From rejected to RE:jecter: The emotional rollercoaster of an author-turned-publisher
“Perseverance is failing 19 times and succeeding the 20th."
— Julie Andrews
“Rejection is not fatal. It is someone's opinion.”
— RE:BOOKS
I said “Yesss!”
I’m thrilled to share that I recently got engaged over the holidays.
I responded to My Guy’s marriage proposal, shrieking out “Yesss!" faster than the speed of light. And nothing is faster than light. Light is like the entire universe’s speed limit. (And I would probably still get a speeding ticket!)
I'm learning that one of the hardest hurdles of being a publisher is not only finding that some men people don't always take me seriously, but there are certain situations in publishing that leave me at a loss for words. (Ironic since I work with words.)
Like having to write a rejection letter. Even the thought leaves me quivering, tongue-died, trembling, anxious, guilty and, well, nervous.
The worst part for me? I feel like the World’s Worst Human Monster — the source of causing disappointment in someone’s life, not reducing it. But just because I'm shy about speaking up on how it feels to have to reject someone’s manuscript, doesn't mean I'm not going to also share what it's like to be the person who has to reject someone’s manuscript.
I think this is mostly because, as an author of ten books myself, I know the dedication it takes to write one. (Hell hath no fury like a writer disturbed!)
"Will you marry me?" is answered with a simple "yes" or “no." But, as an author, who has received many boilerplate rejections — and they are boilerplate rejection letters — and now, as a publisher, must face my fear of rejecting other aspiring authors.
I can't just respond with a “yes” or “no.” It would be like answering "Will you marry me?” with, “Thanks for choosing me. You’ll receive an answer in three to five business days. Remember, I’ll call you, so don’t call me.”
Or can I?
Honesty is just faster. Personally, I think a lot of writers would rather get a simple, “yes!” or “no,” from the publisher they have submitted their books for consideration to, rather than the torture of waiting for a letter or email that may not come at all. Ever.
So, if you thought someone ghosting you in a romantic relationship was cruel, at least you know where you stand. (No response is a response, blah, blah, blah…) Publishers will ghost you for longer, and as you'll see below, waiting for a rejection (or an acceptance, let's remain positive!) response in publishing takes ghosting to a whole new level of vagueness.
Below are taken from two very different Traditional Publishing Houses in regards to their submission rules: (Bold not added by me!)
Be patient. We try to respond promptly, but we do receive hundreds of submissions, so it may take several months to get back to you. Please do not call or email to check on the status of your submission. We will answer you as soon as we can.
And from another publishing house? (Bold not added by me!)
Due to the volume of submissions we receive, we are not able to personally reply to each submission: if you do not hear from an editor within two months, please assume that your book is not the right fit for our list.
I get so caught up and anxious and uncomfortable knowing I have to write rejection letters — even for books I wouldn't mind publishing — that it feels as if the highest noise frequency (Um, Mariah Carey?) paralyzes all other thoughts, to the point I’m so flustered that I would literally rather write anything else to eager, expectant and excited authors than tell them I can't take on their book.
Something like, “Hi There. I want to be honest. Rejection isn’t one of my greatest skills. So, instead, let me tell you about my morning. I found coffee in my right hand and my phone in my left and then promptly took a sip of my phone and threw my coffee on the bed. So, that’s how my day started. I hope this softens the blow, because I really think you're onto something here. Unfortunately at this time, I can’t take this on. Wishing you all the best!” (while wishing I was an ostrich who could bury their head in the sand when they're terrified.)
The above is just an example of how far I will go to procrastinate writing a rejection letter and should show I am terrible at rejecting people and how terrible I feel that I have to do so — I pretty much have started to ghost some authors just like other publishing houses, something I am definitely not proud of. (Am I better at rejection or procrastination? Don't answer. It's rhetorical.)
I understand that publishing houses get hundreds of submissions and not enough staff to personally respond and explain to every author exactly why they didn’t get offered a book deal.
It's the “Please do not call or email to check on the status of your submission. We will answer you as soon as we can.” And, “..if you do not hear from an editor within two months, please assume that your book is not the right fit for our list.”
But. But. But. What if the editor flagged your manuscript to read on the weekend and then totally forgot about it? What if she had a total migraine that day. Not only can authors "please do not call or email to check on the status of your submission" you can't even send them a get well soon card and check on the status of their health, let alone the status of your book. (No offence but you're not working at 52 division. You're either too scared to talk to an author or don’t have the time. Even though both my dentist and my accountant both manage to send me birthday and holiday cards and they're busy too.)
A boilerplate rejection letter may be necessary due to the amount of submissions, so many publishing houses are basically giving you the heads up that they may ghost you — even before reading your manuscript. It wouldn't be atypical to have a conversation that goes something like this:
Publisher/editor/agent: I really enjoyed what you sent. I see you’ve put a lot of work into this.
Excited author: I'm so thrilled you liked it. It took me eight years to write!
Publisher/editor/agent: It's really quite good.
