How are you at handling rejection? Not great? Yeah, same here.
Sucky as it is, rejection is a wallop to the tum tum that we all have to deal with every so often. And it's not even unique to the human experience. If you're of an age as I am, you may remember tuning into Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom just in time to see the elderly chimp blackballed by the young douchebags of the clan and banished to a thirsty prune grove on a remote savannah. Thank God Jim Fowler was there to wrestle the old guy to the ground, stuff him in a helicopter and take him to LA to live out his life in Fowler's backyard, with occasional day trips to Burbank for Tonight Show appearances.
I think most of us learn rejection early. It could be the second-grade recess friend triangle that exposes us to our first experience of getthefuckoutofhereism, or that time in third grade when friends 1 through 5 get invited to Jeffrey Johnson's birthday party, while we weigh in at number 6.
In junior high, I can remember rejection as being more commonplace than smelly jeans. Dances were the worst, especially for the girls. It was the '70s and Victorian rules still applied, meaning boys asked girls to dance. It was the rare seventh grade girl who asked a boy and an even rarer one who danced with another girl. Because of this, it wasn't uncommon for a girl to show up dressed in something really nice that she'd planned and prepared for weeks, only to stand around the whole time and go home danceless. Awful, and even though it wouldn't exactly have been Prince Charming to the rescue, I regret not having the gumption to take more action than I did.
Rejection can feel so personal. How do you know it really isn't about you? I suppose one way is to reject rejection itself, like a certain citrus-skinned assface who wears red ties that hang down to his Huggy-draped taint.* In his case it's more rejection denial than election denial.
*Please see Blogger user agreement which requires one sick Trump fry per post.
I've been a graphic designer for 33 years, a job where rejection is a necessary component of the creative culling process. Is it possible that I may have been a little sensey-poo in those early days, maybe even referring to myself as a fake designer on occasion? 'Tis. But over the years, I've become hardened. A rough shell has formed around my ego, a fragile membrane covering the molten ball of resentment that will surely bubble to the surface when I uncup that mouse for the last time.
But there's another category of rejection that I really wanted to talk about. It's the kind where you start with the old tabula rasa and go from there. Throughout the past ten years I've been writing and revising two middle grade novels—stories with an intended reader of ten to fourteen years old, but really meant for anyone.
The first one is Ben's Fall. Set in the late summer, early autumn of 1975, Ben’s Fall is the tale of twelve-year-old Ben Lacey. Already anxious about his impending entry into the “big time” of junior high school, Ben’s stress is further compounded by his alcoholic father who constantly demeans his son’s lack of initiative and manliness. While Ben’s mother futilely attempts to protect him from his dad’s emotional abuse, Ben’s only true refuges is at the home of his closest confidant, Joel, and Joel’s single father, Bruce.When school begins and Ben is thrust into a sea of older kids, girls and more worldly influences, his feelings of inadequacy only worsen. In the midst of his desperation to fit in, “cool kid” Lonnie Comstock befriends Ben and rescues him from an embarrassing incident in the boys’ restroom. Feeling both indebted to and accepted by Jake, Ben agrees to engage in an illegal after-school activity that he hopes may ultimately prove his worth to his father. It could also result in his dream bike: a Schwinn Fastback Five-Speed Stingray.
Each of Ben’s ill-fated decisions further stretch the distance between him and Joel, yet he’s now become blinded by Jake’s charisma and manipulation. When tragedy strikes, Ben is faced with some painful decisions to win back Joel. But is it too late?
The other middle grade novel is Against the Edge. Set in contemporary Seattle, it's the story of eleven-year-old fifth grader, Theo Cloverdale. Theo is reluctantly thrust into a relationship with Nathan, a classmate with special needs. The two boys are paired as partners for a class field trip to Seattle’s Olympic Sculpture Park, located along the downtown waterfront. Theo's mother Katie attends as a chaperone.
When the class becomes distracted by Lucy, an unruly classmate, Nathan wanders off and is eventually corralled by Theo at the top of the hill. With the boys separated from the other students, a massive natural disaster strikes Elliott Bay. Most of the class is swept into the mayhem, including Katie, and all is witnessed by Theo.
Despite his profound trauma, Theo acts heroically and his bravery wins him instant, if unwelcome, celebrity. With his mother and many classmates still missing, and faced with this newfound notoriety, Theo’s turmoil reaches a boiling point when an individual enters his life, poised to become his greatest ally—or worst enemy.
Those paragraphs are excerpts from query letters I wrote to perspective agents. Just for a little background info, literary agents have nearly exclusive access to publishers. Agents receive hundreds of queries per week from people like me and must wade through mountains of sample chapters and synopses in search of the next Hunger Games or Holes. Chances are microscopic that a rookie author can run the entire gauntlet, from blind querying to signing with an agent to penning a book deal to cracking open a pristine copy of a hardback copy. It's almost impossible, really.
Unless you're my sister, Ann. In 2009, on the strength of her debut novel, Also Known As Harper, she did just that, snagging an agent, who then marketed the story into a bidding war (or "auction," as it's called in that scenario) between two publishers. The result was a two-book deal with Henry Holt and Company. Around that time, she began encouraging me to consider writing a middle grade novel. Maybe I will, I thought, reverting to my four-year-old self. If she can do it, I can do it. How hard can it be?
Really, really hard, that's how hard. Ben's Fall received 61 rejections, while Against the Edge has now accumulated a whopping 328. Three agents requested full manuscripts of Ben's Fall and six asked for the whole enchilada of Against the Edge. Things have gotten close, just not over the top. Here are some of the kind yet heartbreaking breakup letters from agents who had requested the whole novel:
"Thank you for sending me AGAINST THE EDGE. Your writing is really gorgeous, and I love the pacific northwest backdrop. Unfortunately, while I loved your writing voice, I’m not confident I have the vision necessary to make this particular project stand out in the MG space. And so, I’ll have to pass.""Hi Tim, I want you to know that I consider each project I receive very carefully, and while there is so much to love in your story, I found myself just not connecting to it as I would have wanted. BUT! Even though your project is not exactly what I’m looking for at the moment, I would definitely encourage you to keep trying… agents are subjective and we’re each looking for different things. I know your work is important to you and I'm absolutely grateful that you wrote to me."
