The Pollyanna Game

*NOTE: I am in the process of moving blog to Wordpress.  I plan to have phased this site out by the end of May, so if you want to continue subscribing to Rachel Writes A Book, mosey on over here and subscribe.  Thanks!* 

Have you ever seen the movie "Pollyanna?" If you're my age (late 20's, I'm afraid) or older, my guess is that you have.  But if you're much younger than me, I'm guessing that you probably haven't.  If you happened to miss out on this movie, the basic gist of it is that this little orphan girl, Pollyanna, goes to live with her mean aunt in a town chock-full of unabashed grumps, and by virtue of her sunny disposition, manages to turn all of their various and sundry frowns upside-down.



It is a very cheerful, feel-good kind of movie.  It's a Disney movie.

The Pollyanna Game, then, following the cheery vibe of the movie, is a game of looking on the bright side of things.  I learned it from my friend Brooke in about the 8th grade, and I remember it from time to time when I'm feeling bummed or cranky.  It goes, "Let us not be sad that *insert crappy thing here;* let us be glad that *insert upside here.*"  Basically, it's an exercise in optimism.

For instance: Let us not be sad that we still haven't found a real job; let us be glad that we have found any job at all.

Or: Let us not be sad that our phone broke; let us be glad that we don't have to get those annoying promotional texts anymore.

In that vein, here's a story:  A couple of weeks ago, a co-worker asked me how the writing was going, and whether I'd heard anything hood from any agents.  I launched into my usual rant about how I felt like I had wasted all the years I spent working on my novel, and how I was finding it hard to get motivated to work on my next project.

Everything sucks! Everybody's a jerk!

 

My lovely co-worker stopped me and he said, "You wrote a book."

"But nobody cares."

"I care.  You care.  Lots of people care.  It's a big thing you did.  You should be proud of yourself."

It kind of stopped me in my tracks, because dammit, he was right.  I wrote a freaking book.  A good one.  And there was a time when that made me feel good about myself, made me feel proud and accomplished and worthy of respect.  And somewhere along the rocky road to publishing, I lost that feeling of pride and accomplishment.  I somehow stopped believing in my abilities, stopped being confident that this is the life for me.

I could do some work, but staring into space seems so much more meaningful.

 

Because it's hard.  It's really, really hard.  Being told no all the time, being constantly broke, feeling like I'm a failure.

But I'm not a failure.  I did exactly what I set out to do when I got out of school.  I wrote a book that meant something to me, that was engaging and well-written, that I can stand behind with pride.  I did everything that I can do to make it great, and I can't stake my feelings of self-worth on what other people think about it.  I have never been the kind of person that needs someone else's approval to feel good about herself, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna start now.



In summary:  Let us not be sad that agents don't want our book; let us be glad that we are so badass that we wrote a mother-fracking book!

*NOTE: I am in the process of moving blog to Wordpress.  I plan to have phased this site out by the end of May, so if you want to continue subscribing to Rachel Writes A Book, mosey on over here and subscribe.  Thanks!* 

The Journey Continues

After a momentary lull, I have jumped back on the horse that is my (supposed) writing career.  I spent yesterday querying and sending short stories to various lit mags, and I am happy to report that it is already paying off.  Hurray for small steps forward!

The First Cut Is the Deepest

This is my rejection letter.

Well, folks, I heard back from that agent who requested pages from me. I would love for this to be one of those first-time-around, kismetic success stories, but alas, it is exactly the story you would expect to hear. That is, said agent said thanks, but no thanks.

What is interesting about this story, and the reason that I decided to post about it here, is that my reaction to this particular rejection surprised me.

I am no stranger to rejection slips. I have a whole bag full of them in my bedroom, and an e-mail folder full of cyber-rejections, too. I have had every short story I have ever submitted to anyone rejected at least once, and only two of them have ever been accepted anywhere. I keep my rejection slips as badges of honor, battle scars, rungs on the ladder to my eventual literary success. Normally, when I receive a rejection note, I shrug my shoulders and toss it on the pile. No biggie.

