Submission. It's Not As Much Fun As It Sounds Like.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010 at 6:00AM in
J.D. Rhoades by J.D. Rhoades
We’ve heard a lot from our fellow ‘Rati recently about Thrilling Deadline Heroics: prodigious word counts, grueling all-nighters, and, as Tess described, overcoming the inevitable onset of ITotallySuckitis (or, since Tess is a more sensible person, ThisBookTotallySucksItis).
I laugh at these things. I laugh them to scorn. I, you see, am finished with MY book. And that puts me in an entirely different level of Hell. Because I’m, as I like to say, “between publishers.” My agent has cast my bread upon the roiled waters of the publishing industry, and we're waiting to see what comes back. What that means is that I am in that very special VIP Room of Hades that’s known as
ON SUBMISSION.

As a trial lawyer, one of the most stressful times of your life is when you have a jury out. That’s when I and my colleague in the other chair have presented all our evidence, argued all the finer points of law, made our stirring closing arguments to the twelve folks in the box, and listened, trying not to fidget, while the judge droned on and on, instructing the poor jurors in the law according to the Pattern Jury Instructions, which even James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman couldn’t read in a way that makes them comprehensible to a layperson, much less interesting. Then the jury retires to their little room tp decide your client's fate. And the waiting begins. And along with the waiting, the second guessing. Should I have left that kindly looking little old lady on the panel or bounced her? Should I really have argued a SODDI defense or gone with diminished capacity? Because, really...just LOOK at that guy.
So you wait. And you fret.
Being on submission is like that , for days. Sometimes weeks. You look at the phone, checking to make sure it’s on. You resist the urge to send an e-mail to your agent to remind her of the number, just in case she’s lost it. You dread seeing your agent’s e-mail when you open up your computer, because they call if there's good news, only rejections come by e-mail. And you fret. Should I have shortened that sex scene? Is anybody really going to believe that action sequence? Should I really have killed off that character? He might have been a great sidekick if it ever becomes a series....

Then, of course, unless you’re really lucky, the first rejections come in. Some of the most painful ones are the ones that go, “I really love this...but I have to pass.” They love the characters, but think there’s not enough suspense. The suspense is great, but no one’s buying this sort of thing right now. Love the characters and the suspense, but the market is glutted because everyone already put out a book like this. And so on. Before long, after getting a few of these, all of them saying something different, and some of them contradictory, you start to wonder if anyone in this business knows what the hell they’re talking about.

And you tell yourself, this is the last time. It's just too painful. If this one doesn't fly, it's over. It's time to give up.

Eventually one of two things will happen. I'll either get the good phone call...

Or I won't. And then, I'll get to work on something else.

Because, my friends, I am not a well person.
Wish me luck.
anxiety,
the writing life 












Reader Comments (40)
I feel your pain, from the perspective of the unpublished. I've read enough--here and elsewhere--of the horror stories of what happens after the contract arrives that I have begun to seriously question whether I want to continue to submit. I like writing, and I know there's at least a small set of people who like what I write. It may be satisfying enough to me to go direct to Kindle for $2.99, market on my blog and wherever else will have me, and use the annual proceeds to take The Beloved Spouse to lunch. The more I learn about publishing, the more I question how much I want to alter my life to accommodate it. (Note: I am not delusional enough to think I will become a best-seller like this, or even to get a paper contract out of it. I'm just in the process of redefining my personal success so i can, to rephrase a famous Vietnam era quote, "Declare victory and get out.")
I like you. You are indeed as you said, "...not a well person." By all means, good luck.
:D
Gallows humor.
Good luck, Dusty.
Alafair, if I do get published and we meet up, I'll do the rolling around on the ground thing, just for you.
Thanks for making me smile and putting things in perspective Dusty! Wish you the best of luck :)
Since I have not gone down the submission road I’m not sure editors are as random as juries, but I would hope not. BTW, a love Demotivators, so much better that the saccharin Successories, though I did have a Successories baseball figure that said, “Sometimes you have to play hardball.” I kept it next to my acrylic encased rattlesnake head on my desk.
I hope you will soon be a happy puppy.
I was just in my local bookshop to autograph stock, and the bookseller told me that a Really Famous Author who lives in town also stopped by to sign stock. And this Really Famous Author has called off Christmas at his house because he is in a panic over his deadline. (And I am talking Really Famous, with a top literary award to match.)
I thought at his level of success, with all the world's respect for his work, he would be immune to such insecurities. Nope.
My Christmas wish for you?
A good -- no, a GREAT! -- contract!
But let's not fool ourselves. Even if you get one, you'll still go through this every time. It's part of the dance.
And I know something you're probably forgetting right now: You're a great writer. Can't wait to read this one.
Well, I'm sure you'll get that contract. But hey, as long as you keep going, right?
To hell with wishing you luck, I'm going to say a prayer or two for you. Can't hurt.
The thing that bites most about rejection today is that it often has nothing to do with the writing. More and more rejection letters now start off with, "We really loved the book, BUT..."
Well, once upon a time, there were no "buts." If an editor loved a book, he or she bought it, period.
Don't get discouraged, my man. Anybody who can turn the phrase, "cast my bread upon the roiled waters of publishing" as effortlessly as you just did is bound to get a book contract eventually. And sooner rather than later.
That said, I love the blog. I will be in that same boat in about a month or so. I would almost rather run with the bulls.
Lord, lord, what have I done when I first typed Chapter One.
My oldest daughter's basketball coach told her recently, "Keep your head up and work hard." I think that's the best advice I've heard lately.
Good luck, Dusty.
Looking forward to your Happy Dog Dance.
Even if you are a lawyer and a tarhole. ;D
Good luck, Dusty. I'll keep my fingers crossed that you get the phone call instead of the email.
-- Dusty
"Far out, man. It's like, with so many positive waves, maybe we can't lose. You're on!"
-- Oddball
I too am in that region of Hell.
So far, I've had four rejections. (none of them for the same reason) I'm beginning to believe my writing sucks.
But being the nut or optimist that I am, I've started another book.
Good Luck.
William Goldman, the novelist and screenwriter (Marathon Man, Butch Cassidy, All the President's Men) famously said, "No one knows anything." He was referring to the movie business but his observation applies to the publishing biz, too.
After all, (and this is hardly an original thought), if they knew what sold, then every book would be a bestseller.
What's changed, though, is that if the Butts prevail, the author has the option to self-publish via Kindle, etc.
I have no advice, only sympathy and compassion...Going from 100% control (when you're writing) to 0% control (when your work is being judged) is excruciatingly difficult.
Thank you for your consideration, but unfortunately your rejection does not meet our needs at this time. Please do not view this rejection of your rejection as any reflection on the quality of your editorial acumen.
We apologize for the form letter, as we prefer to respond to each rejection with a personal note, but unfortunately the volume of rejections now makes this impossible.
We wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors.
Sincerely,
(fill in here, too)
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