An Ode to Some of My Favorite Rejections and the Agents Who Made Them

I’m in querying mode again. It’s not fun.

When animals fight, the loser will sometimes expose their jugular vein for a quick finish off.

No such mercy in the publishing industry.

It’s more of a slow death. Endless, sometimes.

Not bitter. Just sayin’.

“If you don’t hear from us within sixteen weeks, it’s a pass.”

Sixteen weeks!

And that’s not the worst of it. At least during those four months (!) there’s hope. Through this process I’ve relearned what I learned the first time around—the only thing worse than not knowing is knowing.

To be fair, I’ve received some lovely rejections. Some are so nice they could be cover blurbs. If only I could get the darn thing published.

I get it. Agents are busy. The market is tough. I should follow my own advice and write more queries.

Instead, I’ll write a song. Or a parody, at least.

The words in quotes are from actual rejections I have received.

My Favorite Rejections

(To the tune of My Favorite Things, by Rodgers & Hammerstein)

Plot holes, long chapters, and too much backstory,
Your characters are flat and your killings too gory.
Point-of-view violations all over the place,
How about improving the deadly slow pace!

The book “we admired” but chosen it’s not.
One agent likes the people but dislikes the plot.
The next can’t make character feeling connections.
These are a few of my favorite rejections.

It’s “well-written!”
It’s “enthralling!”
With “engaging pace.”
But I did “not fall in love,” so I’m “going to pass.”
“Best of luck.” Get that frown … off your face.

It’s too action-packed or it’s “too literary.”
Descriptions are lacking or unnecessary.
It’s too long or too short or your characters suck.
Keep plugging away and all “best of luck.”

We agents face so many painful decisions,
But your book will need some extensive revisions.
Send me a “nudge” but don’t be a predator,
Just go out right now and please hire an editor.

In the middle,
There’s a muddle.
I stopped reading mad.
I seem to remember I just didn’t care.
But please, friend, don’t feel … too bad.

Don’t think my response is just being reflexive.
You “write like a pro,” but this job is “subjective.”
Give me six or eight months and please don’t ever call.
You’ll be lucky to get any answer at all.

So, send me a query or make me a pitch, now.
If I say no, please don’t think me a b%$@#, now.
Send it around for assortment of looks.
Just promise me you won’t write any more books.

Stop your typing!
Stop your griping!
There are many careers.
Please try something else and you just might succeed,
Or you’ll hear from me … in a couple of years.

I’m sorry to sit here and bring down the hammer.
Here is a link about spelling and grammar.
I won’t rep your project, but please don’t be pissed.
Your book is just great, but “not right for my list.”

There’s only so much of this dreck I can read.
You could write dozens and “not meet my need.”
Please take some time before writing again.
I hope that I’m old and retired by then.

It’s a “journey!”
It’s a “process!”
There’s no need to feel blue.
Millions of people write books every year,
“We respect authors” … just not you.

I could use an advance to replenish my coffers.
I keep sending emails, but where are the offers?
They say it needs work, but I can’t believe that.
I get only purrs when I read to my cat.

I’ve sent so many queries my eyes want to bleed.
I should start selling houses or smoke me some weed.
With the skills of a writer, I am not equipped.
That’s why I’m dumping this whole manuscript.

Stop your whining!
Start refining
Your unpolished prose!
Or simply remember my favorite rejections.
Will they ever end? Who knows?