This week I received an email from one of my editorial clients. He’d submitted his work to the unpublished manuscript section of a literary competition. He intended to use the favourable reviews to help him launch his work as an i-view book. (I hadn’t realised that was his intention or I would have given him different advice. I saw the competition as the way of getting a second opinion for free, while drawing a publisher’s attention to his ms.) Anyhoo…he was upset because he thought he’d received a really bad review. He said he didn’t agree with the changes the reviewer said his manuscript needed, and he was dismayed at the suggestion he’d need to do more work. What did I have to say about it?
My first reaction was: Oh no, I’ve done a really crap job for the guy! I’ve failed. (After all, it’s all about me.) I read through the report and discovered the reviewer said lots of positive, encouraging things about his manuscript. She even said she’d recommend it for publication, provided some work was done on it. I made note of her criticisms and worked my way through his manuscript once more. She was mostly right. It wouldn’t require a lot more work to make the suggested changes. I encouraged the client to do the work. I even volunteered to re-edit, once he’d made the changes, for a very piddly amount. After all, this is the life of a writer: write, re-write, edit, re-write, submit, re-write, change, edit, re-write, submit…etc. So far he’d just written, had it edited, tidied up and submitted.
I remember the first time I received a rejection letter. I was totally shattered. Not only was it over a page long, the fellow used the T word (trite). I allowed that negative experience to deter me from submitting any work for years and years. Then I found out that it is very unusual to get such a long, detailed rejection and it meant that the guy saw potential in my work. It was a good thing.
I’ve been watching the X-factor auditions. (Don’t judge me.) I’ve been greatly impressed by several contestants who are back for a second go. Last year some were rejected at the audition and others had made it to “boot camp” before getting the flick. Every one of them had taken on board the judges’ comments and had spent the past year getting lessons, practising and improving. Now that’s passion and dedication. Good on them, I say, and I hope they all do really well.
That’s the sort of attitude any budding artist should have; whether it’s writing, dancing, singing, painting… If the creative urge runs through your veins, and you’re passionate about what you do, then you’ll learn from every “no”. You’ll do your best to improve and then you’ll put yourself out there once again.
It’s how a person handles the knock-backs that sorts out the wanna-bes from the will-bes. Keep on, keeping on!
Hi Wendy, I enjoyed your article but if you don’t mind a little editorial help I think it could be improved with just a little……..
only joshing:) lave ya work.
I’m so happy you “lave” my work, Terry. I think you’re rather special, too. 🙂
Two lessons I’ve learned over the years have helped me keep my head space more comfortable and take those ‘nos’ in stride.
1) There will always be lots and lots of rewriting to be done. It’s just part of the process.
2) There will always be people who will criticise.
Cheers,
Paula
Very, very true, Paula. 🙂
It helps if you write a lot of short articles. Putting all your dreams into one large novel is very risky. If you write short stuff some of it is likely to get published. You also generate a lot of writing which can be mined for gems. I’ve had the experience of reading old stuff and seeing just one sentence which can be used somewhere else.
Writing can be like mining. You have to move and process a lot of ore to get to the good metal.
I wholeheartedly agree, Ken. I told the group at the Library, last Saturday, and the workshop people on Monday, the very same thing.
great post, thanks for taking the time to write it
Thank you.
well said and written! Thanks so much
Cheers!