On Rejection

As you have probably guessed from the title of this entry, I've heard from the agency. They don't love me. In fact, two agents at two different agencies don't love me. And a magazine doesn't love my short story, either. So all in all, kind of a "You're a loser!" week on the writing front.

But that's okay. Rejection is part of the game. Like they always say, "If you're not getting rejections, you are not submitting." That's true for people who are just starting out. It's true for authors of most calibers. I'm just guessing here, but I'm fairly certain that there are only a few working authors who don't get rejection slips any more, and I'm fairly certain most of them have boxes full of them from early in their careers. Every now and then, a fluke will happen and the stars will all align and a brilliant new sun will blaze in the sky without a single rejection notice, but those moments are rare.

Here's a run-down of the events of the past two weeks:

The agency I really wanted to have represent me--the agency I emailed my query letter to back in December--held a contest, one that they compared to a "speed-dating" event. Hopeful authors had a one-hour window to submit their names, after which entries were closed. From the entrants, one hundred twenty-five names were drawn at random. Those people were invited to submit three pages of their finished novel. I was one of the fortunate few. (I feel like I should insert a smiley face icon here!)

A couple of days later, the field was narrowed to twenty-five, and those people were asked to submit ten pages. Again, I was in the running. (Would another smiling icon be too much?) The following week, the field was narrowed once more, this time to the top fifteen. Again, I was invited to submit, this time the first three chapters. When the next announcement was made, the agency would ask three contestants to submit their completed manuscripts.

This is where the dream ended for me. I got the email that told me that I was not among the three finalists. The gracious note basically said, "You did well, but we're not interested in your project at this time. Feel free to submit something else." So there it was, in black-and-white. They've looked at my book and don't want to see it again.

Not wanting to let any grass grow under my feet, I submitted a query letter to my second-choice agent that same day. Four days later, I had my rejection email from her.

The magazine I submitted to? They have an automatic notification to let you know when they've opened your submission. The rejection notice was time-stamped one minute later.

That's my fortnight in review. Rejection, rejection, rejection. And you know what? With all those rejections, I feel more like a writer!

Hello!

Welcome to my blog. Pull up a chair and sit a spell. Make yourself comfortable.

Um...I didn't mean that comfortable. This is a public forum, after all.

So here I am, all alone in my home office. This is where the magic happens. This is where I wrote my book. And after I wrote it, this is where I rewrote it. Then I showed it to a few people--my writing group, a couple of friends, my sister. Then I rewrote it again. Rereads. And then, one more rewrite. For over three years, I've worked on it, worked to perfect it. And while I know it's not perfect-- because no book has ever been perfect--I know it's the best I can make it at this point in my writing career.

The easy work is done. Now it's time to convince someone in the publishing industry that people might want to read my book.

And I'm starting this blog because one of the things that professional writers do. I'm practicing for the day when I become a professional writer. Also, I kind of like to hear myself talk, so a blog is a natural progression for me.

As I started typing this message on my electronic notepad, I wasn't quite sure what to say. I'm still not sure I've said the right things. But in a moment, when I press the post button, the contents of this blog will be out there for the world to see. For better or worse, my words will be floating through cyberspace. Flying through the atmosphere at more than a billion miles per hour. Of course, I might be a little off in my figures. Sciency stuff was never my strong suit.

The point is this: millions of people will be able to read my thoughts and examine my ideas and say to themselves, "Ah. I never saw it that way. This changes everything! It's morning in America! Myrtle, let's sell the house and the dogs, 'cause we finally found our purpose!" Or they might think, "What a load of crap!"

But isn't that what writing's all about? The writer's job is to put himself out there. To take a chance. To open a vein and bleed. To stand naked before the world.

Don't worry. I'm not going to do that last thing. I was raised Lutheran. We don't even get naked in the shower.

Here's the thing: yesterday, I jumped off the cliff. I sent off my query letter. If all goes well, I should have an agent before too long. If things don't go my way, there's another cliff right around the corner. And I'm not afraid to fling myself off that one, either.

And that's what it's been like so far, as I try to break into the profession. Wanna tag along? Let's see where this little adventure takes us. You and me. Jumping off cliffs, like Butch and Sundance.