Rejection

As most of you know, I teach writing classes and workshops now and then. And one of the first things I tell the bright-eyed, hopeful students, right after the part about probably not getting rich, is the necessity of being able to deal with rejection.

Let's say one of these bright-eyed writers has just finished her novel. Maybe it was the distillation of years and years of blood, sweat, and tears. But at last she's typed THE END, proof read again and again, and written a marvelous query letter, following the guidelines laid out in various sources.

She does her homework -- finds the agents who are interested in representing the sort of book she's written and, full of hope, picks the biggest and best known of the lot and sends off her query. Maybe, just to play it safe, she sends off a few more to some back-up agents. Then she sits back and awaits the phone call (Maybe it's an email now -- back in '02 it was always a phone call) from the super agent while leafing through brochures for expensive cars -- maybe a Mini Cooper would be nice for those author tours.

And it could be that lightning will strike on the first query but, for most of us, finding an agent is a long slog through a rocky and inhospitable land with rejection on every side -- lots of it.

I didn't keep exact count but I know that in my search for an agent, I sent out over sixty query letters. As the rejections came back, I wrote NO by the agent's name in my Guide to Literary Agents where I was keeping track of the dates I'd queried each agent.

And each rejection was something like a blow to the gut. One needs to be physically and mentally strong, I tell the bright-eyed young writers, to deal with querying.

I had some agents ask for more pages or the complete ms. -- this was encouraging-- and a few handwritten notes on the rejection letters began to seem like hugs.

I was trying to begin a second book but have to admit that as the rejections kept coming back, it was hard to focus. My chief priority was not to let my rejection dejection spill over into my home life. So there was a lot of internalizing.

The very worst was an agent who'd requested a whole. She sent me back my SAS postcard with a note saying her email wasn't working and would I call her?

I was sure that This Was IT.

When I called her, she said she'd decided to pass. What twisted cruelty! Couldn't she have told me this on the postcard.?

Plus, I 'd paid for the call.

B___h, I thought as my gut twisted again.

The main thing that surprised me was the physical response -- I felt increasingly worse with each rejection -- I ached all over.

It was three months (months that felt like forty years of wandering in the wilderness) from sending the first letter to the phone call from an agent offering me representation.

But when the call finally came, oh heavenly days, I was HEALED!!

If there were some more rejection letters after that, I hardly noticed them.

And then of course, it was all to do over again as the agent sent the book round to editors -- but at least we were in it together and she was endlessly supportive, pointing out what positive rejections these were.

When that first book didn't sell, I wrote a second and it was the same weary round again. I still had the agent though and this time the book sold!

Now I'm at work on my sixth book with the same editor -- and same agent. But there was a lot of rejection to wade through to get here. And I've heard stories that make mine seem like a mere nothing -- people who tell me how lucky I was -- they had hundreds of rejections before they finally found an agent -- they papered the bathroom, the dining room, the living room with rejection letters.

And since I've been in this writing game, I've heard many people say they quit after five -- maybe ten rejections.

"Honey," I would tell the bright-eyed young thing who's about to give up, "you're just getting started."