Years ago, when I was seeking an agent for one of my projects, I came across many of them willing to talk to me but ultimately I gained no representation. I subsequently canned the project and got a deal for another one.
At the time, however, I remember discussing this with a couple of close friends who all suggested I went back to the agent(s) and asked why on earth after such a promising start (calling me, no less) they had decided not to represent my work. I was emotionally on the edge at the time dear reader; as all writers know, the whole agent/publishing deal thing is one that feels immensely personal to the writer, while in reality, and if only we let objectivity seep through sometimes, it is nothing other than a business deal.
Those conversations with people urging me to find out why a promising beginning had yielded rejection did not sit well with me. Yes, I was rejected and dejected. Yes, I wanted to know why a proposal that had been deemed fantastic had not yielded what I perceived as the ultimate reward, representation. Yet, what I learnt later was what I say all the time in my workshops now: if your writing is good, you will succeed, provided you have the right project in your hands. In non-fiction, it's marketability that sells far and above your ability to write the book itself (think footballers' autobiographies).
I was less experienced at the time but at the back of my mind I just knew that going back to an agent in order better to understand the rejection would have forever tarred me as a sad amateur who deserved to be canned. Do you know why? For two reasons:
1- Consider any sort of project for which different companies are bidding. I saw the process many times over when I was working as a management consultant: four, five, six companies would put together impressive proposals, the most senior members of the proposed project team would meet with the client's partners and after much wait, a letter, or sometimes just an email, would turn up thanking everyone involved in the bid but thanks, no thanks. The rejected team would gracefully thank the prospective client in turn and that would be it.
Now picture this instead: the rejected senior manager gets the fatal email and decides to reply, or worse, to pick up the phone, requesting feedback. But, really, he isn't seeking feedback, he is secretly hoping to sway the client into changing his mind. After all, he knows he and his team are far better than the shitty competition out there and this conversation will damn well prove it. And so, if he does succeed in getting back to the client (believe you me, he won't manage it easily), he will ask and prod and retrace his steps at that meeting from weeks before and then ask and prod some more until he will suggest a round two for the proposal, insisting that his team is the best for the job and that the client really ought not to choose the competition because everybody knows that they ain't that good and that they overcharge the expense account as well. And so on and so bloody forth.
Do you think that any prospective client would change his mind? No, he would not, but I'll tell you something else: he would also ensure that next time he considers putting his work in the hands of a consultancy firm he will never ever call upon these imbeciles again. And of course he will also tell all of his friends, with consequences you can imagine.
This is the way it works in business dear reader and publishing is a business. It doesn't matter that it doesn't feel that way to us: if we want to be in publishing, then we need to operate as businesses operate, period. There are no ifs, buts, what ifs to it. You get a rejection letter, you cry, you laugh, you curse, you burn it, I don't care, so long as you do not go back to the agent/publisher ever. A rejection means that they don't want to talk about it. End of story.
2- Even if the rejection were misplaced, and we all love instances when this has happened (say Interview with the Vampire, forty-two times over, my favourite), we cannot assume to be at the receiving end of the next Big Literary Injustice. Time will tell but for now we must suck it up and proceed as if it had not happened. Why should we do so? Because there is just no way on earth to get sucked up into such a scenario whilst coming out of it smelling of roses. It's a law of nature, it cannot be done. If you don't believe me (oh, but you so should), take a look at these two screenshots I got from Autonomy, the website where writers comment on other writers' books and those with the greater number of positive backing get read by a bona fide editor at HarperCollins. There is much I could say about what follows but I shan't because, quite frankly, it speaks beautifully for itself.
This is what the editor writes:
This is what the dejected author responds:
You know what they say... silence is golden.
Yeeeeaah, they should have taken the advice and sat on it for a while. Then after a few days, read it again. If you are getting an emotional response from a critique, you are obviously not ready for criticism and you haven't let enough time pass after reading it. The moment you get defensive, is the moment you look like an amateur.
Posted by: Hannah | 17 August 2010 at 01:44
GREAT insights and so, so true ~ it is a business, and that's the deal. Publishers want to sell books, and that's the deal. Great post.
Posted by: Swirly | 18 August 2010 at 21:46
Astounded by the author response, they're burning more bridges than a retreating army.
Posted by: Andrew Laws | 29 August 2010 at 13:16