Rejection

Since I have emerged from the safety of writing toward a finished novel and stepped into the world of seeking agents and publication, I have made rejection nearly a full-time gig. It's happened recently, and while my ego does NOT want me to write about it, I find I can't really do anything else until I address it.

Rejection sucks.

Here's how my story has gone:

I “finished” my first draft on my birthday in 2008. Technically, it was perfect (I edit for a living, so I felt pretty confident about my grammar and punctuation.) (Although Bestie B noticed yesterday that I had spelled 'prestigious' incorrectly in a previous post. For shame.) The first draft, though, had been read and re-read. By this time I had given it to a circle of women and had even had a beautiful dinner party for said women so that I could get some feedback and give some gifts. But that's not what this post is about.

Rejection.

I've already talked about my horrible query and some of my rejections. My first 10 queries were sent out by US mail. I've had better luck getting actual rejections when I send things out by mail. I haven't gotten a whole lot of response with email queries, and there's something satisfying about getting SOMETHING back. Also something concrete and substantial about printing out my letters, signing them in my scrawl, putting in pages if the submission guidelines for a particular agent accepted pages, stamping them and taking them to the post office.

So. Rejection.

I sent these first hopeful queries out. I didn't feel comfortable about my first 10 pages, which is usually what's excepted if an agent is going to take pages. When I got hooked up with the Bad Things Happen woman, one of the agents she sent me to was a Young Adult agent. Since the book spans such a huge amount of time and sees my main character through her young years, I have waffled about its true intent. I have to admit, the thought of my book in the hands of some hurting 17-year-old girl is compelling, but it's really much too dark at times for it to be a TRUE Young Adult novel.

This agent read the first 10 pages and said, “Your premise in this manuscript is unique and powerful. I wonder, though, from your opening, if this is the natural starting point of your story.” She talked about finding a hook, some part in the story that would pull the reader in right away, and then filling in the backstory bit by bit.

“If this idea fits with your vision for the story,” she said, “I'd be happy to read a revised opening.”

Mercifully, I have been raised to be open and respectful when someone who knows more than I do gives me criticism about what I'm doing in my life. I thanked her profusely for her input and told her I would be sending her a revised opening soon. It came to me like a shot, what the REAL beginning was. A powerful moment when she's 23, steeped in pain, the turning point, a reunion of sorts. I sent it off to her right away and, of course, proved immediately that this was not a Young Adult novel, which she told me in a very nice email about how she only represented Young Adult authors and keep trying, best of luck.

Truthfully, I thanked her. I told her that her notes had changed the whole course of the novel and that I would be forever grateful to her for that.

That's sort of how I've handled all of my rejections. And, believe me, there have been many. Most of them have been lovely, some of them have been form letters. Through it all, I have maintained that the right person is going to find it, someone who will be a true advocate for my work and my family. I have people around me, not just those obligated by love, who tell me it's GOING to happen.

Rejection.

The latest was from an agent who actually asked for and read the first 100 pages. Somehow, it stings more knowing that she read so much. Before, I could tell myself that if they only read the book the would be hooked, that they couldn't possibly FEEL it after only reading the query and 10 pages. But maybe that's not true.

The deal is that, no matter how gracefully I have received rejections, it still makes me doubt for a little while. I doubt my belief in these guys and their story. I doubt my path, my future, my purpose. I doubt myself and my talent (if I even have any.)

Being rejected is a terrible thing. But it's part of the deal.

There are people, like Steph, whose path falls out in front of them, paved in gold – little more than six months between writing the first word and publication. And even she got rejected. Bet those agents feel dumb. There are also those people who fight for 14 years to get their words to the world. I'd like to fall somewhere in the middle.

As Bestie B will no doubt say when she reads this post, “I don't know what the purpose is for this book. I only know that YOUR purpose is to write. This is not about publication or agents. This is about you using the gifts that you've been given.”

To which I will most assuredly say, “Hrmph.”

But she's right. I don't feel full of passion and joy when I'm sending out query letters. I feel full of passion and joy, totally hooked up to the powerful flow of creativity, when I am typing words on a page. I feel closer to my God when I am writing this blog than I have ever felt when corresponding with an agent.

Do I yearn to see my book on the shelf at Hastings? Yes. Do I see myself sitting on Oprah's couch? You bet. I even copied a NY Times Best Sellers list and typed myself in there right at the top. I printed it out and put it on the wall next to my desk. Now I can look over and see myself there, right above Robert Parker and Stephenie Meyer.

Do I write the words in order for other people to read them? Of course I do. I would not be content to sit at my computer and make beautiful stories for myself and my friends. I won't lie. And, truthfully, not to sound arrogant, but I don't think I'll have to. I am persistent and very, very hard to keep down. Amazing opportunities have already crossed my path because I keep putting myself out there.

When I really look at it, I have had experience after experience on this journey that have confirmed for me that I'm walking in the right direction. I believe with my whole heart that someday I'm going to get paid to do this.

Right now I'm a little depressed and feel just the tiniest bit sorry for myself. I would like to go to bed and retreat from my life until ACCEPTANCE comes knocking.

But the truth is, I am not going to stop feeling this way by receiving an email from an agent saying they would LOVE to represent me and my book (although that would be great and would make a nice post). I am going to get out of feeling this way by writing three pages today and putting it out into the world. It seems like it shouldn't work that way. But it does.