Chuck Wendig: Terribleminds

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December 20, 2011 / 43 Comments

25 Ways For Writers To Help Other Writers

“Aww, gee shucks, mister, but you said December was the month of no mercy! Gosh and golly, talkin’ about how writers help other writers doesn’t sound too merciless, now does it?”

Oh, shut up, Beaver. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. This is the month of my boot shattering your penmonkey jaw and then I dance on your body and crush your chest with the weight of my blowhard advice.

But c’mon, son. It’s Christmas week. It’s time to spread a little holly jolly cheer.

Time to soak ourselves in Egg Nog and dance on tables, urinating nutmeggy love into one another’s eyes.

Um. … yeah. Let’s just move onto the list.

Here, then, are ways for writers to help other writers. Please to enjoy.

(And add your own in the comments!)

1. Buy Books

Writers don’t have to work very hard to get free books. It’s almost eerie — sometimes you swivel your office chair and there, on the floor behind you, is a book you never bought, a book not-yet-released, and the book whispers to you. Read me, it hisses. So, it’s important to make sure you spend some coin on books. Books by authors you know. Books by authors you don’t. Support individuals and support the ecosystem. I don’t need to tell you this — I don’t know a single writer who doesn’t buy a small freighter-load of new books every year — but, it’s worth mentioning just the same. Books, like puppies and wayward elves, need homes.

2. Tell Others To Buy The Books

For some fucking goofy-ass reason, people listen to writers. They think we know shit. (Uhh, and we totally do, heh-heh! Um. Yeah. *distracts you with a shiny tree ornament*) The assumption is that writers write books and so, writers are authorities on things like, say, books. So, when you read a good book, share the love. Doesn’t need to be #fridayreads, either — spread the gospel however you can, whenever you can.

3. Give Away Their Books

Someone not convinced that your authorial recommendations are made of gold? BOOM. FACE. Give them a book. Maybe that means giving them a book off your shelf by a writer you know and love. Maybe it means gifting them the book (and these days, gifting e-books is getting hella easy, so why not?). Sometimes it’s not about the book sale but the gentle pivoting of new readers toward favorite writers. Best way to do that is to lead by example: “Here is a book. You will read it. I have a gun.”

4. Offer To Read

We all have scripts and books and poetry and all manner of the written word that exists without reflection — we write it and we’ve no idea how it really is. It helps to have others take a look at it, see if we’re crazy, or geniuses, or crazy geniuses, or whether we’re just, y’know, pudding-brained dipshits. Sometimes it helps to have a fellow writer with all her writerly skills at the fore to come take a look inside the monster and see if and how the beast purrs — or if it’s just coughing up a mucusy hairball. *kack*

5. Sweet, Sweet Blurbage

I’ve recently gone out asking for blurbs, re: BLACKBIRDS, and boy howdy is it a shameless booty-shake — you’re saying, “Here, please carve time out of your life to read my novel of dubious distinction and then provide me with not just your thoughts but your thoughts distilled down into market-savvy nuggets of book-selling goodness.” Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t necessarily bad for the blurber — hell, I’ve had the chance to blurb three novels recently (Forbeck’s CARPATHIA, Blackmoore’s CITY OF THE LOST, Christopher’s EMPIRE STATE) that reminded me why I love books in the first place. So, as a writer, be nice and offer blurbs where possible. I mean, don’t blurb a novel you don’t like (or, worse, haven’t read), but if you’re into it — blurb it. And man, “blurb” is a strange word. I AM EMPEROR BLURB OF PLANET BLURB BEWARE MY BLURB ARMY! … no, I dunno. I really shouldn’t be allowed to write blog posts at 6:00AM on Sunday morning. Someone out there better send me some coffee. And fast.

6. Recommend Them To An Agent

Sure, some authors get agents the old-fashioned way — you write the book, you query, they want the manuscript, they read the manuscript, you send them cookies and bacon and a cigar box full of money and/or embarrassing pictures, and voila, you have an agent. But some agents only work on referrals, and so it behooves some authors — when they find a book-and-author combo they believe in — to recommend that author to an agent. Help forge those relationships.

7. Recommend Them To An Editor

Some writers work with (and require the services of) independent editors — once you find just such an editor, it’s like gold in your pocket. Share the wealth, then: tell fellow authors that if they need a good editor, then as it turns out you know just the one. The editor will thank you, too. With a puppy. It’s in all the editor-author contracts: each referral gets the author a new puppy. I’m sure I didn’t just dream that.

