THE ONE WHERE THE R&R WENT NOWHERE
Cat/genre: YA Contemporary
In 2017, I went on submission for the first time. I was filled with so much excitement. After years of querying and rejections and worrying that I’d never get to this point, I was finally here. EDITORS AT BIG FIVE (at the time) PUBLISHING COMPANIES WERE GOING TO READ MY WORDS. MINE. It felt surreal.
I had enough writer friends and CPs ahead of me in their writing journeys to know that sub can be a long, painfully quiet process, so I did my best to prepare my anxiety-riddled brain for this enterprise. I asked my agent to send bi-weekly updates with any passes so I would know when to expect the bad news and not constantly stare at my inbox; I started planning new projects to work on; I explored new hobbies. Anything to fill up my head.
Our sub strategy was to target the bigger publishers first (since my goal was to be published by a big five), so my book went out to about fifteen editors, and we had a slightly smaller list, including a few mid-sized publishers, sketched out in case we needed to do a second round down the line. Two or three weeks into sub, we got a note from an editor requesting an R&R. NOT EVEN A MONTH ON SUB AND PEOPLE WERE ALREADY READING. I was so excited!
The editor really loved a lot of what was going on in the book but thought there were some elements that needed addressing before she’d be able to get her team behind it. We agreed to tackle the changes, and she said she’d send along more feedback in a few weeks.
While we waited, rejections rolled in. Some of the responses were incredibly…um…candid…in their explanations for why they were passing, and in almost every case, those reasons came down to the concept of the book itself, rather than issues that could be addressed in revisions. I felt as if there was nothing constructive I could take away beyond that maybe my book wasn’t good.
My self-esteem was taking a major hit, but I rallied when my R&R notes came in. They felt manageable and made complete sense to me, and I could see how they would help make the story stronger.
I jumped hard into those revisions, certain that I could make this book everything the editor dreamed of. Even if no one else liked the book, I could make this happen. I WOULD make this happen. There was no other option in my mind, because by that point, we’d received passes from all our other editors.
It took me about a month and a half to revise, and when I was done, I truly felt like I had something special. My agent loved the changes I’d made. My CPs thought they were great.
I was so proud of that revision.
It took almost four months to hear back about the R&R. Over those months, we heard from the editor from time to time. She expressed excitement about the new version and had sent it off for second reads, but then things went silent for a long time. My agent checked in every few weeks, usually to get a response that the editor hoped to have more information soon. Then about three months in, the editor jumped on a call with my agent to ask about my future projects and talk more about where the book was with her team.
The whole thing was such an emotional rollercoaster of hope and dejection.
In the end, the editor passed on the project, and her response, like most of the others we’d received, suggested that the concept of the book just wasn’t working for people. I was heartbroken. I’d been certain I addressed all her feedback and that I’d done it well. I loved the way the book read now. And yet it still wasn’t right. Or wasn’t enough. Or I wasn’t good enough. Or something. Needless to say, there was a lot of Ben & Jerry’s being consumed at this time, as I tried to rally for Round 2.
My agent and I were still happy with the book so we sent it out to about ten new editors, but, over the course of the next year, we only received more passes or silence.
That R&R was the closest thing to a close call I got on sub with that book. There were no acquisition meetings, no calls with editors, and very few second reads. Everyone I knew who’d been on sub had either had close calls or sold their books. It felt like I was the only one who didn’t even get close. That feeling, mixed with all the rejections swirling in my head, made it very easy to give into that voice telling me I wasn’t good enough, and very hard to write. It took me years to push through that.
I hope this post helps other people who may have had similar not-close calls feel less alone. It happens—and probably a lot more than we realize. These aren’t the stories people want to tell, but I think they’re the ones most of us need to hear. <3
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The stories on this blog are posted anonymously so that authors can speak candidly about their experience. If you have a sub story you’d like to share, drop me an email at: katedylanbooks@gmail.com
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