Remember the grand plan we had? While waiting to hear back from an agent, I was supposed to fill you in on all the things I learned at my recent trip to a writer’s conference? Well, turns out we’re not going to have time for that, because my new agent buddy already got back to me.
On November 30, my father’s 59th birthday, he rejected me.
Matthew
It was nice meeting you at MC3 and I appreciate the look at your novel.
Unfortunately, the writing didn’t work for me. But I still think you are on the right track with the subject matter.
Good luck.
Adam
I just received this, and I have to say it hurts. Did he not like the main character? Was it the plot that didn’t grab him? No, it was something more fundamental than that. It was the actual writing.
Could there be a worse blow to a writer’s ego? I really thought I had something special with this one. I was going to adopt the writing style for all my future works. My wife in her first note when reading it over wrote, “this is so poetic!” But perhaps she was just protecting my fragile psyche, and perhaps I was just delusional. An agent didn’t reject the plot, he rejected the writing. Ouch.
I wrote back and thanked him for getting back to me, and asked him for some short advice on what he disliked about the writing. And maybe he’ll reply. But I doubt it. He’s busy with clients, and real potential clients. He doesn’t owe me anything. He doesn’t need to waste time on me. In all likelihood, I’ll never know his issue with it.
And sure, there are countless stories of books that were rejected hundreds if not thousands of times before going on to get published, to become bestsellers, to win Pulitzer Prizes.
And sure, there are books that speak to some people, and books that don’t. And while this guy could dislike the writing, another agent could be moved by it. But that doesn’t really help me right now, as I’m reeling from the blow. That doesn’t change my gut reaction – that my time and efforts were for naught, and that my wife’s gift of the Writer’s Market book has been rendered pointless.
I mean, what happens when a writer gets told he can’t write? How does he pick himself up after that? Can that dust ever be brushed off?
Is the horse even still there to get back on, or did he kick me off in a fit of agitation and just take off, disappearing deep into the woods, lost forever? Right now, I don’t know.
I really don’t know.
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By the way, this is a bit ironic, isn't it? In my first post after asking if good writing can be taught, I get an F in the class. Buuurn.
