The Importance of a Clear Head

I got another rejection letter the other day, but this one was (moderately) personalized, not just a form. Unfortunately, the message essentially said "This isn't what publishers are buying right now, sorry."

That really got to me. Actually, let me rephrase that: That is really getting to me, because it's a perfect articulation of the nagging doubts that have been lurking in the back corners of my skull. Though the word "unsellable" was never once said, my brain took that idea and ran with it, extrapolating on it. "This isn't what publishers are buying" turned into "this is unsellable" turned into "my writing isn't any good, nobody would ever pay for it."

It's left me hypercritical of my own writing, to the point where I feel physically ill when I even glance at a few words thrown together. "That's too sparse. That's too wordy. Who the hell thought those words should sit next to each other?" One of the benefits of being a writer is this: You are so connected to the words, to the language, that you automatically know when something sounds right and when something is... off. I have a pretty decent sense for this when I'm writing first drafts and editing them for second ones; I can tell when something works and when something doesn't.

But not now. Now, all that I see is a jumbled mishmash of broken sentences and incomplete thoughts, immature imagery, too many adverbs, and an incoherent storyline. I see any of my made up words and my stomach contracts, nausea courses through my body and I want to go do something else.

I haven't touched Seaquel in two weeks. I was going to get around to finishing Chapter Fourteen, but in the period between finishing Chapter Thirteen and starting Chapter Fourteen, I've gotten five rejection letters. It's enough to put a damper in anyone's ego and drive, and it's left me, as I've said, hypercritical.

I know it's all baloney when it boils down. I know this is all something in my head. Though I am quite often a keen judge of my own work, I've let this spate of rejection -- especially the last one -- get to me, get under my skin, to the point where I've lost my stuff. I'm sprawled on the floor next to my broken ego, and though it's still there, waiting to be put back together, I can't quite force myself to go forward with anything right now.

Once my head clears, everything will be fine.

Same Old Song and Dance

I thought I'd go through my list of rejection letters today (those that I still have around -- the responses via snail mail were long ago trashed) and look at the reasoning for my rejection thus far. Let's go!

1. "I don’t feel it is one for me."
2. "We’re afraid your project does not seem right for our list."
3. "I suspect I wouldn't be the best fit."
4. "I’m afraid this isn’t for me."
5. "Unfortunately your book does not seem like one we could successfully represent at this time."
6. "I'm afraid your work is not the right fit for us at this time, and we encourage you to continue editing and querying other agencies."
7. "I’m sorry to say that we didn’t think it was the right fit for our list, so we have decided to pass." (This one came from an agent who read the full thing, too.)
8. "I don't think I'd be the best match in this instance."
9. "We can assure you that your query was given every consideration, however, we are unable to offer representation at this time."
10. "Unfortunately, however, this project doesn’t sound right for me."
11. "After careful review, I have decided that the book you propose is not one I feel I could successfully represent, and thus, I will not be able to work with you on this project."
12. "I read and consider each query carefully and while yours is not exactly what I am looking for,  I would certainly encourage you  keep trying."
13. "It is not a good fit for me, but I wish you the best of luck."
14. "I regret to say that I don’t feel that I’m the most appropriate agent for your work."

Almost all of these were followed up with "This is a highly subjective business, and this is only one opinion. Good luck, send out more letters, etc., etc."

I only had one response -- which I'm not going to print in full here -- that had anything helpful to say.

It almost seems unfair that we labor over a project for however long it takes to write it (two years in my case), and then spend a significant chunk of time researching literary agents and finding out about their tastes, pet peeves, favorite colors, the alignment of the stars at the precise moment of their birth, and their preferred letter of the Cyrillic alphabet, only to be dismissed with the exact same response 95% of the time.

I absolutely recognize that we only have one project to worry about while agents have 15,000 per year to consider. I completely understand that they are only one person dealing with a deluge of email, and that there's often just one X factor about the novel that's not clicking for them. I know this, I understand this, I sympathize with the amount of work they have to do -- but my book is not just a number to me. I wish it were treated more than that sometimes.