On the Other Hand

There is nothing better than getting word from a preteen that she liked Lady Thief so much she's reading it again.

Thank you for cheering me up.

There is Nothing Worse for a Writer than Hearing Your Work Ridiculed

It still hurts.

It's been a while, and it still hurts.

I've been working at a publisher this semester for internship credit, and I've been immensely enjoying it. Let me tell you why. I get to read books, to be part of the publishing process, to help writers through the gradual climb to getting themselves published. I love it! I get to read for a living; who wouldn't want that?

But I slipped today.

See, I submitted something to them a few months back. It was a fantasy book I'd written when I was in high school, and I'll be honest, I really wasn't planning on submitting it to them. But they were at the publishing fair, and I tried them on a whim. They sent me a "revise and resubmit" letter, and I followed their instructions. Even then, they still rejected me.

But I wasn't mad. If anything, I was impressed. It was the best rejection letter I'd ever received. It was carefully worded and let me down easy, but more than that, I was given a detailed list of things I could work on and reasons the book was not ready for publication. I was touched that someone had taken the time to give me so much constructive criticism to work with.

And I've been working on a different project. The writing is much better, and the genre is more appropriate to this publishing house. So I approached the editor who assigns my projects and asked what the protocol was for submitting works when I worked there. She said that it would be fine and that I should go ahead and submit to them.

This was all well and good until I overheard her talking with the acquisitions editor. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, so I don't know the whole story, but what I did hear was:

"It's only been a few months. Am I supposed to believe she's reworked the whole thing?"

I didn't hear the next part.

"She probably wanted to circumvent me and go straight to you since you're all buddy-buddy."

"Well, she seems to think so."

"She probably didn't like what I had to say."

Now, you'll notice, I have been very careful to leave out names of people and organizations. I'm not faulting anyone for talking openly about author relationships in a publishing setting. If anything, that's to be expected. I'm not really mad.

Mostly, I'm just hurt. Hurt because I loved that rejection letter. Hurt because I'm not resubmitting the same book, and I worked hard to take their advice to heart editing this new one. Hurt because I'm not trying to circumvent anything, just trying to figure out the rules of publishing with my employer, since that's new to me. Hurt because I wasn't assuming any special relationship with anyone. I just honestly wanted to know about the protocol and was honestly excited about this house because I've worked there and seen how well the manuscript is treated.

I'll probably still submit. But this was the first time I've ever gone home from this job with anything but a smile  on my face.

Things I Do Because I Write

I may or may not have spent the last half an hour lying on my face in the middle of my bed with my feet sticking out the wrong end and classic rock blasting in my headphones.

This happens to me sometimes. I was in the middle of editing the first book in Elaine's series, cleaning it up and trying to get it ready to send off to publishers and/or agents, just getting all my ducks in a row, when suddenly, I stopped.

I'm serious. I just stopped.

This happens sometimes. And there's really nothing for it but to plaster my face into the pillow and wait until it passes.

Usually, this means I've got ideas coming, and that's what it meant. I've got a really, really good beginning and ending to a book, but that's it. Like three paragraphs. I don't even know what happens in between.

My life is weird sometimes.

Shoutout to my Professors

I've been editing like mad lately. I don't know if it's because I'm sick and the medicine they gave me made me suddenly hyper-aware of everything (which is super helpful for editing, by the way) or if it's because it's Christmas Break, and I figured I needed to do some work while I was on vacation. I don't really know.

But I've been going through and fixing things like dialogue tags, minor punctuation, fixing "showing" versus "telling," all the stuff that my fiction editing professor helped me with over this past semester.

Basically, that decision to switch to an editing minor was a fantastic one.

And who says you don't learn anything in school?

I take a special kind of pleasure in the way people react to my writing. If it's sad, I revel in the upset huffs and the tutting and aggravation. If it's happy, I like to sit back and watch people grin and giggle and spazz. And if it's heartbreaking, there is this special, sadistic pleasure in the single tear you can get from readers even when they try not to cry.

How to Date a Writer

So I gave this some thought because I've seen a lot out there with different viewpoints, and I thought I would give my take on it as a writer.

Mind you, not all of this will apply to every writer.

But some might, so if you're interested, keep reading.

