Rejection: What Should I Do?
If you’ve so much as stuck a toe into the writing world, you know that rejection is waiting in the wings. It’s part of the industry, from the very first query—or, if you’re a masochist and want to start early, from the very first contest—all the way through to landing the agent, the publisher, the reviews, and readership.
When I asked on twitter what sort of things they’d like to read about in regards to rejection, I got such a sea of answers that I realized picking one would be all but impossible. So I figured, hey, why not go for a lightning round? (Haha, twitter did my work for me, suckers.)
So here are the questions flung at me willy-nilly.
Is yours here? Ask me anything about rejection—coping, fielding, pressing on—and I’ll answer in the comments!
Rejection: Does it hurt more or less than heartbreak?
Never ask a Virgo that. We’re pretty focused on whatever immediate tragedy lies at hand, and cut off the things that hurt us like an infected limb.
Okay, okay. Serious answer: It hurts more. That once. For that time. Until the next one.
Also, people that break your hearts are jerks and don’t deserve your attention. Pour everything into that manuscript, babies, and laugh at said jerk all the way to THE END.
Come on, it’s just one ‘no’ in a glorious future. Does it really matter all that much?
For a lot of authors, it really does. Picture this—you’ve spent days and days, weeks, months, polishing your manuscript. Your art. You’ve poured time and effort at the least, and heart and soul at the most, into something that some stranger—some professional stranger—has just told you isn’t good enough.
This taps into every neurosis we have as human beings who remember being kids in school.
But hey, maybe you aren’t one of those. Maybe you’ve already developed a will of iron and armor like the thick, callused skin of a veteran armadillo. Congratulations, you are three steps ahead of the class.
…What I meant to say was that my self-esteem kind of took a beating. What do I do?
You take a day and baby yourself. Go outside. Watch a movie. Read a book. Rant and rave—offline, my love, offline where no one can screenshot your words and reveal them later as the words of a terrible, terrible human being—and stuff your face with tacos. Cry as you consume them, for the Taco gods are capricious and a little salt will go well with that margarita.
Take that day, and then shake it off. Chuck Wendig of Terribleminds once said something along the lines of “take that rejection and staple it to your chest like armor”. While I don’t really recommend stapling anything to your flesh, the metaphor stands—you were rejected, but it didn’t kill you. Like that sexy, sexy armadillo, let it toughen your hide a little more, take a deep breath, and stride determinedly into traffic.
And by that, I mean send out another round of queries. Try to write another book. Keep brainstorming. Whatever it was that slapped you like rejection, slap back with more projects, more writing, more, more, more.
You’ll never succeed if you don’t persevere.
So…I shouldn’t Twitter about it?
No.
Facebook?
God, no.
Blog about it?
No!
Why?
The real reason? Because many agents and editors will Google you, look for Twitter and Facebook, and see what kind of person you are before signing you on. And the industry is a lot smaller than you think.
Be very clear on this: no matter how subtle you think you are, someone in the industry will know what you’re talking about—who, what agency, what house. And that person will talk to others, and so on. You will gain a reputation as being unprofessional, indiscreet, unable to take the pressures of the industry.
Also? The sting of rejection is fleeting. The internet is forever.
Think about that.
I never got a response from my queried agent/editor. What does that mean?
That depends. Does the agent/editor’s website say to give them a certain amount of time before you follow up email? Does it indicate that follow-up emails are welcome? If so, then take a deep breath, wait the allotted amount of time, and if you still haven’t heard anything, send a very polite email asking as to the status of your query.
If there is nothing about a time limit, or if the guidelines say that they can’t respond to everyone, then I’m sorry, precious. It’s a no.
…Assuming you’ve waited longer than six months.
Six months? Are you kidding me?
Nope. Look, everyone’s got a different timeline for how they handle queries. Some turn around that day, if they’re caught up, some wait 6 months or longer. Generally speaking, the guidelines for where you submit will give you a rough estimation, however not all will.
I have heard back from folks more than six months later—with a rejection, usually. I have also heard nothing ever, full stop, and that kind of sucks because it feels like such a passive slap assuring me that I am not worthy of time or effort, but let’s face it: it’s not about you. It feels like it is, because it’s your work, but you have to understand that agents and editors see upwards of thousands of queries a year. Hundreds a month.
You are you. There is only one of you. But to agents and editors? You are one of many, and unless someone has Hermione’s Time-Turner on lock, it’s impossible to always personally respond to everyone efficiently and not bottleneck the process. Some are better at this than others, but the fact is: you can have it fast, or you can have it thorough.
I saw an agent on twitter saying they always decide in a day, but wait four weeks to send a rejection? What crap is that?
Once upon a time, there was an author who was super excited to send queries out for a manuscript. Author did all the research, all the right things, had a great book, and couldn’t wait to get all the yeses flowing in.
One of the agents Author pitched to sent back a polite rejection within an hour of sending the query.
Wait, Author thought, stunned. A no? So soon? How could this be? Everything was there—the characters, the hook, the plot, the polite query, the right name. Surely, there was a mistake. Could it be that the agent didn’t actually read it?
OMG. That’s it exactly. The agent didn’t read the query before sending off a rejection! Agent couldn’t have possibly read the query, the sample pages, and taken the time to digest what was read. If the agent had, well then, the agent would obviously have seen what a great book it was!
How dare the agent not read the query?? Well, Author decides, just write an email back reminding the agent that it’s the job to properly read and digest the material coming in, and just to be extra thorough, Author adds a note of concern: I just wanted to write you just in case, because what if you miss an amazing book?
Yeah, that’ll do it. Author has just helped the agent in her business and reminded the agent that a great book was written by this helpful author at the same time. Win!
Are you serious right now?
No. Don’t do that. Seriously.
