I received my first fiction rejection on May 6, 2003. (We shall not discuss romantic rejections.) It was for a partial that had been requested by an editor from a query letter and sent seven months before. Unlike college admittance letters, a fat package was not a good thing. My mother opened it (I was out of town on business) and read me the letter over the phone. She was in tears as she said, “Oh, honey, they aren’t going to publish it.”
“Mom,” I said. “It’s okay.”
You see, in the year between the time I finished writing the book and the time I got the rejection letter for it, I’d joined RWA and learned that rejection letters? So common. So not a big deal. So a rite of passage, to be borne with pride. like a battle scar on a hardened warrior. This was my first book. And I got a request, and a rejection letter that went on for several paragraphs and asked for something else by me. I was pretty happy with it. Plus, I knew by that time that this book? Not so good.
I got my second rejection letter two weeks later, and I cried like a baby. This was the third project I’d written, a sexy little novella. I thought it was my best yet. I’d finished it in April and submitted. I was way too close to it. The rejection letter was a few lines long, though focused on specific elements of my book, enough so that I knew it was not a form letter. It also asked for something else, though at the time, I was very focused on the fact that it said that though my wirting was good and lively, that my story was not romantic. It said it three times, as a matter of fact, and mandated that, should I ever submit to this editor again, to “Remember: romance, romance, romance!”
Then we got to 2004, Rejection Central.
My third and fourth rejections came hard on the heels of one another in February of that year, one from an agent whom (like that, Justine?) I eventually ended up signing with, the other from an editor, both for the fulls of the same book, both a month or two after the work had been submitted. Both asked to see something else from me. Noting a pattern?
Rejection five came in April, a good ten months after I’d submitted the partial for a book to an editor. Form letter. Ouch, that stung. Never had one of those before.
However, by that point, I was hooked. I figured that my way of going about getting rejection letters took too long, and didn’t get enough results. So I proceeded to submit to many more places. And get many more. A few dozen agents, no waiting. August and September were especially fun, since the bulk of my agent rejections landed in those months. Plus a few hurricanes and a few editor rejections, for good measure. Several more trickled in in October and November. I had a crisis of faith in the beginning of October, which was thankfully averted when I won a pretty little writing award.
Most of these were form letters. Some said, “we don’t like this, and here’s why.” A few were rude, telling me that they didn’t acquire my kind of submission, instead, they acquired romance and women’s fiction (what did they think I’d sent them, a cookbook?) I figured I got the wrong letter stuffed in my SASE. They meant to use the *other* form letter rejection. I got a few “really love this, but my list is full or I have no idea how we’d market it, but I’m sure someone else will.” I liked those “close calls.”
I stopped fussing over form letters. I liked the simple “Not for me, better luck elsewhere” on a 3×5 card far better than the 3 page rejection that, before it was over, said it liked/hated my voice loved/was annoyed by my main character enjoyed/ was bored by my plot, and thought my hero was winning/pathetic. I’d prefer no feedback to contradictory feedback, frankly.
In 2005, I got one more (well, two more if you include the form letter that was followed up immediately by a phone call from the agent saying she was sending it out for a second opinion — she said the form letter had been a mistake). The legitimate one was a few paragraphs about how she thought it was pretty good, but wasn’t wild enought o take it on, and please send her something else. Shades of my first few rejections.
A week later, I got my first offer of representation. After signing with my agent, we sent my book out. A lot of interest, a few passes. The passes took the form of all the other rejections I’d ever gotten. Don’t like it, not for our list, good but not crazy enough about it, nice voice, send us something else she’s written, etc. Then we sold the book.
I’m not done getting rejections. I’d like to make sure that gets stated. Everyone gets them. Bestselling authors get them. I have proof.
I know some people who cry over every single rejection. I know some people who aren’t effected by any. I’m somewhere in the middle. Some rejections sting more than others.
