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ACW

Thursday, 3 May 2018

Why writing is like washing-up - by Fran Hill


When our three children were young, we pinned a washing-up rota on the kitchen wall. ‘Oh no,’ they’d say when their turn came round, especially if Dad was the one drying the dishes they’d washed.

My husband has High Standards, having been raised by a fastidious matriarch who bore six sons and, understandably, imposed military precision on all domestic duties just to survive. 

My children knew that, if Dad wasn’t happy with their washing-up, he would present the unsatisfactory plate or bowl back for a re-wash and say one word with emphasis on the first syllable: ‘REject’.

‘He called me a REject again, Mum,’ they’d wail.

‘He doesn’t mean you. He means the bowl,’ I’d say.

‘He does mean me. He does. Mum, can you dry up instead?’

Before anyone takes this to mean that my standards were those of a slattern and that I would accept globs of egg or clumps of blackberry crumble on a washed-up bowl, please remember that it is an unfair comparison, putting me alongside my husband and his idealistic expectations.

Those words. ‘REject! REject!’ It’s like a playground taunt, isn’t it?

So, why am I talking about washing-up? What relevance does rejection have to writers?

Now … let me THINK. There must be SOMETHING. I’m sure there’s …

Oh, yes. Rejection letters: a concept with which I am currently far too familiar as I tout about a couple of projects.

I’ve never received a rejection from an agent or publisher quite so terse as my husband’s rejection of his children’s domestic efforts. One comes close: an email without a ‘Dear Fran’ or a sign-off, but merely ‘No thanks.’  What upset me, too, was the lack of a comma after ‘No’, especially as he was a magazine editor. Publication, I may not deserve, I thought. Punctuation, I am worthy of.

This one also hurt. A publisher’s recent rejection of my novel said, ‘Thanks for sending your opening chapters. I’ll pass on seeing the whole manuscript.’ Did he mean to sound rude? There’s something about ‘I’ll pass’ which translates as ‘I’d rather eat woodlice whole.’

The problem is, even the ones who are pleasant I still hear as ‘REject! REject!’ One agent recently said my writing was warm and funny and charming to read but that the novel didn’t have a strong enough hook. ‘You want a hook?’ I thought, in my initial disappointment, and harbouring evil thoughts about butchers and pirates. ‘I’ll send you a hook, by golly I will.’

But she’d been generous, as agents go, to give any feedback at all and I know that’s something to be grateful for … once the murderous thoughts recede.

Why do I take it so personally? Is it because every time I send out my writing, as Helen Murray said in this recent post, I send a piece of my heart?

I found this psychologist’s view interesting. He says we experience rejection pain in the same way we do physical pain. It’s worth a read and could explain much. 

I’m making progress, though, and dealing with rejection better after hearing a writer say, 'When you get rejected, remember, they’re rejecting the piece, not you as a person.’

So, we’re back to what I told my children all those years ago: advice I have clearly not taken myself.

Nonetheless, last week, I sent an article idea to a magazine editor who had already rejected two ideas the previous month. Before, I would have waited at least a year, hoping they’d have forgotten my previous submission and wouldn’t think me audacious to try again, having already been a REject.

I haven’t heard back yet. I won’t lie – I’ve got the Kleenex to hand.

 
Whaddya mean, REject? What's wrong with it? 

10 comments:

  1. Fran comma you are so funny and clever - how do you make such a subject so completely readable and enjoyable?! You take the sting out, or perhaps more accurately distract from the sting with skill and humour. I read one publisher's website and didn't even bother to approach them - their attitude to authors seemed to be utterly dismissive and contemptuous. We are not powerless, we should be choosy too! Thank you, I hope the right doors open for you.

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    1. Eve, you made me laugh (Fran comma!) And thank you for your lovely comments. 'Oh rejection! Where is thy sting!'

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  2. A good and highly relevant post, Fran. Sometimes, when I'm feeling generous, I put myself into the shoes of a literary agent and try to imagine how they must feel being swamped with manuscripts. I think to myself, "How would I feel? How would I deal with it?" And the only answer is... I'd end up being tough. Being rejected by agents is something that we all have to experience, but some of us experience more, much more, than others. Publishers' standards are different these days. Everyone's paranoid about being able to sell books. And I know how difficult that is. When will all this change? Surely it will, one day. All things must pass (if that's any comfort to you). And I speak as one who is waiting to hear from 4 literary agents and one publisher myself. Every day I look in my inbox dreading to see an agent's name and steel myself against rejection...

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    1. Thanks, Sheila. I think you take a very wise approach, standing in the shoes of the literary agent/publisher. Still, I will carry on badgering them, nevertheless!!

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  3. A brilliant post, Fran, we've all been there. Such rudeness indeed! I wrote one article for Cotswold Life magazine and that's all. Now there response seems to be - later, later. Sounds like the Spanish 'Manyana' to me (probably spelt wrong. Don't really do Spanish!)

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    1. Thanks so much. Yes, I've just heard back from the magazine I mentioned above and they've said they're happy to keep the article on file as they like the idea, but that they don't have room for it currently. I guess that's better than 'REJECT!!'

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  4. This is so true and reminds me of rejection letters I've had which have cut me to the quick. Eve is right. You make the subject of rejection letters humorous which enables us to put them in perspective. This takes the sting out of them. Will read this again next time I get one (which will probably be sooner rather than later). Fab post Mrs H.

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    1. Thank you, Mrs J! I will probably be re-reading my own post pretty soon, too, to try and keep it all in perspective. It's easy to talk the talk and not walk the walk, I think is the saying.

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  5. I love your writing and sense of humour. Made me laugh out loud several times! Thank you. An enjoyable read after a long day ๐Ÿ™‚

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    1. Thanks, Georgie. Nothing pleases me more than giving people a laugh when they need one :)

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