Look. It’s all part of rejection. Sometimes, an agent rejects within five minutes because the query is for a fantasy and the agent is up to here with fantasy. Sometimes an agent’s entire office talks about a pitch in the course of one day, and is in the end rejected because it’s not selling in the market. Or the sample pages weren’t quite there. Or whatever.
Problem is, agents and editors who reject quicker than average are often accused of “not really giving the work a fair chance” and other such nonsense, and rather than field shirty replies from rejected authors, they have taken to waiting a certain amount of time before sending a pass.
But doesn’t that make the wait longer for everyone?
Yes. And some of us are a little annoyed about that. Those of us who want to know sooner rather than later want this for two reasons: 1) so we can rip the band-aid off, and 2) so we can then proceed with our next plan.
Hurt feelings are valid, but they shouldn’t affect your business, okay? So don’t be That Author. Wait your allotted time, and even if it’s shorter than you think, don’t get snarky, shirty, or “helpful” when and if that rejection comes in.
Just… don’t.
Because I can promise you that that is the stuff chortled over with wine.
Wait, wait, let’s go back a second. What do you mean “it’s not about me”?
Exactly what I said. Rejection isn’t about you, the person. There are a lot of factors that go into a rejection, and unless you have made a habit of being a terrible person online or in your queries, who you are is not one of them.
I’m sure you’re a very lovely person. Thing is, as I said, you’re one of thousands of very lovely people. And one of thousands who get rejected. I promise you, delicious ones, agents and editors aren’t all clustered around communal dinner tables, chortling over wine about the you who got rejected.
Rejection feels personal, but it isn’t. It’s up to you to figure out how to separate the feelings from the reality. (See: “wine” Also, how to bounce back, above.)
Okay, can I get personal?
Go for it.
You’ve been very open about your struggles with depression. How do you cope with rejection?
I’m a talker. I have to talk things through. Therapists love me, because I go to talk at them—not to them, but at them—and the good ones have figured out how to use the fewest words to steer me in the right direction, and then let me go. I eventually work it out myself.
The husband is working on learning how to deal with this, because as a fixer, he wants to, you know, fix it, and you can’t.
Basically, for the first few rejections, I talk it over—rant and rave, swear, cry a little, talk privately with author friends because they get it—and then by the time I’m done, it’s turned into another bit of armadillo hide.
But too many rejections in a row whittles away at that, and it can lead me down a dark path.
Which is nobody else’s problem but my own, right? Because I’m the one who chose this industry, and my failure to cope is not the industry’s fault.
So at that point, I take a couple days off. I watch movies or anime, I read books, I go outside. I do things that allow me to separate completely—cut off that infected limb, right?—and maybe I work on completely separate projects. It’s not always easy or efficient, but it works for me. Time really does help.
No matter how many rejections, there will eventually be a victory. I just need to remember that.
And so do you.
And wine helps, right?
Um… So. Okay, look. Writers and alcohol are sort of like movie stars and cocaine. You’re pretty sure not everyone in Hollywood does it, but stereotypes are awesome, so everyone does it.
Don’t rely on alcohol, okay? You have to tan that armadillo hide yourself.
Dude. You got serious.
Alcoholism runs in the family. I joke, and I drink, but I actually know people who take what we writers say as gospel and believe that it is a compulsion to drink if you write.
So be good to yourself, and enjoy yourself, and do what you need to in order to cope, but don’t forget that in the end, if you’re driven to alcoholism by your hobby or job, maybe you’re in the wrong field.
Rejection is harsh, but it shouldn’t ruin your life.
So… to sum up: expect rejections, don’t lose your mind, take a day off to deal with it, then keep on.
By Jove, I think you’ve got it!
Keep trying. Not just with one project, but with several. Slap that armor on—maybe use eyelash glue or something, don’t staple it, unless you enjoy pain and tetanus, okay?—and sally forth up the next hill!
Because this industry is what it is, rejection will be part of the process forever. So do what you need to in order to mitigate the sting. You’re good at what you do. Remember that, and keep putting yourself out there.
So, did I touch on your question? Do you have any more I didn’t answer? Let me know, and I’ll answer you in the comments!
*****
Make sure to check out Karina’s newest release:
Engraved
The St. Croix Chronicles #5
Released August 11, 2014
Cherry St. Croix returns to the fog-ridden streets of Victorian London, where the balance of power threatens all that she loves.
I will not wither without laudanum. Sober and determined, I have chosen another way—alchemy, and the pursuit of wellness it embodies. My name is Cherry St. Croix, and though freedom is finally at my fingertips, I return to the blackened streets intent on righting the wrongs I’d left behind.
All is not well in London low. Caught in a war between gangs, men are torn limb from limb, and I am called on to ascertain how. The immoral Karakash Veil is no doubt involved, and Micajah Hawke, a prisoner in his own Menagerie, cannot soften the danger this time.
Armed with the alchemical arts I have learned, my ever present guardian, and what few friends are left to me, I embark on a campaign to rescue the ringmaster I cannot abandon, save the Brick Street Bakers from annihilation, and finally face that which frightens me the most—my own heart.
A little about Karina:
After writing happily ever afters for all of her friends in school, Karina Cooper eventually grew up (sort of), went to work in the real world (kind of), where she decided that making stuff up was way more fun (true!). She is the author of dark and sexy paranormal romances, steampunk adventures, crossover urban fantasy, and continues to write across multiple genres with mad glee. Her award winning steampunk series, The St. Croix Chronicles, has been nominated for multiple RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards.
One part glamour, one part dork and all imagination, Karina is also a gamer, an avid reader, a borderline hermit and an activist. She co-exists with a husband, a menagerie and a severe coffee habit. Visit her at www.karinacooper.com, because she says so.
Learn more about Karina here: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
*****
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