Rejection is a Writer's Friend!

Human nature hates rejection. People go through life never daring to reach for the stars because their inner child (or whatever the hell it is that speaks to us) can't stand the possibility of rejection. So we don't dare to fully love or fully commit to seeking a job position. We may not even share our real feelings with those we call close friends--thereby denying ourselves the real joy of close friendship. Why? Because we can't stand the possibility that our deepest feelings will be viewed negatively; another form of rejection.

Now let's turn to writing, the absolute passion of my life for the last five years, and part of my livelihood for the past thirty years. Writing can be pure enjoyment, just as many personal hobbies can be pure enjoyment. And hobby writers need not deal with rejection. But many writers, deep down, want to be read. The reason may be financial, although in my experience, few writers are wise to give up their day job in anticipation of becoming the next John Grisham. Some writers simply want to share their feelings. Some want to entertain via the printed page. Some believe they have gifts to give in terms of knowledge or enlightenment. Whatever the reason, many writers want to be read.

Here's the rub. The minute we writers become serious about being read, we are doomed to a variety of rejection. And I will boldly say two things:
- Unless the writer embraces rejection, the joy will soon leave the process.
- Viewed correctly, the rejection is our best teacher and motivator.

I personally collected my ritual seventy-five or so agent rejections before I finally secured an agent. In many cases, the rejection was so swift and impersonal that I doubted anyone had seriously considered my work. But in several cases, I was told, clearly, that my writing was not strong enough for consideration in the big leagues. [Many of us writers have an odd vanity. We were, for example, decent high school baseball players. But for the past twenty years, we haven't played anything more serious than recreational softball. So we suddenly decide to walk into Yankee Stadium and ask to be considered for starting shortstop. Baseball doesn't work that way, and writing doesn't work that way, and it took me awhile to figure that out. Whether there's any hope at all is another topic that I'll address in another entry.]

So the real writers' marketplace will teach us and inspire us while it rejects us. And, painful to say, we likely deserve every bit of rejection we receive. In 2000, I finished the first draft (102,000 words) of a novel I called Geezers, Inc. It had a pretty darn good story line that had enough intrigue that I secured several agent reads. But looking back, the writing quality was abysmal. So personally I had a good news/bad news beginning. The good news was confidence that I could conceive a competitive storyline, intriguing by New York standards. The bad news was reluctant (and slow) acceptance of weak skills in the craft of fiction writing.

So I went to work, hard, to develop the skills. And there's some good news there, too, because it is definitely possible to vastly improve in the craft. Today I have a published novel called Accidental Soldiers that grew out of perhaps four major rewrites of Geezers, Inc., and I will boldly argue that it's a pretty damn good novel by any standard.

The second kind of rejection must be eagerly sought. We must find readers willing to be honest with us. (Close friends and family members are rarely the answer for obvious reasons.) And when our critique partners tear apart our work, we must listen eagerly. The big picture reasons is straightforward. We have secured part of our dream: a reader. That reader is telling us how he/she reacted to our work. That reaction is their truth. We must honor it even if we hate every part of it.

"This character didn't work for me at all," she says. "You gave me five reasons to think she was conservative, and in Chapter Nine she's drunk out of her mind at a disco. That just won't work, and frankly from that point on I didn't trust any of the characters."

Your instinct in this case may be to call your critique partner an absolute idiot who must have been reading Chapters Four and Five with her eyes shut. You may feel personally attacked. You may feel almost mortally wounded at an emotional level because the untrusted character is really you in many ways. But you MUST embrace the criticism, mine it for any value it has, then decide whether to edit your work accordingly.

Note that you don't necessarily decide to change your work. It is not possible to please every reader. I'm amazed at the extent to which readers can differ in reaction. For example, one views my Jackie Billings (The Alphabet Affair) as a legitimately struggling wife trying to deal with a smothering husband. Another views Jackie as a wanton slut. In the final analysis, you must be true to your story and be willing to accept the barbs of those who don't buy in. But in every honest critique, there is gold to mine and we writers should eagerly mine it.

Please visit me at www.BillCorbin.com