Adventures in Rejection: Self-Rejection

Hey, it's Valentine's Day, so why not talk about rejection for a minute? But this time, it's different, because it's all about you and something you should know.

It's okay to reject your own work.

Literally everyone who has ever taken a creative writing class has heard that phrase, "Kill your darlings." Usually it's in reference to a line or two that you really love but which don't quite work in the poem or story you're writing, or sometimes it's about characters who don't belong. But sometimes we have to take that saying to the next level.

Kill entire manuscripts if you have to. Don't think of it as abandonment or murder. There are pieces we've created that are either too amateur or too personal to share with the world, and no one is going to stop you from burning those pages. Or don't burn them. Stomp on them. Shred them. Vent your frustration and scribble all over them. Whatever it takes.

Although we as writers don't necessarily always know when something is working without someone else's input, there are times when we know in our writerly guts that something is wrong. Maybe you had an idea that turned out to be a dead end. Maybe a particular topic is off-limits after all. These are the times when it's okay to listen to that instinct and pull the plug.

And try not to worry too much when you do so. because there will always, always, always be another idea for you. I promise.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Writing, Merritt Tierce, and Reality Checks

Once in awhile, an article comes along that resonates so profoundly I have to share it and add my own thoughts. In this case, it's Merritt Tierce's September article for Marie Claire, "I Published My Debut Novel to Critical Acclaim--and Then I Promptly Went Broke."

Tierce is the author of Love Me Back, a novel that was well-received by critics and blurbed by the likes of Roxane Gay. According to Tierce, she sold around 12,000 copies in two years, which was not enough to earn back her advance. Now, she is struggling to pay her bills and is suffering from self-doubt and lack of writing time while "hustling" freelance pieces to the best of her ability. Tierce has no desire to work in academia, which she is qualified to do but might tear her even farther away from family and writing.

This is the stark, terrifying truth of life as a writer in this day and age. Even when the acceptance letters arrive and the publication contracts are signed and the galleys are approved, there is no guarantee that your book will find any sort of success. If you primarily write poetry, your audience is exponentially smaller and the chances of earning money from your work are so slim as to be nonexistent. To date, I have made somewhere in the neighborhood of $250 total across ten years of actively seeking out publication.

But those of us who are serious about it--that is, the craft of writing--have accepted these facts, as unsavory as they are. If you are very lucky, you will see a handful of novels or poetry collections published in your lifetime and perhaps win some awards. If you are less lucky but still diligent, stories, essays, and poems will appear in any number of print or online literary journals, and perhaps even be anthologized. Even if you take steps toward publication, you may be able to achieve little more than one or two placements.

Do I dream of winning a National Book Award, being touted as the next Sylvia Plath, or being legitimate enough to have someone like Nikky Finney blurb me? You bet your ass I do, and if any writer tells you they don't have similar (hopeless) aspirations, they are lying. But for the sake of my own sanity, I have to shelve those fantasies. If I didn't, I would descend into despair with each new rejection letter and give up hope altogether. And I've worked too long and too hard to abandon the written word. 

I commend Merritt Tierce for telling the truth, and I wish her all the luck in the world. Her struggle is that of most writers, and I don't want that for any of us.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: When Literary Magazines Die

In this wild world, where large publishing houses are closing or consolidating and small presses face huge hurdles to keeping their doors open, it should come as no surprise that literary magazines often fail. 

And yet, somehow, that feels like the worst rejection of them all.

It's one thing to see an individual poem turned down for publication. But when an entire lit mag tanks for whatever reason--lack of funding, low readership, the demands of the editor's day job--it hurts me. Even when an outlet has declined to disseminate my work, I like to see them succeed, because it means that other writers are getting exposure and that other readers are discovering new pieces that move them. If a lit mag shuts down, those opportunities are negated for everyone involved.

Is this because of a lack of interest from the larger public? Because no one has surplus funds to donate? Because the editors are being crushed at their other workplace (let's be honest: most people are doing this as a passion project, a side gig that is often thankless)? I can't say. What I do know is that it makes the literary world a less diverse place, and that is never a positive thing.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Cate Hates Her Eyebrows

I am obsessed with my eyebrows.

