Agent websites, query how-to's, writer blogs, and all sorts of other online and print media share a common piece of advice: be resilient. Grow a thick skin. Let the rejections roll off like water from a duck. (I could continue. But then you'd probably stop reading.)
I took the advice to heart. I knew going in that it would be a long haul. And yet my heart still thumped when the first query went out with the woosh of my email app. And my morning outlook dimmed perceptively with the first rejection.
Here's the thing about even the best advice: it lodges itself in your head. I knew that my first query wouldn't snag me a deal. But I hoped it would. Can't override the hopes of the heart with the thoughts of the brain.
But that was query one, rejection one. I'm closer to thirty now, and chugging along. A funny thing happens to advice when it meets up with experience; it really takes hold. In my case, to an almost absurd level.
I've started making the most positive spins on my rejection letters. Here are a few examples:
From Janet Reid:
(Immediately following an email acknowledging my submission to query shark, which I didn't send)
**I think you got a reply about being in the QUERY SHARK pool, but that was my mistake.
I hit the wrong key. Sorry! :((
Followed by the rejection form letter. But did you see THAT? She added a personal note before the form letter. I think that qualifies as a personalized rejection. Sunny in Writersville.
_________
From Sara Crowe:
Thank you for thinking of me, but I am not a good fit for this. All my best, Sara
Could this have been typed directly to me? It's brevity lends it promise. There's no apology, no encouragement to try elsewhere because the rejection doesn't reflect the quality of my work. It's just a note. It's probably her standard reply, but even so I like it. Sunny in Writersville.
_________
And my personal favorite, received today and proof that I can turn ANYTHING into a positive:
From Dunham Literary, Inc.:
Dear Writer:
Thank you for your inquiry. We are sorry that we cannot invite you to submit your work or offer to represent you. Moreover, we apologize that we cannot respond in a more personal manner.
We wish you the best of luck elsewhere.
My name wasn't in that rejection form letter. But something better was. Did you see it? Look again. It's called validation. They called me a writer!
It's always sunny in Wrtitersville.
(Think I'm losing it? Let me know. Twitter or comment.)