I know some people who burn all of their rejections. I don’t know why they do this. I mean, for tax purposes alone, it’s good to have these records. I also like to have the written evidence of the path I’m taking. I like to be able to remember why it is that I have such warm feelings towards that agent who I’ve never worked with. Oh, yeah, that’s right, because in her rejection she said that my hero was to die for and I’d no doubt have a wonderful career, but she’s not taking on any new clients right now, and besides, where would she sell a book that wasn’t quite a paranormal romance, but wasn’t a straight romance, either?
I think a lot of aspiring writers get very caught up in their rejections. Earlier in my career, I did the same thing. I think it’s mostly a waste of time to pore (another contest entry fuckup, for those of you following along fro the last post. I said “pore over paperwork” and the stupid idiot contest judge said “pour”) over your rejection letters, trying to divine some meaning from them. Do I think that the agency that said they didn’t handle my type of project REALLY thought I’d sent them a cookbook instead of a romance? Were they trying to tell me something about my romance? Come on… I truly believe that sometimes, even when they are trying to give a reason for their “no,” they’re full of shit. I see al ot of writers trying to figure out what an editor means, what is the secret code behind “just didn’t love it enough” or “not right for our list.” They spend HOURS trying to figure this out. They enlist the help of everyone in their writing group. You’re never going to get an answer, buddy. They’re just not that into you.
Still, if something resonates for you, then by all means, listen to it. I got a rejection from one editor that made statments about the way the sexual tension was presented in the opening chapters, and, looking over them, I thought she was right, so I addressed that in my revisions. But I also realized that maybe my novella wasn’t “romantic” enough for the publisher that rejected it, but that’s all. That one editor had a certain view of what was romantic and mys tory didn’t fit. But I don’t spend a lot of time deciphering rejection letters anymore. Nine times out of ten, you don’t learn aything from them.
I think part of the reason people pay so much attention letters to them is because they pay so much attention to the submissions themselves. I did this, too. If I got a request from, say, Cindy Hwang, I would do all kinds of research about the Berkley publishing program. I’d spend months imagining myself as a Berkley author, and trying to think of what that would mean for my career and blah blah blah blah… Talk about putting the cart before the horse! A slush pile submission, unagented, and I’m already picturing myself with the book in hand. I think the key is trying to divorce expectation for your submission. Hope for the best, of course, but don’t focus on it. This is why it got easier when I queried 20 agents at once. One rejection out of 20 hurts less than one rejection out of one. (We won’t talk about what 18 out of 20 feels like.) And that’s one of hte myriad reasons why I like having an agent, too. She handles the submission stuff. I’m already one step removed, so when she says, “So and so has passed, so and so is getting another read,” I can just be like, “Cool, great, let me know what happens.” I have a writer friend who tells her agent not to tell her about rejections. Just about offers. I’m too much of a control freak for that, but I can see the benefits.
A very wise agent recently addressed this topic. One thing she says is to stop saying “so and so rejected me.” They didn’t they rejected the one project you sent them. (My agent rejected one project I sent her, too. Big whoop.) They might have taken the next. (mine did.) I know she’s right. (She rejected one of my books, too.)
February 23rd, 2006 at 9:32 am
You do such a great job on these writing industry posts. Very no nonsense, practical, and helpful.
I knew and agreed with everything you wrote, but it’s nice to hear someone with more experience say it.
M
February 23rd, 2006 at 10:35 am
A very timely post, as another rejection showed up in my mailbox yesterday, and I’m afraid one of my partials has also been rejected (Based on the agent’s blog), so I was feeling a bit blue.
Thank you for the encouragement. I look at this site and see you book on the side (and I want to read it) and it’s nice to know that you have a collection of rejection too.
February 23rd, 2006 at 10:50 am
Becca, was it a portal story? ::weak smile::
I think sucking up rejections is one of those things that’s easy to say and not easy to do. I think I’ve gotten off pretty easy so far, but that just means that there are tons more waiting down the road. People talk about sales and books, but they don’t talk about rejections, so sometimes it seems like they aren’t there. But they’re there.
Even when there’s an author who seems to be selling a book every three days and has a ton of things on her schedule and etc., there are stillrejections there that you might not be aware of, little projects that no one will buy that break her heart and she can’t figure out why.
