Tuesday, July 24, 2012
My First Rejection Letter by Wendy Homar
Wendy was born in Wisconsin but eloped in Sedona 30 years ago and has lived there with her husband ever since. She started a children’s book years ago but never finished it, so she's always known she had the writer’s “bug”. After 30 years in real estate, she realized a huge part of feeling unsatisfied everyday was that her job offered absolutely no creative outlet. She began writing her novel. It changed her life.
With no formal education in writing or literature to tout, she soaks up all she can through conference workshops, agent panels, pitching and via her critique group. Her interest is penning thrillers and mysteries...she's totally addicted to what drives people to commit crimes and how those crimes ripple through other lives. Although her novel is based on a dark topic, it is peppered with humor because she finds it hard to suppress her own sense of humor when she writes.
My First Rejection Letter by Wendy Homar
It began quite simply in February 2010 when I started writing a novel inspired by true events. I’d seen a short snippet on T.V. about witch doctors in Uganda and I was off and typing. The novel flowed without a day of writer's block. I wrote on my lunch hour, on vacations, I even hit the keys on the laptop when my husband was at the wheel, and for the next two years, I thought of little else.
As the novel wound down and I began the task of tweaking it to perfection, we headed off on a transatlantic journey that took us to ports along the eastern seaboard and then six joyful days on the high seas over to Barcelona, and of course my book came along too. One morning in the bustling dining room, a British couple stood, breakfast plates in hand and table-less, so we offered them the two empty seats at our four-top. He was dressed in a Scottish kilt, wool jacket and vest; she wore a contemporary button up blouse and skirt. We looked like typical American tourists with backpacks and cameras.
After striking up a conversation we learned he was not only a lecturer on the ship, getting ready to speak, but an author! One thing led to another and we had made arrangements to have dinner together the next evening. I was bursting to pick his brain and to tell him all about my book, certain he’d want to know all the details, including what had inspired me to write my intriguing thriller and of course, did I want the name of his publisher? When at last, after great anticipation, I finally told him about my book, I was alarmed by his response to me, “Can you take rejection?” That’s what he wants to know? Geez, what a buzz-kill, I thought.
I would soon learn that my new friend was only giving me a realistic introduction into the world of publishing. As a well-seasoned author, he was trying to prepare me for the inevitable, not trying to steal my thunder.
So I set out to quickly acquaint myself with the how-to’s of the publishing business. I learned about platform. I created a meaningful website. I blog. I tweet. I have a Facebook fan page. I joined major writers' groups across the country and traveled from my home in Arizona to conferences in Willamette and Denver and pitched my book. I joined a critique group. I bought books about writing query letters and a great synopsis and how to find literary agents in my genre. I sent in pages and chapters and waited.
And then two weeks ago, it happened. My first rejection letter. It was a day like any other, but it wasn’t, because this was that day...the day my cruise ship buddy had so wisely asked me to prepare for. Here I was, getting rejected...and the question hung in the air, could I really take it? Was I cut out for this business? I read the letter once. All I could see was one dismal line; she didn’t quite fall in love with my story.
Through slightly blurred eyes I read it again and this time I discovered a compliment there. She liked my engaging use of prose! I read it a third time; she liked my skilled use of suspense! Two compliments. I read it a forth time...maybe I’d missed something else. I had! She pointed out that hers was only one opinion. She was also encouraging me not to give up! As rejection goes, hers was respectful, kind and complimentary.
I brushed away the silly tear. I could take this. I would just head to the next conference, knowing I had a real skill for suspense AND engaging use of prose. I would send out another query, remembering hers was just one opinion, but an opinion I would treasure, forever.
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Thanks for letting us reprint your article, Wendy. Respectful, kind, and complimentary rejections sure beat that submission twilight zone, the one that's labeled "If you haven't heard from us in umpteen weeks, you can assume we're not interested."
You can learn more about Wendy and her novel, Buried Innocence, at her website. She can also be found on Facebook.
Friday, April 1, 2011
You SUCK! (Or I’m Okay, You’re a Terrible Writer)
You Suck! Part I
How many people have to say you suck before you give up your dream of writing, and ‘get a real’ job? One? Ten? A hundred? Five hundred? How about 1,000? Congratulations to me, I officially suck!
