My Take On Rejection
I've gotta explain because I think I came off whiny in the previous post.
Here's my take on rejection. I've spent a lot of time working through this and am finally satisfied with the philosophy that resulted, which I will call the "Nobody Likes You and Everybody Thinks You're a Piece of Shit Theory."
I've got about 600 books lining the shelves in the office in my basement. They range from true crime to self help to literary fiction. You want Dr. Phil's unauthorized biography? It's there. How about the Adrian Mole Diaries? Yep, them, too, both the kid and adult volumes. Or say you're interested in relating to the passive-aggressive man--I can offer you several resources to help you figure him out.
Now, if someone told me that I had to pick, out of those 600 books, 5 that are my favorite, that are simply the best there is to offer, I've gotta tell you, I'd have a helluva time. What if they told me that I could pick 10? It really wouldn't make my job any easier.
Of the original 600, are they all good books? Do they all have some sort of value? Sure they do, at least, to me, or I wouldn't have kept them for re-reading purposes (on that note, you should see my copy of "Until the Twelfth of Never: The Deadly Divorce of Dan and Betty Broderick." It's positively crusty and dog-eared.). Does the fact that I cannot select all of the books diminsh them in some way? Does the fact that I cannot make all 600 my favorite cause them to be any less valuable?
Not at all.
When I submit stories (which I do often), I try to remember the "Nobody Likes You and Everybody Thinks You're a Piece of Shit Theory." Because that's not what it's about. It has nothing to do with you. It's not even about the quality of the work (well, it can be, but I wouldn't know that unless someone writes me a little note saying something like: You've got a colobus monkey working at a video store as your main character and we're wondering if, without an opposiable thumb, he'd really be able to work the register; perhaps a rhesus monkey would be a better choice?). It's about what appeals to a certain reader, and in the submission game, that certain reader would be The Editor.
Is my stuff good? I think so. Does it fit on an Editor's "shelf?" Sometimes, if there's room. Were all of the editors at a magazine gatherered around the laptop on which my story glowed across the screen, laughing at the submission, poking fun at my sentence structure, bellowing: "Who the Hell does she think SHE is?" Possibly, but's that okay, because I'll never really know. Just as I won't know why they rejected my story. Consequently, it's really stupid to spend so much time analyzing the situation. I'd be better off spending my time writing a new story that can pull in a few more rejections next month (shooting for 500--if you can't beat'em, join'em).
What's your theory on rejection?
Here's my take on rejection. I've spent a lot of time working through this and am finally satisfied with the philosophy that resulted, which I will call the "Nobody Likes You and Everybody Thinks You're a Piece of Shit Theory."
I've got about 600 books lining the shelves in the office in my basement. They range from true crime to self help to literary fiction. You want Dr. Phil's unauthorized biography? It's there. How about the Adrian Mole Diaries? Yep, them, too, both the kid and adult volumes. Or say you're interested in relating to the passive-aggressive man--I can offer you several resources to help you figure him out.
Now, if someone told me that I had to pick, out of those 600 books, 5 that are my favorite, that are simply the best there is to offer, I've gotta tell you, I'd have a helluva time. What if they told me that I could pick 10? It really wouldn't make my job any easier.
Of the original 600, are they all good books? Do they all have some sort of value? Sure they do, at least, to me, or I wouldn't have kept them for re-reading purposes (on that note, you should see my copy of "Until the Twelfth of Never: The Deadly Divorce of Dan and Betty Broderick." It's positively crusty and dog-eared.). Does the fact that I cannot select all of the books diminsh them in some way? Does the fact that I cannot make all 600 my favorite cause them to be any less valuable?
Not at all.
When I submit stories (which I do often), I try to remember the "Nobody Likes You and Everybody Thinks You're a Piece of Shit Theory." Because that's not what it's about. It has nothing to do with you. It's not even about the quality of the work (well, it can be, but I wouldn't know that unless someone writes me a little note saying something like: You've got a colobus monkey working at a video store as your main character and we're wondering if, without an opposiable thumb, he'd really be able to work the register; perhaps a rhesus monkey would be a better choice?). It's about what appeals to a certain reader, and in the submission game, that certain reader would be The Editor.
Is my stuff good? I think so. Does it fit on an Editor's "shelf?" Sometimes, if there's room. Were all of the editors at a magazine gatherered around the laptop on which my story glowed across the screen, laughing at the submission, poking fun at my sentence structure, bellowing: "Who the Hell does she think SHE is?" Possibly, but's that okay, because I'll never really know. Just as I won't know why they rejected my story. Consequently, it's really stupid to spend so much time analyzing the situation. I'd be better off spending my time writing a new story that can pull in a few more rejections next month (shooting for 500--if you can't beat'em, join'em).
What's your theory on rejection?
posted by Cate at 8:33 AM
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