8. Get Them Work

We’ve all seen them camped out on bridges and beneath underpasses: a grungy rag-worn army of lost penmonkeys holding up signs, “WILL MAKE UP SHIT FOR FOOD,” or “I FOUGHT IN THE SELF-PUBLISHING WARS OF 2012 AND LOST BOTH EYES.” Here, then, is a “teach a man to fish” situation — if you have work to offer or work you’re passing on, it’s always nice to recommend another writer for that work.

9. Point Them Toward Opportunity

A variant of the above, if you know of a cool opportunity — a nifty anthology, a new lit-blog, a script contest, a chance to write the next Denny’s menu — then point them toward it. Share the wealth of possibility.

10. Buy Them A Drink

Whether we’re talking a cup of tea, coffee, Tito’s vodka or the tears of a grieving unicorn, writers will always always always appreciate a drink procured by a fellow penmonkey.

11. Buy Them A Meal

We’ve seen the commercials. The Sarah McLachlan music cues up. Aaaarrrms ooooof an Angel… and then we get a parade of images: hungry writers gnawing on manuscripts, caged, wild-eyed and apparently starving. And then you’re like, “Man, for a bunch of hungry guys they sure look a little fat.” Never mind that. We’ll appreciate a meal from time to time. If you’re having a good year, buy a meal. Cosmically and karmically, this should pass its way down: next time you’re having a bad year, a writer should appear and procure for you a free meal, too. That’s Penmonkey Law. That’s Holy Writ. Goddamnit.

12. Buy Them An Annual Health Care Plan

We writers probably have like, scoliosis or scurvy or syphilis  and could really use a bestselling author to be our patron saint and buy us a yearly health care plan. I kid, I kid — but here’s where I don’t kid. Sometimes writers do fall into bad times, and that means they do genuinely need a leg up with medical bills. It’s helpful when other writers come to their aid, maybe organizing a fund (small or large) to help cover some costs.

13. Be A Sounding Board

Sometimes writers just want to talk shit out — does this plot work? Is this a good move? Will you listen to my pitch? Do you know anything about this publisher or this studio? Have you seen my pants? Have you seen my shame? Did I leave my shame in the pocket of my pants? Writers uniquely understand other writers, and so it behooves writers to listen to other writers.

14. Advise Them (When They Want Advice)

Sometimes it isn’t about listening but actually about offering advice. Writers are uniquely placed to understand the troubles of other writers, so it makes sense to not, you know, ask advice from a plumber or that toothless homeless lady who keeps dead mice in a mason jar. Just the same, unsolicited advice usually isn’t appreciated. From anybody. For anybody. Ever. Trust me on this one.

15. Fuck It, Just Talk To Them

It’s not always about being a sounding board. Writers are lonely little penmonkeys — we do not travel in packs or tribes or swing from tree to tree with our hooting brethren. Our day-to-day necessitates we operate in relative isolation, and so sometimes we just want to talk. To someone. About anything. Writers talking to other writers means both writers get to emerge from solitary confinement for a little while. That’s referred to as a “win-win.” Or maybe an “ook-ook.” I dunno. Don’t look at me. I’m not wearing pants.

16. Give Them Space To Crash… At Your Blog

Just as some writers do book tours, they also do blog tours — hopping from blog to blog, exposing themselves (er, not like that, you filthy little scum-badger) to different audiences in order to hopefully gain some new fans and friends and thump their drum without spending tons of bank in the process. Offer up your blog for that purpose to writers you dig and respect if need be. Share the digital space when possible.

17. Give Them Space To Crash… On Your Couch

Like I said: some writers do book tours. Or maybe they need to visit a place to do research or meet with publishers or escape extradition for their crimes against humanity. Either way, it helps from time to time to offer up your couch or a dog-bed or a spider-infested root cellar. I’m not suggesting you run a halfway house or something: your home needn’t be an Author Hotel for Wayward Writers. But for friends and colleagues, you’ll help them save a little money and likely earn crash-space on their couch if ever needed.

18. Defend Them From Trolls

Writers are sometimes Internet magnets for those Human Canker Sores known as “trolls,” and it helps to have other writers rise to the defense (though, of course, one should always be careful not to feed the trolls, too). Mostly it’s just, stand tall for your penmonkey brethren.  You feel me?