I want to get to the point where i don’t care at all. I admire the Zen of some people.
I look back on some rejections that I thought were very unfair at the time and now I think they’ve got a really good point to make. My book wasn’t ready. But I’m probably hardest on myself. I’m pretty sure I’m goign to be very stingy with my submissions now.
February 23rd, 2006 at 10:56 am
Ah, yes, the rejection letter. Unfortunately, I’m well versed in that. The ones I get for query letters are easy to pass off. The ones for partials, well, depending on the agent or editor (sent to them only if the agents have already passed on the piece) can sting, but when I get one after a full manuscript has been reviewed I must allow myself the obligatory 24-hour pity party. Hey, that works for me.
But what I think is more frustrating is when the comments are all positive about my writing, characters and plot…and then you get the elusive “however, at this time…” comment. I feel like I’m cursed by this “timing” thing. But even “that” is something I can deal with a lot better than the rejection letters that comes looking as if it’s been xeroxed hundreds of times and, as if to add insult to injury, they’ve been totally crooked on the page. I mean, come on! I’ve worked in the corporate world for the last 14 years and I’d never get away with sending such unprofessional correspondance. I’ve received a few of these from reputable agents AND editors. Granted, I realize that many of them have interns or assistants doing this for them, but I can’t believe something so shoddy could be overlooked. Okay, off my soapbox now. Can you tell I just received another rejection recently? Ha! Granted, this one was at least very nice and professional. 
Christina
February 23rd, 2006 at 12:00 pm
Yes, the types of rejections that are all crooked and faded and messy really throw me for a loop as well. However, I didn’t think anything of the ones on small pieces of paper (I think it’s Ethan Ellenberg that sends out rejection “cards”) and some people are really offended that they “don’t even rate a whole piece of paper.”
It’s amazong how, as soon as you think you’ve mastered your emotions abotu them, one sneaks up on you and slaps you in the face.
February 23rd, 2006 at 12:26 pm
I received two rejections this week – one asking to see future projects, one just passing. It doesn’t phase me one way or the other, really. It used to but that all changed when I got a very impersonal rejection sent by an assistant to an agent I’d pitched in person and felt like I had a connection with.
That rejection slapped me in the face. It was cold, unexplained and unexpected. In retrospect, it was one of the best things that happened to me. I realized that in a way, until I get an agent, I have to be my own agent. (Not to mention that as I watch that agent’s career, I get happier every day she isn’t mine.)
I excised the hurt, picked myself up and carried on. This is a business. I now treat it as such. Agents and editors who reject me are simply contacts I haven’t fully utilized.
I’m close. I can feel it. That is enough to sustain me.
February 23rd, 2006 at 12:27 pm
Upon my honor, my story does not include portals (or portal potties), defecating, pitched battles in the first chapter, or gathering herbs in the woods. But it does have an intense whipping scene in chapter three which will probably put it on many “not for me” lists. A friend said the scene reminded him of Anne Rice’s style when she writes under a psuedonym. I haven’t read anything of hers though (I’m not a big vampire fan).
Writing fantasy does narrow the agent field some, and writing dark fantasy narrows it further. Maybe I should start working on one of my lighter storylines.
February 23rd, 2006 at 2:31 pm
I think my rejection history is a little different than most, though I didn’t realize it until I read this post. I’ve only queried one book, and my rejections (the ones I’ve gotten so far–no doubt there will be others) were all either hot or cold. No in between. Well, almost no in between. And actually, no hot either. So I guess they were just all cold.
Translation: they were ALL form rejections. (Except for one, which had extenuating circumstances.) No “I like this, but…” No “send me something else…” And certainly no “I’m sure you’ll find representation somewhere else.”
In the six weeks between the time I started querying in earnest and the time I got my offer of representation, I got five rejections from queries, and several more from partials and fulls. (I had two from several months earlier, when I was sending them out one at a time.) All of those were form rejections, including the ones from partials and fulls. They didn’t even have my name on them. Or the title of my book. In fact, it was terribly hard not to imagine that I’d gotten them in error. And when I finally had to admit that they truly were meant for me, it was even harder not to be completely devastated by them.
