Reflections of Undertakers of Rain
We've all heard those stories about writers with award winning books
having to endure dozens of rejections. Or even more tragically,
Patrick Kennedy O'Toole and The Confederacy of Dunces. He got
so many rejections that he finally checked out. Sometime after his
suicide, his mother submitted the book to an English professor and
The Confederacy of Dunces became an instant classic. If only Mr.
O'Toole could have seen it. The point is, there are rejections and
rejections and rejections.
I've had my share of rejections. And sadly, my work with Umbrella Factory Magazine, I've dished out my share of rejections.
Incidentally, I hate giving a rejection more than I hate receiving
one. I suppose I feel like this because I don't ever want to hurt
anyone's feelings. That and, a rejection does not hurt my feelings.
A big part of writing is the inner conflict. The self-editing, the
self-censorship, the self-doubt mixes so very wonderfully with the
balance of work and life and family and the desire to write. So much
of this happens at the desk at home or in the office. So much of
publishing is the waiting game which leads to self-doubt, insecurity
and this leads to nothing good. At the end of the waiting game,
almost without fail, there is rejection.
Rejection is as important as submission.
Making a submission, and this is the case whether it's a poem or a
short story or a novel is a very big step. Making a submission means, if not to the
world, then at least to you, that you are ready to let go of
something and giving to the wider world of letters. What leads up to
a submission is this: 1) your product is finished, completely ready
to be read. 2) your product is revised so many times that it's
practically flawless. 3) The formatting is perfect. 4) you know
without a doubt that this is your best work, and you're putting out
there for judgment. You have worked tirelessly making this, whatever
it is, the best possible thing ever. Well, this is a good thing
because the act of submitting your piece has forced you to make it
right. In a way, planning a submission and making a deadline is a
great incentive to finishing your product.
Then you get a rejection.
As I said last time, if you let enough time go by after the initial
writing of a novel, your emotional stake in the piece, your ego in
your work fades away and you can look at it objectively. Well, what
about after dozens of revisions, manuscript preparation and
submission, is there still emotional stake and ego? Well, sure.
Your emotional stake may be that of pride of a job well done rather
than that of blind passion. Whatever your stake is in it, a reject
does sting.
What's the upshot of rejection?
Occasionally, an editor will tell you what's wrong with your work and
why it was rejected. Generally, you get no feedback. And far more
often, you'll simply never hear back. When a rejection does occur,
this is a great opportunity to revise your work. Think of it this
way, the more rejections, the more revisions, the better things will
shake out next time.
Undertakers of
Rain received 4 rejections.
Four. That ain't so bad. I submitted this piece to one contest, one
publisher and two literary agents. I got one reason why I got the
rejection: this novel does not suit the demographic we serve. I got
one form letter. I got two no response. In any event, before this
novel left me, I reread, reviewed, and revised it. I did the same
thing at each rejection. I think it made for a better novel. And
it certainly made me better at it: revision, patience and tenacity.
At
time I wrote this post, I did not have a release date for Undertakers
of Rain. I signed the contract
with Ring of Fire Publishing
at the end of February, and if it's anything like the time line last
year, I would imagine this novel will release sometime over the
summer. I'm immensely grateful for the opportunity to write. I'm
grateful for all the mediums in which my work gets out: this blog,
Sophia Ballou, Rocket House Studio and
Ring of Fire.
It's
a great time to be a writer.
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