FROM REJECTION TO REJUVINATION

I’m not going to lie, when my last book was rejected—again, I kind of lost my fire. No one wants to publish my novels? Why, oh why, then, am I writing them? It takes tons of time to write a novel. It takes thinking of the idea—writing the rough draft of your idea—being as honest as you can with yourself while critiquing your rough draft.

It takes getting up the nerve to let someone else read your novel that, by this time, you think is pure literary genius. Then, when you get their critique back, you discover that your manuscript is NOT literary genius. So, you get out your computer and make more and more changes.

By then, you’ve gone with your inspiration, you’ve taken advice, you’ve checked and re-checked your grammar, you’ve read several books on how to write books and tried your best to make sure that your novel has structure, a definite beginning, a middle, and a super-exciting climactic ending—and that each chapter starts and ends in an interesting way. Then, thinking that this time you really do have it, by Jove, you hunt down another critiquer or two.

I’ve been in this editing cycle for seven years now (on this particular novel), so you can see why the air in my author-balloon kinda fizzled out.

After a month or so of pouting, I just cannot let it go. I AM AN AUTHOR. I AM AN AUTHOR. I AM AN AUTHOR. This is how I know—even though I have not found a traditional publisher, I still want to write. I still need to finish my stories. What if I died tomorrow and all I left behind was five unfinished stories? The thought sickens me.

And so I write.

One of my cyber-buddies, Christine Bryant has inadvertently helped me in this process as she is going through her own journey. She has decided to go “Indie”. I’d never heard the term before, but I like it. I will try one more time (with this particular novel) to find a traditional publisher, after that, I’m going Indie—or independent. Yeah, baby!!!

MY BABY!

We often refer to our writing as “our babies.” When the story is new and fresh—we’re in love with the idea, and so excited for its arrival. We nurture our story just like a newborn—coming back to it often—fussing over it. Changing the little dear when it stinks. And telling everyone, “Hey, I’m writing this book!”

My Historical Romance novel, Farewell, My Denmark, was recently rejected by the publisher I’d submitted it to. This baby of mine has been with me so long, it’s grown into an adult (so to speak). I still love it. I still think she’s beautiful. We’ve come a long way together. This is my first (literary) child, and I could never throw her in the drawer of unfulfilled dreams. As my talent has grown, I’ve pulled this baby out and rewritten it. So needless to say, this is at least the fifth complete rewrite. My baby’s not the same anymore, and I dare say she’s turned into a beautiful story. Special thanks go to the dozens of critiquers I’ve had over the years who have helped with the process by giving me suggestions while still maintaining my belief in my beautiful baby, and also by helping me to grow as a writer.

Looking back on her infancy, I can see that my literary baby was originally rough, and perhaps not a beautiful baby, but she’s grown now and as beautiful as ever (in my eyes). This is why the rejection hurt. Stung like a slap in the face. I’ve been pouting over it for a good week now and I finally feel better.

I haven’t sworn off of writing, and I haven’t sworn not to try again. This story deserves to be told, but in the meantime I’ve been illustrating a children’s picture book that I wrote ten years ago and have wanted to illustrate myself but have been too afraid to try. I figured now was the time, and I must say that so far things are going well. I’m a third of the way finished (I started with the easiest pictures first), and encouraged to go all the way.

Jake

Now, the full reason for this baby-analogy—Well, I’ve got two new grandbabies this summer, and I just have to show them off. They’re adorable, and straight from heaven!

Maelie

Three generations born on the same day. 

NO MATTER HOW PRETTY IT’S WRAPPED—REJECTION STINKS

Last week, I took my two youngest kids to Peralta Trail at the base of the Superstition Mountain. I figured that no native Arizonian should live their life without hiking it.

Then I looked on the website—it’s a 4.5 mile hike—uphill. Gulp!

(Who knew the back of the Superstition was so interesting???)
Writing a novel and getting it published is like this. You have a goal—it seems like a good goal—and then halfway into it, you’re worn to a frazzle and don’t know if you’ll live through the experience. Can I make it to the top?

(There is no end in sight.)
Yes. I was rejected today. They said my manuscript was beautifully written and encouraged me to get it published—by someone else. My road to publication is like walking uphill in the desert over a bunch of rocks and along the edge of a cliff—one setback after another.

(Looking back when we're only an hour into the hike. Do you see the parking lot? Exactly!)
We’d walked a mile and I was already tired, and hot, and my legs were wobbly, and I wondered if anything could be worth all this effort. Had I packed enough water? Would I collapse and need air-evacuated out?