1. The "alone time." You may not know what started it, but she does. She has something that she needs to work out in her head. Maybe it's a new plot line or something interesting to throw into her characters. But in the same vein, maybe it's that she's trying to figure out you and this new plot development in her own life. Whatever it is, she's thinking about it. And then writing about it, usually. If you find her in a corner with a bag of chips and her laptop, don't try to move her. Don't try to talk to her. Maybe just get her more chips. She's probably running low.

2. The myth of being written about. Oh, the ego of the writer's significant other. She is probably not writing about you on purpose. Maybe she notices something you did and thinks it fits very well with something her characters could do. That's how she operates. She takes something in the real world and pours it into hers. That being said, if you do see something of you, just quietly appreciate it. It means she's paying attention. Don't boast that you are that character; that's her baby and it's weird to be dating her baby.

3. Communication in writing. She is very good at writing down her thoughts. She's meticulous, in fact. Every word, every inflection has a purpose. So when she doesn't say immediately how she feels or what she thinks, it is not because she does not have anything to say. She just has not found the words for it. More often than not, her affection is shown by notes or action; she is better at that.

4. Giving you her time. If a writer is putting aside hours out of her day for you, she likes you. Her time with you could be spent writing. Or organizing her thoughts. Or getting new pens. (Pens are important, by the way.) Or learning new recipes while she battles writer's block. Or doing anything else. But she is spending time with you when it is not "alone time," and what she chooses to do outside "alone time" is very telling of what her priorities are.

5. Spontaneity. She can be spontaneous, but you can't. She is driven by her whims, driven by a desire to write when the fancy takes her and run out into the world when the words stop flowing. She might wake up at the three in the morning and write until morning. (You might find her in her dining room still wearing her pajamas later that day with bags under her eyes but with a triumphant smile.) Or she might burst out of her room and start making food, cleaning the house, playing games, or fingerpainting. There is really no telling what a writer will do when she is not writing, since all that energy has to go somewhere. But you? You can't be spontaneous. What if, heaven forbid, you try to surprise her in the middle of a writing frenzy? What if she is sitting in the corner doing nothing because she is plotting the antagonists' demise, and your ice cream run would be a distraction? Give her at least fifteen minutes to put a bookmark in what she was doing so that she can save that story file for later.

6. Reading her work. If she offers to let you read something, it means she trusts you enough to share a piece of herself. Treat it with respect. Tell her it's beautiful, but also tell her why. Tell her what you think; be sincere. She wants to know what you think of this piece of her. If you ask to read something she's written, be prepared for a "no." Maybe she will let you read it, but maybe it is not yet "perfect." This is a piece of her, after all, ad she doesn't want you to see it in its ugly drafting stages. That would be like going out in public in her pajamas! (PS: She might actually go out in public in her pajamas, but this is only an issue during writing frenzies, so be aware.)

7. Mood swings. One minute, she'll be totally in love with you. The next, she acts like you don't exist. This is normal. Be careful giving your heart to a writer; she doesn't know what to do with it. Look what she does to her characters! She stomps on them and treads them under her feet and kicks them over the finish line until they are polished and perfect. And she doesn't want to do that to you, but she also can't control you or your feelings and background. What is a writer to do with this force beyond her control? Sometimes, she has to retreat and regroup with herself and remind herself that this is not a story.

8. Unpredictability. Disregard everything I've just said. Don't expect any of it to be true. That's the thing about dating a writer. Just when you think you've got her figured out, she might end up sitting upside-down in an armchair eating ice cream while she brainstorms when clearly her usual method is to stand in front of the fireplace and stare at the bricks. She's always changing and evolving as her stories and characters change, and there is no telling when a new fancy will strike. Be patient with her. Love her quirks. Point them out to her and tell her they're adorable.

Rejection Letters Research Abstract

And the project is slowly marching on!

An author-editor relationship is key in publishing, and the rejection letter is the beginning of that relationship—it is the only criteria an author has by which to judge a given publishing house or agency. While authors cannot overreact to rejections letters, editors must realize how their letters reflect on them and on their houses. The form of the rejection letter indicates to an author just how invested a publishing house is in a relationship with the author, even if this is not the editor’s intention. Therefore, more detailed forms of rejection letters are preferred to non-responses and form letters. In more detailed rejection letters, the most important part in terms of author relationships is the revision suggestions.