But this one was a little bit different. It was no surprise, really. Mentally, I knew that I was probably going to get it. But when I opened the e-mail and read the note, I found myself surprised anyway. How could she have rejected my lovely book? How could she possibly have read it and not wanted to read more? If I had read the first three chapters, I would want to read more. Because for all my bellyaching about having to read my own novel over and over, I really do love it. It's like an unruly child. I see its flaws and they annoy the hell out of me, but at the end of the day, I know it's destined for great things. Or at least, I hope it is.

I know that it is damn near impossible to get a manuscript agented these days, and yet, I found myself standing in shock that this one agent didn't want to represent me. And then I realized why: This is my first rejection slip.

Okay, so I've gotten about a thousand rejection slips. But this is the first one I've ever gotten for a novel. A short story takes weeks, maybe months of work for me. My novel took years. It took so much more work than I've ever put into one piece of work before, and this was the first time anyone had ever read part of it, anyone besides friends and family, and she didn't like it. Or not enough to want to represent it, and to me, that was what counted. That hurt a little bit. I didn't cry or feel like I would never be successful or write her a hateful letter (which, almost unbelievably, people actually do to agents). I didn't take it personally, but it did sting. Because this book is personal. It is very personal.

From a different angle, of course, it is all part of the process. It almost had to happen for me to move on. And while I know that there will probably be tons more where that first rejection note came from, I also know that none of them will have the same bite that that first one did. It's like Sheryl Crow said, "The first cut is the deepest."

So now, I say, "Bring on the second cut."

The Ever-Loving Query Letter, Revised

After I posted my original query letter, I had a feeling of embarrassment about it.  I kind of didn't want people to read it, and I thought that was weird, since it's supposed to get people excited about reading my writing.  I brushed it off at the time as another example of me judging myself too harshly and kept it up (it's still here, by the way, if you want to look at an example of a truly atrocious query letter).  But, being me, I couldn't just leave it at that.  I kept reading about query letters, and eventually, I found the Query Shark.  Suddenly, it became clear why I was so embarrassed about my query letter.  It just didn't do its job.  So I scrapped the old one and wrote this new one, of which I am much more proud.

All the terrible drafts.

Dear Agent, 

Thirteen-year-old Virginia has never seen a dead body before.  That is, not until she and her best friend Amelia are the only witnesses to the death of their friend Jeremiah.  Terrified of being blamed for the accident, Amelia convinces Virgina that they should hide Jeremiah's body and return to their lives as though nothing happened.

Lies don't come easy to Virginia, but she learns.  She longs to talk to someone about Jeremiah, but Amelia keeps a close watch on her, threatening to pin Jeremiah's death on Virginia if she tells anyone what she knows.  And there's a persistent voice in the back of Virginia's head, insisting that if she ignores the truth about Jeremiah long enough, her life will go back to normal. 

When Jonah, the dead boy's older brother, calls Virginia to talk about Jeremiah's disappearance, she can't resist.  She needs someone to talk to and Amelia's gone off the deep end.  Virginia doesn't tell Jonah her secret, but through their friendship, she does see the damage her lies inflict.  Jonah's family is collapsing under the strain of Jeremiah's disappearance.  He loses sleep worrying about what happened to the little brother he was supposed to protect. Virginia can't help wondering if the truth would help her new friend or drive him further into depression.

Virginia's lies grow more desperate as suspicions surrounding the girls stack up.  She worries that the end may be near, but she doesn't know how to prepare for it.  Will she find the courage to tell the truth?  Or will Jeremiah's death remain a secret forever?

Wasteland, 91K words, is my first novel. 

Thank you for your time and consideration. 

Sincerely,

Rachel Wright 

Address 

Phone Number

Email         

For sample pages, visit: rachelwritesabook.blogspot.com

Progress At Last!

I read recently that summertime is not the best time for querying agents, as the publishing industry tends to operate on a school-type schedule (i.e., off June through August).  This is because many of the smaller presses are run through universities, which more or less shut down for the summer months.  I should have guessed this from my years of short story-writing.  I would finish a new story only to find that none of the lit mags I wanted to send it to were accepting submissions during summer break, as their staff of students had all gone home.

