More Rejections

I’ve been sending out queries lately, so I’ve been getting rejections. I think I would be more accepting of the situation if there was a consensus as to why agents and editors are turning down my work. One rejection letter said that my writing was good and the premise intriguing but the book leaned too far toward science fiction to be a good fit. Another letter I received the same day for the same novel said that she was immediately impressed but that there weren’t enough science fiction elements for their list.

Oddly enough, I never considered the book to be science fiction at all — I thought it was more of a thriller, except that it’s not thrilling enough to be classified as a thriller. And if not a thriller, then a mystery, though it doesn’t quite fit into the mystery/suspense category, either.

I can’t imagine what reasons they will give for rejecting my work in progress, assuming I ever get the book finished. (For some reason I can’t write during the summer, so it’s really a work in stagnation.) But the book defies any sort of classification. Well, there’s no point in worrying about that now. I have four completed novels that are racking up the rejections, and that’s about all I can handle for now.

As I was writing this, I received another rejection in the mail. Lucky me! This one said “The concept of the novel is intriguing and the ominous and tense tone of the writing reflects the mood of the protagonist fairly well. Unfortunately, due to the confusing nature of the plot, it’s not right for our current list.” Confusing? I thought that was the point — keep the reader confused until the end when all is made clear and they become unconfused.

I’m used to rejection, of course. It’s all part of the submission process. But oh, how marvelous if just once in my life I had to get used to acceptance!

Mafia Cat Rejects Hilter. Hitler Breaks Off German-Italian Alliance. War Ends.

I once read that certain topics were guaranteed attention getters. The only four from that list I remember are Hitler, the Mafia, war, and cats, to which I would add rejection. My post “A Rejection So Pleasant It Was Almost an Acceptance” attracted more attention than the last four combined. The title of this post is a 12-word short story based on those five attention getters (it got you here, didn’t it?) but the one I will be focusing on is rejection.

Rejection is hard to deal with because we feel so . . . rejected. Writers aspiring to be published, however, need to learn how to deal with it. There are hundreds of thousands of books written each year by unpublished novelists, and only a couple of hundred will be accepted by major publishers. Rejection, then, is part of the game.

A fellow writer pointed out that my great rejection letter scored high on the etiquette scale, but it was very likely a form letter. He could be right. I once got a rejection letter from an agent that was printed out on a computer and addressed to me personally. The letter spoke of my writing ability, mentioned the name of my book and how they had considered taking it on but had to pass because the subject matter was not quite right for their agency. Pleased with the personal touch and believing I was close to finding representation, I checked to see which of my novels would be a better fit, shot off another query, and received the same basic rejection letter in return. Definitely a case of a form letter that scored high on the etiquette scale.

If it is possible to write rejection letters that make the recipient feel good, why do agents and editors send letters that are cold, almost cruel? Because, despite what they say, they do not want to be queried. They get thousands of queries a year, and each of those queries mean unpaid work.

My advice? Briefly glance at any letter you receive to make sure it is a rejection, then shred it. Get it out of your sight. Send out more queries; to a certain extent, the more you are rejected, the more you become inured to it. Also, learn to see rejection letters for what they are: an attempt at keeping you from bothering that agent or editor again.

And hope that one day you will become so well known that those agents will seek you out, and then you can send them rejection letters.

On Writing: Dealing with Compliments and Criticism

I feel as if I am a war correspondent on the front lines, taking flak and dodging sniper bullets. With only a few days left in the first round of the Court TV’s Search for the Next Great Crime Writer Contest, contestants are giving the top runners what are called drive-by ones – a single star without a comment to explain it – in the hope of lowering those scores. A futile activity at best, because only 10-star votes count. And then there are all the nasty comments that are being left on the chance that others will take heed and also give bad ratings.

See what you missed by not entering that contest?

You also missed some valuable lessons. I didn’t realize until today how much I have learned about evaluating criticism. If you’re like me, you will have been given some meaningless compliments and equally meaningless criticism on your work. Oddly enough, the criticism (or compliment) is more of a reflection of the criticizer than it is the criticizee. If it comes from a family member, you should ignore it, good or bad. Depending on your family dynamic, you will be treated contemptuously or as if you were the reincarnation of Hemingway, neither of which reflects your true skill.

A friend’s comment should also be discounted. Because of course they give you high praise; and if they didn’t, why are you friends? 

A comment from a stranger is more difficult to evaluate, but can be put into its proper place by a bit of investigation. Who is the person? What have they written? If you admire their writing, whether an article, a story, or a comment left on another contest entry, then pay attention. If you see that they are leaving a similar remark on all the entries, disregard it. If it comes from an agent who is trying to sell her services as a book-doctor, then definitely ignore it.

There is no point in beating yourself up for unearned criticism; nor is there any point in puffing yourself up with unearned compliments. If you are a real writer, you are in it for the long haul. Contests come and go. Rejection letters too come and go. What is left after all that is you, your writing, and how much you improve. That’s what counts.

On Writing: How to Deal With Rejection

I got the first truly negative critique of my crime writing contest entry, More Deaths Than One, and it was savage. I emailed the guy, a POD publisher, and told him I appreciated his honesty, then it dawned on me his critique was no more honest than the ones from people who gave me great reviews hoping for a great review in return.