19. Help Them Hide The Bodies

Sometimes an Internet flame war gets out of control and next thing you know, you’ve gone and killed a couple guys. We writers are inventive folks, and so it behooves us to bring the full creative weight of our critical thinking skills to bear on the task of helping our author buddies bury some motherfucking bodies. Uhh. I mean, this is all totally metaphorical. Totally. … Unrelated: anybody have a pickup truck?

20. If You Don’t Have Anything Nice To Say…

Hey, we all come across books we don’t like or writers we don’t respect. I’ve seen writers slag on Stephenie Meyer and Dan Brown — and, trust me, I’m not a fan of either writer. But you get little value out of bagging on other authors, even if they appear to be easy targets. If writers are accepted curators of literary culture, then it pays to point people toward the Good Stuff and instead happily ignore all the Crap Stuff. Do we even need to talk about Dan Brown or Stephenie Meyer? No, we probably don’t. Instead use your time to point readers toward awesome writers, instead. Be a fountain, not a drain.

21. Eschew Public Arguments

It’s best not to get on hot, sweaty writer-on-writer arguments. Nobody wins when writers fight. Except cats. I don’t comprehend the correlation, but whenever writers argue, cats gain more lives. True story!

22. Assist With Technological Challenges

It’s like that line from Ferris Bueller: “The Internet moves fast. If you don’t stop and learn about the newest coolest thing, you’ll be advertising your books on a Myspace page or a Geocities blog while you sink deep into the tar pits with all the other mighty reptiles.” I think that’s the quote. Point being, the ground is changing beneath the author’s feet these days — from social media to self-publishing, from HTML5 to transmedia, we’ve things we need to learn and those things will pile up into a wibbly-wobbly heap if it goes unattended. Other writers are equipped to share and teach about this heretical realm.

23. Share Your Penmonkey Experiences

At blogs like this I try to lay down the tracks of my penmonkey experiences — a trail of ink-soaked breadcrumbs not meant to demonstrate the One True Way but rather, to demonstrate one way through the dark forest of the authorial existence. I think it behooves writers to share that kind of information — to entertain, enlighten, and maybe to bring a little data to this otherwise rudderless life.

24. Kill In Their Name

Um. What? I didn’t say anything. I’m definitely not, uhh, asking you guys to kill in my name and drape the corpses upon altars made of my books. Totally don’t do that. That’d be aweso… awful.

25. Be A Pal, Pal

The world is a tough old bird. It’s not that writers have it uniquely terrible — hell, if you believe Forbes magazine, we’re some of the happiest job-having folks out there. Just the same, sometimes life throws an extra punch or two and leaves us with a bad review or a dead publishing deal or the other slings and arrows of everyday living. As such, it pays for writers to throw other writers a kind note — in short, just be a pal, pal. This writer thing we do benefits from the loose and uncertain bonds of community, but it’s on us to create and confirm that community — we must be self-driven to exit our caves and put on some pants (metaphorically, because, c’mon, fuck pants) and form bonds with other penmonkeys in the name of fellowship. If we want this thing we do to survive and thrive, we do it together, not separate.

* * *

Did you know that Chuck has a small army of writing-related e-books available? Each brined in a salty spice mix of profanity, inchoate rage, and liquor? Check ’em out, won’t you?

Try: CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY

$4.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

Or its sequel: REVENGE OF THE PENMONKEY

$2.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

And: 250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING

$0.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

Or the newest: 500 WAYS TO BE A BETTER WRITER

$2.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

December 19, 2011 / 6 Comments

Blackbirds, Chapter One, Now Online

BLACKBIRDS, Chapter One: The Death of Del Amico.

Free, online, at Angry Robot Books.

That, my bubbly little word-heads, is my Christmas present to you. And by “my” Christmas present, I really mean Angry Robot’s present, but hey, whatever. It’s a present. You shut up.

Due out in April, you can, of course, pre-order now.

Would love to hear your thoughts, if you care to share them.

Other Stuff!

A reminder: the e-book promotion is still on where if you procure 500 WAYS TO BE A BETTER WRITER, you get 250 THINGS for free. Details here: “December Is The Month Of No Mercy.”

