shakespearemom

I met a writer at a group in Kansas, an engaging writer with some great stories to read…but she will never be published.

Why?

Because she will never, never, send her work off.

And she is not alone. I know so many writers who really do love to write, who work on their poetry or prose nearly every day, but who are afraid to death of sending any of it out. And they have good reason to fear. Most writers I know tend to be on the sensitive side (me included), and getting rejection letters is not the best way to boost one’s ego.

And, believe me, if you send out your work, you will get rejection letters. A poet friend of mine sent out 18 poems, and in response, he had two poems published and 16 rejections. He was devastated, and he couldn’t celebrate the two successes because he was wading through all the rejections. He stopped writing, and I’m not sure he has started it up again.

I am an immensely positive person. And I understand the nature of the publishing world attrition. I know how overwhelmed by manuscripts agents and publishers are. I also welcome criticism more than most writers I know. Yet I, who have yet to have any major work accepted for publication (a few essays, a few short plays for performance) still find sending out my work to be an intensely difficult thing to do.

It’s not merely that I fear it might be a waste of time–I do have a nasty little evil voice inside that tells me it is a waste, that nothing will ever come of it. I think it’s more because of the type of response I get. All the rejection letters are friendly, and all gently tell me they receive a lot of manuscripts. They state that most likely mine is great–just not perfect for them. And these letters aren’t helpful.

I know why every agent and publisher sends this kind of letter out. I spent a year reading for a literary magazine, and several authors asked specifically for feedback. I spoke with the chief editor about giving them feedback (I had some extra time on my hands), and he told me “absolutely not.” He explained that sending a specific critique would invariably result in a nasty letter from the author, as he had discovered over the years. A bland letter of rejection was far better, for it gave the author no specific reason to be angry (or write back). 

Now, I doubt I’d rant back if someone told me specifically why they didn’t want my novel. At the same time, I know several writers who probably would do that very thing. But knowing all of that, knowing the reasons no one sends out specific comments, doesn’t ease the queasy feeling in my stomach when I put a new submission in the mail. So I send my stuff out. And I pat myself on the back just for doing that, for putting myself out there, knowing the risks, knowing how much it costs, knowing most books never get published (and mine statistically has an infinitesimally small chance of being one of the lucky ones).

I’m saving up the rejection letters. Someday I’ll figure out something brilliant to do with them.

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