A group of serious writers in the Orland Park, IL area editing and critiqueing each others manuscripts.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
rejections
Most of them come by e-mail these days so I simply delete. It's much less painful that way.
Rejection letters
They made me feel--rejected, at first. But, after twenty or thirty or more, I expected them. I do keep the few that have handwritten notes. The rest go in the recyling bin. Then, on to the next.
Helen Osterman
Helen Osterman
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
What do You do with Your Rejection Letters?
Rejection letters are a painful part of the writing process and not to be taken personally. It's just business. There are three different types of rejection letters.The most common is the form letter....
"Dear Writer, Many thanks for contacting us about your work. We're very
sorry that we have to decline what you have been kind enough to offer,
because we can't help you achieve the success you want." blah, blah, blah.
Not very helpful to the struggling author, but I don't blame the agents and publishers who resort to a form letter. There isn't enough time in the day to write personal notes to every writer who submits to them.
When I notice my own SASE among my pile of mail, my heart goes into my throat. I know my SASE brings bad news. I feel better though, when I see ink scrawled across the margins of the form letter––the second form of rejection–– a firm "NO" and a personal note.
"Thanks so much, Jeanne, for sharing your novel with me. I'm afraid I don't
want to spend that much time with your villain. There is too much empty talk
and too much description. Keep at it!"
Okay, constructive criticism. She has given me a way forward. When I stop pouting, I comb through my novel again with her words in my mind. That agent or publisher thought enough of my work to spend time reading at least a portion of the manuscript package and another few minutes scribbling out her response to my effort. I immediately send an e-mail thanking her for her useful comments. Maybe that publisher will remember kindly when I submit another project.
I've had no experience with the third type of rejection letter.
"Great story. I'm sorry I don't have room on my list right now, but I've
mentioned your work to my good friend at XYZ publishing. Please
submit to him ASAP."
We can all dream of such a letter.
Perhaps the most common rejection isn't a letter at all. It is silence. You send your work out into the world and get no response. That's the worst, so celebrate the rejection letters you receive. Each one gets that publisher out of the way and gives you the opportunity to get to the publisher who loves your novel.
So what do you do with your rejection letters? File them? Frame them? Burn them? How do you handle the disappointment?
"Dear Writer, Many thanks for contacting us about your work. We're very
sorry that we have to decline what you have been kind enough to offer,
because we can't help you achieve the success you want." blah, blah, blah.
Not very helpful to the struggling author, but I don't blame the agents and publishers who resort to a form letter. There isn't enough time in the day to write personal notes to every writer who submits to them.
When I notice my own SASE among my pile of mail, my heart goes into my throat. I know my SASE brings bad news. I feel better though, when I see ink scrawled across the margins of the form letter––the second form of rejection–– a firm "NO" and a personal note.
"Thanks so much, Jeanne, for sharing your novel with me. I'm afraid I don't
want to spend that much time with your villain. There is too much empty talk
and too much description. Keep at it!"
Okay, constructive criticism. She has given me a way forward. When I stop pouting, I comb through my novel again with her words in my mind. That agent or publisher thought enough of my work to spend time reading at least a portion of the manuscript package and another few minutes scribbling out her response to my effort. I immediately send an e-mail thanking her for her useful comments. Maybe that publisher will remember kindly when I submit another project.
I've had no experience with the third type of rejection letter.
"Great story. I'm sorry I don't have room on my list right now, but I've
mentioned your work to my good friend at XYZ publishing. Please
submit to him ASAP."
We can all dream of such a letter.
Perhaps the most common rejection isn't a letter at all. It is silence. You send your work out into the world and get no response. That's the worst, so celebrate the rejection letters you receive. Each one gets that publisher out of the way and gives you the opportunity to get to the publisher who loves your novel.
So what do you do with your rejection letters? File them? Frame them? Burn them? How do you handle the disappointment?
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