I received my second rejection this week, and as promised, here it is:
Rejection #2
“Thank you for thinking to query me with your project. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like a good fit for my list at this time. Again, thank you, and best of luck finding an agent. “
To be clear, every single one of these—even those as gracious as this, (and I’ll explain why it is both gracious and generous further down the post) stings. And stings in a way that if you let it, not only makes you question the work, but your entire raison d'être.
Before I began chronicling my publishing journey through 100 Rejections, this particular rejection might have caused me to shutter the house and retreat to my bedroom for a day—oh hell, let’s be honest—more than likely several days, perhaps even a week. Because this one was the big one: It came from the agent I truly—more than anything—wanted to land.
But here’s what’s interesting: After about 5 minutes of champion-level wallowing, during which I cycled through the requisite self-pity followed by a healthy dose of self-loathing, my brain kind of got bored and began thinking about writing this post instead.
After treating myself to a sushi lunch—my go-to emotional salve—I sat down to write this second installment on rejection resilience, and as I began, I suddenly realized I hadn’t yet followed the advice I’d given in the first: Create a ledger in which every rejection received was paired with a counterpoint example of a stretch goal that had been met with a yes.
As I made my first entry in the ludicrously titled “Di’s Phenomenal Feats,” (so titled to highlight the fact that so many women of my generation have a tendency to shrug off major achievements in an “Ah shucks, Mister, that weren’t nothin,’” kind of way) it struck me that it wasn’t enough to simply log an example with some hastily scribbled notes—that to make the exercise count you needed to give yourself a moment to fully relive the memory each example provokes.
My first entry conjured an image of a young woman, outfitted in a cheap sales rack suit and polyester shirt she sincerely hoped was passing for silk. Standing at the podium of the 21 Club in New York, one of many stops on an IPO Road Show tour. Facing down a room filled with Wall Street-ing men, going through her slides with an air of confidence she didn’t possess. Internally terrified, yet also determined to achieve a goal that no one ever thought she could. All these years later, now that I’m finally ready to give that 34-year old woman her due, I can’t help but wonder if she could pull off that seemingly impossible feat, why isn’t it possible she can also do this?
And yet….
After the initial “Of course she can!” exuberance wore off, that little niggling voice of doubt edged its way back in, slyly asking: But what if you can’t?
Well then, I have no choice but to do as Wendell Berry says:
“Be joyful though you have considered the facts.”
Be joyful, though you know the odds of landing a conventional publishing deal are not in your favor.
Be joyful, knowing that while not guaranteed, you might nevertheless succeed.
Be joyful, knowing most agents will never get back to you, and even if they do, it may take several weeks, or worse, several months.
Be joyful, knowing that a top-tier agent not only read your submission, but had the grace to respond quickly so that you could let go and move on.
Be joyful, in your commitment to honor the process, no matter where it leads.
2 down, 98 to go.
Until next time, keep writing and dreaming.
Diana
I got a rejection letter so inspiring I had it framed! Odd maybe but I saw it as a positive in my journey.
Re-reading the 21 Club paragraph and thinking about...34. 34!!! And how the compilation of all these life experiences inform the current ones. It sounds like this one had a particular sting, but as always love how you have reframed it. Inspirational!