Recently, I received the dreaded 1,000 rejection. Neatly typed in a form letter. It read something like: YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! Or at least that’s what the words, formed so prettily, said to me. Now mind you, 1,000 people haven’t told me that I suck. THAT would be humiliating. Nope, faceless emails from faceless agents, editors and interns at publishing houses have had that honor. And it must be an honor, because, well, I hear it so damn much!
And it doesn’t get any better once you land an agent. Not even a little bit. You see, my rejection is now a shared endeavor. Not only do I suck, but my poor agent sucks by proxy. Thankfully, when I signed my agent agreement, we agreed on a YOU SUCK clause. In other words, she doesn’t send me every rejection letter. She does pass along the ones that offer suggestions, or say nice things. I really hate those. You know the ones. They say stuff like LOVED your voice, LOVED the characters, LOVED the plot, but the young adult-urban fantasy-serial killer-one-armed detective market just isn’t selling right now...
Go figure.
But you know what? One day it will, and then I’ll plaster the walls of my multi-million dollar mansion (thanks to my 7,000 book deal) with every rejection letter, email, and smoke signal ever received.
Or not.
Either way, rejection can’t kill you. Oh, it can sting and make you cry like a little kid, but it won’t kill you. You will live on to stare at a blank screen. To wonder how to arrange the perfect scene. To stage the perfect murder. To write another manuscript about vampire girl scouts with the ability to sell cookies at lightening speed.
When your next rejection letter comes, and it will, even famous authors are rejected sometimes, open it up, read it slowly aloud in your best I SUCK voice, and hit delete. Then pop open your word processor, and start writing...
‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times for selling cookies. Thin Mints won’t sell themselves...’ I think I’m on to something...
April 2011...
You SUCK! Part II
Alas, I wasn’t onto anything. But as I sit at my computer, today, right now, this very minute, I can say that a lot has changed in one year. Sure, the Girl Scout, one armed serial killer thing didn’t quite work out, but a couple of other books did. As I write this post, I am finally a published author; in fact, by this time next year I will have three books in print, with a fourth on its way. I’m not saying this to brag. I swear. Okay, maybe just so you'll like me...
But really I’m telling you this because realizing your publication dream can take a split second, a chance encounter, a bit of luck. For so long I thought that I sucked and had the rejections to prove it (and while I still suck in plenty of ways), I don’t suck at telling a story. And neither do you. So take a chance, send out that 1035th query letter, risk it all, because you too can be writing from your freshly purchased mansion decorated in rejection letters.
Okay, more like a cardboard box under a viaduct off Speer, but that’s not the point, persistence makes us great writers (and stalkers). So keep trying until Janet Reid has to take a restraining order out on you! BTW, anyone know a good lawyer?
Monday, December 13, 2010
What kind of cars do you write? Cars?
While pondering ways for a friend to assuage rejection-letter blues and push her next queries out the door, I wondered what would make it easier to be objective about the query process. For example, is it possible to step back and think of a manuscript as something that was once locked away in storage, but is now polished and ready to sell? Being a bit of a car geek (and the wife of a serious car geek), I immediately thought of cars. I then thought, what kind of cars do I write?
I'm currently focused on two manuscripts, the priority being a collaborative effort, an action-filled romantic suspense. Since a car is significant to the plot, I naturally thought of the classic Camaro in our book, a good choice to describe a sexy, fast read. A sleek, beautiful car that turns heads.
Action packed thriller? The typical answer might be a BMW M5, but how about a Nissan GT-R, instead? The computer displays G-forces? Zero to sixty in what?! Get out of my way!
Sci-Fi? A Lamborghini, of course. The Gallardo’s growl-chuff when you shift gears is visceral, and that edgy body style? Oh, my!
Traditional western? Built Ford tough. F150, Marlboro Man.
But shift into reverse. If we drive our Camaro to the car show, who’s going to want to test drive it? An agent who only sells economy cars? He could care less. So we shouldn’t be crushed if he doesn’t even glance at our gleaming steed. And if we pitch to an agent who specializes in muscle cars and she doesn’t ask for the keys, should we then drive off a cliff and never submit again? No. Her rejection could simply be due to bad timing. She might already have six equally fine Camaros and a couple of GTOs to sell, and doesn’t want another one right now. So we have to be patient and keep our car bright and shiny and on the market. And when we do find the right agent? He’ll know this acquiring editor in New York with a huge parking garage…
What kind of cars do you write?
Janet Fogg