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Seven Levels Of Rejection And How To Make Them Work For You
Most people in the writing world talk about the three levels of rejection--form, personal, rewrite--but I've discovered seven types (after over 200 rejections before being published and about hundred after, I should know). Learning how to analyze rejection is a helpful skill for any writer because you'll learn what to ignore, what to consider, and what will put you on the right track or, as the case may be, off of it.
Here are the seven types of rejections that may find their way in your email or mailbox:
1) No response. The agent or editor doesn't send you anything. I find these ones most annoying. You wait in anticipation, hoping, praying for something either in the mail or online. Nothing. Six months past. Still nothing.
2) Form rejection. These are the ones that start Dear fill in the name. They tell you that your work isn't right for them and wish you better luck elsewhere. There's no feedback. You should toss these rejections immediately. But be warned, form rejections are easy to get if you don't follow directions: submitting to the wrong magazine or publisher, a wrong topic, wrong manuscript format, or writing in crayon or invisible ink. To avoid form rejections, study the magazine or publisher's criteria for submissions to make sure you're giving them something they'll want (i.e. a clean manuscript that addresses the needs of their readers) and not a missive of "Why I Should be Published by You."
3) Multiple choice. These agents or editors have gotten creative and made a list of reasons they're rejecting your work because a) they have something similar, b) the quality of your work doesn't meet their standards and/or, c) they think you're completely without talent and hope you'll never query them again. Sometimes they'll check one, sometimes they'll check all three. This is still a form rejection because it's too general to give you any real advice; however, you at least get an idea of what they're looking for. But then again, if number three is selected it is best ignored because it's just an opinion.
4) Personal note. These are nice, except when they're mean. A nice personal note can provide support like, "Good job, but needs work." A mean note on the other hand can be devastating like, "This is awful" written in blood red ink on the corner of your query. When an agent or editor takes the time to put "Not bad" on the corner of your query take it as the sign of encouragement that it is. Ignore the nasty ones. But even if they don't tell you why your work is being rejected, you're heading in the right direction. Getting a good or bad personal note indicates your style. It is my experience that it's better to get some kind of response rather than just a form rejection. Why? Because that's how readers will be. Some will hate your work. Some will love it. Receiving a response, especially a personal note, lets you know that you're hitting buttons and that's a good thing.
5) The critique. Most aspiring authors expect this type of rejection, but editors and agents don't owe you this. They get hundreds of queries and manuscripts a week and they can't critique all of them. If you do receive one consider yourself fortunate that someone has taken the time to tell you why they're rejecting your work. They may be wrong, but at least you know why. Remember, they are taking a risk by sending you bad news. The form rejection is popular because many editors and agents have suffered the wrath of rejected authors who will bombard their offices with letters arguing why they think they critique was wrong. Don't be one of those authors. Take what you can from the critique then move on.
6) Try again. This type of rejection is close to a personal note, but it's never mean. They are saying that what you submitted isn't right for them, but they're curious to see more. Make sure you follow up.
7) Rewrite request. This type of response can make most writers jump for joy. The editor is interested and is offering hints on how to gain their favor. This is good news, of course, only if you agree with the suggested changes. Unfortunately, this is still a rejection and there is no guarantee that making the changes will result in a sale. However, the most important lesson to learn from this type of rejection is that you have caught the interest of an editor and it's a relationship you should nurture.
No matter what type of response you get, 'close' is still 'no.' There is no gray area in publishing. You are either offered a contract or not. However, as I've outlined above, look at the type of rejection before you burn it. When you get varying rejections like: 'I hate the character, but love the plot' and 'I love the character, but hate the plot' you're on your way. Why? Because whoever is reading your work is stating personal preference instead of offering a common complaint. That will be what makes your style unique.
Most writers loathe rejections and for some their careers never survive the pain of getting them. You don't want this to happen to you. You now have the skills to sift through your rejections and never fear them again.
BONUS : Seven Secrets Of Highly Creative Writers
The Lifewriting approach to your writing career demands a relatively high creative output. It isnt designed to coddle people who nurse a single story for years before sending it out.
But students often protest that they simply dont come up with many good ideas, and that the ideas they do generate are appropriate for novels.
In my opinion, basic ideas have no intrinsic length. The TREATMENT of an idea has an intrinsic length. The Civil War can be treated in a one-page story, on in a library of books. It all depends on the skill and intent of the writer.
Let me tell you a story:
When I was in college, I knew a woman who wanted to be a writer. She told me that she was working on a short story, and I said great. A few weeks later, I asked her how the story was going. She said Its getting a little longI think its a novella.
Great! I said.
A couple of months later, I asked her how the novella was going. Well, its getting a little long, I think its a novel!
Wow! I said, although a warning bell was tinkling at the back of my mind. A couple of years later, I asked her how the novel was going.
Well, it seems to be turning into a trilogy, she said.
Hmm. I made optimistic sounds, and left it at that.
A decade later, I was traveling on the East Coast, and knew Id be passing the town where this lady lived. My wife and I stopped in to visit. Just because I have a masochistic streak, I asked how the trilogy was going.
There was a pause. Then, sheepishly she said, I got tired of it, and put it away. But just a couple of months ago I started working on a new story. Its good! But she said, as I knew she would, it seems to be getting a little long
That is so sad. My friend had encountered one of the stealthiest forms of writers block: to be able to write, but not be able to finish and submit. It serves the same purpose to an insecure subconscious: it prevents you from suffering rejection.