(This is interesting. My daughter had enough energy to climb it.)

(This is me--I had to take another break. Notice I'm wearing red so I'll be spotted easily just in case the air-evac helicopter is called.)

Then, two twenty-somethings sprinted past us. “Show-off!” Yes, I smiled and moved out of their way, but I was jealous and wishing that I could have ever-in-my-life ran up a hill. [This is also like my publishing career. Some authors have sprinted right past me and gotten their novels published easily.]
In truth, this was my first ever 10-mile hike uphill (I swear the 4.5 statistics are wrong on this one), so I’m pleased that I made it at all.

(The end is somewhere past there. We've already had 50 people pass us--including people older than me by ten years.)

Three-quarters of the way up, I was seriously re-evaluating things. This wasn’t fun—why was I doing it? “You can do it. You’re almost there,” a stranger said. “You’ll be glad you did. It’s beautiful at the top.”

(Still looking back, and wondering which is worse--going forward or going back.)

Okay then. This little boost of encouragement by someone I’d never met, gave me the incentive to go all the way to the top. [My writing friends are like this. They keep encouraging me. I keep improving my skills and one day I'll be at the top (published).]
It was a beautiful view. What made it even more glorious is that I hadn’t given up. I had endured to the end (well, other than still needing to hike back down).

(I've never seen Weaver's Needle from this side--or this close up.)

(These are pretty interesting rocks. I'm really glad I came.)
But yesterday someone asked about the hieroglyphics. What hieroglyphics? I hadn’t seen any.

(My kids have the energy to climb them. I don't.)

(We met my grandson and his Scout Troop at the top.)
My grandson asked if we’d seen the cave. What cave? I hadn’t seen a cave.

Sometimes I’m so focused on my goal that I forget to enjoy the scenery along the way--but the stuff I did see was pretty amazing.

Am I a Writer?

I worried some after this last rejection—maybe I shouldn’t write. Maybe writing isn’t a talent that Heavenly Father wants me to develop. Maybe I’m kidding myself, and no one will ever want to read the dribble that I write. What’s the point?

Considering my state of mind, the ANWA (American Night Writer’s Association) retreat couldn’t have come at a better time. I had paid my fee and reserved a bed back when I’d thought of myself as a writer. And, since the rejection came long after retreat refunds were being offered, I decided to go.

So, after coming home from vacation and then spending the following weeks preparing to move, and after having spent the two days prior to the retreat actually moving to a new town and a new house—and setting up that house quickly so that it could be functional to its occupants while I was away—I left for Clay Springs.

I felt like a fraud.

The drive there was a pleasant one though, thanks to the company of author Joyce DiPastena. We arrived at the cabin two hours later; I found my assigned room and promptly fell asleep on the assigned bed. When I woke up, I felt much better and ready to face my writing again. I could fake my way through the retreat. No one needed to know that I wasn't a real writer.

However, during the retreat I fell in love with my characters again and marveled at their courage. I discovered, once more, the joy of helping them tell their story and helping them figure out their lives. Will anyone ever read my books in print? I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve got to at least try.

How could I not be an author when I enjoy writing novels so much?

After being re-inspired by the retreat classes on making time to write; giving better details and description; convincing my “inner writing team” that I can be successful; starting each chapter with a hook and ending with a cliff hanger; and the importance of conflict in our stories—I have emerged.

Hello. My name is Tina Scott, and I am an unpublished author.

Although I thought my manuscript was near perfect, I decided to take a closer look. I had long ago passed the point where I could stomach reading the manuscript as a whole. It sounded like this when I read: "blah, blah, blah." I’d skim over large sections hoping this would be the last time I’d ever have to read it. Maybe first time readers had the same reaction.

Then I remembered one critiquer saying, “I fell in love with your story after Catherine boarded the ship.” I needed to coax the first part of the story into being something more. Something interesting. Readers need to care about my MC and her journey long before chapter 10.

It’s with that in mind that I’ve taken (another) fresh and more focused look at my story. Does each chapter have a cliff hanger—does each chapter start in an interesting way—can I engage my MC in dialogue where there’s only narration—and can I make the narrative scenes more lively and interesting?

I’ve already sent out my revised chapters 1-3 to another prospective publisher (YIKES!). I hope they’re good enough to warrant a look at the rest of the novel because I’ve been chiseling away at its rough, grey exterior and have found that my story is coming to life in ways I’d never considered before.

I will survive. (I hope)