Though this was a comment left on an online contest entry and not strictly a rejection letter, it is basically the same thing. So how do we deal with rejection? After we calm down, we go through the critique line by line and see if it makes any valid points. (If you are interested in reading the chapter in question, you can find it at ptbertram.gather.com or off to the right under My First Chapters.)

This is what the publisher had to say:

“A lot of great comments, Pat, but I couldn’t get past the tenth paragraph. The opening scene just doesn’t compel me to continue reading. There are way too many pronouns, so much that the characters begin to appear as paper thin quite quickly. While there is probably a great deal to this story to warrant all the kudos this chapter has generated, I look at it as I would any submission I read, and my feeling is that the bookstore owners who read the first page are going to feel the same way. A first chapter has to bite the reader by the scruff of the neck and not let go. A mundane scene in a diner doesn’t do that. It doesn’t have to be over the top, but it has to fill the reader with the wonderment of the story.

“So, I went back and read the entire chapter, feeling that if everyone else thought it was great, I was missing something. I didn’t see the writing get any better, to be frank. In fact, the diner scene was the most interesting. The story focuses on the embezzlement part of the story, which seemed like a fair hook to start a mystery, and you throw in the one little sentence about the disembodied hand in the culvert, with apparently enough evidence to indicate that the victim was tortured. The cemetery scene was so devoid of description that I didn’t really catch on the first time through that it was a cemetery scene. I am not even sure what the heck happened after the cemetery scene, which ended rather abruptly. As it is the key scene in the story, having read your description in your spam asking me to read this story, I am a bit disappointed that the key elements of this mystery were given so flimsily and without impact.

“The only question I am left with is the question that never gets answered: What about the boyfriend who embezzles from his own business? This was the only compelling point in the entire chapter.

“I would make this first chapter entirely in the diner, and leave the cemetery scene for its own Chapter 2, with full descriptive imagery. Let the diner scene twist entirely around the opening question of the boyfriend’s embezzlement and the headline of the disembodied hand. Then, as the chapter has given us an understanding of these characters, and Bob’s indifference to the two crimes at the center of the reader’s attention, he finds the obituary, and waitress he is beginning to care less and less about gives him so many questions that he can ‘t answer about the obituary, and maybe even offers to help him figure it out if Bob helps her catch her boyfriend in the act of embezzling.

“But told with enough description and detail, and with enough characterization tags that everything is not He and She and It, the concept is intriguing enough to hang a story on. If it involves too much “Twilight Zonery,” I would not regard it as a story for the crime fiction genre. If it works out that there are imposters, or perhaps Bob is not the man he thinks he is, this has some prime potential as a crime story. If it works out that this is more in the genre of a ghost story, I would again expect it to fall into a different genre. However, as it stands, I would not be reading beyond this chapter to find out.

“Another question I have to ask is why you are setting this in the time of the S&L scandals? Not far enough back to be of any historical interest, and not recent enough to be of interest to readers of contemporary novels. Instead, the story is dated. Unless the Silverado scandal or that period of time is central to the story, there is not much point in pushing the story back to that time. Most readers won’t even know that the name Silverado is meant to fix the time period, as this is entirely a cultural reference that even in the midst of the scandal was a bit of obscure trivia.”

Let’s look at this paragraph-by-paragraph. Bookstore owners? What is he talking about? Most books are sold online or in megastores or discount stores, and as I am willing to bet those corporate buyers don’t read any part of a book before buying it, we can cross off the first paragraph as irrelevant.

Next we come to the disembodied hand. There is no disembodied hand in the book. A brief mention of a decomposing corpse as an example of a news story is all. And the cemetery scene. Would you sit still for a description of a cemetery? I wouldn’t. I had one in there and took it out because there is no point in describing something of no importance especially when we all know what it looks like. Perhaps, as another commenter said, I could have mentioned the scent of lilacs or the feel of the leaves against his cheek, but that has no bearing on this particular critique of a critique.

We can forget any mention of the embezzlement, because it goes to the character of the waitress and is not a major part of the story. Since most readers thought the café scene too long, there is no reason to extend it (unless, of course, a publisher who offers me a contract wants it changed. Then I will do what I have to do.)

We can forget all about this particular publisher’s displeasure over pronouns; he’s probably right, but since he offers no suggestions of how to improve the writing, it falls under the category of criticism, not constructive criticism.

And we can ignore his diatribe about the timeframe since it is important to the story; the mention of the Broncos game and Silverado are necessary to put us there. As for Silverado being trivial . . . The son of the vice-president/president-elect and the brother of the current president was involved. This is more than a bit of obscure trivia. It is history and such an abominable misuse of power that we should have it seared on our brains.

So what are we left with? If “perhaps Bob is not the man he thinks he is, this has some prime potential as a crime story.” Since this is exactly what the story is about, and since elsewhere the publisher said that great writers welcome criticism, which I did, then what he is really saying is that I am a great writer and my story has some prime potential as a crime story.

Not bad. Not bad at all.