Pride and Publishing

I recently read an exchange of emails between a publisher and a hopeful author. Essentially, the author submitted a manuscript, and the publisher responded with a personal (not automated) "thanks for your submission, but as our website says, we're closed to submissions at this time."

At which point the author completely lost it. He responded in an obscene tirade and threatened to report them to Preditors and Editors if they didn't apologize.

Wow.

Anyway, this got me thinking.

Rejection is part of the whole "getting published" thing, right? Most of us writers have reconciled ourselves with that fact. We quickly learn how to take rejection if we're truly serious about our craft. We learn that what we may think is the next Great American Novel may be a horrid piece of drivel to an editor. We learn that doors shut in our faces. A lot of doors. We learn that we don't demand that publishers pick up our manuscripts --we beg and grovel and cajole in as professional a manner as possible.

Those of us who understand this learn humility. Prima donnas don't make it into the publishing world. We only make it if we realize the publishing system is anything but author-centric.

This guy who flipped out at rejection? My bet is he isn't gonna get anywhere. Even if his manuscript does see acceptance someplace, I doubt he'd be able to handle the editorial requests. And any criticism of his book (which he's bound to face)? Ha! I wouldn't want to be anywhere near him.

Writers who make it can be rightfully proud of where they've gotten. But without a huge sense of humility, they couldn't have done it at all.

True writers know exactly what humility is.

Frozen Assets

If every single book, short story, or article I ever wrote was published, I'd be a happy man.

Anyone who's ever tackled writing (successfully or unsuccessfully) knows what I mean. They likely have file folders and boxes filled with manuscripts that saw anywhere from quarter- to full-completion, then went into indefinite retirement under the bed. If all those works were published, Stephen King would be scrambling to keep up his reputation as a prolific author.

But reality is different.

. . . Dang it.

I was once a firm believer in the philosophy that, once you finish the first draft of a manuscript, you should put it away somewhere and let it "freeze" for a week -- at least. That way, when you return to edit, it's not as engrained in your brain. You're less apt to consider each word your baby, more apt to cut, slash, eliminate, and redo.

For me, the concept works great in theory.

In execution, it's more like this: The manuscripts I put away to "freeze" usually experience an Ice Age of Hoth-esque proportions.

And then, once (if) I break out the old manuscripts again with a mind toward completing them, the plots are so ancient I feel like I'm trying to rollerblade on a gravel road. I have to spend time refamiliarizing myself with the story and its concepts... and these days time is too precious a commodity.

No more "freezing" for this guy. Pick a project, stick with it, finish it.