Also recently, I discovered the amazing Query Shark, who critiques query letters with much gnashing of teeth (as her name suggests).  The discovery inspired me to take a shotgun to my old query letter and begin anew.  If you are wondering how to write a query, by the way, ignore all other sites and go directly to the Query Shark.  She is amazing.

So imagine my surprise when, having decided that both my query and my timing sucked, I received an email from one of the agents I queried (with my old letter), asking for sample pages.  Yay!  A foot (maybe more of a toe...or a toenail) in the door!

It looks like a mountain, but really it's the pebble in front of the molehill.

I am well aware that this doesn't necessarily mean that said agent will want to read more of my novel (although I am of the opinion that she will, seeing as how I have written possibly the greatest work of literature since The Sun Also Rises).  I am even better aware of the fact that she won't necessarily want to represent me.  And even if she does, she won't necessarily be able to sell it, and it won't necessarily garner me a three-book deal with Random House and a permanent spot on the Times' Bestseller List and so on and so forth, etc.

But it did make me feel like I've got a shot at all of the above, however miniscule.  And because of that, I thought I'd share my joy with you lovely strangers.

Despair

I feel like I will never stop editing this damn book.  Every time I think I'm finished, I see another typo.  Or find another plot hole.  Or read another sentence whose parts are wrinkled.

I think I've read this novel about twelve times in the last three years, which puts it at the top of my list of most-often read books (right after "The Handmaid's Tale," which I prefer, because unfortunately I didn't write that one).

I go cross-eyed when I look at a page of this damn book, and that's before I start reading.  Is it possible to do a good editing job when you know everything that's coming?  I don't know.

All I know is, I really, really, really hope somebody pays me for all this.

As my old pal Dorothy Parker once said, "I hate writing; I love having written."

The Ever-Loving Query Letter

Since I have spent so much time working on the damned thing, I feel like it's only appropriate to post my query letter here.  I spent as much time and thought on it as I did on many of my short stories, and I figure that any other fiction writers that might stumble upon this blog may find it useful.  Hell, one of you might even be an agent who can give me some pointers.
At the very least, I feel better knowing that it might get read by somebody who can't reject it.

So many drafts, so little success.

Dear Agent,

I have recently completed, edited, re-edited, and re-re-edited Wasteland, my first novel (97,000 words).  It has taken years of toil and procrastination, but I am finally ready to share it with the world, i.e., you.  I think you will appreciate it because (this part is personalized, where I tell the agent what it was that made me think they would be interested in selling my novel).

Wasteland opens with three children playing in a landfill.  Virginia and Amelia are best friends and their friend Jeremiah has promised to show them something he’s found in the landfill.  But when Jeremiah is accidentally killed, Amelia convinces Virginia that they should hide his body and return to their lives as though nothing happened.  The events in the Wasteland are not so easily forgotten, however, and both girls are haunted by what they know, and the lies they have told.  While everyone else they know is searching for the missing Jeremiah, Virginia is falling in love with his older brother.  Will she ever be able to tell him the truth about what happened to Jeremiah?  Will Amelia's conniving get the better of them both?  How will either of them ever find redemption for what they’ve done?

I was raised in Atlanta, Georgia and have a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing, which I earned from the University College Dublin in Dublin, Ireland.  While in Ireland, I had two short stories published.  The first, “A Curl in the Lip,” was printed in The Stinging Fly’s Winter 2008-09 issue and the second, “Baby Bird” was in an anthology entitled “Anthology, Baby,” which was released by the University College Dublin Press in 2008.  Another story of mine, “Last Year’s Man,” was a semi-finalist in the 2009 Katherine Ann Porter Contest for Fiction.  I also write a fiction blog called Rachel Writes A Book, in which I chronicle my adventures in writing and give my many unpublished short stories some air.

I would be happy to send you the full or partial manuscript of Wasteland as requested.  I am querying other agents at this time, but will give you exclusivity of the manuscript for 6 weeks, should you choose to read it.  Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Rachel Wright