On Dealing with Rejection

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When I first set out to become a writer so many years ago, there were four words that I heard over and over again, four words that reappeared everywhere I turned: develop a thick skin.

At the beginning of my journey I had this hope, you see. This flutter inside me that secretly wished I wouldn't have to, that whispered maybe not me. I clung on to that hope, and when my very first query letter brought back a request for a partial, I was ecstatic. I thought maybe I would be an exception, maybe, just maybe, I would be the writer that didn't have to deal with rejection.

I didn't send out any more query letters. I waited.

My first rejection arrived in the mailbox many weeks later. It was a heavy thing, literally, because it was attached to the first fifty pages I had printed out and sent to New York, now returned to me in a large yellow envelope. It was a nice rejection, personalized with a little feedback on why the agent had passed, but it didn't hurt any less. To my inexperienced eyes, a rejection was a rejection and the hopeful whisper died.

Since then, over the course of many years and manuscripts, I've collected more rejection letters than I care to count. But I'm not here to whine about rejection, in fact, I am, in a way, grateful for them. Because while they were difficult lessons to learn, dealing with rejection has taught me a few things:

• Not all rejections are created equal. There's a world of difference between a form rejection letter and a personalized one. Personalized rejections mean it was a near-miss, it means the agent (or editor) took the time to personally write you a rejection letter rather than doing the easy thing and sending a quick form rejection. True, they both mean "no," but the latter is a subtle way of saying you're almost there. Keep going. 


• Rejections aren't the end. I know sometimes it doesn't feel like it, but life goes on after five, ten, fifty, a hundred rejections. Rejections don't mean that you're a terrible writer, or that you'll never be published, or any of those awful doubts that tend to creep in upon receiving bad news about your writing. Every writer has dealt with rejection of one form or another and the best thing you can do is keep going. Keep writing. 


• For the writer, rejections are a part of life. Believe it or not, post-publication writers still receive rejections—they're called bad reviews, and even the legendary New York Times Bestselling authors receive them pretty regularly. As harsh as it sounds, the rejections that you receive while querying are teaching you an important lesson—they're teaching you how to develop a thick skin and continue working when the stones are being thrown. They're teaching you how to ignore the negativity and keep pushing forward. 

These are lessons that are essential if you want to be a successful writer, and for that, I'm grateful. No, it's not easy, and truth be told, those rejections start to get heavy after a while, even when they're not attached to fifty pages of the manuscript that you poured your heart into.

But despite all that, I honestly believe that in the end, we'll all be better for the experience.

Have you dealt with rejection? What did you do to help you get through it?

How to Know It's Time to Shelve Your Novel

Photo credit: Erwyn van der Meer (Flickr)

I received an interesting question on the blog from one of you lovely readers the other day (have I mentioned lately how much I love it when this happens? Keep the questions coming, you fabulous readers, you). As is often the case, it was a question that I thought I'd answered, but I've since realized that I skimmed over.

You see, I've written in the past about what happens when your novel isn't the one—meaning, when you come to realize that you might want to consider shelving your WIP. What I failed to discuss, however, was how to know when the time to shelve your novel has arrived.

In my experience, there isn't ever one definite sign that you need to shelve your WIP —instead, it's often a combination of signs plus a sprinkle of instinct that generally lets you know that now would be a good time to move on to a new WIP.

While this is far from a comprehensive list, here are a few signs that it might be time to shelve your novel and start writing something new.

1. You've edited your WIP to your best ability and it's still not working. "Not working" can mean a couple of things—for those who seek traditional publication, it can mean that you can't find representation for it despite massive editing and feedback from others. "Not working" can mean that your beta readers still think it needs more work, or it can mean that you're still not happy with it. Whatever the case may be, this sign can be a pretty big red flag.


2. You've lost interest in your novel. This tends to be something we writers don't like to admit, but it is perfectly possible to lose interest in your WIP. While this doesn't always mean you need to shelve your work (sometimes you just need to fall in love with it again, which is also possible), it can be a good indication that it might be time to take a break from your novel and start writing something else—at least for the time being.


3. You have ideas for new WIPs. This is a tricky one, because you don't want to confuse it with Shiny New Idea Syndrome, which is a pretty common writing danger that you should be wary of. The difference, you see, is that Shiny New Idea Syndrome hits when you're in the middle of another WIP, and it tempts you to begin writing your new idea immediately. What I'm referring to, instead, is when you've completed a previous WIP (the one that you're now contemplating shelving) and you've along the way collected idea for future novels.


4. You're wondering if it's time to shelve your novel. When I said that instinct plays into this one, this is what I meant. We writers usually have a good sense for when something isn't working, or when something with our writing is off. And when we do, it's often when we begin to contemplate if maybe it's time to start something else—and you know what? Sometimes it is.

The thing I'd like you guys to understand about shelving your work is that it doesn't have to be permanent. Shelving your novels doesn't mean that you're giving up—it means that you're accepting that it's not quite the right time for your novel at the moment. That's it. It doesn't mean you're a failure, or that your WIP is a failure, or that it'll never see the light of day again (although, you may later on decide that you don't want it to see daylight again)—it just means that it's time to move on.

And that's ok.

Go ahead and write another WIP—hell, go write three or four more. I guarantee that with each novel you write, you will at the very least continue to refine your writing skills, and at the most, end up with a nice collection of wonderful writings to choose from.

What do you think? For those of you who have shelved novels in the past, how did you know it was time? For those that haven't, have you ever contemplated shelving a novel? Share your experiences in the comments below!

Why the First Draft is Usually Awful (And Why it's Ok)

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If you've been a writer for any amount of time, you probably know that the first draft is not exactly perfection—in fact, it's usually on the way other end of the spectrum somewhere between embarrassing and I’m-going-to-hide-this-away-forever.

If you're a writer, you know that writing the first draft can feel painful. The words that appear on the page don't match up with the images in your head. The epic story you dreamt up, when written, falls flat. Your witty, flawed, fantastic characters border on stereotype and you're slightly terrified no amount of writing will fix it.

You start to question whether you're cut out for this writing thing, after all.

Good news, is no one expects perfection from the first draft—far from it. You see, I read something not too long ago that really stuck with me (sadly, I can't find the link despite my futile efforts to dig it up) and it's something I think is important for every writer to remember.

The first draft isn't meant to be perfect, friends, because the first draft is much more for the writer than it is for the reader.

Allow me to explain.

Regardless of whether you're a pantser or a plotter or somewhere in between, the first draft is the place where the writer learns the story. It's where you get to know your characters, where you discover the world you're creating, where the plot starts to really form in front of you. While writing the first draft, you really get to know the story and everything it encompasses and chances are by the end of the draft, you know a lot more about your story than you did when you first began writing it.

So naturally, the first draft is going to be a little scatter-brained. There will be plot holes and the characters will be far from perfect and the writing, well...it's usually not your best.

But that's ok.

The point isn't to write a perfect first draft—the point is to learn about your story. The point is to get to know your characters and to work out the plot so that you can go back and really flesh it out. The first draft is the skeleton—the basic idea of what the final draft is going to be.

The meat of your story will be developed through revisions.

And that's not to say that you should expect your second draft to be perfect, or even your fourth or final draft, for that matter, but with every revision you make, with every passage you re-write, you'll get closer to that completed story—the one you originally envisioned when you set out upon the enormous task of writing a novel.

And that terrible first draft experience will be entirely worth it, after all.

Have you ever been discouraged by a first draft? What helped you get through it?