I Love Rejections

(Above: my favorite clip ever on making the most from rejection.)

Yes, I love rejections. Think I’m being sarcastic? Not at all. While we all want to see that magical ‘Yes,’ rejections are an essential part of writing. I’ve received many rejections in my career as a freelance writer. I’ll be honest: the first few I cried over, the next fifty or so required margaritas and chocolate. After that, I learned to study rejections and even take away some encouragement, especially with personal rejections including a quick note from the editors. Did the editor have a specific idea or suggestions in mind? Ask me to submit again? Receiving something besides a form rejection became a chance to improve my work.

When I began my adventure into the world of book publishing this year, I discovered rejections are almost considered door prizes. Querying an agent has become ridiculously easy thanks to e-mail, and most agents take e-queries. Some only take e-queries. But the huge amount of queries stuffing inboxes (I imagine the inboxes swelling, cartoon-style, until you hear a ‘Pop!’ and words explode out of the computer like confetti) means that many agents will only contact you if they’re interested in your project. I completely understand why this is done, but for the hopeful writer, it can suck. A polite ‘No thanks’ can give a writer some closure and let you move on.

This is why I love rejections even more these days. It’s a notch in the belt, a bit of experience earned. Form rejections are fine; personal rejections with comments or suggestions are wonderful. Some agents are so good at form rejections, you’ll think it’s a personal note written just for you. To learn the difference, I highly recommend signing up with QueryTracker.net, where other seekers often leave examples of form rejections in the comments section so you can compare notes.

As for me, the search continues, but these days my lip doesn’t even quiver when a rejection shows up in my inbox. I know someone took the time to reply to my query, and I’m one more step closer to that ‘Yes.’

Three Random Writing Tips

I'm celebrating my tenth year as a freelance writer, and recently I've been thumbing through old clips, queries and other stuff that stacks up in those file folders over time. This made me think: what have I learned in my years of freelancing that I could pass on to new writers? These completely random tips are simple things that paid for themselves, and I hope they can help you as well.

The SRSASE (Self-Returning, Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope)

This tip was passed on to me when I attended my very first writing conference as a fresh-faced newbie. Although hard copy queries and submissions sent through snail mail are becoming a thing of the past, some markets still insist on the postal method. When you send a SASE, use your own name and address as the return address. If you’ve misjudged the number of stamps required, you’ll still get that response back from an editor, even if it returns with postage due. Under my return address, I’ll add a code (like Re:Grit or Re:SEP for Saturday Evening Post) so I know which publication is answering my query before I open it.

Clip Worksheet

Keep a list of your published clips and update it frequently. Your list should include the title of the clip, the publication it appeared in and publication date. Even better, create an Excel spreadsheet for your clips, add in genre (short story, essay, article, interview, etc.) and publication rating (1 for national, 2 for trade, 3 for regional, 4 for local, etc.) so you can sort your list any way you need. This isn’t just for your own record-keeping; publications and other writing gigs will occasionally request this information, and if you keep it up to date, you won’t waste hours pulling it together at the last minute.

Professional Is As Professional Does

Some publications accept submissions from their readers as well as from freelance writers. With most of these pubs, submitting as a reader pays far less. When you send a query or submission, be professional. Don’t go on about how many years you’ve read the magazine, or how you would love to see your name in print. Research the magazine so you know which editor should receive your query, prepare your letter in standard business format and present yourself as a professional freelancer. Use standard query language (here is a great primer on queries if you don’t know the basics) and mention your previous writing clips if you have them. I can tell you from experience this means the difference between a $50 check and a $400 check. Acting in a professional manner always pays off in freelance writing.

Dis (and dat) organized

Yesterday I was looking at one of those car organizers conveniently shaped like the cupholder; it had little spaces for a cellphone, a few pens, and a notepad, if one was so inclined. It was irresistible, and my hand stretched out for it, paying no attention to my brain. Like a crow and a shiny object, we were drawn together, until my husband came past.

"You want to turn the car into an office, don't you?" he asked. "I swear, your DNA string has paper clips in it."

It's true. I get the same look on my face walking into an office supply store that my cat has when presented with a fresh catnip toy: incredibly pleased, and perhaps a little rabid. Notebooks and pens of all sizes, shapes and colors beckon, designer file folders and leopard-patterned computer mice do a little come-hither dance in their sealed plastic slips. I love it all, and I'm not the only one: an addict can always recognize another addict in Staples or Office Depot. We shuffle along with an armload of stuff, putting something down when we find a new gadget, doing that cash register math in our heads. Now, the stores take unfair advantage of us, coming out with accessories in bright, toddler-friendly colors. Binders have MP3 player plugs now, and backpacks have enough pockets to store a squirrel's stash of highlighters, USB drives, and other must-have trinkets of the trade. The best thing? It's all deductible, bwa-ha-ha-ha.

Yes, I have file folders, binders, hanging folders, Trapper Keepers (for those retro moods) ledger books, plastic see-through document keepers, index cards and boxes, plus two kinds of software that records every contact, query, date of submission, when I received the rejection or assignment, how much time I spent on the project, and what the weather was doing that day.

And the most updated piece of record-keeping in my home office is a small, battered, teal notebook with Scooby-Doo stickers on it.

It's a little hardcover, spiral notebook with 100 pages at best, and I spent a whole dollar on it the year I began freelancing. The notebook is filled with lots of essential stuff, like passwords for websites that no longer exist, the start of a family tree, Christmas gift lists, and detailed pages showing my queries and submissions. Each query page is headed by the year, and every publication or website that I hoped to sell to has notes written across it. There were a lot of 'no responses' and 'rejected' notes that first year, as well as a few mournful 'let go' scribbles for publications that I really wanted to land, but never heard from again. There are a couple of 'Accepted!' notes listed, hard to miss with the party balloons and confetti drawn in the margin. And as the pages go past, there are more assignments than rejections. I still keep recording my submissions in it today, because that silly little notebook feels like an old friend who stuck by me during the lessons learned: the editors who ordered rewrites, didn't pay me, or didn't publish the piece (sometimes all three).

Someday I'll have to replace that notebook, but I've never found another one just like it. With every organizational tool, tip and system at my disposal, it's that dollar investment keeping me on track, and reminding me of how far I've come.