| So You've Been Rejected? | Actually, no you haven't. Your work has, and more than likely by some spotty-faced teenager employed as a Publisher's "reader", who knows bugger-all about life and even less about publishing. He or she is likely to receive less than minimum wage for reading unsolicited MSS. If you were really, truly, lucky, the reader was a University graduate with a poor degree in Media Studies, hoping to climb the ladder of success in "Publishing". So he or she might not be spotty-faced, nor a teenager, but the remainder of the opening sentence still applies. What now? |
| "It Don't Mean Nuthin." | As Vietnam Vets are wont to say. And it doesn't, really. The Rejection you've received (a bad photocopy, a letter riddled with typos and grammatical errors, a 'delete as necessary' proforma, a scrap of card, or perhaps even your own letter with "no thanks" scrawled on it) is one person's opinion, which counts for nothing. Really. Try another Publisher, for another opinion. You might have to try dozens, but keep trying. Hundreds of 'Bestsellers' have been rejected hundreds of times before finally making it into print. "Catch 22" is the oft-quoted example; how many publishers kicked their own backsides to the moon and back for having rejected that particular classic? |
| Emotional? | Of course you are. That's why you're a writer. Rejection hurts; the word itself is painful. But don't wallow in self-pity and throw your MS into the bin/street/furnace/fire/shredder/dog's dinner bowl. The only time you're likely to receive any indication as to why your MS was rejected is if it made it as far as the publisher's Commissioning Editor, or if you submitted it to Hodder & Stoughton (UK), who are, in my experience, the only publishers kind enough to write a personal line or phrase on their form rejection letters. Remember, you're not likely to kill yourself because you didn't win the Lottery this week, you just buy another ticket next week. Every week. Every year. The odds of a first-time novelist having his or her first novel accepted by the first publisher sub'd to are about the same as your numbers coming up. Unless you're a celebrity already. |
| But it's not fair! | No, it isn't. If you're a celebrity, or have had an adulterous relationship with a celebrity, or are an 'intimate friend' of a celebrity, your chances of publication are infinitely higher than if you're a Mr or Mrs Ernie Scroggit living in Lower Obscuresville. That is why publishers will pay 6 or 7-figure advances to celebrities for works that haven't been written yet, but won't pay you a few hundred quid for your 700pp blockbuster, whatever its literary merits. That is why there's so much inane pap and drivel from A Few Big Names on the high-street bookshelves. Publishing Houses are run by accountants, not editors. They know that they don't have to spend a fortune on advertising if an "author" is already well-known to the public at large. So, if you're already famous, write any old crap and the editors will take care of everything for you, even if you're an illiterate who can't utter a coherent sentence, let alone write one. If you're not already famous, keep submitting until you've exhausted the list of publishers known to handle your particular subject-matter. |
| Do this: | If your work is as good as you can make it, and you've fulfilled all the 'normal' submission guidelines in respect of layout, keep submitting until you finally run out of publishers. Then start again, unless you receive a rejection that says definitively "This is crap! Burn it immediately!" in which case send it to the UK's Channel 4 TV Drama Department and seek their verdict. While your work's "out and about", keep writing! Don't wait for your first effort to be published before you start writing your second... you should start writing your second as soon as your first's out the door and in the post-box. You may have dozens of full-length novels written before one of them's accepted, in which case your editor is in for a lovely surprise when you dump the lot of 'em on the desk. |
| Don't do this: |
Don't write to the rejecting publisher and rail away. Don't bleat and whinge and whine and carry on about how heartbroken you are. Frankly, they could care less, and all you'll do is achieve a name as a totally unstable pill that the industry will shy away from. They don't care if all or both of your friends think your book's the greatest thing since sliced bread. They don't care if you're an autistic wheelchair-bound with only weeks to live and it's been your life's ambition to see your book in print. They don't care about you at all. They have rejected your work. Some of us have accumulated hundreds of rejections and still keep writing and sub'ing, in spite of the fact that £100,000 was paid out to a fat wife-beating 30-something has-been drunk of an ex-football player for his unwritten 'memoirs' (memoirs? of a thirty-year-old?) and the git can't speak English, let alone write it. Don't get angry. Don't get depressed over something that's going to happen regularly. Oh, and don't go out and engage in an adulterous relationship with a politician...it's really not worth it (face it, if they were any good at it, they wouldn't crave political power, would they?). |
| And Finally... | Smile. You're alive. You must be 'cos you just received a rejection. It's a new day, and one quick look at the news will prove that your life could actually be much, much worse than you think it is. If you still need a bit of cheering up, click here! |
