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like the weather...
Jul. 6th, 2005 01:41 pmSo the editor finally got around to reading my book.
And she didn't like it.
I do have to say, in the world of rejection letters, she sent me an extremely nice one. She had some complimentary things to say about my writing as a whole, she liked the voice, liked the characterizations, said the dialogue was powerful, and encouraged me to send her more of my work in the future -- all of which is so many miles better than the standard boilerplate rejection she could have sent that I obviously owe her a nice thank-you note. Of course, she also wrote a lengthy paragraph in which she essentially said that the book was really boring. She made a lot of suggestions about how to improve it -- which, again, I recognize I should see as a positive sign, as it indicates that she actually read the whole thing and put some thought into her response. However, if I were to take her suggestions and rewrite accordingly, it would totally destroy everything I was trying to do with the novel. Really all I can do with her comments, at this point (it's possible that, with some time and distance, I'll be able to make something more constructive out of them), is to say "Okay, it didn't work for her, and she's totally entitled to not like it, and hey, it was nice of her to read it." And otherwise, I've got nothing. I used my one real in with the publishing biz to get it to her, and she didn't like it. (She helpfully suggested, at the end of her letter, that I should look into getting an agent. Yeah, THANKS.)
I'll probably be really depressed about this soon enough, but right now I'm not feeling much. Which may be just as well. I'd been planning to write today, as I've had a few days away from working on book #2 and wanted to get back to it. I may still try, but -- knowing myself as I do -- I suspect that's not actually a good idea. Because even a tiny bit of frustration on book # 2 is just the sort of thing that could tip me over into despair today, and I kind of don't need that. So probably it's a good day for reading or cleaning the house or doing other things that don't require too much thought or effort. (Like blogging -- which might also bring cheer-up messages from supportive friendly people -- except it's pouring rain at the moment and our satellite isn't working. So I'm composing this offline, and will post it when I can.)
Bleah. Starting to feel it a little bit now. Might as well get it over with, I suppose. It's now seeming like a very good thing that I'm going to see many friends over the next few days. My instinct is always to curl up at home and just go to ground until I feel better, but experience tells me that what I really need is to be pulled out of myself and have some fun with other people. It gets me into a better frame of mind much faster than licking my wounds does. (Though a day of wound-licking would also be soothing.)
And she didn't like it.
I do have to say, in the world of rejection letters, she sent me an extremely nice one. She had some complimentary things to say about my writing as a whole, she liked the voice, liked the characterizations, said the dialogue was powerful, and encouraged me to send her more of my work in the future -- all of which is so many miles better than the standard boilerplate rejection she could have sent that I obviously owe her a nice thank-you note. Of course, she also wrote a lengthy paragraph in which she essentially said that the book was really boring. She made a lot of suggestions about how to improve it -- which, again, I recognize I should see as a positive sign, as it indicates that she actually read the whole thing and put some thought into her response. However, if I were to take her suggestions and rewrite accordingly, it would totally destroy everything I was trying to do with the novel. Really all I can do with her comments, at this point (it's possible that, with some time and distance, I'll be able to make something more constructive out of them), is to say "Okay, it didn't work for her, and she's totally entitled to not like it, and hey, it was nice of her to read it." And otherwise, I've got nothing. I used my one real in with the publishing biz to get it to her, and she didn't like it. (She helpfully suggested, at the end of her letter, that I should look into getting an agent. Yeah, THANKS.)
I'll probably be really depressed about this soon enough, but right now I'm not feeling much. Which may be just as well. I'd been planning to write today, as I've had a few days away from working on book #2 and wanted to get back to it. I may still try, but -- knowing myself as I do -- I suspect that's not actually a good idea. Because even a tiny bit of frustration on book # 2 is just the sort of thing that could tip me over into despair today, and I kind of don't need that. So probably it's a good day for reading or cleaning the house or doing other things that don't require too much thought or effort. (Like blogging -- which might also bring cheer-up messages from supportive friendly people -- except it's pouring rain at the moment and our satellite isn't working. So I'm composing this offline, and will post it when I can.)
Bleah. Starting to feel it a little bit now. Might as well get it over with, I suppose. It's now seeming like a very good thing that I'm going to see many friends over the next few days. My instinct is always to curl up at home and just go to ground until I feel better, but experience tells me that what I really need is to be pulled out of myself and have some fun with other people. It gets me into a better frame of mind much faster than licking my wounds does. (Though a day of wound-licking would also be soothing.)