Excited author: You've made my day! I'm smiling ear-to-ear!
Publisher/editor/agent: *disappears forever*
Writing rejection letters affects my health too. Before you start throwing things at me…I’m not arguing that being rejected isn’t hard. It is very hard, for many reasons, but being the one who has to be the one to reject someone's manuscript is surprisingly, for me, just as difficult.
Having to reject someone means there is an emotional fallout for me as well.
First, the guilt! Oy, the guilt! The author I need to reject feels like a partner I'm dumping, and trust me, I also feel the effect of this. Except I have to do it and then be known as the Worst Human Monster in The World or a Disney villain. (No sympathy drinks for me!)
Rejecting a manuscript feels like a loss to me too, believe it or not. I'm not saying I deserve some empathy, but I’m not exactly cheerful either, having to reject people over and over, going from someone you sound really eager to work with, until you get that rejection letter and I'm now a horrible person…in the span of seconds.
And, yes, like anyone who has to make a decision on a manuscript, or has been in a romantic relationship, there is the re:gret regret stage. I’m not exactly feeling joyful at this stage either. Even after I do manage to reject a manuscript — however clumsily — I’m never 100 percent certain I made the right decision. This serious indecision weighs heavily on me for weeks and months. And makes me feel really bad too.
What makes rejecting manuscripts the absolute worst is that I usually really like the author.
I don’t want to reject someone’s manuscript because I'd like to keep them in my life — maybe friendly from a distance?
By sending a rejection note, it shows I have made the decision they aren’t going to be happy with — who would? — one that will hurt them at best, and maybe, at worst, lose them as a presence in my life forever. This is not something I take lightly and is super tragic for me. (It would be sort of like being dumped by someone and then immediately after, they ask you, "Do you still want to be friends?”)
Am I the only one in publishing — be it an acquiring editor, an agent, or a publisher — who has wanted to send a fun glittery e-card rejection? (No? Just me then?)
Or think that maybe I should add an attachment of a motivational song, so these authors who have worked so hard know I still care, want them to succeed, and not give up.
I’d love either to be honest and tell authors exactly how much of a financial risk I take to publish just one book. (But not so honest that you’ll call someone and get me involuntarily hospitalized!)
And the truthiest of truths?
Those of us who have to reject probably have to lie, just like when you’re actually breaking up with someone, and you often can’t say what the real reason is — I just can't see myself with someone with dirty nails — so we have to make up some vague sh*t because we don’t want to hurt them, just like publishers use vague lingo in rejection letters.
If you see any of these words in the boxes of Rejection Bingo, you are getting a boilerplate rejection.
***
A marriage proposal, for the most part, generally has a happy ending and the newly engaged can’t wait to tell the world and show off their ring. But to have your book be rejected by a stranger publisher or editor or an agent who has to make decisions risks on many manuscripts and saying it could take “several" months for a response is akin to an author who is waiting to hear back asking, “Are you purposely trying to destroy my life?”
Yesterday I did rise above my fear of writing rejection letters and then wrote one, deleted it, and decided to go all vintage by picking up the phone to speak with this author — one that I had ghosted for three months.
Again, maybe it’s because I know how angst-ridden it is at best and how annoying it is to wait for a response.
I just can’t yet imagine rejecting an author — if for no other reason than it doesn't fit my “list” by ghosting them anymore. It’s just not me. It's terribly rude, like being ghosted on a dating site after three flawless dates:
Random: I think you are super cool and was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink.
Me: I’m busy.
Random: I didn't even throw out some dates.
Me: I'm going to be busy.
Much like ghosting in romantic rejections, finding fault in ourselves, bemoaning all our inadequacies, kicking ourselves when we’re already down, and smacking our self-esteem into a pulp, the same holds true for getting a rejection of your manuscript.
Or, maybe — and I'm just throwing this out there — authors could accept that they should or could be okay just to get at least an email with a “yes" or “no,” so no more waiting with that anxious frustrated feeling like you're turning into a skeleton, especially if it’s something you really, really want. Surely, even the busiest of those can reply with a "yes" or “no.” Or hand it off to an intern. (Again, even my dentist and accountant have time to send me birthday cards.)
That way, authors knowing if it's a “yes" or "no" for their manuscript at that publishing house, can then keep it moving, submitting to other houses. Here’s what I learned in school about rejection letters (and, apparently, why I can't send a glittery e-card rejection.)
The [rejection] letter is professional and courteous, outlining why the project has been rejected, but is very appreciative of being asked to consider the submission and supportive of the writer. The point of the rejection letter is to thank them for the submission, outline the strengths and weaknesses of the submission, give constructive criticism to the author, and justify the rejection. Successful acquisitions editors never send out an unkind or harshly worded rejection. To do so would damage the relationship…
What is a reasonable basis for a rejection?
