What I want to know is, how do writers who write for a living deal with the constant rejection? Because I’m not good with it. I’ve mostly structured my life around avoiding potential rejection and failure: I don’t ask guys out because they might say no; I only apply for jobs I’m clearly overqualified for; and I publish my writing on my own website because I can be confident I’ll never send myself a politely crushing note that uses phrases like “doesn’t fit our needs” to disguise the stunning blow-between-the-eyes it actually is.
I went through a brief, optimistic phase a couple years ago where I was going to start writing seriously, and the way I remembered it was I chickened out because I was intimidated by all the different submission requirements each market had. But now it’s coming back to me: I submitted a story to a cool-sounding self-published anthology and was rejected. And I was crushed, and all my optimistic plans fell apart quite immediately and decisively, and I went back to maybe writing a little story every once and a while and posting it to this website.
I’ve wanted to be a published writer for almost literally my whole life, and maybe literally the whole of my life that I have any recollection of. But am I cut out for it, really? I seem to be missing some necessary component—thicker skin, or unshakeable self-confidence, or a volcano-like drive to see myself published—that successful writers have.
wow… this is me, almost precisely.
(and *hugs*)
Literally, like, an hour ago I had a literary agent in my car and I was laughing as she read me all of the impassioned, semi-hysterical, “rejection of rejection” letters that writers send.
I felt (just a little) bad because I know exactly why writers *want* to write stuff like that.
I think the interesting thing about skin (from someone who is about to have half of hers cut off! woot!) is that the first time you start to *need* a thick skin, you feel painfully disabled by the skin you have. I had prettymuch a breakdown like, seven or so, years ago and got so overwhelmed and depressed by all of the writerly rejection that I got horribly sick and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. Good times. My skin felt so thin and cracked and bleeding that I didn’t think I could handle a writing career and I tried to give it up.
But the thing was, that broken skin healed and what was left? Thicker skin. Still prone to bleeding and cracking at times, but I never ended up in the hospital because of a rejection letter again. And it grows back thicker and thicker every time.
So just when you think that your skin can’t possibly be thick enough to be a writer may be exactly the time when your thick skin is actually forming–you just don’t know it yet.
(Unfortunately, thick skin is still a REQUIREMENT for this business. A non-faint heart, too.)
(And unfortunately, one of those “rejection of the rejection” letters may or may not be exactly like one or two that I’ve sent… ;)
Kerry´s last post: In Which a Light Goes Off in Sam’s Head
Sean, I hope I hope I hope that you will keep writing and submitting. You are an excellent writer (I do not say that lightly), and I think I know enough about slush piles to know that they are typically HUGE and that rejections can mean more about a specific mix of stories that they’re looking for than that your story was “bad” in any way.
My approach is kind of an fatalistic one. I expect rejection, so when it comes, I’m not surprised. But yeah, it doesn’t exactly encourage me to submit to a lot of places either.
I sincerely hope you will go out and submit a lot even though it might mean that you’ll get thoroughly pummeled and scarred. I hope to do the same thing. Maybe we can start a Fight Club for writers.
fight club! then i will buy your special soap. I promise.
G´s last post: sensitivity, insecurity, thick/thin skinned…
Uh oh. We’ve already broken the first rule of Fight Club for Writers—you do not write about Fight Club for Writers. And I think you guys already know the second rule.
@galendara, *hugs* back.
@Kerry, it’s heartening to know that it’s possible to become more (accustomed? inured?) to rejection letters. I was going to say that I can’t imagine writing a “rejection of rejection” letter but… yeah. I’ll be honest. I totally can, at least in my head.
@John, thanks for the encouragement. I don’t take praise from you lightly, you can rest assured. In my non-depressive-episode moments I am still determined to keep writing (well, that was always a given—I don’t think I could stop writing), and more importantly writing for publication and submitting my finished pieces. And I’ll keep you guys posted on how that goes.
I’m here, showing my support and encouraging you to keep writing and submitting–because you’re worth it, and your writing is definitely worth it.
angryyoungwoman´s last post: happy
Hey Sean,
I’m not certain I can agree with Kerry. I’m in this business for 8 years now, and just this week, ever since I turned in a 3rd revision for a TV script, I’ve been feeling nauseous and depressed, convinced that it was the worst I have ever written, and that the producers are probably already looking for some replacement writer to rescue the episode. And of course, from time to time, exactly that happens. Or they just tell you they are now pursuing something else, or otherwise semi-politely let you know that that they think what you turned in is useless tosh. Writing, after all, in the end is in many ways as much a matter of taste as of objective quality.
