Perfect to Reject in 3 Easy Steps

You know...I left the Today I Won post up for a few weeks, because, if you know anything about writing, when you finish a project...for a little bit...you feel like you've done something perfect.

And then the day after you feel like a total reject. Because that's when the letters start pouring in.

Let me show you how this happens:

When the 'no' letters start to come in, you're sad but still hopeful, so only the letter 'p' falls off to make:

erfect

And then a letter comes in full of praise, but still 'no,' confusing the letters and making them think...hmmm, why not?...so they switch places and become:

refect

And then a particularly wanted letter comes in...'no'...and it knocks you on your keister so you can't breathe...which also knocks the letter 'f' completely backwards and upside down until it almost doesn't look like itself anymore. In fact, it looks like a 'j'. So now you have:

reject

See? Perfect to reject in three easy steps. That is why a writer has to have skin the thickness of a 2x4. And that's also why you don't stew about it and cook yourself into some serious mental health soup.

You start over. Which I did.

And you laugh about it. Which I am.

And you have a good time. Because if you're not doing that, you shouldn't be writing in the first place.

The Sting of a Jelly

I've waited to talk about growing a thick skin to handle rejection for a long time, because usually it comes across as a pumping sunshiney Nike commercial.

When really, it's more like getting stung by a jelly fish.

Which happened to me for the first time today.

My kids and I spent a gorgeous day at the beach jumping over waves...occasionally getting knocked over...sand in all corners of the suits...when I felt a ZIP across my leg that stung enough to make me swear in German. And then each of the kids got zapped, too.

Needless to say, we didn't want to jump waves anymore. I sat on my beach mat to check out the welts on my leg and foot, and they searched the sand at the edge of the water for broken mother of pearl looking shells.

I watched them thinking...that's EXACTLY what it feels like to get a rejection letter.

It bites.

Enough to make you swear in German.

It makes you want to quit playing in the proverbial writing waters.

But eventually, the sting goes away. All it leaves is a little red mark. Maybe a scar. Maybe a spot where your skin is a little thicker.

And eventually, like my kids and I today, you are ready to jump a few waves again. Even knowing that you'll probably get taken out by a jelly or two.

The Tooth Fairy

My son lost two teeth today. Opposite sides of the mouth, one on top and one on the bottom. Even through the panic of the second tooth, which he believed should stay in his mouth...blood, spit and crackers floating around in a muck pool...huge, gloppy tears welling up to tell me what was wrong, he was thinking about...

The tooth fairy.

And how much he would score with TWO teeth under his pillow.

And I started thinking about rejection letters, especially since I recently received another one. All the email said was...

"Thank you for thinking of me, but I do not feel I am a good fit for this."

Letters like this, even though they are a no, are worth their weight in gold.

In one simple line the agent acknowledges reading your submission and that you aren't what they're looking for, which is really all a working writer needs to hear to set them on the path toward the right agent. Because sometimes, in the midst of unanswered queries and silent no's, a simple acknowledgement is enough to keep you motivated to send out your work.

It's a tooth under the pillow.

And it makes me excited for the future. For the day when I work through some of the muck pool and I score with two teeth under the pillow.

Oh. Thank. God.

I received another rejection today. This time a form letter, albeit a very nice encouraging form letter, and my response was:

Oh. Thank. God.

I kid you not. I said that out loud.

See, I knew this agent wasn't right for me but I sent a query anyway in my frustration and impatience while trying to FIND one.

Because while my many wrinkles and emerging grey hairs might make you think I am almost 40, I'm really still 10, waiting for Mom to hand me 50 cents in allowance so I can blow it on candy at the ShopEZ.

I wanted to write back to the agent to admit that I recognize just how bad a fit we would be and to thank her, because I really am smarter in my relationships than that choice of query reflects. But, for oh so many reasons, I didn't.

Let's just say I pocketed 50 cents.

Because I'll probably need it for some hair dye shortly.

A Good Kick in the...

Today I received my first rejection from an agent. I don't mean a form 'we're not interested because you suck' letter. I mean a real letter...full of very nice compliments telling me I am a good writer...and it was because of her, not me, that the relationship could not continue.

I wrote back and called her a soul crusher.

All in good fun, of course, and it was very clear that I was joking.

Though I was not joking when I first received the rejection and shared it with my family. I said I was fine. No really, I'm fine.

But my husband rubbed my shoulders and snuggled up while my kids tiptoed around, preparing to do battle with that agent person, only to be surprised by how nice she looked in her picture on the website.

My Dad would call it a Good Kick in the A$$, which was something he firmly believed in when we were out of line as kids.

And though I would not have agreed with him while I stared morosely at the computer for two hours losing at Spider Solitaire, today I would say he was right. Because I spent the day searching for agents that would be a good fit for me...knowing that I'm probably going to get many more Good Kicks in the A$$...but also still believing in the stories and plays that I write.

Which is good, I suppose, since right now I'm the only one reading them.