Tag Archives: rejection

Sep23

48 of the most important hours in a writer’s life

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Vicky L. Lorencen

Doodle by Vicky Lorencen

There are a plethora of important days in a writer’s life. (Pardon my use of plethora, but it’s such a keen word.) But, in my book, there are 48 hours that stand out from the rest. They are far from the most fun, but a lot hinges on how we choose to handle them.

Day 1 – The First 24 Hours at Ground Zero

You receive a rejection letter or slam into a serious setback. I know there are some who say it’s best to roll with it. Rejection is knit into a writer’s life and there’s no point becoming unraveled by it. I commend you for your ability to be cavalier, but I can’t manage it myself. The times I’ve tried only came back to chomp me. Stuffing the sadness caused tears to erupt at the oh-so-wrong times, so I’m better off taking 24 hours to wallow and be a wreck.

I say, allow yourself to free-fall into the velvet bean bag chair of despair. Lie on your back and let the tears collect in your ears until it sounds like the ocean. Ask a musical friend to set that sadistic, frozen-hearted rejection letter to music–in a minor key. Eat your weight in whatever sweet or salty concoction delights you. Imagine the source of your angst tethered to a termite colony wearing only plywood underpants. Get those toes curled deep in the Quicksand of Certaindoom. Hand your friends and family this form too:

I AM AN AUTHOR. I AM IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION.

My name is: _________________________________________________________
(I suggest using your real name here, not your pen name. Make it easy on the first responder.)

Emergency contact: __________________________________________________ Genre type: (PB, MG, YA)
(e.g., Agent; Nearest Living Author Friend; Ben and/or Jerry)

While you are waiting for the Emergency Contact to arrive, follow these five simple steps:

Step 1 Check to make sure I’m breathing.
This step is especially if you found me face down in the area rug. Wave a Lindt truffle next to my nose to revive me.

Step 2 Do NOT apply logic.
Even small doses of logic have been known to be toxic at this point.

For example, these seemingly sensible words will NOT help:
“You’ve only tried two editors, right? You can try more.”
“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe the editor was just having an off day.” Liar.
“There’s always next year.”
“It’s not the end of the world.” Yes. Yes, it is the end of the world. The sun will not come up
tomorrow, no matter what that Annie girl says.

Step 3 Do NOT offer compliments, such as, “Well, I really liked your story.”
I don’t care. Your opinion doesn’t count right now. It will tomorrow (provided there is a tomorrow), but not now.

Step 4 If I look like I’m trying to put on a brave front, induce tears.
Force me to re-read the rejection letter out loud in front of a mirror so I can see how pitiful I look. Offer generous amounts of Kleenex.

Step 5 Apply ice cream to the site of the babbling in liberal doses.

To the rejected writer: Be sure to write your kind first responder a thank you note. That is, when you feel like writing again.

Day 2 – The Next 24 Hours at Resurrection Central

Today is the day you get on with it. Attitude follows action, so act like you’re bouncing back and you may actually believe it. (Besides, if you spent the first 24 hours wisely, you won’t want to curl back into the fetal position.) You’re now ready to stretch and stand up straight. Breathe. Wash your tear-streaked, Hershey’s Kiss encrusted mug. Pull on a fresh pair of big girl panties. Put on real I-can-be-seen-in-public clothes. Open your laptop. Pop open a file filled with half-finished projects. See what’s going on in there. It’s likely there’s something you like. Maybe even love. Type. Type again. Type some more. You see there, my little Puffalump? You’re going to be okay. I will too.

If your heart is broken, make art with the pieces. ~ Shane Koyczan

Feb14

mmm rejection pie

Posted on February 14, 2013 by Vicky L. Lorencen

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What do pie and rejection have to with one another? Well, aside from pie’s lovely conciliatory quality . . . read on . . .

Long ago at a writers conference far, far way, I heard an editor offer a delightful and unexpected explanation for why a solid, polished manuscript may be passed over by an editor.

She suggested that we think of the editor as the owner of a bake shop. Imagine the bake shop owner standing in front of a gleaming glass and chrome case filled with the most delectable strawberry pies. A well-meaning, yet witless baker strolls into the shop to sell the owner her wares. She modestly presents a dish of juicy, glistening, flavorful, luscious pastry perfection. Much to her amazement, the owner shakes her head and points to the door. How can this be? the baker wonders. I worked so hard. I refined my recipe. I used only the finest ingredients. Where did I go wrong?

The answer? The baker brought the bake shop owner a strawberry pie. With a case already filled with berry pies, how could the owner buy another, even if it was sublime?

Sometimes that’s what happens with editors and our submissions. It’s not a matter of you sending out rejection-worthy work. It’s just that she doesn’t need another middle grade novel with a shy boy protagonist or an article about Abraham Lincoln or one more collection of zombie bunny haikus. It’s just a matter of timing–supply and demand. You needed to send the right “pie” at just the right time.

So, what can you do to enhance your chances?

You can study a publisher’s catalog before you submit and pay attention to their newest releases, but success with a submission is due, in part, to just plain dumb luck with timing. I say that not to discourage you, but to remind you that rejection isn’t always a reflection of your work. It may be a matter of an overstuffed pie case (so to speak).

Keep refining and polishing your work. When it’s “baked” to the best of your ability, do your homework and submit it to publishing houses that are the best fit. The more you hone your skills and keep submitting, the more timing will be in your favor.

Oh, and have a slice of pie. You deserve it!

I really wish I was less of a thinking man and more of a fool not afraid of rejection. ― Billy Joel

Jan26

five essential steps for first responders

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Vicky L. Lorencen

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Helen Leitch prints

As a writer, wouldn’t you love to have your own “first response team” when rejection strikes and your emotions are on high alert? Many of us do. We have fellow creative folk, our kindred spirits, who know what to say—and what not to say—when our mental state is its most delicate.

But what happens when your first response team isn’t available? Maybe they’re out of town, offline or marinating in their own tar pit of despair. That means (gulp), you must turn to the rookies. Often these well-meaning individuals are ill-equipped for such literary-related emergencies. Poor things. They feel insecure, inept, and as a result, they say or do some really, really, really stupid stuff.

Instead of feeling frustrated, why not offer these good-hearted bumblers a prompt so they’ll know what to do until real help arrives. Think it like those Heimlich maneuver posters you see in cafeterias.

Fill in the information below.

Pocket a copy in case you lapse into a post-rejection funk and are unable to speak for yourself.

———————————————————————————————————–
I AM AN AUTHOR. I AM IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION.

My name is: _________________________________________________________
(I suggest using your real name here, not your pen name. Make it easy on the first responder.)

Emergency contact: __________________________________________________
(e.g., Agent; Nearest Living Author Friend; Ben and/or Jerry)

Genre type: (PB, MG, YA)

While you are waiting for the Emergency Contact to arrive, follow these five simple steps:

Step 1 Check to make sure I’m breathing.
This step is especially if you found me face down in the area rug. Wave a Lindt truffle next to my nose to revive me.

Step 2 Do NOT apply logic.
Even small doses of logic have been known to be toxic at this point.

For example, these seemingly sensible words will NOT help:
“You’ve only tried two editors, right? You can try more.”
“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe the editor was just having an off day.”
“There’s always next year.”
“It’s not the end of the world.” Yes. Yes, it is the end of the world. The sun will not come up
tomorrow, no matter what that Annie girl says.