I would rather agree with Remy. It’s just part of the game. And, from my experience, yeah, it hurts. It hurts plenty. And it hurts every time.
But I think, in a way that is a good thing. It means, you care. It means, what you write is important to you. Reaching someone and making them understand is important. Writing is a way of reaching out, touching someone. Of course trying and not getting through hurts. If you no longer care, why bother writing?
Hemingway said: Writing a novel is easy. Just sit down in front of a typewriter and open a vein.
The thing is… doesn’t it hurt more to give up? Isn’t giving up even less of an option? Isn’t this compulsion, this need to express yourself, worth the discomfort?
So, go on, get hurt, skin your knees. But don’t give up. (After all, fight club isn’t just about getting hurt. It’s also about fighting!)
Cheers.
Thanks, Martin! It’s always nice to hear from people who have more experience than I do in the writing world (vastly more, since I have next to zero) and who are still going strong, and still have heartening advice to give.
There’s no question about whether or not I will keep writing—as you say, the compulsion is too strong to stop just because of a rejection or two. Unfortunately, it does make it hard to force myself to keep submitting, especially since I’ve always written for myself, not for publication. What I’m hoping is that I’ll be able to start writing as if I expect an actual editor to read my work at some point, instead of just, you know, the internet.
Hmm. That sounds… intimidating. Maybe I shouldn’t think about an editor reading my stuff until the late revision stage? Again, I’m low on experience here.
The general advice usually is this: Write the first version behind closed doors, write the second version behind open doors.
First version, try to ban the inner censor completely from the room, if you can. Convince yourself that NOBODY WILL EVER READ IT. You can write whatever you want, it is just an expression of yourself, hide it, don’t tell anyone about it, keep it to yourself, and just be honest, as honest and immediate as you can. No compromise whatsoever.
When you are done, put it away for a couple of days, then take it back out, and read it. If you like it, if you feel like sharing it, start revising, and THIS TIME think about who you want to share it with, what to change, what to censor, what to polish. Think about it now as a tool to reach people – what is the best shape to get as much of the actual message past all the obstacles and defenses into those hearts you want to reach. Now is the time for compromise with the real world, for tactical thinking.
That is when thinking about the editor and submission guidelines, and the market, and all that stuff becomes relevant.
I found following this advice a lot harder than it at first sounded, but still a lot easier than trying to do everything at once.
Writing is a process of bringing something from inner sanctum of your subconscious out onto a dance hall stage for everyone to gape at. Its very essence is trying to create a bridge between to very, very different worlds. That is where its magic comes from. Of course this isn’t easy. Keeping those different worlds in your mind while you work, and consciously creating transitions, step by step, from the Innerworld to the Outerworld, can help a lot.
Maybe one more general adivce, because it sort of comes from the same basic idea as the one I just passed on to you (none of these are my own ideas, mind you, I am just telling you what other writers have told me before), and it probably was the single greatest advice I ever got on writing.
In writing shortcuts are the longest way you can take.
This isn’t banking. Do not keep the bottom line in sight. Never try to write the whole goddamn novel (or script, or whatever) at once.
You are always just working on ONE version, that will be revised later. You are always just working on ONE chapter. On ONE paragraph. On ONE line. On ONE word.
And if this ONE element… I think of them as LEGO blocks actually… isn’t perfect yet, meh, you can always change it later. Just put one block on another, build your word from letters, your paragraph from words, your chapter from paragraphs, and your work from the chapters.
Don’t be with your mind already on the next block, the next step. Be only at the one you work on now, and when it’s done, put it aside, and start on the next one. And then assemble… again, one at a time, mind only on the one you ae working on… no rush, no looking at the marvellous work of art it’s GOT TO BE at the end.
It’s like building a house. You don’t have to have the drapes and the wallpaper already picked out and hanging in space and then build the walls underneath. You have time to fiddle with the decor when the basic structure is there, when the piping and electricity is installed.
Step by step. And if you see the LEGO blocks in your mind, you know you can always go back and change them later, if you feel like it.
There. Whenever I get panicky, whenever I freeze up or get lost, that is what I get back to. Deep breaths, and thinking about those LEGO blocks. And about the one I am working on, right then.
No shortcuts.
Hope it helps. : )