If this is an exaggeration, it’s only a small one. I’m forever checking to see if I’ve grown a unibrow overnight; those little hairs above the bridge of my nose are such a pain to pull out, and they sprout as if from nowhere at any time they feel ready--which could be the middle of the night or the middle of the day. They’re hair; they have no sense of the spinning of the Earth or the passage of minutes and hours.

To draw an unlikely parallel, this is sometimes how it feels to wait for responses to submissions. I get the same sense of discomfort when no word whatsoever arrives from editors, and then suddenly I am ambushed by a rejection letter while I’m checking my e-mail during my lunch break. Hearing “no” for the thousandth time is like finding a dark, coarse hair smack in between your brows when you freshen your makeup mid-afternoon: it’s embarrassing, discouraging, and frustrating.

Yet we must remain vigilant about sending our work in for consideration. Even if you don’t care that your eyebrows meet in the middle, creating a swarthy bridge above your eyes, you’re going to care if your words never see the light of day. Because we’re writers, and half the point is to share our art with others, whether they have beautiful eyebrows or not.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Residencies and Conferences

Sometimes I forget that I live in a sort of rarefied world. 

It's not every field that requires so much of its participants. We, as writers, spend so much of our time--free time, mind you, because for most of us, this is a passion and not a sustainable career--searching for publication opportunities, sending out submissions, and entering contests in order to have our work recognized. And a lucky few of us are also able to dream of going to one residency/conference or other.

You've heard of some of the big ones, no doubt: Yaddo, Bread Loaf, Squaw Valley. There are many other options available. If you, like me, are a graduate of a low-residency MFA program, you have probably experienced pangs of withdrawal since you earned your degree. Nothing rocks your world like having eight or so days of concentrated, focused workshops or seminars and, even better, time to sit your ass down and write. And you want to recapture some of that magic, so you decide to take a break from submitting individual pieces and try to get yourself a space at a selective conference, perhaps even one of those listed above.

And then someone rejects you. 

But this rejection stings worse than hearing someone doesn't want to publish your poem/story/essay, doesn't it? Of course it does. Because all you desire in this world is to have some writer time. 

I've been there, friends. It hurts, knowing that you'll be stuck in the office or the house worrying about the drudgery of paperwork, dishes, what have you--the sort of everyday tasks that pull you away from your words. Or maybe you're upset because you know there are too many distractions around you, and that's why you have such trouble putting pen to paper. For me, it's a combination of those things. 

If you're able, take a week off from work, get yourself a hotel room, and host your own private residency. I'm not in this position, unfortunately, but there are days--especially in the summer--when I feel freer to ignore things I consider menial or outside the scope of what I truly want to do: write.

This is how I make it work for myself. Oh, and the wonderful extended weekend I was able to spend at the Weymouth Center in North Carolina in June. More on that later, though, in a non-rejection-themed post!

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: And Then I Lost My Job

Picture it: 29 April, overcast skies, nearing the end of the academic year. My boss asks me for a meeting. He's never very forthcoming with information, so I don't know what the meeting is about, but I text a friend and say, "I have a feeling I'm going to come out frustrated at best, jobless at worst." My friend thinks I am joking when I say this, but I encounter the same situation every year.

Since the beginning of my time working at this job, my contract has never been guaranteed for renewal. Each April, I have to alert my parents to the possibility that they might need to come to North Carolina and help me move out. They're used to it by now, and they have been super-supportive throughout every contract scare. This time, though, it's no false alarm.

My boss and the head of our business office sit me down and inform me, as gently as possible, that they will not be rehiring me for the coming school year. While I'm not shocked, I can't hold back the tears, and now I'm crying in front of two senior administrators. If ever there was a "fuck my life" moment, this is it. 

You may have noticed something by this point in the post: it's not a traditional "Adventures in Rejection" entry. But stick with me, because it is about rejection, after a fashion.

Within twelve hours of receiving the news, I started packing. Before a week had passed, I signed up for new health insurance (sidebar: healthcare.gov is surprisingly easy to use, and I'm very grateful for the healthcare marketplace). Within ten days, I had filled out a change of address form, set a moving date, and informed relevant colleagues and business contacts of my departure. Sure, my apartment was a mess while I sorted and organized everything. Of course I had moments of despair. But overall, the experience has been educational.

