The Art of Not Being Rejected

by Jon Egan

I just read Kathy’s blog post, “The Little Black Book,” and was jolted into reality about the art and craft of writing and the dedication it takes to actually be a writer. It’s so much more than just throwing words on paper and rearranging them till they fit what you had in mind in the first place.

Turns out that’s kind of the easy part. Kinda.

I’ve written so much over the years, not hugely prolific, more like a sporadic continuous pace; that doesn’t even make sense, but it does to me.

I’ve got poetry written on old time sheets; I’ve got essays written in aging lined school books; I’ve got short stories written on loose leaf pages in binders, and I’ve got books written on my laptop. I’ve only ever submitted three items for publication (I’m not counting letters to the editor or stuff my mum published in her local newspaper.)

I’m not sure why I don’t submit stuff for publication. I spoke to a therapist about it one time and she told me that in her mind there were two explanations, the first being fear of failure, and the second being fear of success. I think I just found the real reason after reading Kathy’s blog, I believe it could be the fear of the injustice of the publishing process, or at least my perception of it.


I’ve read a lot of what Kathy’s written, and while I realize it’s personal taste, I just happen to love how and what she writes and I am astonished that she isn’t a New York Times Best Selling Author! No this isn’t a mutual admiration society between me and Kathy, it’s just that I know how hard she’s worked at this and it blows my mind. And while it blows it, it also scares me that someone so talented isn’t yet coasting along as a well-regarded writer. If Kathy can’t break in, then what hope is there for me? Why should I bother to submit and suffer through the heartache of rejection, or worse yet, the heartache of not even hearing back.

If talent alone is required to be a prominent writer, then Swagger writer
Kathy Cannon Wiechman should be there by now.

It scares me that someone as organized as Kathy is when it comes to their craft isn’t a member of The Club, because I really, really suck at organization.

So what is the answer? Is it a magic stamp on the submission envelope? A secret handshake at the conventions we attend? Is there a certain day that you should mail/e-mail your submission? There’s a lot of bad published writing out there (again it comes down to personal preference) that some acquisitions editor and committee sat down and went, “Yep, this ones a winner,” when in reality it’s really bad; I mean can’t-get- past-the-first-page bad and yet it makes it to the hallowed grounds of published book.

I guess maybe that’s the real fear I have, the fear of subjectiveness, the fear that because my manuscript didn’t land on the interns' desk on the right day, or that they maybe had a hangover the morning they picked up my stuff and were reaching for the Alka Seltzer while scanning the first sentence, that my manuscript suddenly becomes a distraction rather than an attraction, that my manuscript was used to wipe up the spilt coffee caused by trembling hands, or that the intern forgot where he/she was in the pile sitting on their desk and mine was unintentionally, but cruelly, passed over for consideration.

I may have a completely unrealistic and inappropriate fear, but I think there has to be some credence to my theories, or else we would surely not hear these stories of rejection from writers of the caliber of the Kathy Wiechman’s of the world. I think my stuff should make it onto bookshelves, and I do believe that I’m a good writer, even if I don’t know how to punctuate, but I have a feeling my stuff won’t make it onto bookshelves even if I do send it out, so I sit back and take the easy way out and don’t even submit it.

Am I alone in my fears?

How many of you people reading this blog have an un-submitted piece sitting in their drawer?

How many have simply given up submitting anything and now just write to write?

Wanted: Inexperience

by Kim Van Sickler


“Inexperience provides us with a childlike fearlessness that is the polar opposite of the alleged wisdom that age confers on us, the ‘wisdom’ telling us some goals are foolish, a waste of time, invitations to disaster. In its purest form, inexperience erases fear. You do not know what is and is not possible and therefore everything is possible." Twyla Tharp: The Creative Habit

I’m trying to preserve my innocence.

Some of you may be familiar with my journey. You bait your hook, then wait for bites. The bulk of the fish swim by, but a few pause. They take a nibble. You begin to think that one will stay for the entire meal. Because one good fish is all you need.

But at the end of the day, all you’ve got are the few nibbles. None of them took that hefty bite you needed to catch them.

Your options are to throw your hands up in frustration and declare that enough is enough. Or…keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing, even though it hasn’t worked. Or…change your strategy. If you want to catch that fish, you can’t let past failures impede future efforts, but you also may need to re-think the way you’re going about trying to catch one.

I’m at that point right now. I’ve recently received two personalized rejections on two different manuscripts from agents who asked for fulls, but passed. I don’t want to wallow in helplessness, frustration, or fear. I don’t want to analyze why I’m doing this and what my odds are of success.

I plan to keep fishing.

After a little reconnaissance, I’ve devised a new plan of action. The month of June was devoted to revamping one novel with an eye toward addressing Agent #1’s comments. That manuscript is now with a group of beta readers. July is the month for me to retool the second manuscript, keeping in mind the comments I received from the second agent. By August, I hope to have both of those manuscripts in circulation again. Then I’ll resume first edits on manuscript number three.

It helps to have a plan of action. I focus on it rather than obsessing over the bigger picture, namely: will an agent ever bite?

Is all this effort a waste of time?

Am I foolish in believing that anyone will ever want to publish my books?

Is continuing to revise and release my manuscripts just opening myself up to pain and heartache?

I want to stay too inexperienced to get jaded or doubt myself. I want to remain too inexperienced to feel anything other than that my efforts will someday succeed. And I need to continue to write, revise, and submit with enthusiasm, dedication, and diligence. That’s the only way to catch that fish.