Another thing: you’ll note that the Penmonkey Count is up to 627. Which means it’s time again to give away some stuff to folks — I will be giving away another postcard, another t-shirt, and another writing critique. All you need to do to be entered is have procured CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY and shown me the proof of purchase (unnecessary if you bought the PDF version). I’ll pick tomorrow (Tues) at around 9AM — keep an eye on the comments here for the three picks. Details here: “The Penmonkey Incitement.” (Remember, once that count gets to 1000, it’s time to give away another Kindle.)

Final note: the next couple weeks will be a little light here at terribleminds — you’ll still find content, but the posts will be a little smaller, a little more tidbitty, at least until the end of the year.

I know. Here’s a tissue. Cry it out. I won’t tell anyone what you and I shared here today.

December 16, 2011 / 47 Comments

Flash Fiction Challenge: The Unexplainable Photo Challenge

Some brief administrative fol de rol:

Last week’s worldbuilding challenge, wherein I exhort folks to write new myths and gospels for the invented gods and goddesses of Blackbloom is live — I will casually note that, entries so far are quite low. We need more, if possible (elsewise I’ll interpret it as a sign that it’s time for the worldbuilding experiment to end). Have you tried your hand, yet?

The prior week’s fiction challenge — “An Affliction Of Alliteration” has plenty of entries, and is in fact why I’m being so slow to pick a winner. Reading fifty-one 1,000 word stories is like reading a short novel. In other words: holy crap. Expect an answer later today, which will be posted at that page.

Now.

This week’s is a doozy.

A link that recently whirled and pirouetted its way around the Internet is this one:

50 Unexplainable Black & White Photos.

They are equal parts hilarious, absurd, abstract, disturbing, and downright creepy.

Your job is to choose one.

And write a story about that photo. In this way, you are “explaining” the “unexplainable.”

Any genre. Up to 1,000 words.

You should identify the photo you’re choosing both by description and by the photo’s numerical identification found at that Buzzfeed link above. Post the story at your blog. Link here. Point the way.

You’ve got one week.

Friday, December 23rd. Day before the day before Christmas. Ain’t that sweet?

Jump in, get weird, start writing. See you on the other side.

December 15, 2011 / 11 Comments

Thea Harrison: The Terribleminds Interview

Thea Harrison is one of those authors who kind of floated in and out of my periphery over social media — I didn’t know her specifically, but I know folks who did and they were very excited by who she was and what she was doing. They were spot on — and I think you’ll get it, too. Thea’s got a new novella out, TRUE COLORS, and you’ll see my image right there on the cover. No really. NO, REALLY. Check out this interview with Thea, and then scout out her website and find her on the Twitters (@theaharrison)!

This is a blog about writing and storytelling. So, tell us a story. As short or long as you care to make it. As true or false as you see it.

A woman went from unemployment to hitting the USA Today Bestselling List and the New York Times extended bestseller list in two and a half years.

The facts are true, but the story isn’t quite what it seems.  This journey was an amazing group effort, including a huge commitment of support by family members, an intense amount of work from a talented young literary agent, editor championship and publisher support.  Also, the woman had previous publication experience, and she had collected many rejections over the years.

Just yesterday I posted a “25 Things” list about writers and rejection. What’s your take on how a writer best handles rejection?

Whew, tough question.  I have an emotional reaction to rejection.  At best it’s a disappointment.  It can often sting quite badly, and sometimes I get upset.  But I keep that private.

In my opinion the very best thing a writer can do with rejection is maintain a professional demeanor in public (that means YOU, internet), keep the emotional stuff private, analyze why the rejection happened and learn from it.

Maybe the lesson is, well, you should keep your emotional reaction private.  Maybe it is something else.  If you send out three hundred and fifty queries (I made that number up) and you receive universal rejection, then it’s probably a really good idea to look at the quality and content of both your query and your project.  Maybe your query needs to be torn down and rewritten.  Maybe your project does.  Maybe your project needs to go in a drawer somewhere until you can calm down and actually come up with some useful strategies for moving forward.  Maybe, oh the horrors, you need to pitch the idea entirely, and yes, I’ve had my share of those.

Why do you tell stories?

I have a “rich inner life,” or so an acquaintance who has a PhD in psychology has told me.  Or perhaps I’m just neurotic.

Give the audience one piece of writing or storytelling advice:

Be too stupid to quit but too smart to keep making the same mistakes over and over again.

Or in other words, study the craft, stop doing something if it doesn’t work, implement good advice, keep writing and stay professional.