See, rejection--no matter the kind--teaches you a few things, both about the world and about yourself. Would I have chosen to lose my job? Absolutely not. But I would never choose to have an anxiety disorder, either, yet having one has opened my eyes in unexpected ways in spite of the fact that part of my brain has rejected me. And I hate getting dumped, but every break up has helped me grow because I examine the rejection for clues to my personality and what I can do to improve myself.

I don't recommend getting laid off (as if anyone ever has a choice in the matter). It's a horrible experience. But in the event that you do find yourself jobless, believe me: it's better to take it one step at a time and look for the silver lining, difficult though that may be to do. Rejection isn't permanent.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Sticking with It

Remember back in November when I told you about that poem I submitted 22 times and had rejected 15 times? It was pretty intense. But I've broken my own record: a poem of mine called "Naître" went out 29 times and was rejected outright 19 times. In fact, the first time I sent it anywhere, it went in tandem with "Thursday." Then the day came when I had a beautiful e-mail in my inbox from Hillary-Ann Crosby, editor of a zine called Vagina.

Fun fact: I've never been so proud of myself in my life as I was when I realized I could now put the word vagina in my résumé. That's probably (definitely) the twelve-year-old boy in me rearing his head. Better fact: after awhile, I stopped keeping a mental note of all the places "Naître" had gone. Like "Thursday" before it, I believed in this poem strongly enough to try again and again. But After the lesson I learned from "Thursday"--that you have to persevere--I relaxed about the process. 

I still send out submissions like crazy, at least three sets of work per week. And, of course, I have my trusty Excel file so I don't forget about any of my babies out there in the world. These things are important, because I know I can't give up. While the rejections still sting and sometimes make me very cranky, my experience with "Thursday" and "Naître" has proven that silly old maxim true: "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Finding the Right Fit

I've been on a submitting marathon recently. Without consulting my submissions log, I can't tell you exactly how many poems have gone out or to how many venues, but I can say that the number is significant enough that I shocked myself.

On the one hand, it's easier to submit than ever before, given online tools like e-mail, Submittable, and Duotrope. On the other, it can be more emotionally grueling, since you have to choose from an ever-expanding number of literary journals and have more faith that someone, somewhere will enjoy your work enough to put it in print. As I mentioned before, the worst thing about all of this is that you can receive an onslaught of rejections, which can be soul-crushing.

For many years, I was opposed to the idea of online literary journals, because I felt they were too ephemeral, too fake. But over the last year or so, I've come to see how many passionate people there are in this world who are just waiting for the chance to support writers, emerging or otherwise. So it takes some of the sting out of reading, "We are unable to accept your work at this time," because I'm more aware of the fact that some journals are a good fit for me while others are not.

This is one of the things I have to keep in mind when I receive the battle scar of another rejection. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to keep going, and that would mean that all of my hard work up to this point would be for naught. And we can't have that, can we?

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Sixteenth Time's the Charm

October 20th was an interesting day. I woke up, went to brunch and ate my typical Sunday meal of biscuits and gravy with green grapes on the side, played on the Internet for awhile, took a nap, ate a burrito, made some lesson plans, watched an episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy, and called my dad. Then I checked my e-mail.

And there, in glorious black and white, was an acceptance letter for a poem of mine called "Thursday."

A little context: I wrote "Thursday" sometime in early 2012. The first time I submitted it was April 22, 2012. Since that time, I have sent it out on 22 separate occasions, both to contests and literary magazines. It was rejected 15 times before someone said yes (the remaining six instances were too fresh to have garnered a response by the time the poem was accepted).

I don't spend a lot of time spouting maxims like "patience is a virtue" or "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again." This is because I am 1) the least patient person I know, with the possible exception of my niece, and 2) easily discouraged. And the fact is, I am willing to give up on some poems when they have been passed over numerous times, because I re-read them and realize that they still need work, aren't quite finished, or are not worth the effort. However, in this case, I refused to back down, because I knew in my gut that this was a good poem. 

NB: I almost never say that about my work. For the most part, I think I'm a terrible writer. From time to time, though, my tiny little brain does magical things and I have to run with it. This was one of those times. 

There's a lesson in here, I guess. It's probably "never give up; never surrender," or maybe it's "Cate is always right." (Hint: I am not always right.) Or it's that awesome things happen when you write poems about this dude? Yeah, that's the one.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Cate As Editor

I have to admit something to you.