* The editor has recently acquired or published a similar book
* The topic is not to the editor’s taste
* The book is not written in an appropriate or engaging style
* The sales projections for the book aren’t big enough
* The book does not fit into the editor’s category or list
* The publisher doesn’t have the capital to take on new projects at this time
I agree — from experience as a publisher thus far — that the above list holds true, but it also doesn't really make sense, does it, that a rejection letter, although it might be nice if not realistic, for an editor to outline the strengths and weaknesses and give constructive criticism AND justify the rejection if those are reasonable basis.
Why would an author need constructive feedback if they are being rejected because “The publisher doesn't have the capital to take on new projects at this time.” Or if “The editor has recently acquired or published a similar book?” And, again since honesty saves time, and while I think it would be great to get constructive feedback, those days are o-v-e-r.
“I have not yet received a rejection letter that in any way led me to believe that my work had been read. Each of the twenty five rejections I’ve received were brief form notes, with a generic statement that they have too many submissions to respond personally. It would be very difficult to take those rejections personally!” wrote one hustling author. (He must hate playing Rejection Bingo!)
You know that correct saying that behind every angry woman stands a man who has absolutely no idea what he did wrong? Well, behind every rejection letter stands an author who usually has absolutely no idea what they did wrong. As well as a publisher — at least at RE:BOOKS — who feels even more terrible after hitting send, knowing that receiving a rejection letter can inflict damage to psychological well-being that goes beyond emotional pain. And who wants to be that person?
Honesty saves time. So, in the interest of saving time. Rejection letters, whether you are getting them or writing one, are like little white lies and are more convenient to have the same reasons to reject a manuscript than telling the full truth?
I would love to tell each and every author why their book didn't make the cut. And if it were standard practice — like asking “Will you marry me?” where the answer is either “yes” or “no” and where it was acceptable to just get or send a "yes" or “no” I bet everyone who is in the position and must write a rejection letter would also be on board, especially if you're like me, where it can take an entire day to draft a rejection that doesn't sound like a rejection, even if it is a rejection, sort of like how I tell my glam team to put on makeup but “MAKE IT LOOK LIKE I DIDN’T GET MY MAKEUP DONE!”
In life, generally speaking, usually if someone starts a sentence with, “Do you want me to be honest?” you should run. Or say, “Nope” and run.
Brutal honesty often gets mistaken as the truth. (And, re:member, just because someone is “being honest” with you does not mean they are right.)
Check out these brutally honest five excerpts from REAL famous author rejections and ask yourself would you rather just get a “yes"or "no" rejection?
Sylvia Plath: There certainly isn’t enough genuine talent for us to take notice.
Rudyard Kipling: I’m sorry Mr. Kipling, but you just don’t know how to use the English language.
J. G. Ballard: The author of this book is beyond psychiatric help.
Emily Dickinson: [Your poems] are quite as remarkable for defects as for beauties and are generally devoid of true poetical qualities.
Ernest Hemingway (regarding The Torrents of Spring): It would be extremely rotten taste, to say nothing of being horribly cruel, should we want to publish it.
Every day — every single day — since RE:BOOKS started three years ago, I’ve always heard from insiders in the publishing industry that “publishing is a mystery!”
It would be less of a mystery, I think, if people stopped saying that — a get out of jail free card when a book takes off or doesn’t. Because publishing is a mystery!
So, everyone wants the truth but no one wants, or has time, to be honest (this includes me). This contributes to these publishing mysteries, because, again, lies, or receiving a boilerplate thanks-but-no-thanks, fuck off rejection letters from agents, editors and publishers, are just that; pretty boilerplate rejection letters.
Meaning, disappointedly, it’s still a rejection.
Which is why — although I've never been on a dating site — I'm mortified to say I've ghosted authors and encouraged them to email me to follow up because sometimes I need reminders and there are a shitload of authors. So, on top of procrastinating writing rejection letters, I suffer as much as a Jewish mother,
Jewish Mother: Did you like the two shirts I bought you?
Jewish Child (at any age): Yes. I loved them! Thank you!
Jewish Mother: You're wearing the blue one. I guess that means you must hate the green one.
I try my best to keep up with the influx of manuscripts, but financially there are only so many books I can publish in a year (again, most do not know exactly how much money, or the amount of people that need to be paid, that goes into the production of one book).
So, dear authors who I've ghosted oh-so-rudely. I’m sorry. Rejecting authors — especially ones I like and want to see succeed — is about as much fun for publishers as reading the instruction manual to a vacuum cleaner.
Which is, to say, not fun at all.
For anyone with funny rejection letters, send them here. I need a good laugh!
Until next time,
Flip your hair and flip the page,
xoxo
Rebecca
P.S. If you want to read about how to handle rejection and how much luck plays in the rejection rollercoaster, click here.
P.P.S If you want a laugh, did you know that even your gardener can reject you? Check out this story I wrote a while ago by clicking here! (It's not your garden, dear, it's you)
P.P.P.S. RE:BOOKS debut author Danielle Kaplan was on The Agenda with Steve Paiken last week, talking about her memoir I Married A Thrill Seeker, with her thrill-seeking husband, also named Steve. You can watch The Daredevil and his cautious wife here.