Then, out of the blue, I got a phone call requesting the entire book. Immediately. Via email. That same night I had an offer.
The thing that blows me away about this industry is how incredibly subjective it is. People apparently either really love my book, or really hate it. That makes sense, considering how many books I love that others hate. And vice versa. And I can’t help thinking that if I could have attained that perspective when I was querying, the rejections wouldn’t have stung so badly.
February 23rd, 2006 at 2:33 pm
Okay everyone, back away. It’s my blog, so I get to throw the first rotten tomato at Rachel. SIX WEEKS!!!!!!
I don’t think form rejections are “hate.” I think form rejections are just a method. I got “feedback” rejections that were quite virulent. I think the idea hat there are “better” rejections is a bit of a myth. I got a ton of form rejections for much better books. Because some people just send out form rejections and that’s all there is to it.
Where are those tomatoes? Oh, yeah. C’mere, Rachel…
February 23rd, 2006 at 5:03 pm
Okay, now, wait a minute! (backing into my corner like a scared kitty) It sounds a lot better than it really was. I rewrote STRAY five complete times, over a period of eight months. That part certainly didn’t come quickly.
And all those rejection letters came at once. Within two weeks of each other. It was a really bad two weeks, in which no one cared enough for my writing to even use my name in an email. Until Miriam came out of the blue, I thought I was in for a very long, hard road. I was ready for that. And I would have stuck it out, too.
No one even used my name! (did I say that already?) I was really jealous of all the encouragement-filled rejections my friends were getting, and crushed that I wasn’t getting them. I just wanted to point out that form rejections aren’t the end of the world.
Now, I’ll stand still if you still want to throw tomatoes. I guess it could be worse. You could be throwing potatoes.
February 23rd, 2006 at 5:24 pm
Ah the joys of rejection. What I tell myself to avoid turning to copious amounts of chocolate is that each rejection letter or comment is a badge of honor. It shows you had the guts to send it in. Think how many people dream with out ever doing- how much better to try and miss the mark than not to have even tried.
February 23rd, 2006 at 8:36 pm
Becca,
do you think that flogging scene matters? Because I have one in the very first chapter of The Charioteer, and a male rape in the third.
Yes, I’m a very bad girl.
I haven’t much experience with writing rejections yet (job applications is another matter) since the only short I submitted got accepted first try, and my academic non fiction is by invitation.
But I think the bad boys will start piling up once I got those NiPs finished.
February 23rd, 2006 at 8:55 pm
You know, I have a flogging scene that actually opens one of my books (fantasy romance).
I had no idea it was such a popular thing to do!
February 23rd, 2006 at 10:32 pm
I didn’t know that, either. I just wanted to get MC into w really bad situation pretty fast, so in some 3500 words he turns from heir to the Dál Riatan chief and noble hostage of a Roman general into a flogged and chained up slave.
I’ve read one of Becca’s versions of the flogging; I think that one was in the first chapter, but the context was different, her character was already low.
February 24th, 2006 at 8:14 am
I don’t spend much time over the rejections themselves. I put a note in my submussion chart and file them away or trash them (no tax relief here).
What truly gets me pissed, though, is when you follow up six months later, and they admit they’d lost your requested material — because no, they haven’t gotten around to reading it during those six months, even though they asked for a month long exclusive back then. Only after your follow-up they bothered to cast a glance around the office, and when the material wasn’t discovered, they jotted you a note saying, hey babe, send that requested material again? I don’t care that I wasted six months of your life and fifty dollars of your hard-earned money.
I don’t even care if a rejection is all crooked and wrinkly. Or form. Or nameless. But the moments like the above get me foaming at the mouth. If you cannot read your goddamn requested material on time, or keep your papers sorted out properly, hire an assistant, or don’t request my goddamn material at all! I’m aging here!
