Years ago, when I was pitching On the Edge to agents, I got a gratifying, but ultimately disappointing reply. "Not my sort of thing, but what a fantastic query!"
And THAT is the story of my writing life.
I write fantastic queries. For those of you who are not writers, a query is a pitch letter written to a literary agent or editor to tempt them into reading your work. I get read more than pretty much any writer I know. Fully half of the agents I pitched On the Edge to read at least some part of it. A 50% request rate is most outrageously awesome for an "unpublished" writer.
So I was pretty disappointed when only two of the sixty letters I sent out for Nobody's Hero (my picture book about a dog who saves the life of a boy during the tsunami in India in 2004) came back with requests. But, I figured, "if you can only get two, then Houghton Mifflin and Arthur A Levine (Scholastic) are about the highest profile publishers one could possibly have interested." In short, not many nibbles but both from big fish from the biggest pond.
But, the industry is a sucky place. Response times vary from 2 to 8 months, so I never follow up until at least 2 months have passed. So, 2 months after submitting the story to Levine, as requested, I sent a follow up email. The response I got came from a different editor. Turns out, the editorial assistant who requested my manuscript had left at the end of the summer (to go back to grad school) without any action on Nobody's Hero. But the editor promised to have it read right away.
The rejection came roughly a week later with a two line criticism--"though this truly is a powerful story, I think it important that the emotional impact not rely too heavily on the real world tragedy." What the HELL does that mean?! I vaugely think that maybe the story was too emotionally intense... too scary. Cheese-n-rice, it's an adventure story about one point of light in a major world tragedy! Okay, I just don't get it. Maybe my terminal lack of touchy-feely-ness is going to be the death of me.
The reader--"Editorial Assistant"--had an unusual name, so I looked her up on the web... a 20-something grad student. I got a GFY from a freaking KID. Oh, NOW, I feel better. The rejection from Houghton Mifflin, with an even WORSE "this didn't fit our line," came two days later.
Another door slams.
I shed a few tears, told a couple of real life friends who were sympathetic, talked it over with my bud Natalie. I'm still bummed pretty bad. It just seems so hopeless. If I can't sell the story that kept the kindergardeners in my daughter's class absolutely spellbound, can I ever sell anything?
I sound depressed. I feel depressed. I have good reason to be depressed. My arthritis has been acting worse and worse. I'm in pain pretty much all the time no matter what I take for it. I don't feel like doing anything. So the housework and the writing are piling up around me making me feel even LESS like doing anything.
Eight years and two million words, give or take a hundred thousand or so. Someone tell my again, why am I doing this to myself?
