Rejection is part of the road to publication. It’s a rocky road, a roller coaster ride and all those other cliches. We know this, and we still write on and on and on. My favorite rejection so far was from a publisher who sent what seemed to me to be a form rejection. Their company was growing very fast. They apologize for the delay. They’ve considered my manuscript, but it simply didn’t fit into the line up at this time. I should have known something wasn’t quite right about that one because I had been in recent contact with the editor. She was excited about the project, but needed it to shine more. She offered a few ideas, but mostly wanted...shine. So, I polished that baby like Annie’s orphans working on the top of the Chrysler Building. You can see why that rejection was confusing as well as disappointing. Later that day came the retraction. An apology, actually. It read First I want to apologize for the form rejection you received earlier today. There was a small miscommunication with the editorial director. Yes! New life! Chrysler Building, better don your shades ‘cause this girl was shining! But wait… Unfortunately we're going to pass on this one, and we wish you the best of luck placing the manuscript elsewhere. In the meantime, please keep us in mind for your next project! Basically, they wanted to clarify that the original rejection was...well, accurate. Today’s rejection from a different publisher was not so confusing but just as disappointing because I knew better. She was kind enough to include reasons for the rejection and advice for going forward. Still, when I read that email, I wanted to stand up and scream, “I know. I know. I know. You’re right. Okay? I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. Geez.” It’s not like I sent the manuscript consciously hoping she wouldn’t notice, but deep down, I knew. Somewhere in that writing process I had asked myself about the very issues she had pointed out, and I justified it away. Look, see that clever dialogue in chapter two. That will distract from the fact that the couple isn’t together enough on screen. And see that. That show-don’t-tell-moment will blind her to the weak character arc. At a workshop I attended, the Great Donald Maass (isn’t that appropriate way to introduce the guy?) commented that when you begin receiving complimentary and advice-filled rejection letters, you are probably one guided rewrite away from publication. You’re in the top tier. Don’t give up. Today’s writer lesson is not new, but is also not used enough. Don’t be in a rush to submit your shiny manuscript. Bust it up. Dismantle it. Break it, if you must. It will be stronger when you put it back together. If nothing else, you’ll save editors and agents the time and trouble of having to send an email telling you what deep down you already know.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorDee Linn loves words. When she was in the third grade, her exasperated teacher told her she'd probably talk to a pole, if she happen to be sitting beside it. Not much has changed except that now she says it in writing. She is a single mom of four, a teacher of teens, a cheater at board games, and a lover of life. She's a Kansas girl, but travels to all kinds of places in her head with characters living there, some of which she's sure she's created. Some, she's not sure how they got there. But they are way more interesting to talk to than a pole. Archives
November 2017
Categories
|