Man, that’s some of the best condensed writing advice — a short sharp shock of good sense. Okay, so, let’s talk mistakes. Every writer has them. What mistakes have you made as a writer that you can share?

I’ve made many, many mistakes.  I’ve held onto project ideas when I should have let them go, and I’m pretty sure I’ve thrown away things that had promise.  I have worked too much in solitude, and probably every piece of advice I have offered in this blog is because I did something wrong.

What’s great about being a writer, and conversely, what sucks about it?

The great thing about being a writer, for me, is that I have an agent who loves the weird stuff in my head and editors who have, thus far, pretty much given me free rein in the creativity department.  That’s immensely satisfying, and I’m running with it as far and as fast as I can go.  Also, writers can work wherever they have a laptop, PC, tablet, typewriter or even a pen and notepad, so there’s a certain amount of flexibility that other jobs don’t have.

Conversely the sucky parts of writing are things that lots of people have written about before (including you in your blogs).  Every writer is going to suffer some kind of rejection.  It’s the nature of the beast, and you just gotta suck it up, baby, and learn from it (re: back to the too stupid/too smart thing).  And like any self-employment venture a writer needs to be prepared to work odd, long hours to meet a deadline, and the payment schedule can be irregular.  Also, while many people might have a hand in a project—from writer, to agent, to editor, copyeditor, cover artiest, line editor, typesetter, publishing sales team, and booksellers—the writing itself is a solitary job and it’s important to figure out how to balance that with social needs.

Favorite word? And then, the follow up: Favorite curse word?

Payday.  Frequently.

To find out my favorite curse word, I just conducted some word searches in my WIP.  “Damn” is apparently my number one favorite.

Damn = 27

Fuck = 24

Hell = 15

Bitch = 8

Goddamn = 7

Favorite alcoholic beverage? (If cocktail: provide recipe. If you don’t drink alcohol, fine, fine, a non-alcoholic beverage will do.)

My current favorite is 667 Pinot Noir, a California wine.  It’s been on sale locally for around $12.

Recommend a book, comic book, film, or game: something with great story. Go!

I’m not particularly into westerns, but despite that I’ve been watching and enjoying AMC’s new series Hell On Wheels.  For me, the show has an interesting mix of action and historical detail, such as one character who survived Andersonville, one of the most horrendous prison camps from the American Civil War.

What skills do you bring to help the humans win the inevitable zombie war?

None whatsoever, unless you count telling fun stories to other humans for stress relief.  If that doesn’t count I’m dead meat.

You’ve committed crimes against humanity. They caught you. You get one last meal.

I figure indigestion and a possible hangover won’t be an issue, and for the execution I’ll wear the diamond and gold bracelet that comes with the dessert.

What’s next for you as a storyteller? What does the future hold?

The future holds lots of good stuff!  TRUE COLORS is a novella in my Elder Races series out on Tuesday December 13th, released by Samhain Publishing.

Then book four in the series, ORACLE’S MOON, will be released March 6, 2012.  I’m writing book five (untitled), which should have an autumn release in 2012, and I’m currently contracted through book six.

I also have been contracted for two dark romantic fantasies, as of yet unnamed, that are outside of the Elder Races series.  The first one is slated for release in 2013.

So, you just released a novella — do you prefer writing novels over novellas? Why the choice here to go with the shorter form?

In general I prefer writing novels, but I really like what I’m learning from working in a novella form.  I’ve currently got a second novella in submission with an editor.

One of the reasons why I’m exploring novella-writing is to develop a second revenue stream.  Another reason is to take the opportunity to tell stories about the alternative Earth I’m developing that don’t really warrant a full length novel.  It’s a bit experimental, so we’ll see what happens!

How do you approach writing fantasy? What would be your advice to anybody trying to write fantasy?

My first advice is to read read read.  Read every book on fantasy you can, then read science fiction, and then read horror, thrillers, mystery, literature, and throw in a lot of nonfiction too about religion, sociology, geography, history, politics, science and probably popular culture, and anything else you can get your hands on.  Maybe take some classes too.

The reason why I write this?  All of that will make you a better writer, no matter what you write.

Author Patricia C. Wrede has developed an excellent set of questions that can help writers consider the many different elements to creating a fantasy world.  You can find the list here.

