A Glowing Rejection
So, 8 days ago, my agent sent out 10 copies of my manuscript to the 10 major publishers that would be interested in a work of fantasy. Publishers like Del Rey, Roc, and Tor. Publishers who put out all the books I loved so much as a kid. I went down the list, and every one of them had authors I love; authors that shaped who I am and how I write. There wasn’t a one I wouldn’t be proud to sign with.
It was a big deal. With the exception of courting my agent, I have never submitted anything for professional publication. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Not a one.
It was both gratifying and daunting to start right in the big leagues, but it’s really the only option. Self-publish? Not a chance. With a few rare exceptions, that is a realm of vanity. There are small publishers, but none of the legit ones (the ones that aren’t just fronts for vanity publishing) are going to pay enough to help me fulfill my dream of writing full time, or get my work out to a wide audience.
Of course, I realize that while getting an agent probably brought my chances of publication from 1 in 1,000 to 1 in 10, the odds are still stacked against me. I knew that going in, and was prepared for it. After all, what published writer is without his rejection stories? They all have ’em, even the greats. Some have stacks of rejection letters. Some have papered their walls with them.
Today, I lost my rejection virginity. Popped my rejection cherry. Someone doesn’t love me.
I had just spent my lunch hour in Bryant Park writing the first chapter in the sequel to The Painted Man on my Ipaq Pocket PC, and was really pleased with the results. It was a beautiful day, and I returned to work feeling refreshed and hopeful for my theoretical future as a writer.
Then I got back to my desk and found an e-mail from my agent entitled “Rejection the First”.
The forwarded letter said how interesting the setting I had created was, dark and original, but that my writing style didn’t jive with the new line they were putting out. They said the novel looked really special, and wished it the best, but it wasn’t for them.
As rejection letters go, it’s not so bad. But a glowing rejection is still a rejection.
I’m not taking it hard. It feels more like a rite of passage.