It is a truth universally acknowledged - that rejection sucks
‘What are you most afraid of?’ asked the therapist. I was twenty-eight and had gone to see her because I was struggling with my romantic relationship. ‘Rejection,’ I replied. ‘Interesting that you’ve chosen to be a writer,’ she said, leaving me wondering if she was implying that I was some kind of masochist.
The parallels between writing and dating have often struck me, probably because, even in middle-age, romantic relationships continue to perplex me and because I’m still sending out manuscripts hoping for my big break. I guess the book deal and the long-term successful relationship are the cornerstones of the ‘happy ever after’ I’ve long been seeking and, though other things have emerged along the way (wonderful friends, the very best of children, the most rewarding career and even some writing success) aren’t we wired to focus on the things we don’t have rather than the things we do? It’s a negative bias of course and an obstacle to happiness to be constantly searching for the things we lack but, on the other hand, it’s what keeps us striving to be more and better and to go after the life that we dream of, and that’s not a bad thing in my book. In fact, as I was trying recently to sum up the theme of my work-in-progress to a mentor, I realised that this is perhaps what my novel is actually about. Better, surely, to go after our dreams than to settle for less than we deserve however old we are.
I’ve settled for less than I deserved on numerous occasions in romance. I’m sure it’s a familiar story. You grow up with a misplaced belief that you’re not good enough and so you’re grateful for scraps of attention. You put up with bad behaviour because it feels familiar. You suppress your own needs and try to be what other people want. You have poor boundaries and find it hard to say no because you don’t like to upset people, so you say yes to the people who want you because going after what or who you really desire feels scary and comes with the risk of rejection. And when you do stick your neck out, open up your heart and go after it, inevitably rejection sometimes follows. Then, the idea that you aren’t good enough is reinforced and so it goes on, over and over again until you eventually learn to say ‘no’ and ‘enough’. And you vow to be single until the right romantic prospect comes along rather than bending yourself out of shape trying to be something that you’re not, trying to be accepted by people that you’re not sure you even like. Maybe you still surf the dating sites but you bide your time and learn to be selective.
It’s a strategy that might work in love (she says hopefully) but, if you’re a writer, you do often want to be accepted or validated, and it’s even less likely that you will meet the publisher of your dreams by chance than that your true love will reach for the same copy of A Room of One’s Own over the table in Waterstones. So you have to make yourself vulnerable and put your writing out there. And you have to risk rejection. I’m very aware that fear of rejection has been one reason that I’ve rarely submitted my poems and stories for publication - that and my desire to find the one big publishing deal rather than fritter my energy on short-term thrills.
My first experience of rejection in publishing terms is an unusual story. I was twenty-eight then too. I’d written a novel as part of my MA and submitted it to a major literary agency. So far so typical. The unusual part is that I received a phone call within a day or two from the agent saying that she believed my book could be a bestseller. Six months later she decided that she couldn’t give it the attention that it deserved. It was painful to have come so close but, rather than hearing that she loved my book and saw my potential, predicitably for someone with my wiring, I heard that I wasn’t good enough and I gave up. I took myself off the market as a writer again and went back to my day job. But, as with dating, every now and then the desire to reach for my dreams would overide my fear and I’d try again.
My novels have been rejected many times since then, always with very positive feedback. I love your writing agents say. Your prose flies off the page they tell me. You write beautifully. The characters and worlds are so well-drawn. BUT, there’s always a but. I just didn’t quite love it enough. It didn’t have me sweeping my desk in excitment. I don’t quite feel strongly enough. My issue is with the market and not with your book. By the time I received this last comment, I was a veteran of the submission process (and I’d had a lot of therapy). The book the agent was talking about had won a Northern Writers Award and a literary consultant had told me that there was nothing I could do to improve it. I knew it was good. So when she said that the problem was with the market, I believed her and instead of feeling that I was inadequate, I recognised that she was telling the truth.
I know now that publishing is a cutthroat business and that publishers and the market have specific demands. Publishers, like romantic partners, have their own issues, their own needs and their own desires. There are boxes to tick. Just because agents didn’t want me, it didn’t necessarily mean my book wasn’t good enough. It meant only that they weren’t the right fit for me, that it wasn’t the right time for the book I was writing or that someone else had the edge on that day One agent who was on the lookout for ‘a simple romance’ told me that she needed ‘a one line hook’. She told me that if I cut the sub-plot and took out some of the issues, she would be interested. But that wasn’t the novel I’d written and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to rewrite it as a completely different book. So it sits still on my laptop, waiting for the market to change or for me to feel ready to rework it.
Often it’s not the right time for romance either, or perhaps the dating market isn’t ready for what we have to offer. I get a lot of positive feedback when dating too. You are absolutely wonderful they say. You’re so kind and beautiful and talented. I’ve loved getting to know you. BUT, there’s always a but there too. I don’t feel like your equal they say. My anxiety has got the better of me. I thought I was ready but I’m not. I think I would let you down. You deserve so much more than I can give. Once or twice I’ve come so close to finding what I’m looking for and it hurts when it doesn’t work out, but I know these days that often it’s a case of timing and circumstances, that it’s not me but them. Despite my attributes, these men just don’t love me or want me and the relationship enough. They’re not able to commit to my project. They’re not rejecting me because I’m not good enough. (In fact, these days, they’re usually saying I’m too good for them- wtf?!) But, whether you’re looking for a partner or a publisher, however much you value yourself, it’s still dispirting to keep trying and failing to find the real deal.
Having been disappointed before, I wrote my current novel with the intention of making it commercially viable. I started out with a one-line hook and with an idea of the market I was aiming for (uplit, book club, women’s fiction). I thought I knew what I was doing but my mentor’s feedback suggests that perhaps I’m still missing the mark. You’ve got this fabulous heroine, she says. What is she doing wasting her time with this arsehole? I feel seen because of course the heroine has much in common with myself. Her advice is to get rid of the arsehole’s viewpoint entirely, to simplify the plot and bring forward the end by 40,000 words but, she says, it’s my book and I need to do what I think is best. It’s a heck of cull but I know now that successful novels, like people, often look nothing like their early versions. I’m taking some time to think about whether I want to reshape my novel in that way and even now, writing this blog, I’m getting clearer about the heroine’s journey and wondering if perhaps she doesn’t need that arsehole at all!
It’s a conundrum, as a writer (and a human) the degree to which we listen to feedback. I can look at what the market demands and try to meet it or I can please myself. I can read the advice of dating gurus who will tell me how to be what he desires and less of myself. I can try to predict the literary trends and alter my stories to fit what the publishers are looking for. In both cases, It’s important, of course, to listen to feedback and to do what we can do improve our books and ourselves but, in the end, we have to decide how far we’re prepared to go in order to be accepted, how much we’re prepared to change ourselves or our stories for someone else.
In the end, there isn’t an easy answer but maybe there’s a middle-ground. I hope that perhaps I can keep being myself and keep writing the stories that I want to write and that, one day, the stars will align enabling me and them to find our perfect match. I can leave it all up to fate and hope to bump into a partner or publisher over the book table in Waterstones or I can increase the odds by sending out my submissions and keeping my profile on Match, giving fate a shove. It’s brave and difficult and sometimes stupid to make ourselves so vulnerable but we have to keep putting ourselves out there if we want the life of our dreams.
If you want to join me in being braver when it comes to submitting your work, you can take part in the Summer of Submission at The Writers Workshop. Read more about it here.