Now that I’ve written that I’ll confess, for the first book in my Elder Races series, DRAGON BOUND, I was a “pantser,” or I wrote by the seat of my pants.  I sketched in details of an alternative Earth as I wrote the book then got very lucky and was offered a three-book contract for a series.  Since the series is open-ended, the world-building for me feels a lot like one very long jazz session, and I’m building the world as I go.  It’s both fun and challenging, as I’m working to stay consistent with previous stories.

Thanks so much for inviting me to be on your blog, Chuck, and thank you especially for posting during the release week for TRUE COLORS.  It’s been a pleasure!

December 14, 2011 / 50 Comments

Kickstarter My Heart

Okay, kids.

Come January, I’m going to do a terribleminds Kickstarter.

Here’s the logic: I’m a busy dude. I can never say the blog here is a burden because, truth be told, I love doing it — but I went ahead and calculated the loose word count I offer to this site annually and it’s…

Well, around 312,000 words a year.

That’s a lot of words. That’s four or five novels, easy.

This was less of a concern before the Tiny Wendig arrived, as B-Dub is a demanding dictator who forces his parental puppets to dance and dance and dance some more. All for His Tiny Lordship’s Pleasure.

Which means it’s time to look at this blog and see where it fits in my overall penmonkey ecosystem.

So, a Kickstarter. To fund the site by, well, funding my time. At least to some degree.

Which means it’s time to ask:

What are your “best practices” when it comes to Kickstarter? What do you like to see? What don’t you like? If you’ve backed a project or, even better, had a project on Kickstarter (or any crowd-funded site), I’d love to hear from you. Care to share what you’ve learned?

December 13, 2011 / 158 Comments

25 Things Writers Should Know About Rejection

‘Tis the Month of No Mercy.

And so it is time to tackle the subject of…

REJECTION.

*crash of thunder*

1. As Ineluctable As The Tides

If you’re a writer, a writer who writes, a writer who puts her work out there, you’re going to face rejection. It’s like saying, “Eventually you’re going to have to fistfight a bear,” except here it’s not one bear but a countless parade of bears, from Kodiaks to Koalas, all ready to go toe-to-toe with you. Rejection, like shit, happens. Rejection, like shit, washes off. Get used to it.

2. Penmonkey Darwinism In Action

Rejection has value. It teaches us when our work or our skillset is not good enough and must be made better. This is a powerful revelation, like the burning UFO wheel seen by the prophet Ezekiel, or like the McRib sandwich shaped like the Virgin Mary seen by the prophet Steve Jenkins. Rejection refines us. Those who fall prey to its enervating soul-sucking tentacles are doomed. Those who persist past it are survivors. Best ask yourself the question: what kind of writer are you? The kind who survives? Or the kind who gets asphyxiated by the tentacles of woe?

3. This, Then, Is The Value Of The Gatekeeper

Hate the autocracy of the kept gates all you like, but the forge of rejection purifies us (provided it doesn’t burn us down to a fluffy pile of cinder). The writer learns so much from rejection about himself, his work, the market, the business. Even authors who choose to self-publish should, from time to time, submit themselves to the scraping talons and biting beaks of the raptors of rejection. Writers who have never experienced rejection are no different than children who get awards for everything they do: they have already found themselves tap-dancing at the top of the “I’m-So-Special” mountain, never having to climb through snow and karate chop leopards to get there.

4. It Always Stings

Rejection always stings. It stings me, you, everybody. Nobody likes to be rejected. A writer who likes being rejected is a writer who is secretly a robot and must be smelted down into slag before he tries to kill us all because he hates our meat. Pain is instructive. And it’s not permanent. Not if you don’t let it be. Some writers savor misery like a hard candy endlessly sucked in the pocket of one’s cheek, but fuck that.

5. Five Stages Of Grief

Rejection leads to a swiftly-experienced version of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It’s key to get to that last step as quickly as you can reckon. I actually have two additional steps in my personal process: “liquor” and “ice cream.” Your mileage may vary.

6. It’s Never Personal

It’s not about you. It’s about the work. I mean, unless it is about you. I guess it could be personal. If you send a story off to an editor, and you once shat in that editor’s fishtank, well. That might be personal.

