I’ve had some 60 rejections of the one fiction piece I’ve submitted to agents, even agents with whom I have some collegial relationship. The most memorable rejection is the first, not because it was the first, but because it was a xerox of a xerox of a xerox of a xerox, copied so many times that it progressively accumulated the imprint of all the dust from the copy machine glass – rather like the first sprinkling of autumn snow. (Should I say this was around 2005 before everyone kept form letters in their computer?)
Below the agency letterhead, there was one brief concept to the effect of: Thank you for your submission. It is not appropriate for our list at this time.
And it was signed (on the original, not on the copy of the copy of the copy of the copy) with a squiggle indicating the initial of the agent’s first name. Which looked awfully like a Greek lower case delta d. – which, in editor’s markings, is the symbol for DELETE. (Her initial was S, but my inference was that she was adamant about never hearing from me again.)
I have had many other rejections with a similar message, but each at least personal enough to be an original, not a copy. If there was a second sentence it was “we don’t know how to market it.” And that was useful feedback. I know my story – an elf moving toward his death – does not fit any formula that has made it to Top Ten.
The challenge for me is to find my audience. I point to that because I often speak and write about knowing who your real audience is – the people who will pay for your writing – and addressing them directly in your content and in an appropriate voice.
That said, this piece woke me every morning for six weeks with a dictation of several paragraphs – paragraphs that had invoked such a clear image and voice that I could continue writing for four or six hours. I wasn’t about try to squeeze this into a tube for a market audience (though of course I edited and edited to give it coherence and credibility – while preserving its own magical logic).
Here’s the most encouraging rejection letter (somewhat abbreviated) – the kind that makes you willing to drag your crushed fingers back to the keyboard:
We really enjoyed your writing, but none of the agents here feel like your book is a good fit for their list. Your imagination is vivid, and you are a fantastic storyteller, but we all felt like the pages we looked at read more like a children’s story. This makes it hard to see how the allegorical, mystical exploration of death can work, as we don’t think this story will resonate with a commercial, adult audience because of the style in which it is told and the fantastical creatures who make up its cast of characters. We very much enjoyed reading it though, and it’s clear you are a talented writer.
(Incidentally, two of the chapters – the two most creature laden, in fact – won honorable mention from Writers Digest annual short story contest.)
Following are some encouraging, kind, or supportive rejection letters my clients have received:
I felt there was a milieu and a character and a voice, but not a satisfying story.
I had a hard time really connecting to the main character—sadly, I think it’s often a hazard faced by the (boundlessly brave, in my opinion!) writers of autobiographical novels, that in translating their own experiences into a fictional protagonist’s it becomes very difficult to craft the boundaries of that character, to provide him or her with a single, strong identity that helps cement their impression for the reader. It’s immensely tough to do. (Another publisher paid nearly six digit advance for this book a month later.)
Although there is much to recommend – rich history, great writing, strong characters – I’m afraid that I didn’t quite fall in love with it as I would need to in order to take it on. For that reason, I have decided to step aside. I am taking on very, very few new projects right now, and I’m sure I’ll be kicking myself down the road because I have no doubt that you will find a good home for it.
Here’s a client’s response to a rejection letter which acknowledged beautiful writing, memorable characters, and asked to see the next book:
Seems the gist of the problem for the agent is that this is a story that has been told before. In some ways, that’s the whole point. It’s no surprise the black kid is going to be executed. Perhaps in future queries, I should note that it is a familiar story – precisely because America seems to keep replaying this scenario with few lessons learned. The difference in my book is the details of the experience of all those at the heart of the story – the perspective of the killer, the victim, the scapegoat, and the people who love them? It’s not a murder mystery. It’s an exposition of in-the-skin living through a collision of worlds.
My response to my client was: put that reactive passion into your query letter, so agents don’t miss your intention.
Download PDF: What Editors Can Learn From Rejection Letters