Following on from last week’s post on the subject of rejection, I want to mention a really interesting article on rejection that I read in Mslexia magazine, by a psychologist and memoirist called Vanessa Moore. It talked about how we experience rejection as a narcissistic injury, similar to other losses in life, and suggested that some people have much higher Rejection Sensitivity than others, usually because of their past experiences. Also, because we writers associate our writing so closely with who we are, rejection of it can feel like a very personal blow. The article also suggested some strategies for coping with rejection, such as expecting and anticipating it as a natural part of the writing process; interpreting any rejections as setbacks, not the end of the road; learning from feedback and focussing on positives as much as negatives; and being compassionate towards yourself, imagining what you would say to a friend about a perceived failure, and awarding yourself the same kindness.
Many of those things helped me keep going. Particularly, seeing what had happened as a setback rather than the end, and crucially, as I’d done before, considering how I could use the feedback to help me next time.
The rejection notes I’d received from publishers were surprisingly detailed. Lots of them said they’d like to see future work, so that in itself was motivation to write another novel. And because I’d written multiple books previously, even after some disappointments, I knew deep down that I could do it again.
So, I went painstakingly through all those publishers’ responses, plus other bits of feedback I’d had from other readers, and I made a huge table so that I could see the recurring patterns. Partly this was an illuminating demonstration of how subjective it all is, to an extent. We’re not all moved by the same things or drawn to the same types of people, so of course we’re not all going to fall in love with the same books and characters. However, what this exercise did do was highlight the issues that came up repeatedly – such as falling slightly between two genres, the pace being too slow, the need for a stronger overall hook. I paid attention to what they’d liked about it, too, and for my next novel I made sure I played to my strengths but also addressed anything that two or more editors had raised as a problem. And as I was writing I kept returning to their feedback, and seeking new feedback, and I could feel that the novel was becoming something much, much stronger, like a snowball of everything I’d learned.
When it went out on submission to publishers – and to many of the same ones as before, who’d expressed an interest in future work – I was really terrified this time, because I was under no illusions about what might happen. There were still some rejections of that book, which actually were some of my most wounding ones yet, because I’d put so much into it. But then there was a glimmer of hope when an editor at Hodder said she was passing it through to the next stage. When she came back and made me an offer, the email she sent to my agent about why she wanted to publish the book was like an antidote to every rejection note I’d ever had. And that’s the thing about writing: one person really connecting with your book can make up for several people saying it’s not quite for them. Especially if that person knows how to get it out to other readers who might feel the same.
So … why am I telling you all this? To say something about rejection and achievement in the world of writing, I think. But also to reflect on how writers keep going, and why we keep going. I’ve asked lots of writers, over the years, why they write. I’ve had a range of responses – therapy, catharsis, escape, pleasure, addiction. A love of words; a way to have a conversation with the world; a desire to change people’s opinions, or to entertain; a need to get down the stories inside their head. All of these remind me of another important thing to bear in mind if you feel bruised by a rejection – what it is that compelled you to write that piece in the first place, and how that will take you back to your computer or notebook again, regardless.
Contributed by Helen Cooper
leicesterwritersclub.com 