Someone recently asked what it felt like to have one of
my stories published. I told them it felt great. Of course. What
else would I have said? My answer was short and direct, although as I think
back on that moment, not entirely truthful. The truth is beyond words.
As I struggled to achieve that lofty and allusive goal
of publication, my author friends were a constant source of encouragement.
Saying things like, “don’t worry it will happen,” and, “your writing is good,
it’s just a matter of time.” But as the years passed I began to wonder. Do I
really have what it takes to break through the barrier? The unpublished
writer’s corner? I wondered…
In spite of the ever present specter of doubt, I worked
hard on rewriting and re-editing my first novel, crafting new short stories and
rewriting and re-editing those, again and again. I had trusted friends and
relatives read my work and offer their opinions and advice. I continued to
enter contests and submit my work to publishers and agents. And I continued to
add to my collection of rejection e-mails.
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| http://amzn.to/2dmwX6c |
If you’ve never received one, I can tell you first hand
that notices of rejection from the publishing world are funny things. They look
suspiciously like dear John letters. Designed to soften the blow, they say
things like, “We thoroughly enjoyed your story,” or “your work shows real
promise.” Well written and pleasant, but rejections just the same. As painful
and heartbreaking as if they’d come from an ex to someone actually named John.
You can drive yourself crazy. I reacted differently each
time I received a rejection. Sometimes I’d feel depressed. Other times I’d be
angry. Upset that they’d failed to recognized the brilliance in my writing. I
thought, what possible story could someone have penned that was better than the
one I’d submitted? Jeesh. But then I’d take a step back. Eventually, reading
the work of the writers they did publish. Wow, I’d think. That story really was
better than mine. I’d love to write a story that good. Then I’d look at the
rejection e-mail again. It wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe they really did like
my story.
So, I climbed back into the saddle of my trusted stead
(my IPad), vowing to continue my quest. To push on toward that Holy Grail of
publication. Being able to hold my head up high as I walked among the published
writers, knowing I belonged. That I was one of them. From that day forward
whenever someone I’d just met asked what I did, and I answered that I was a
writer, I could mean it. When they asked the enviable follow-up question, where
can I find your work? No longer would I have to mumble, “oh, I’m not published
yet,” before slithering away to some dark corner in search of alcohol or a high
ledge. I’d be able to actually tell them! Maybe they’ll want a signed copy of
my work? “Sure,” I’ll say. “Happy to do it. Who should I make this out to?”
The truth is, when I awoke on that memorable Tuesday
morning and checked my email, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The word
congratulations hung there on the screen. Surely this must be spam that made
its way into my inbox. Who else begins an email with congratulations? Certainly
not a publisher. Obviously, In my pre-coffee state I was hallucinating. The
SPAM must have been right next to another rejection email and I’d jumbled the
words together in my mind. I was sure that when I looked back the email would
tell me that I’d won a free four day trip to the Caribbean, or maybe a surprise
gift, all of which would only cost me three easy payments of $79.99.
I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Congratulations. It
really was from a publisher. I jumped out of bed and did a short awkward
version of the Snoopy dance. Thankfully, there were no witnesses. I went and
found my wife in the next room. Wanting to appear nonchalant, I tried to calm
myself. When I told her the news, she let out a squeal of delight. I think I
may have let out a squeal myself. I was over the moon. Giddy with excitement.
Insert any other tired cliché for thrilled that you can think of, here.
Time has passed. I’ve moved on from that short story to
publication of my debut novel, Among the Shadows. Why am I telling you this? Because
I want you to keep the faith. Keep working at it. Continue to hone your craft.
Good writing, publishable writing, is like mastering a musical instrument. It's
hard work. Blisters and failures are inevitable. But if you want it bad enough,
it can happen for you, too.
Now, if you’ll pardon me, this debut novelist has a lawn
to mow.
Bruce Robert
Coffin
is a former detective sergeant with more than twenty-seven years in law
enforcement. At the time of his retirement, from the Portland, Maine police
department, he supervised all homicide and violent crime investigations for
Maine’s largest city. Following the terror attacks of September 11th,
Bruce spent four years working counter-terrorism with the FBI, earning the
Director’s Award, the highest honor a non-agent can receive.
He
lives and writes in Maine.
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4 Comments
Having read this book, I am looking forward to more titles by this author. I loved that he had to go "mow the lawn".
ReplyDeleteAll the lessons learned via rejection and re-writing, and re-writing again are evident in this excellent work. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Peter!
DeleteAll the lessons learned via rejection and re-writing, and re-writing again are evident in this excellent work. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
ReplyDeleteI love to hear from you. So feel free to comment, but keep in mind the basics of blog etiquette — no spam, no profanity, no slander, etc.
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