Helpful Rejection

I spoke to a friend recently who had written a book and had managed, without the help of a literary agent, to get that book into the hands of an editor at a New York publishing house. She, the editor, liked the idea, but felt they needed to get his proposal into better shape before she presented it to her peers. These men and women, the marketing pros and other editors and the publisher, could be brutal, she explained. If this book was going to see the shelves of Barnes & Noble, they’d have to sow that proposal up as tight as a drum.

They worked on it together for several months. They honed the pitch, found comparable titles, tweaked the outline, fleshed out his platform, and brainstormed his marketing plan. Meanwhile, he went back to work on the manuscript itself, rewriting most of the chapters based on this editor’s suggestions. He found the experience challenging and exciting. Writing, until then, had always been a solitary experience. To his surprise, he found he enjoyed this collaboration.

And then, just as they completed the last touches on the proposal, the editor informed him she was no longer interested in working on this project. She’d read his recent pages and didn’t like the voice. She was done. Oh, the despair, the confusion. Like most writers, he’d known more than his share of rejection. Now, here he was again, with no agent and this orphaned manuscript and no idea what to do next – right back where he was before this collaboration started.

Except he had another friend, who had a friend who was an editor at a smaller, independent – but quite successful – publishing house. This particular editor had an interest in my friend’s subject, and so, without much expectation, he handed her his proposal, which had been honed and polished and honed and polished. In very little time he had a contract, and then, soon enough, a book on the shelves of Barnes & Noble.

When my friend told me this story, he was still irritated at the first editor, still felt a little betrayed. Hearing him describe her, it was like they had been lovers, and she’d jilted him just as they were preparing to move in together. I understood how hard it was to see that she had helped him, tainted as this help seemed by rejection, yet help it was just the same. This is surely true of all rejection, which is always nothing more than one person setting another person free to find the proper home for what they love most.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com