2018 Goal: 50 Rejections

Writing is hard on the ego, so aiming to collect rejections probably sounds masochistic. Every single writer gets them, of course, but even knowing that J.K. Rowling and Stephen King were roundly rejected before finally breaking through doesn’t really dull the sting of being spurned. It’s easy to give one negative response disproportionate weight and just abandon the effort and slink off into hiding — but instead I’m trying to change my focus so the inevitable rejections don’t kill my momentum.

Fifty rejections isn’t a New Year’s resolution so much as the evolution of my “stop being so damned negative” mindset from last year. But I’m finally ready to start sending queries (for Ghost Town, the middle grade mystery) and it happens to be early January, so it feels right to make it a goal. I considered making it 100 (like Kim Liao’s inspirational Why You Should Aim for 100 Rejections a Year) because it’s such a satisfying round number, but I know my own tendency to obsess to hit arbitrary goals — like writing 11,000 words in the last two days to finish NaNoWriMo in November. My time is limited, though, and I don’t want to give up writing to only send submissions this year. I also want to make sure I’m sending good queries to the right people because rejections to half-assed and mismatched submissions would be cheating.

At least it’ll be easy to beat last year’s total of one rejection. Of course, I only made one submission — and not winning a contest probably doesn’t even count as rejection, no matter how much it felt that way. It certainly stung, but maybe the tenth rejection will sting less. And maybe the 50th will be almost satisfying for achieving a goal.

 

Other creative goals for 2018 (fine, call them New Year’s resolutions if you must):
– Finishing the last couple illustrations for Stealing the Show and getting it printed for my kids — because even if I never try to revise it and get it published I’ve put a lot of hours into this book and want my kids to have a physical copy of it.
– Completing last year’s NaNoWriMo novel before I forget where it was going when I stopped cold on December 1.
– Figuring out what to do with my Franklin Castle novel. Maybe I’ll revise heavily and make it pure fiction. Maybe I’ll write the missing scenes and keep it as it is, a fictionalized semi-memoir. Either way, it needs some attention. Even if I never let another soul read it.
– Hyping my creative friends. I know so many brilliant people who make beautiful, strange and interesting things. I am going to make a concerted effort to not only buy their books/comics/art but to do my part to help them reach a wider audience. Watch this space…

My Own Worst Editor

I’ve always had a wordiness problem. When other high-schoolers were lamenting 500-word essays, I was thinking “500 words? That’s just my prologue!” My college thesis was roughly 40 pages longer than necessary (and surely even my advisors didn’t make it to the end because it was a massive heap of pretentious gibberish). I may also enjoy a liberal sprinkling of superfluous adjectives.

Yet somehow, hilariously, I’ve spent the last 22 months working as a copyeditor for a daily news briefing, a task which requires tightening up text from (already alarmingly short) paragraphs. And it’s fine — it’s not like I’m not able to be succinct. In fact, I was slightly surprised to discover I’m pretty good at that element of the job: Take a paragraph, somewhere in the ballpark of 106 words, telling the key facts of a story. Check for grammatical errors and style guide compliance. Fact check. Improve the flow. Prune unnecessary words. Revise to eliminate even more words to get it down to 95. Check it all again. Move on to the next. It’s fun … if you’re a big nerd like me.

The really surprising thing, though, is that this newfound succinctness is leaking into my other writing. (And if you’re thinking “Really?” based on this rambling, I can assure you that yes, two years ago this would have been even ramblier.) One example: The epic rhyming picture book that started at an utterly unpublishable 1,719 words — the one I congratulated myself on trimming down under 1,200 a few years ago? It’s now 757.

The only problem is that now when I return to a project I spend more time pruning than writing. So I’ve decided to use this newfound talent for dismantling my previous work to take another pass at my first novel, the “practice novel.” It’s got some plot problems I’ll also need to deal with along the way, but I’m curious how much I can tighten it up. I’ve just started, but I’ve already chopped the first chapter from 2,013 words to 1,864.

It’s strange to think of writing as a subtractive process.

Fresh Eyes

Over the last few months my writing time has been focused on novels (a work in progress and homework for class), but today I returned to the picture book that’s been *this* close to being finished for an embarrassingly long time. Fresh eyes and a change of pace did the trick. I chopped two more stanzas, bringing it down to a mere 20 (pretty reasonable for a 32-page book), and 849 words! I also managed to add a line where acrobats capture an evil clown with hula hoops. I must have been inspired by taking a circus class with my kids last week.

I may change my mind tomorrow, but at this moment I’m actually thinking I might be ready to start sending some queries. Of course, I’d absolutely love any last-minute test-readers. It only takes a few minutes to read — no novel-length commitment here! — and I’m not looking for line-by-line edits or anything. Any feedback at all is welcome. Any volunteers?

Snip, snip, snip

I did some editing on my too-long children’s book. Killed some darlings, as they say. It’s down to 934 words, which might still be too long, but hopefully won’t make agents or editors trash it just on the basis of word count without even reading it. I don’t think I cut anything too important to the plot — I have to remember that the illustrations will help tell the story.

stealingtheshowsketch2

(Not this illustration, mind you. This is my own VERY rough sketch of Ivan the knife-thrower and his assistant.)

My favorite line that didn’t make the cut:

The audience would never see, from over in the stands / The curtain cord betwixt the wicked trickster’s vicious hands.

(How often do you get to use the word “betwixt”? Not today for me, I guess…)