By Jethro Wegener
I needed to get my novel published with them…
It was a need so bad that I was dreaming of it. Had been dreaming of it for years. The need was a constant pain in my gut, a presence that had long since become a friend.
Because they were the ideal publisher for me. They had published some of my favourite works by my biggest influences.
And if I could just get my next novel published by them then I too could count myself one of those greats.
So I Sent Them a Query…
I had had an idea rolling about in my head for a while. An idea that was ideal for them.
I dropped the editor a query and got a reply! There was a burst of excitement that was quickly followed by panic…
The novel wasn’t ready yet!
That’s okay, they said, get it to us when it’s done!
I threw myself into the work. I ignored everything else that I had to do and got to writing, spending hours and hours putting one word after another.
In my spare time I watched, read, and listened to the influences that had inspired the book I was now pouring my very soul into.
I immersed myself entirely into the world, creating a living, breathing place that I inhabited every single day for a solid six months.
Then Finally, It Was Done…
I can still remember the joy of typing those two simple words that so many writers long for, no matter how much they love to writer.
The End.
It was done. Now I just had to edit the thing and…
Sent.
Then came the wait.
The agonising wait that all artists must suffer through. That distressing, awful period between submission and reply, when anything can happen.
This is usually a time of such turmoil that one can’t decide what one is feeling. Elation one minute because of the certainty that the work is good enough because nothing that you poured your soul into could be bad…
And terror. Sheer, paralysing terror and worry that it is actually the worst thing you have ever produced, and no one will like it.
I waited. And waited. And worried and dreamed and yearned…
They Replied…
Finally, the reply I had been waiting for. The reply that would finally get me into the halls of the greats.
Except… it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
It was a rejection.
Not a bad one. Not an impersonal copy-paste that is somehow worse than an editor telling you that they hate your work. No.
This was a pretty good one, really. It said some great things, calling the novel fun and good and saying that it was in the top 10% of all submissions, but…
To be published I needed to be in the top 3% or 4%.
Then Came The Pain
God it HURTS. So, so much.
As a writer, rejection is a special kind of pain. A pain that no one that doesn’t make art can understand.
It’s a pain so bad that it curls its icy fingers around your gut and squeezes. Hard.
It can sap the colour and joy out of your work and make you think that what you’re doing is so entirely pointless that you may as well just quit. Because you’ll never get there. Never be successful.
Any writer who has experienced it knows what I mean. They know how soul-crushing it can be to have something that you poured every ounce of your talent and heart into get rejected. How that rejection letter can just take all the wind out of your sails.
And even as a published author with two well-received books out and a third on the way, it still hurts like fucking crazy.
No matter how successful you are, rejection letters will always hurt.
But This Isn’t A Story About Pain…
Because the gut-wrenching pain and sorrow of rejection will pass.
It will fade into the ether eventually. You need to take time to feel it, to wallow in self-pity for a few hours, to let the hurt take its toll…
But then…
You push it aside. You stand up and you keep going.
To hell with them, you say.
And you dust that manuscript off and keep sending it. Edit it to make it better. Send it some more. Get it out there.
And if no one wants it, self-publish it. Because you know it is good art. You know deep down in your soul that it needs to be out there.
So get it out there.
Because overcoming that terrible pain of the rejection letter is all about getting up again.
Writing again.
Making good art again.
Because when it comes down to it, that rejection letter doesn’t mean anything except that it wasn’t good enough for one person. Not that it isn’t good enough.
That is an important distinction that you must make. You’re not writing for everyone. You’re writing for those who will love you work and will look forward to seeing it every time you put a new one out.
You have something to say that one person out of billions didn’t enjoy so…
To Hell With Them
Say it out loud. Go outside and scream it at the top of your lungs.
Because that is all you need to know to keep going after a rejection letter.
EVERY SINGLE WRITER has had them. From Hemingway to F. Scott Fitzgerald to Stephen King to JK Rowling.
And while that might not help you much in the moment that the letter hits and you feel the pain…
And it certainly doesn’t invalidate the very real pain of the rejection letter…
It is the truth of the writing life.
One that every writer needs to embrace like an old friend. Because it will not stop you. Don’t let it.
Keep going, dear writer. Keep writing. Keep producing. Keep sending.
Do not stop.
The pain will pass. And your work will get published.
One day you will be successful. You will have readers who love your work with the same passion that you have for it.
But only if you keep going. Only if you keep at it.
I dread to think how many utterly amazing writers we’ve lost because they couldn’t get past the pain of that rejection letter. You will not be one of them.
Let your words be heard. Let them be read and loved and devoured by fans of you.
And when it is finally published, when your work is finally appreciated, drop me an email. Because I want to read it.
I want to know that you kept going even when it all seemed so damn hopeless.
I want you to be the writer you were meant to be.
