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Rituals of Rejection
Jun. 8th, 2007 11:22 amSo, a recent rejection that hit me the wrong way (and I'm usually very zen about the whole thing) has got me thinking about the rituals of submission and rejection, and how they vary from writer to writer.
For myself, I find submitting a work, waiting around for sometimes a very long time, then getting rejected a rather disheartening process. At the same time, I recognize it as an integral part of the whole being-a-writer thing, and something that is best handled with a certain detachment and objectivity. Thus, I have built little baffles into my own submission process in order to give my Sensitive Artist Soul time to go into hiding before any bad news is revealed.
In particular, when I send off a submission via post, on my SASE in teeny letters on the bottom right corner of the back of the envelope I put a two- or three-letter abbreviation for who it was sent to. If it was sent to an agent, it has an "A" in a circle (much like the anarchy symbol, coincidentally enough.) I have a spreadsheet where I keep track of my submissions, and it has a projected date of response based on the info at blackholes. Thus, in general, when I check my mail at the end of the day I have a pretty good idea if there's likely to be an envelope waiting for me. And if there is, I know who it's from before I even open it.
If I've had a particularly rotten day (such as the year 2006), I can then sit on the envelope for an hour or a day until I'm ready for it. Usually I open it within fifteen minutes or so.
What happens in that interval, though? Well, that's when my Writing-As-A-Business Brain convinces the Sensitive Artist Soul that now is a good time to go take a nice stroll around the block, get some fresh air, listen to the birdies, and let WAABB deal with that envelope.
Then, once he's heard the door bang and knows SAS is out out of the grey-matter house, WAABB picks up the envelope and flips it over and looks at the back. Ah, thinks WAABB, it says "FMF", so this envelope was sent off to Fantasy & More Fantasy magazine. Which means it's about my story "Teenage Zombie Bikini Beach Slugfest".
WAABB thinks about that story, what the strengths of it were, what the possible weaknesses of it were. What he'd thought the odds of selling it to Fantasy & Fantasy were when he sent it out. Where, if it's a rejection, he might send it next. In the event that the contents of the envelope are a rejection, having a plan is key to taking it objectively and with detachment because it means that that rejection is not the end of the line, but just one step out of many. Even if the plan is "shelve it and wait for another market to come along that might like it", it's still a plan. I know where that story is going.
Then, and only then, WAABB opens the envelope. When SAS comes back from his walk, WAABB knows how to break it to him gently, how to make the bad news not so bad, how to channel the enthusiasm and energy of good news into the next story.
Email submissions have tended to work much the same way. I get an email and I know from the sender and/or the subject who it's from, what story it's about, and WAABB can do his usual thing.
At this point I've gotten 70 story rejections and a handful of agent rejections. Some have provided feedback, some have been standard form letters. On one occasion, the rejection editor had very kindly scrawled "this story is unbearable" on the top of the form letter. But pretty much it's all been okay, because WAABB had a plan, WAABB has a thick skin, and it was all just business and not personal (except maybe the "unbearable" comment, though the story had bears in it so maybe the editor was being funny). I also really hate getting two rejections on the same day -- SAS is not as easily mollified with the standard pat-on-the-back wuzza-wuzza we'll-get-it-next-time speech when they're back to back.
So anyhow, in a roundabout way I guess this is my way of explaining how I deal with the submission process, and rejections in particular. I always handle them gracefully -- not without (a sometimes keen) disappointment, sure, but also not taking it personally.
I am somewhat embarrassed (and was vaguely puzzled) that my most recent rejection DID manage to circumvent my ego-protection baffles and punch me so solidly in the gut. It's clear to me that it wasn't the feedback itself that got to me -- while I'm not sure I agree with the editor's comments on the story, I can see where he's coming from and I both respect and value his opinion. What got to me was that the rejection came in and announced itself for what it was full-force without warning, with "REJECTION" in the subject-line, leaving no time for WAABB to get SAS out of the room. And, SAS being Sensitive after all, this was a problem.
WAABB was able to quickly bring things under control, but the result was a cranky WAABB. Which, putting metaphors aside for the moment, meant a cranky me.
I guess the question, then, is how unique is my approach to handling rejections? How do other writers out there handle the two sides of the author coin where they have to open themselves to the creative process and yet protect that very same part of themselves from the often-discouraging submission process? I don't *think* I'm being "precious" here...