After all, the idea is so bright and appealing when it enters your mind! The process of actually slogging your way through multiple drafts can be a joy-killer.
Short stories are a perfect means to combat this. A short piece employs all the same basic tools that will be used in a novel, with a crucial difference. In the time it takes you to write a hundred thousand word novel, you can write twenty to forty short stories, and youll learn vastly more about your craft in the process.
Also, because you are going through the complete arc of generating story, planning, researching, writing rough draft, polishing, and submitting, you find out where your technical and psychological weaknesses lie.
And yet another advantage: if you write a story a week, or every other week, you dont need to cling desperately to an idea, thinking it is the only good idea youll ever have.
But how to generate ideas? Here are some suggestions:
1) Keep a dream diary. A little digital or tape recorder at the bedside works great for this. Just tell yourself before sleep that you will briefly awaken after a dream and dictate the essence. In the morning, transcribe.
2) Search the newspaper. Make an exercise of looking through the various sections of the paper, looking for odd or interesting stories. Imagine how it would be to be the people caught up in these situations. What story would capture the essence of their lives?
3) Read books and watch movies. Imagine grafting the end of one film to the beginning of another. When a book falls apart, come up with a better endingand write it.
4) Create modern versions of favorite old fairy tales. Have fun with thisremember, its just practice!
5) At the next family reunion or gathering, get the old folks to talk about their youthful days.
6) Go to a playground and watch children playing. Really notice the power games, the sharing, the crying, the laughter, the struggles and triumphs. Every single child, every day, has a story to tell.
7) Mine your own life. Learning to walk, to talk, to drive, to win, to lose. Your first fight, your first kiss, your first job, the first time you got fired.
There is really no end to the possibility. All you need is a belief in your goals, and the recognition that any individual story is just a step along the waynot some soul-searing win-or-lose proposition.
Have fun!
The Lifewriting approach to your writing career demands a relatively high creative output. It isnt designed to coddle people who nurse a single story for years before sending it out.
But students often protest that they simply dont come up with many good ideas, and that the ideas they do generate are appropriate for novels.
In my opinion, basic ideas have no intrinsic length. The TREATMENT of an idea has an intrinsic length. The Civil War can be treated in a one-page story, on in a library of books. It all depends on the skill and intent of the writer.
Let me tell you a story:
When I was in college, I knew a woman who wanted to be a writer. She told me that she was working on a short story, and I said great. A few weeks later, I asked her how the story was going. She said Its getting a little longI think its a novella.
Great! I said.
A couple of months later, I asked her how the novella was going. Well, its getting a little long, I think its a novel!
Wow! I said, although a warning bell was tinkling at the back of my mind. A couple of years later, I asked her how the novel was going.
Well, it seems to be turning into a trilogy, she said.
Hmm. I made optimistic sounds, and left it at that.
A decade later, I was traveling on the East Coast, and knew Id be passing the town where this lady lived. My wife and I stopped in to visit. Just because I have a masochistic streak, I asked how the trilogy was going.
There was a pause. Then, sheepishly she said, I got tired of it, and put it away. But just a couple of months ago I started working on a new story. Its good! But she said, as I knew she would, it seems to be getting a little long
That is so sad. My friend had encountered one of the stealthiest forms of writers block: to be able to write, but not be able to finish and submit. It serves the same purpose to an insecure subconscious: it prevents you from suffering rejection.
After all, the idea is so bright and appealing when it enters your mind! The process of actually slogging your way through multiple drafts can be a joy-killer.
Short stories are a perfect means to combat this. A short piece employs all the same basic tools that will be used in a novel, with a crucial difference. In the time it takes you to write a hundred thousand word novel, you can write twenty to forty short stories, and youll learn vastly more about your craft in the process.
Also, because you are going through the complete arc of generating story, planning, researching, writing rough draft, polishing, and submitting, you find out where your technical and psychological weaknesses lie.
And yet another advantage: if you write a story a week, or every other week, you dont need to cling desperately to an idea, thinking it is the only good idea youll ever have.
But how to generate ideas? Here are some suggestions:
1) Keep a dream diary. A little digital or tape recorder at the bedside works great for this. Just tell yourself before sleep that you will briefly awaken after a dream and dictate the essence. In the morning, transcribe.
2) Search the newspaper. Make an exercise of looking through the various sections of the paper, looking for odd or interesting stories. Imagine how it would be to be the people caught up in these situations. What story would capture the essence of their lives?
3) Read books and watch movies. Imagine grafting the end of one film to the beginning of another. When a book falls apart, come up with a better endingand write it.
4) Create modern versions of favorite old fairy tales. Have fun with thisremember, its just practice!
5) At the next family reunion or gathering, get the old folks to talk about their youthful days.
6) Go to a playground and watch children playing. Really notice the power games, the sharing, the crying, the laughter, the struggles and triumphs. Every single child, every day, has a story to tell.
7) Mine your own life. Learning to walk, to talk, to drive, to win, to lose. Your first fight, your first kiss, your first job, the first time you got fired.
There is really no end to the possibility. All you need is a belief in your goals, and the recognition that any individual story is just a step along the waynot some soul-searing win-or-lose proposition.
Have fun!
