So This Is What It’s Like to be John Steinbeck:  The Art of Accepting the Rejection Letter

by Kelly Ann Butterbaugh

       When will I tire of opening rejection letters?  My best guess is never.  I file each one as if it were a clip of my work, only I seem to have more letters than clips.  Yet, the more I receive, the less they bother me.  It’s not acceptance of rejection; it’s part of being a writer.

            Since I learned to craft a simple paragraph I have been writing.  The need to formulate plots and give birth to unprecedented descriptions is a requisite part of my being; however, the quest to have someone publish such words looks to me like the sword looked to young Arthur.  Having studied literature, I thought I understood the problems and pitfalls of being an author.  Not only am I naïve, but I’m a writing virgin.  Only recently have I begun to learn what it means to be a writer.

Which Came First:  The Clip or the Query?

            Neatly organized in three ring binders several essay and stories awaited publication.  Thinking that every editor would obviously fall in love with my words, I looked at magazines at the local library, wrote down the editors’ names, and noted the magazine’s general address.  By Monday my manuscripts were in the mail, writing gold. 

            To anyone who had published a piece, the question that is bound to be asked is, “Didn’t you write query letters?”  My answer is no.  I entered the freelance writing game through the wrong door.

            Once I learned that editors preferred to be queried, I entered into the real world of freelance writing:  pitching my stories.  Query letters are conundrums to the new writer.  Professionally researched, interesting articles wither away like the dreams of Hughes’s poetry if their queries do not reach up and grab their readers by the eyeballs, demanding to be read.  No, the biggest challenge of being a writer isn’t the plot, material, research, or grammar; it’s the editor or more realistically the editor’s secretary.

            As anyone who learns about the basic setup of the query letter would know, the last paragraph is dedicated to a writer’s experience.  If that’s true, than what does the virginal writer say?  It doesn’t take a paragraph to say, “I have never had anything published, ever.”  Some publications claim that experience isn’t necessary while others invite only experienced writers, sending the newcomers away with their tails between their legs like mutts without pedigrees.  Therefore, to the new writer the question arises, “What comes first, the clip or the query?”

Creating Some Fluff

            For anyone who had enough tenacity to overcome this first obstacle without burying the writing dream, small steps mean the most.  In my efforts at mastering the query, I created some fluff to fill the space which demanded boasting, and I sent my first batch of professional queries.  Happily, they generated responses, most being form letters and a few personal rejections. 

            Having worked to hone my craft at not only writing but also querying, I came to accept the rejections as part of the title I wished to gain.  Only Hemingway could write with a guarantee that it would be published, and even he fell despondent in the end.

            My writing climax arrived with a flashing envelope in my inbox.  A local newspaper editor felt that the article I sent him would fit perfectly in an upcoming edition of his paper.  Without giving away my elation I accepted his terms and in three weeks I had a published article.

            The elation lasted for a week or so after print, but soon I began to wonder if I hadn’t peaked too soon.  This made the trek down the mountain to the valley of query and rejection seem all the farther.  In hindsight I realize that the piece hadn’t been of my highest quality, I hadn’t researched the content of the paper well, and I hadn’t truly earned my space in his paper.  What I had done was cash in on my luck.

            At least I had a clip to list on my next query letter, and my article had avoided manuscript oblivion.

Gaining Ground

            My name still hasn’t been printed in Ploughshares or Woman’s Day, but I have gained some ground with my writing.  First and foremost, I believe that my ability and style has improved greatly and I now allow only the best to flow from my printer.  I know what it means to be a writer now.  Writers do not sit in leisure penning their manuscripts, but they scrutinize every minutia of their work until it meets high expectations.  Then, they do the inevitable; they send their fledgling back into the wild.  Sometimes the other birds accept it, and sometimes they do not.

            Rejection is acceptable.  To list the famous writers who have been rejected would be redundant; by heralding the title of writer they acknowledge it.  It the form letter that I receive tomorrow means that I am following in the steps of the great John Steinbeck, then it is a compliment.  Writing requires work, and work is difficult and often lacks immediate reward.  In the end I did what my heart begged me to do; I wrote.