7. Decipher The Code, Translate The “No”

Different rejections say different things. Not every “no” is equal. Hell, they can’t be — if I get 200 no’s and one yes, then that single yes invalidates all the no’s. One rejection might say there’s something wrong with the story. Another with the writing. A third likes the story, hates its role (or lack of role) in the market. A fourth rejection is upset at you — something about blah blah blah, bowel movements and fish-tanks.

8. The Truth Hides In The Pattern

Stare at a Cosby sweater long enough and it’s like a Magic Eye painting. Eventually you’ll start to see dolphins and Jell-O pudding cups and the secret Gnostic gospels of Doctor Huxtable. What were we talking about again? Right. Rejections. One rejection is not as meaningful as a basket of them. All the rejections around a single project become meaningful — a picture emerges. You can start decoding commonalities, sussing out the reasons for being rejected.

9. Some Rejections Are Worthless As A Short-Sleeved Straitjacket

Not every rejection — or every person wielding the big red “NUH-UH” stamp — is a quality one. Form rejections won’t teach you anything other than the fact that the editor didn’t have time. Rejections that never come — a “no” by proxy — are even less valuable. Sometimes you’ll receive a rejection that just doesn’t add up, leaving you scratching your pink parts in slack-jawed bewilderment. Recognize that some — not all, not even most, but some — rejections are as fruitful as a shoebox full of dead mice.

10. Beware Snark, Reject Cruelty

Every once in a while you’ll get a mean rejection. I don’t mean a rejection that takes you to task — that’s what rejections should do. I mean a rejection that is destructive over constructive. That insults aggressively (or passive-aggressively). Maybe the editor was having a bad day. Or maybe the editor’s just a sack of dicks. Rare, but it happens. When it does: ignore and discard. You’re expected to be professional. So are they.

11. Cherish Opportunistic Rejections

Cherish them the way you would a child, or a lost love, or the misery of an enemy as you slowly feed him into a growling wood chipper. By “opportunistic rejection” I mean, a rejection that aims to help you, not just reject you. A handwritten rejection, for instance, one that features an honest critique of your work, is fucking gold. Equally awesome are rejections that help you understand the good things about your story and, further, offer opportunity for future submission. Best of all are rejections that encourage you to resubmit — not other stories, but that story. My first short story on submission got one of those. I played ball. Resubmitted. Was published. Got paid. Freeze-frame high-five.

12. Like It Or Not, It’s Largely Subjective

Storytelling isn’t math. And neither is literary criticism. Any rejection is going to be largely subjective: it’s opinion. Doesn’t mean it’s bad or wrong or has no value, but it helps to know going in that you’re dealing with a subset of opinions — informed opinions, most likely, but opinions just the same. Some rejections are objective, based on harder criteria. What I mean is…

13. Sometimes, It’s Totally Your Fault, Dummy

Objective rejections will take you to task for two primary things: one, you didn’t follow the submission guidelines. (Can I just say: always follow the goddamn submission guidelines? Even if the submission guidelines are like, “Each corner of the manuscript must be dabbed with the urine of an incontinent civet cat and the writer must write his name backwards for the magic to take hold,” you do that shit because you’re not a pretty pretty unicorn, you’re a horse like the rest of us, goddamnit.) Or two, your technical writing ability is for shit, at least in that story. If you can’t put a period on the right place or learn the difference between “lose” and “loose,” then you’re going to earn that objective rejection.

14. “It’s Just Not For Me”

You can read that kind of rejection one of two ways: one, your story was good, but just not for that market/editor/moon phase; two, the editor is uncomfortable with truth or doesn’t want to offend anybody and so is gently limping away from saying anything even remotely offensive or controversial.

15. “I Can’t Sell This”

This is a variant version of the above — but it speaks specifically to market. It doesn’t mean your book or story or article is bad, and hell, it may even be brilliant. That’s not the worst place to be, by the way.

16. Know The Signal To Self-Publish

Rejection as a whole is not a great reason to run out and self-publish. I mean, think about it: “Everyone else hates it, so why not punish readers with it? To the Resentmentmobile!” But — but! — sometimes, the overall pattern of rejection does indicate value in self-publishing. Getting a lot of those “it’s good, but I can’t do anything with it” rejections tells you that the risk-averse industry isn’t willing to, duh, take a risk. So, you can absorb the risk and self-publish. (Or you can continue to hope that good rejections will lead to an eventual patient acceptance — that’s what I did with Blackbirds.)