I'd be very interested in others' thoughts and experiences.
For myself, I find submitting a work, waiting around for sometimes a very long time, then getting rejected a rather disheartening process. At the same time, I recognize it as an integral part of the whole being-a-writer thing, and something that is best handled with a certain detachment and objectivity. Thus, I have built little baffles into my own submission process in order to give my Sensitive Artist Soul time to go into hiding before any bad news is revealed.
In particular, when I send off a submission via post, on my SASE in teeny letters on the bottom right corner of the back of the envelope I put a two- or three-letter abbreviation for who it was sent to. If it was sent to an agent, it has an "A" in a circle (much like the anarchy symbol, coincidentally enough.) I have a spreadsheet where I keep track of my submissions, and it has a projected date of response based on the info at blackholes. Thus, in general, when I check my mail at the end of the day I have a pretty good idea if there's likely to be an envelope waiting for me. And if there is, I know who it's from before I even open it.
If I've had a particularly rotten day (such as the year 2006), I can then sit on the envelope for an hour or a day until I'm ready for it. Usually I open it within fifteen minutes or so.
What happens in that interval, though? Well, that's when my Writing-As-A-Business Brain convinces the Sensitive Artist Soul that now is a good time to go take a nice stroll around the block, get some fresh air, listen to the birdies, and let WAABB deal with that envelope.
Then, once he's heard the door bang and knows SAS is out out of the grey-matter house, WAABB picks up the envelope and flips it over and looks at the back. Ah, thinks WAABB, it says "FMF", so this envelope was sent off to Fantasy & More Fantasy magazine. Which means it's about my story "Teenage Zombie Bikini Beach Slugfest".
WAABB thinks about that story, what the strengths of it were, what the possible weaknesses of it were. What he'd thought the odds of selling it to Fantasy & Fantasy were when he sent it out. Where, if it's a rejection, he might send it next. In the event that the contents of the envelope are a rejection, having a plan is key to taking it objectively and with detachment because it means that that rejection is not the end of the line, but just one step out of many. Even if the plan is "shelve it and wait for another market to come along that might like it", it's still a plan. I know where that story is going.
Then, and only then, WAABB opens the envelope. When SAS comes back from his walk, WAABB knows how to break it to him gently, how to make the bad news not so bad, how to channel the enthusiasm and energy of good news into the next story.
Email submissions have tended to work much the same way. I get an email and I know from the sender and/or the subject who it's from, what story it's about, and WAABB can do his usual thing.
At this point I've gotten 70 story rejections and a handful of agent rejections. Some have provided feedback, some have been standard form letters. On one occasion, the rejection editor had very kindly scrawled "this story is unbearable" on the top of the form letter. But pretty much it's all been okay, because WAABB had a plan, WAABB has a thick skin, and it was all just business and not personal (except maybe the "unbearable" comment, though the story had bears in it so maybe the editor was being funny). I also really hate getting two rejections on the same day -- SAS is not as easily mollified with the standard pat-on-the-back wuzza-wuzza we'll-get-it-next-time speech when they're back to back.
So anyhow, in a roundabout way I guess this is my way of explaining how I deal with the submission process, and rejections in particular. I always handle them gracefully -- not without (a sometimes keen) disappointment, sure, but also not taking it personally.
I am somewhat embarrassed (and was vaguely puzzled) that my most recent rejection DID manage to circumvent my ego-protection baffles and punch me so solidly in the gut. It's clear to me that it wasn't the feedback itself that got to me -- while I'm not sure I agree with the editor's comments on the story, I can see where he's coming from and I both respect and value his opinion. What got to me was that the rejection came in and announced itself for what it was full-force without warning, with "REJECTION" in the subject-line, leaving no time for WAABB to get SAS out of the room. And, SAS being Sensitive after all, this was a problem.
WAABB was able to quickly bring things under control, but the result was a cranky WAABB. Which, putting metaphors aside for the moment, meant a cranky me.
I guess the question, then, is how unique is my approach to handling rejections? How do other writers out there handle the two sides of the author coin where they have to open themselves to the creative process and yet protect that very same part of themselves from the often-discouraging submission process? I don't *think* I'm being "precious" here...
I'd be very interested in others' thoughts and experiences.
