Tis the season for rejections

Dammit dammit dam, dam gosh darn dam

Coming in from all directions

Dammit dammit dam, dam gosh darn dam

Gird your loins and grab your chocky

Dammit dammit dam, dam gosh darn dam

The writing life is getting rocky.

Dammit dammit dam, dam gosh darn dam!

 

Sing it with me! Or not. Either way, it seems that December is bringing with it the usual flurry of rejections to my writerly friends.  I’m not sure, but I suspect that there are two reasons for what seems like an extra high level of these harbingers of doom at this time of year: firstly,  because it’s the end of the year and the number of new releases drops, there is a bit more time to appraise the slush pile; and secondly, because it’s summer, and a good time to take summer holidays (because duh, when else would you take summer holidays?), there is a need for publishing staff to  do some desk clearing before they head to the beach.

Whatever the reason, every year around this time I notice lots of rejections appearing in the mailboxes of my friends – or myself. As I write this, I have yet to receive one this festive season, but there’s still time, and I’ve probably just jinxed myself.

So, what to do if you get one? Here are five tips.

1. See the song above. Grab some chocolate, or other comfort food/drink/activity and indulge. You’re allowed to feel sorry for yourself. You’ve been working at this game for years/months and rejection hurts.
2. Vent. It’s fine to vent. Everyone vents sometime. Vent to a friend, a loved one, your writers group, your mum, your mirror. A rider though: I recommend venting in closed circles. The friends I have seen venting online have done so in private groups. This is highly recommended. Much better than venting on a public page, or your blog. Why? Here’s a quick illustration. Imagine that I am blogging about my submissions

ME: Woe is me. My magnum opus has just been rejected by Bippity Boppity Publishers. Don’t they realise what a true genius I am? Did they even read it?

BIPPITY BOPPITY PUBLISHER (in a quiet moment): I think I’ll look at my Google Alerts and see what wonderful things are being said about my books online (GOOGLES MADLY). Oh. Sally Murphy thinks I’m a bad judge of quality, does she? She is saying mean things online. I don’t care what she submits to me in future, I won’t be publishing it.

ME (Blissfully unaware of Bippity’s attitude and posting again on my blog): I don’t care about that rejection I had last week. Today I am sending my magnum opus to Hippity Hoppity Publications. Wish me luck everyone. Fingers crossed that I succeed this time!

HIPPITY HOPPITY PUBLISHER (considering my manuscript): This isn’t bad. I wonder what Sally’s online presence is like. It’s important we know she can market herself. (GOOGLES MADLY). Oh. This manuscript has been rejected by Bippity Boppity. Scrolls. And four other publishers. Hmm. Maybe it isn’t as good as I thought. Reads some more. And she said mean things about other publishers. That’s not nice. I don’t think it’s worth the trouble. (Reaches for another offering from teetering slush pile).

You probably get my point.

3. Consider what the rejection says. There’s a good chance that your rejection letter/email is a standard rejection. This one goes something like: We have considered your manuscript carefully but regret to inform you… If you get one of these, you know that someone has at least looked at your manuscript.   But, if you get one that has been personalised, even the tiniest bit, read that tiny bit. I once had a publisher who sent me standard rejection after standard rejection but, after a while, she started adding a little handwritten note to the lettersr: “This one is getting close” she might say. Or “Cute. But we have enough animal manuscripts at the moment”.  Eventually, she accepted a manuscript, because I had listened to those notes and adapted my writing and what I subbed to her  I’ve had longer rejections which have told me what is wrong with the manuscript. And I’ve read them. What these messages tell you is that someone has looked closely at your work and seen enough promise to encourage you. So if it’s there, it is worth your while to closely consider the advice given – even if your initial thought is that it’s wrong. A publisher/publishing assistant/editor has seen something in your work worth commenting on. Smile and listen. After all, they work in the very business you are trying to break into.
4. Get your manuscript ready to send back out. This DOES NOT mean you should send it straight back out to the next one on your list. It actually means closely study what the next publisher publishes, what their submission guidelines say, even whether they are open to submissions. Taking the time to do this can save you months of waiting for the next rejection letter – and, of course, increase your chances of acceptance. Another important consideration here is how many times your manuscript has been rejected. If it has been multiple times and you’ve received standard rejections, now is the time to seriously consider whether your manuscript needs reworking. Getting some critiquing advice and revising before you resubmit could be what’s needed.
5. Be glad you’re not this guy. I’m pretty sure this is the worst rejection letter I’ve ever seen (is it bad that it made me laugh?). After you’ve finished laughing, use your own rejection note for something festive: rip it up and make streamers for your Christmas tree. Or cut it into the shape of a star and hang in on the wall. Or, if you’re in colder climes, use it to start a warming Christmas fire. I don’t keep my rejection letters, or even keep count of them. Why keep a record of failures?  Reycle and do something good for the planet!

Lastly, I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories of how many times people like JK Rowling were rejected. I’m not repeating those, because, to be honest, when I hear those figures I think ‘hah! I can top those numbers!’ Which probably isn’t the point. But the point IS that every writer gets rejected. And most of us continue to get rejected throughout our careers, even after we’ve had some successes. The rare few who don’t are exceptions, and probably celebrities writing about bodily functions. Or married to someone in publishing. (Hmmmm: I think this is a good point to refer you to my friend Sue Whiting’s awesome post about professional jealousy).

Got a good tip about handling rejection, or a question to ask? Leave me a comment. Otherwise, sing with me:

Dammit dammit dam, dam gosh darn daaaaaaaaam!