17. The Power In “Just Not Good Enough”

It’s sad at first. You wrench handfuls of hair from your head. You punch mirrors. You soak your pillow through with the tears of rage and regret. But then comes the realization: this story just isn’t up to snuff. It’s a powerful and freeing moment — freeing because, making a story better is entirely within your power. You can’t change market forces. But you can change the quality of your work. So do that.

18. Criticism Is A Conversation, But Rejection Is Not

Do not respond to an editor or agent and try to “re-convince them” to buy your work. At best it’s fruitless, at worst it’s completely deluded. The desperation wafts off you like dog’s breath. The door is closed, for better or worse, for right or wrong. Trying to kick it down does nobody any favors. Oh! And it’s unprofessional.

19. Just To Clarify: Don’t Be A Raging Dickheaded Moon-Unit

Further, don’t go writing said editor or agent with the desire to rant and rave at them. OMG YOU DONT GET MY BRILIANCE letters will out you as a crazy-headed Martian and will earn you mockery and scorn. Your best recourse to any rejection is to write a politely worded “thank you,” and then move on with your life. Put down the megaphone. Put on some pants. Squeegee the froth from your computer monitor.

20. The Common Bonds Of Weepy Wordmonkeys

Every writer, from the tippity-top of the industry to its sludge-slick nadir, has experienced rejection. Every book, movie, or story you love? It’s been rejected. Probably not once. But dozens, maybe even hundreds of times. It’s part of the writer’s career tapestry, part of our blood and genetic memory. Rejection is part of who we are as creative beings. Might as well commiserate.

21. Bumper Sticker: “Real Writers Get Rejected”

I’ll just leave that there for you to discuss amongst yourselves.

22. Put Your Rejections On Display

Build a wall. A shrine. A goddamn memorial display of all your rejections. Writers need to gain emotional power over their rejections. By embracing them and putting them up for all to see, you claim that power. Show it to others. Laugh at it. Find ways to surpass it. Stephen King reportedly collected all of his on a nail. I might stuff mine in a giant wicker man. When I die, I will be burned alive inside the rejectionist’s pyre.

23. Harden The Fuck Up, Care Bear

Any creative person has to be a little bit hard of heart — how can you not be? You can’t go sobbing into a potted plant every time you get a bad review. Just because someone told you “no, I can’t rep this, can’t publish this” doesn’t mean it’s time to head to the bell tower with a .300 Weatherby and start taking out anybody carrying a book or a fucking Barnes & Noble rewards card. Rejections toughen you up. Step to it. Suck it up. Lean into the punch. We all get knocked down. This is your chance to get back up again with your rolled-up manuscript in your hand and start swinging like a ninja.

24. Once Again, Time To Poll Your Intestinal Flora

The writer’s gut is his best friend — over time, the chorus of colonic bacteria that secretly control us begin to work in concert and soon start to get a grasp of what the best course of action is. As the parliament of micro-organisms attunes to your way of doing things and the world’s response, you start to get a clearer picture of how to handle individual rejections and how to move forward. I don’t know that every writer should trust his or her gut from the outset, but over time, you’ll have to. It’ll be that polling of your gutty-works that tells you how to judge individual rejections or rejections as a whole: it’ll tell you if it’s time to put the story in a dark hole, time to improve it, time to be patient and keep submitting or time to find a better and more independent path to publication.

25. Rejections Are Proof You’ve Been To Thunderdome

Fighters know one another because they look a certain way: busted-ass knuckles, a crooked nose, a scar on the lip, the suspicious gaps where teeth once grew. These are the signs of being a crazy motherfucking bad-ass. You see a guy whose body is a network of scars you don’t think, “Hey, he sure gets beat-up a lot,” you think, “Holy fucksnacks, that guy looks like he got thrown into a dumpster full of broken glass and he came out meaner than ever.” That’s how you need to see rejection. You need to see rejection as bad-ass Viking Warrior battle scars, as a roadmap of pain that makes you stronger, faster, smarter, and stranger. A writer without rejections under his belt is the same as a farmer with soft hands; you shake that dude’s hand and you know, he’s not a worker, not a fighter, and wouldn’t know the value of his efforts if they came up and stuck a Garden Weasel up his ass. Rejections are proof of your efforts. Be proud to have ’em.

* * *

Want another booze-soaked, profanity-laden shotgun blast of dubious writing advice?

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Or the newest: 500 WAYS TO BE A BETTER WRITER

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