Racking up Rejections

From July 2003 when I submitted Flight of the Valkyrie to a publisher for the first time, until March 2005, I'm almost embarrassed to admit, I had not received a rejection letter.

The Big R is a badge of honor among writers, like a paper purple heart. You've been wounded in combat and you have the commendation to prove it [and probably some kind of scar to go with it.] I didn't have one.

In that respect I was incredibly fortunate. I submitted eleven manuscripts in that time and every one was accepted. [Flight never received a rejection from that first publisher, though I tend to assume that Big R does exist somewhere and was perhaps ultimately lost in the mail. No biggie since it's now available from New Concepts, but still.] I'm not bragging. In fact, all this acceptance did make me question my talent just as much as a rejection would have. After all, could it be that my publishers weren't picky enough to reject me? [Yes, I'm anal that way. Sorry, can't help it.]

No need to fear acceptance any more. Now that I'm submitting to agents I can officially join the Big R club. I have rejections from four of the six agents I've queried with The Matchmakers so far. Two still pending. I'm not discouraged. I have other agents on the list to try and several publishers for my next round.

Does rejection make me question my talent? Hell, yeah. But it's teaching me a lesson, too. It's easy to give up, to get demoralized and ask myself why I'm doing this. I could be earning a steady paycheck, plugging away in the office, getting paid vacations and sick days again like I used to, socking away money in my pension account... Or I could be paying for postage with change from the couch cushions and staring at a blank computer screen while my muse plays hookey all day. Hmm - weighing those options now...

One thing I'm not going to do is keep a file of my rejection letters. I know some authors do, to remind them of the tough times they went through to get their careers off the ground, to keep themselves humble [maybe even to gloat later on when that multi-book deal comes through]. I'm not saving them - [unless I get one with some really helpful advice in it.] I'm putting them in the recyle bin and moving on. Some day, when I'm the keynote speaker at a writer's conference and someone asks me, "How many rejections did you get before you had your big break?" [And someone will, I'm sure.] I'll just shrug and say, "I stopped counting after four."