail the elevator pitch. Get it right. We have tons of great material on that for JW members. We have some free stuff available as well.)
Your panache and dignity lie in realising that a rejection letter doesn’t mean ‘You’re crap.’ It means, ‘You’re not there yet. Carry on, good luck and God speed.’ Agents and editors generally have real respect for anyone who produces a properly competent, full-length manuscript. That doesn’t mean they’ll make an offer, but respect? Yes, you’ve earned it.
5. Jolly hobby enthusiasts & feasting on sunshine
Look. Being a jolly hobby enthusiast is a deeply honourable status, not something to be ashamed of. Let’s say your weekend hobby were painting watercolours in a city park. It wouldn’t really occur to you that you had to sell those paintings in some swanky gallery in order to justify the way you spend the time. The point is the painting. The point is the writing.
And yes, I’ve earned plenty of cash from writing. But even for me, the purpose is still the writing. I have a ridiculous side-project on the go at the moment, which may or may not be marketable. I didn’t engineer it to be marketable. I don’t ultimately mind too much if it sells or doesn’t. I’ve just enjoyed making it. I’m proud of the thing I’ve made.
And in the end, that’s the thing. That’s the whole thing.
Do you love the hours you spend immersed in your work?
If you do, my friend, you have your own private sun and you may feast on its light whenever you have an hour spare to do so.
I’ll tell you something else as well, which is that even when you have an agent and a publisher and people air-kissing you and telling you how excited they are about your book, the problems don’t go away. The nature of the problems changes, for sure, but the road doesn’t always feel less arduous. Indeed, some of the most difficult times I’ve had as a writer have been when I’m contractually locked into a relationship with a publisher and that publisher has not been performing as I’d want. I’ve had more problems writing under those circumstances than I have when writing something speculative, without contract.
You lot have your own private suns. Soak up those sunbeams. Be happy. And yes, a tip from Pippa Middleton here, don’t try star-gazing in broad daylight. It seldom works.
There were two things from the Booker this week for me. How nice and pleasantly ordinary the winner seemed to be. It did feel as if he might be a scribbler like most of us who just kept writing. The second thing was an offhand remark by a Radio 4 presenter. “Of course, nowadays, winning the Booker makes you a millionaire overnight.’
So it might, I imagine. I just hadn’t thought of it that way. My ambitions are presently lamentably low. I fervently hope that my next chapter, submitted to my monthly writing group, will get a broad thumbs up and some positive encouragement, as well as a few tips. I’m becoming like my dog. Hungry for morsels.
That’s Mila. She got The Barker but not sharing the prize. Happy Bonfire Night (When, for our American Cousins, we celebrate The Gunpowder Plot to bring down the Government- or the preventing of it succeeding. You might try the same thing on January 6th.)
Harry: There’s something in your letters to us every week that I think I ought to reply to, but today’s letter to us struck a cord. When I was first starting out I found a job writing a column in the local regional daily paper, My column went in every Friday and I wrote about the small town in which I live. Every week my manuscript was returned to me, blue lined. In Canada that means corrected in blue pencil. I was expected to re-write it and get it back in time for deadline, which I did. Sometimes all that alerted me to an error was a big blue question mark. How do you fix an unknown? I had to learn. That editor taught me a lot – probably mostly stuff I knew but didn’t bother with.
If the lady who wrote the letter REALLY wants to get ahead, then she has to serve her apprenticeship. After reading her letter to you I can see that she really needs it. Her sentence structure and syntax need surgery.
I have gone on to write 30 books – history books, genealogy source books, gardening books and cookbooks. Now I am stumbling around trying to write fiction. It’s fun. It’s bloody maddening. I’m enjoying it and one day I WILL get published. I’m thankful every day that I served that apprenticeship.
Thanks Harry, I got side-tracked by generally positive feedback from a professional reviewer who told me no company would publish my ‘enjoyable’ book unless I made it either more personal or more technical so a publisher could make some money out of it.
I did neither for years, sadly. But thanks to the recent worry that I could die of Covid and never properly finish something I really wanted to write, I picked it back up, came to Jericho, learnt a lot from webinars etc and now might know enough to get it up to scratch. I’m glad I did it and will be really chuffed if someone does accept it, but it’s this journey so far that pleases me most.
Darn “U”! I guess I need to work on a pseudonym so I can toss in my two cents worth.
I’m a bit of a fly by night hobbyist – passionate for a while, then move on. I might briefly imagine myself a maker of teeny tiny felt Christmas ornaments, or crocheted blankets or whatever it is, but in real life it’s the process and the end product, not the commoditisation that matters to me (fortunately).
Writing should be the same. I aspire to get to a place where that’s true. I’m not quite sure why it isn’t. Because it matters more, maybe?
External affirmation is nice (really nice). But I suspect until it becomes a lovely added extra pursuing it isn’t that helpful.
(You should have seen the teeny tiny snowmen, though. Really. They were ace. You’d have loved them.)
Rejection is like dust in the air, you’ve no choice but breathe it in along with the nicer stuff. I try to have the same attitude which some salespeople instil in themselves: each rejection brings you a little bit nearer to that cherished closure. But it’s tough when you’ve had five “Thanks but it’s not what we’re looking for”s in two weeks. Then again, just one sale turns it all around. Getting shortlisted for a prize last month wiped out my memory of those five nasty brush-offs. We all need to find ways of keeping our horizons wide and bathed in sunshine.
I am eternally grateful to all the authors who have had to endure so much to bring a published work to the world. There are so many amazing novels that have inspired, challenged, moved, entertained, educated and delighted me for my entire life. One day, I hope I shall have worked hard enough to have created something wonderful enough to do the same for other readers like myself. In the meantime, I stay humbly in awe of communities like Jericho who have taught me so much about writing. Thank you for sharing your wisdom here 🙂