Although, I’ll freely admit that once I’m a client, I’d get furious if I knew she were spending most of her time on new potential clients and not mememe. Because it’s all about me, no matter what side of the fence I’m currently sitting on, or how much this industry is about stomping on the writer’s ego. Anyone who stomps on mine is gonna break a leg. It’s that large
February 24th, 2006 at 9:45 am
Gabriele inflicts all sorts of well-researched tortures on her characters *ack*
February 24th, 2006 at 9:50 am
Gabrielle and Becca and Kristen, I have no idea how we got off on flogging… I think I missed a step.
Daria, as usual, you crack me up. I totally agree.
Hey check out all the trackbacks!!!
February 24th, 2006 at 10:51 am
Diana, thanks for putting it in perspective. I personally prefer the rejection letters where at least I know they read the manuscript. I once got one of those Ethan Ellenberg postcards literally three days after I mailed the manuscript.
February 24th, 2006 at 10:57 am
So I totally feel like I am walking in enemy territory here. You see these rejection letters are a part of my daily life, except that I am the one sending them out.
This post, and especially the resulting comments, made me really think about the person on the other side.
As a part of an agency that uses form “passes”, I have that cowering in the corner feeling, as if someone just told me what a complete piece of garbage I am. However, in our defense (the evil editor/agents) and slightly along the lines of Daria’s post, do you realize that it ISN’T JUST ABOUT YOU?! This is a business, and when you are looking at the realities of receiving 50+ queries a day, not even considering partials~ there is only so much time. While personalized scripted notes would be ideal, it is in no way realistic, especially for an agency in high demand.
Also consider (and I suspect this is preaching to the choir), that 80% of the queries we receive are in poor form AND for areas we don’t even represent. In addition these queries are not the drive of any agency; in fact they are a small component. These queries do not yield us a penny.
Remember we exist with a specific purpose. First and foremost we are here for our existing clients.
And if that doesn’t make sense, here is another way of looking at it. There is an agency and it only has X amount of hours in a day; would you rather know that A) a large percentage of the day is used towards letting potential clients down gently, or B) that down the road, when your material is absolutely ready, that the time will be spent on you, and your project, and getting you the best deal imaginable? Your call.
February 24th, 2006 at 11:13 am
Welcome anonymous rejection sender! Believe me, I totally get “the other side.” I’ve been an editor. But… are you responding to my post? If so, I think you completely misunderstood. I *like* form rejection letters. Saves us from wasting time trying to decipher any meaning which isn’t there anyway. I *encourage* people to realize it’s not about them.
I have to admit, I’m a bit mystified by your comment, since this whole post is about shrugging off rejection letters, not getting up in arms about forms, and realizing that there’s nothing personal involved. And I’m completely with you (as is Daria) witht he idea that the purpose of an agency is to concentrate on their clients, not the people they’re rejecting.
What did I miss? Was this somewhere in the mysterious flogging post?
February 24th, 2006 at 11:48 am
Lol Diana, sorry for hijacking your thread. It all started with Becca (whom I know from another place) being concerned that a whipping scene she has in chapter 3 of her Just Rejected Several Times novel could have something to do with it being rejected, and I said that in that case I’d be in trouble as well, because I have a flogging scene in chapter 1.
I’m with you on form rejections. There have been several posts on Miss Snark’s blog about contradictory rejections, like “too much description, not enough description, great plot but boring characters, great characters but boring plot ….. ” The result are confused writers who don’t know whether and what to edit.
February 24th, 2006 at 1:49 pm
ole’ Anonymous here again,
I think that the inadvertant introduction of the flogging conversation plays an interesting role in light of the dynamics of this conversation! Initially I may have said it better, if I had said that I, as a rejection sender, felt as if I had been flogged after reading everyones comments!
Anyways, in clarification to my above post, I was responding to the many comments left, and not really the original blog at all (poor form I know). As usual Diana’s multi-facted method of viewing situations was apparent in her clever observations and reflections. My apologies for the miscommunication.
I also apologize for taking the easy way out via my anonymity, but I’m chosing this method to keep my opinions seperated from the company I work for.
February 24th, 2006 at 2:12 pm
Flattery will get you everywhere, my anonymous industry friend.
(multi-faceted and clever observations, huh. Yup, I’m going to sleep well on that one tonight. “Sailor boy, did you hear about my multi-faceted and clever observations? Clearly that should absolve me from dish duty!”)
