Rejection. That dreaded word that sometimes gives people such low self-esteem that they do stupid things. How do you feel when you are rejected? Do you feel depressed? Angry? Now, I'm not talking about all kinds of rejection here. I want to talk specifically about having your writing rejected. What goes through your mind when you receive that form letter or that form e-mail from a publisher saying that your story just wasn't good enough. Maybe they give a half-baked reason for rejecting your story. Maybe they go into detail. Maybe they burn your story to ashes and send it back to you in an urn. Well, you know what I'm going to do here? I'm going to tell you about the good side of having a story rejected. Is there a good side to it? I think there is. Let me explain.
I have piles of rejection letters. I collect them. I remember the first rejection letter I ever received. The reason for the rejection was, "Your writing is not beguiling enough to generate sufficient reader interest." Most of the other rejection letters are form letters, with no reason given for the rejection. One time I received my novel back after six months at the publisher and the rejection letter said that they didn't have time to read the story and good luck in another market. Six months it sat on some editor's desk, no doubt in the slushpile, then probably got a cursory glance and was shoved back into my self-addressed stamped envelope. The L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future Contest tells me to keep writing. And I do. I am determined to have a story accepted in the professional arena sometime during my life.
So, how do I react to these rejections? I feel like a failure. I feel like I will never make it as a writer. For about a minute. Then I start writing again. I can't help it. It is as instinctual in me as is the desire for food, sleep, survival and sex. Sometimes I just have to do it. Write, that is.
Now, let me come at you from the editor's point of view. I by no means consider myself an exceptional editor. I am not a professional publisher. But over the past year I think I have gained some insight on an Editor's point of view. The one thing I hate most about editing Titan is that sometime I have to send out rejection letters. I struggle with every one. How do I, as an editor, gently explain to a writer that their story is not being accepted? How do I make it encouraging enough to not completely discourage the writer from ever submitting again? And how do I do it without outright lying or stretching the truth even a little bit? I try to be completely honest. Your story is too short. (We get lots of these.) Your story doesn't have anything new in it. It's plain old white bread. A little dry, too.
Getting published in Titan is not easy. There are three of us reading and critiquing submissions. Sometimes we obviously agree on certain submissions. Amazingly, we almost always agree on all stories. At least twice an issue, though, we vote differently. We discuss the stories, good points and bad, and then try to come to a mutual decision. And I always always always try to word the rejection e-mails as nicely as I can. We have, over the past year, accepted and rejected stories from the same authors. You would think that we would accept every story by an author if they had appeared in Titan before. Not so. There are a couple of exceptions to that. We have two authors who have never received a rejection from us. Our purpose is certainly not to discourage writers. We want to promote writing and reading, give people hope that their dreams can come true. So now it's time to explain my views about the good side of rejection.
When I was in High School and had completed my first novel, my father wanted to go the self-publication route and pay for me to publish it. I was thrilled when he first mentioned it and dreamed about seeing my work in print. But, as I thought more about it, I wondered how that would affect my career as a writer. If the novel sucked, which it most certainly did, then self-publication would be detrimental to my career. It was an easy choice to turn down the offer.
I'm certain that the rejection letters I receive from publishers might very well be a blessing in disguise. Do I really want my work before the public if it really isn't ready for publication? Certainly not. How will the Science Fiction industry fair if second-rate work is published in big name magazines and fills the shelves at the bookstore? I would venture to guess not very well! So, the professional editors are not only looking for great stories, they are preserving the genre by weeding out the stuff that just doesn't cut it. You've got to be good to make it as a writer. You've got to be damn good. Competition is fierce, but that is right and good. Such competition is the fire that is casting such great novels like the Hyperion series by Dan Simmons. Like all the great novels by Orson Scott Card. Like Robert Jordan's wondrous Wheel of Time saga. Like the annual L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future collections. So there is good in rejection afterall. Don't let it discourage you. It's not worth it. Let it help you. Let it make you a better writer.
It is ever my hope that what we are doing here at Titan does not have a negative effect on the genre. Our whole desire is to promote reading, to get people interested in the genre. Reading, to me at least, is the key to success. Now, your definition of success is probably different than mine, but reading is so fundamental to our progression. Your definition of progression is most likely different than mine, too. And that's why we reject stories. We want to put the best stuff that we can find in Titan so that readers will believe in it, find something of worth in its pages.
Granted, we are not a "professional" publication. That doesn't mean we don't print good stories. I happen to think that everything we publish is spectacular. I wouldn't put anything less in Titan. If we can help keep the dream alive in people like Kate Thornton, Steve Lazarowitz, Brett Weiss, Jack Egan and all the other people we have published and in everyone who might wander through our door, than we have done our job. And that keeps the dream alive in me, as well.
I really love doing this. Can you tell?
Copyright 1998 Chad Cottle