I sent out my poetry manuscript the year after I graduated from my MFA program. I was not ready. Half my poems sucked. My order was in the toilet. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. I got rejected.
But I knew all of that when I started. I wanted to get into the habit of sending out writing. Sending out writing is a good thing. We send it out, we get rejected, we send it out, we get rejected. You can’t take it personally, ever. Maybe the editor had indigestion. Maybe your poem was about love and your reader just got dumped. Maybe your reader is a grad student stopping in to read a few poems between class and her job, and she’s thinking about what she can get to eat that’s cheap and quick before work. (That was me; I think with my stomach.)
It was the year that I swore I’d send out three submissions a month that I started to get published. You may get published sending your work out to one journal at a time, but more likely you will just get gray hair. Sending out is business, it is not editing. It is not writing. You should be applauded for sending out your work. You should be applauded for being rejected. You are a real writer. Keep writing, keep sending it out, don’t let the bastards get you down.
Preach, sister.
I remember hearing someone say a similar thing about being an actor, about going out on auditions and being told, “No thanks. Next!” Before you went on the audition, you didn’t have the job. Now you’re leaving the audition without the job. What’s really changed?
This doesn’t mean I don’t thrash and cry when the rejections come in, but I keep sending the work out anyway. You can’t win if you don’t play.
Love that.
Canada made the news over here twice this week. Unheard of.
So, I will quote a great Canadian (aka The Great One) in agreement:
“You miss 100 per cent of the shots you don’t take.”
Is this some broomball reference that I’m missing?
Yes! Now about that part, “you can’t take it personally ever”. I know you’re used to critiquing but have you managed to truly get around that part? Does anyone? I know many writers say that, but I have trouble believing it to be true. Because if so, if you get a rejection and just shrug it off, please oh masterful Indy, let us in on the method.
Don’t ask Indy. Ask her elder sister! She (I mean “I”) would say: Never take it personally. Reframe, Lyra, reframe! See it not as a measure of yourself, but of the reviewers. I mean this! With the first rejection, square your shoulders, look up, and say to yourself “what a petty publication! I must look for a better one!” Then, set your sights higher. If publication #2 knocks you back as well, and you still believe in your work, repeat process. The third time is the moment for a de-brief with your most trusted advisor; and maybe a moment to focus on a different piece of writing for a while (distance helps).
Anecdote about rejection: I sent out a piece to [biggest journal in my field]. They sent it out for review (that on its own was an accomplishment), and then rejected it brutally, like they do a zillion other submissions a year. But, the reviewer said some positive things, and then pointed out a big flaw in my narrative that I had completely overlooked. So, what did I do? Wrote the editor and grovelled. I had never done that before in my-longer than Indy’s life. I said “ah, come on. Let me resubmit! That was such good advice! I promise I’ll heed it!” And you know what? She said yes, the piece went out for review, and guess what? It got published!
Yes, you CAN shrug, but even better, you can respond. By rejecting the rejection, or by contesting it (the latter, only with circumspection). But both of these approaches foster self-preservation and strong shoulders. You can do it Lyra! Practice makes perfect!
Cougar, while you are mostly right, your numbers are wrong for literary submissions. We do not have a transparent peer-review process like you academics. Journals are run on taste, not on evaluations of potentially important contributions to the scholarly dialogue. You’re hardly even warmed up by the time you get three rejections for one piece. The battle has yet to begin!
L, I do shrug it off. I get a pang, some bitterness, and then usually I forget about it. I do this because I get rejected on a very regular basis. I do this because I think my work is for the most part good or at least worth sending out. I don’t think a lot when I submit, that is, I don’t put a huge weight on it, I just do it. I shrug it off because I don’t have the emotional energy to get bent out of shape about what some [insert various unflattering monikers] thinks about my work. When I was a reader for [journal name redacted], the poems I liked best weren’t published because I was only one reader out of seven or so. I like to save my ire for things like this: http://gawker.com/5976825/house-republicans-meet-at-a-former-slave-plantation-to-practice-talking-to-black-people
tru dat!
My problem is usually sending stuff out too soon.
A fantastic opportunity to send it out again.