Rejections and Their Corresponding Gifts

The writer/manuscript relationship is a special thing but rejections from agents and editors are going to happen. Like anniversaries, if you can make it through the first one, you'll have a fighting chance. Here are some gift ideas for your upcoming rejections.

1^st: Traditional: paper. Take some paper, preferably a few pieces with Lincoln or Jackson printed on them, and buy some tequila. Fix yourself a strong margarita on the rocks, with salt, because that’s a good analogy for the writing life in general—when you end up on the rocks, take it with a grain of salt. Have another. Take the night off and watch any show on E! because they have to be more pitiful than you right now.

5^th: Traditional: wood. Go out and buy yourself a baseball bat. No, it’s not for anyone who had rejected you, but you will need a hobby to get your mind off that blinking cursor, and playing baseball gets you out into the fresh air. If you’ve been a writer so long that your sports skills have shriveled like a two-week-old party balloon, buy a piñata and find a stick. Stuff the piñata with office supplies. Hang from precarious door frame. Have friend record the event while you swing. The resulting prize money from AFV will keep you afloat since there’s no advance in your immediate future.

10^th: Traditional: tin. Locate the nearest candy store. Buy the largest tin of chocolates possible. Rent “Steel Magnolias” and “Terms of Endearment.” Cry and eat. Don’t get the chocolates soggy.

15^th: Traditional: crystal. Go find a psychic with a crystal ball. Even better if she’s set up inside a tacky carnival. Pay her $20 to ask the spirits if there’s an agent out there for you. Try not to scream when she gets a form letter back from the otherworld stating, “Thank you for your interest, however…”

20^th: Traditional: china. Browse Amazon.com for any Chinese publishing houses that might be looking for a great manuscript. Consider changing main character to a singing panda. Get inspired by this thought, and brainstorm a list of possible panda titles and toy tie-ins for your next book.

30^th: Traditional: pearl. Ask your published friends for pearls of wisdom. Try not to snort like an angry goat when they tell you the secret is patience, persistence and polish. Accept these pearls and rotate them in your hand like chime-filled exercise balls instead of hurling them at your “Hotties of Hogwarts” calendar.

40^th: Traditional: Ruby. Purchase a dozen red velvet cupcakes when your smartphone buzzes with a sad little notification. Realize that writing may be giving you a drinking problem and diabetes. Put cupcakes away. Purchase a pair of ruby slippers. Think how smart they will look on you at your book launch party. Keep them in the box so they stay pristine, at least until your 45^th rejection, when you’re drinking a two-dollar rose’ from them at 3 a.m. and singing “I Will Survive” to an annoyed cat surrounded by empty cupcake wrappers.

50^th: Traditional: gold. Made it to 50? Give yourself a gold star. A real one. Pin it right to your jacket, like generals do. Realize this is the true meaning of a four-star author: someone who has paid her dues in sweat, blood, tears and hangovers. When you get there, you’ll be a battle-scarred veteran unafraid of anything. And you’ll be awesome.