No, really, you’re welcome to be anonymous. We’re fine with anonymous ’round here (well, Julie’s not, but I am, and it’s my blog). I get anonymous all over the place when the need arises. It’s kind of like a form letter, don’t you think? Necessary at times, just to keep the parts running smoothly.
Also, sometimes it’s as true as it can get. Not right for us, better luck elsewhere. Period, period, period.
Don’t feel flogged. It’s not open season on rejectors. We have reserved that right for Rachel
I’m so kidding, Rachel. Okay, I’m kind of kidding. A little bit. I save all of my tomatoes for bruschetta.
Pardon the pricklies. I’m bereft without Lancelot.
February 24th, 2006 at 7:14 pm
Well, anonymous, during the daytime I work for a large and successful…agency. Except is is a business consulting agency. And if we tell a potential client, “yes, we might start working together, let us review your project first” (this, if someone isn’t getting on with the analogy, means requested material), and they call six months later, wondering what’s going on… if we tell them, “oops, sorry, left your papers in a cab, could you send a new batch please, call me back in 22nd century, maybe I’ll get to it by then”—
They aren’t going to think that we are fab. They are going to think that we are messy and unprofessional, because of the inability to keep our business in order and do things on schedule.
Request, IMHO, is a certain obligation, especially if it is accompanied by an exclusive. You are not doing the writer any free favors. You are engaging in a business relationship, however temporary and fragile. If you mess up, lose the papers, trash your self-imposed time schedule, how can I be sure you won’t do the same when you are my official agent? Can I really believe that kind of business attitude is reserved solely for non-clients?
Obviously, query is a different animal. But it’s not the writers’ fault that an agency is unable to handle the rush of queries. If you do not have time to read queries and focus sufficiently on your clients’ material, my –actually professional– advice would be to cut down on whichever activity is less profitable. In short — close the door for submissions. Instant headache relief. Hire an assistant. Whatever. Being messy with the business matters doesn’t make a company look like they are very busy. It makes them look badly managed and disorganized. The only reason why the agencies are getting away quite smoothly with that is because in this industry, there is no balance of supply and demand. There will always be more writers. So the reputation of the agency gets no stains from the behavior targeted at non-clients. It simply doesn’t matter, because most of those playing in the sandbox are the same way.
But if I send a correctly addressed query, and the agent decides to request my book, it is not my fault that eight hundred writers who got it wrong sent their queries and made it difficult for the agent to treat me in a professional manner. It has nothing to do with what is going between me and the agent, business-wise. And I don’t understand why I should pay for that, with both my money and my time.
By the way, I agree with Diana on form rejections. I think query is such a small first step –and, more importantly, it is paid so little attention anyway —
that a personalized query is more confusing than clarifying. It is understandable that this personalized rejection will be not very thought out, so it might state things in a wrong or unclear way. In short — a simple no is better for everyone involved, IMHO.
February 25th, 2006 at 2:00 pm
Great post! It helps to know everyone experiences the same pile as I do. I just wished some of the letters could be more helpful.
To date, your agent’s agency has sent me the nicest rejection I’ve gotten. Made it a lot nicer to say, yeah I was rejected, but it wasn’t nasty!
February 28th, 2006 at 4:56 am
Different anonymous. Please don’t eat me alive. My apologies to Diana for straying from the topic but I was surprised to read Gabriele’s comments. For Gabriele or anyone who knows the answer and wishes to respond, I would like to know if male rape/flogging-torture etc., is a new trend in romance?
I have read a few ripped bodice type stories which, lets be honest, are basically female rape with “love” down the line to make it okay, but was surprised by your entry. Was it a childhood flashback–bad priest or evil uncle. Something like that?
February 28th, 2006 at 7:14 am
Anonymous, I’m not sure but I believe that Gabriele is speaking of the torture of say, a prisoner of war by an enemy. It is not meant to be any kind of romantic interlude! My understanding is that she writes very battle-heavy depictions of life with the Visigoths.
Writers of all genres drop by here.