The Rejection Letter Blues: Reading Is Subjective.

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The other day, I received another rejection letter, but it came with some very kind words. What stuck in my head were the words 'reading is subjective'. It got me thinking about my time in culinary school.

On this particular day, the assignment was surf and turf. My shrimp and steak were cooked to perfection but the instructor didn't like the fact I sliced the corn on the cob into pin wheels, thinking it would be easier to eat. He said it would have been better if I scraped the corn off and mixed it into the rice. So, I received a 99 on the dish.

          Needless to say, I was a little upset. I was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to my dishes. (Okay, maybe more than just a bit). Not only did my food have to make your taste buds do the happy dance but it also had to be pleasing to the eye. So, I thought to myself, you're really going to knock a point off cause you would have preferred the corn mixed in the rice. From that point on, every time I brought a dish to an instructor to grade, I had to remember to cook my food my way and not worry to much if he was going to like it.

          I thought about how similar this is to sending out queries to agents. Maybe my manuscript won't make said agent's brain and heart do the happy dance, or be pleasing to his or her eyes. That's okay. Because I know, one day, I will find that one agent who will love my manuscript no matter how much I 'slice' it.

          When you get the next rejection letter and it says something like this: "I couldn't connect with the material" or "I couldn't get emotionally connected to the characters," remember it's said agent's no and someone else's yes. 

Believe in yourself and your writing, and always continue to write, write, write and read, read, read.

The Joy of Rejection

"By the time I was fourteen ... the nail on my wall would no longer support the weight of the rejection slips impaled upon it. I replaced the nail with a spike and went on writing." ~ Stephen King, On Writing

I received another rejection letter the other day.

I have a self-imposed submission schedule that requires me to put at least one story out there into the big, bad world each month. Last month, I entered three short story contests and completed one conference application that require a writing sample. This month, I've already entered three contests and I have plans for at least one more.

I make each submission assuming it will result in a politely worded "thanks, but no thanks." As a new writer, I think I'm at an advantage when it comes to handling rejection. Although my loved ones assure me that I have talent, I've never gotten that kind of feedback from someone who wouldn't have to make eye contact with me across the Thanksgiving table or didn't have to worry about me unfriending them on FaceBook. I'm confident enough in my own writing to be willing to share it with others, but not so confident that I expect any of those others to pay me for the privilege of sharing it with more people.

When I receive a rejection letter, it becomes a badge of honor. "You took a risk!" it says. "You did something hard and scary and even though the worst possible thing happened, it didn't kill you!" The letter goes in my binder so I can pull it out to remind myself of these things the next time I'm hyperventilating over the terror of hitting "Submit".

I've survived enough rejection letters that my heart barely skitters at all when I see the name of a magazine or writing contest in my email or mailbox. (That's a lie ... my heart skips all over the place. But I don't get that vision-blackening rush of blood to my head anymore.) A rejection is a rejection is a rejection, right?

Wrong!

This time, while still rejecting my submission politely, the letter also included the following:

"We want you to know that we considered your entry to be in the top 15% of entries for this particular contest. We don't rank stories past the top ten, so we can't tell you exactly where your story would have placed, but your story was definitely one of the more successful entries. "

Cue the whooshing of blood rushing to my head. It still makes me feel a little dizzy just to re-read it. They want me to know that they liked my story! An actual professional with no emotional tie to me said something encouraging to me!

This is my favorite rejection letter so far. I can't wait for the next one to show up.