When sending out rejection letters, I'm a bit heartless. This might make me a hypocrite, seeing as how I regularly complain about receiving rejection letters. But hear me out, because this is important, at least as far as I'm concerned: as an editor, I MUST close myself off to the acute memories of having been rejected in order to reject the work of others.

It's a survival instinct. If I accept every piece, regardless of literary merit, I won't be able to publish the magazine. Even if I only accept works from people whose words have appeared in our pages before (again, without considering the printworthiness of their offerings), the end product will exceed our capabilities. As a result, I have to be merciless.

Some people who have been on the wrong end of my red pen will tell you that I have no soul anyway, and that I take endless pleasure in making pages bleed. But my selection work as the editor of a literary magazine differs in an important way from my revision/correction editorial work: as a reviser, I'm helping to shape an individual piece, whereas I have to create a collection when selecting from a huge pile of submissions.

Not every writer is in my position, having to live a double life. But some of us are, and as a group, we tend to feel the same way non-editors do when we get those form letters in the mail. That's how I can say with certainty that we don't hate you. I promise.

-Cate-

PS This has nothing to do with the topic at hand, but here's a link to an interview with a guy I know, and I think you should all know about him, too, because he's the cat's pajamas.

Adventures in Rejection: Seeing the End Result

From time to time, writers are required to pay a fee to submit their work to certain places. This usually occurs when one enters a competition. In return, the administrators will send the entrant something, such as the issue of a literary magazine featuring the winners of a contest, or a copy of the chapbook selected for publication. This is all fine and well; small presses get a bit of support and writers get to enjoy some new works by their contemporaries.

The problem comes in when you've not placed in the contest. You still end up with a book, but it doesn't have your name in it. This can be a depressing experience. How, then, to deal with the disappointment?

Sometimes when a lit mag comes in after I've failed to gain entree to their pages, I sneer at the cover and then check the table of contents to see if anyone I hate managed to sneak their way in. This is because I'm an incredibly poor loser as well as a spoiled brat and get cranky when I don't have things my way.

More often than not, though, I sigh and add the mag to the growing pile of things I need to read. Losing is part of life, and we all have to accept that fact. If we're lucky, losing will not bury us under a pile of depression but fire us up and push us to make ourselves better.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Multiple Rejections

When I stick to my plans (which I have trouble doing), I send out three submissions at a time, and recently, I've tried to do this at least twice a month. Of course, it's the best way to do things, right? Getting your work into the world is half the battle? 

The problem with this is that I've gotten more rejection letters than I can handle.

Once a week or so, I find a self-addressed, stamped envelope in my box or an e-mail waiting for me. The news is rarely good. As an editor myself, I know it's not personal (Okay, sometimes it IS personal, but that's another post altogether.) That doesn't make it any easier. Even though I've been doing this since my undergraduate days, rejection still stings. I want my poems to be published. I don't like being told no, damn it.

Knowing other writers face this same hurdle provides a small bit of comfort, because it's another badge we can share with each other, another scar we can discuss in our works. Unfortunately, we cannot know how many times we will each encounter rejection. I suppose it's the possibility that we might someday hear that wonderful word yes that keeps us going.

-Cate-

Adventures in Rejection: Poem Length

Like any other writer out there, I spend a great deal of my time sending out submissions to chapbook contests and literary magazines. Most rejection letters come back without comment, but I received one a few weeks back that had a handwritten note on the bottom: "Poetic observations: consider lengthening your poems and/or doing multi-section poems."

I understand that short poems do not adhere to everyone's aesthetic desires. However, I also know myself as a poet, and short poems are kind of my thing. I'm not saying this to be stubborn. Long poems do not come naturally to me, and I cannot force myself to write them. In fact, the longer my poems are, the weaker they become. This is a fact of my writing life that I've had to accept and embrace over the years.

My friend Ed called this rejection "a load of buffalo bagels," and I'm inclined to agree. Any good editor is sensitive to the fact that poets and story writers come in all varieties, and what should matter is the quality of the content, not the length of the piece. (Full disclosure: I feel safe saying that because I work as an editor myself.) 

I've written this post more for my own edification than to make any kind of definitive statement on the issue, but I hope it will help those of you out there facing suggestions that seem outrageous.