THE REJECTION LETTER
Perhaps the hardest thing to do as an editor is to write a rejection letter, and not always for why you may think.
The obvious reason, though, is because I get the author’s struggle: you took a long time to write a book, and no matter what, that deserves applause. That deserves confirmation that you’ve accomplished something pretty remarkable.
And I do applaud you.
So why am I passing on the chance to publish it?
Because the accomplishment of writing a novel is not the same thing as writing a novel that
- I want to work on
- Is something I think will sell
- Doesn’t conflict with another project I or another editor here is working on
- Is well-written
But while some (or all) these things may be true, I don’t want to be a totally heartless bastard. And that’s where writing the letter becomes truly difficult.
Yes, I’ve developed my bag of clichés that I will reach into to help get me through my rejection letter (“No room on our list,” “crowded market,” “not compelling enough,” “writing isn’t strong enough,” “not a genre I work in”), but I also don’t want to be completely generic. Because the fact is that I (and all the editors at Del Rey and Spectra) do read the submissions, and therefore I want to show exactly what about the book wasn’t working for me. Even having read everything, this can be tough, because a lot of what makes an editor good (or not) at our jobs is our gut instincts—our ability to feel if something works. Translating that instance (and, if you haven’t read Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink, you should to see exactly how instinct can work), though, is the tricky part. The clichés help, but they’re not everything.
Why not? For starters, Random House doesn’t accept unsolicited manuscripts (which, in the industry, we call “slush”—not really the most attractive name, is it?). What this means is that, for the vast majority of the submissions we read, they are coming from agents—usually agents we as editors have formed professional relationships with them. In a way, there is a wooing process—a getting-to-know-you period that results in a mutually beneficial symbiosis: agent learns about editor’s preferences, agent sends editor manuscripts that target those preferences, editor publishes a project from agent, and the cycle begins again.
Unfortunately, though, that last moment—when the editor publishes the novel—is rare. For the most part, then, we’re passing on projects being offered by agents. But these are our suppliers, the reason we’re getting manuscripts to look at in the first place. So a balance must be struck, in which we let them down gently, thus maintaining the possibility of getting more submissions in the future.
It’s kind of like breaking up with someone, but still wanting to be friends—but it’s the same person, and you might be doing this anywhere from two to ten times a year.
Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but I can say that if it was me being “rejected” over and over again, I’d want the person rejecting to at least put the effort into the break up. And so that’s the approach I try to take. I try to be as constructive in my criticism as I can (which is usually much easier in better-written books, which in turn are the harder books to reject). If there are things I think might work better (open with this scene; focus on this character; is this part necessary?), then I incorporate that into my letter.
Perhaps this comes in part because I’m still relatively young in my career, and therefore don’t get as many submissions as our senior editors do. Perhaps, too, because I am still building my own reputation as an editor, I need to take the extra time to keep agents happy. While all certainly valid, I won’t lie: I think the main reason I take the time is because I really enjoy editing, and when someone presents me with a story, I can’t help think of how I would put my own touch on it (I do this with finished books, too).
In the end, almost every submission that comes my way is going to end up with a rejection letter. That’s not because I hate everything that comes across my desk, but because, as a company, we just don’t have the resources to publish every novel that gets written. Writing these letters, then, is an integral—if distasteful—part of my daily grind. As such, I always strive to make the most of the opportunity, either by helping to hone a story from afar (through criticism) and/or maintain or establish a better relationship with agents.
Is this going to make an author feel better when he hears that his manuscript has been passed on? Of course not. But hopefully it helps show where I, as an editor, am coming from.
Interesting article, and I think an example of one of the many problems with traditional publishing, the disconnect between editors, agents, and writers.
“For the most part, then, we’re passing on projects being offered by agents. But these are our suppliers, the reason we’re getting manuscripts to look at in the first place. So a balance must be struck, in which we let them down gently, thus maintaining the possibility of getting more submissions in the future.”
Your supplier is actually writers. They’re the one writing the manuscripts. Agents are the middle person between supplier and buyer.
“Perhaps, too, because I am still building my own reputation as an editor, I need to take the extra time to keep agents happy.”
So you’re spending more time keeping agents happy than keeping writers happy? Who’s writing the books, again?
“As such, I always strive to make the most of the opportunity, either by helping to hone a story from afar (through criticism) and/or maintain or establish a better relationship with agents.”
So, an editor with a major publisher is spending more time building better relationships with agents than with writers. Why would a writer want to submit their work to Del Rey if they know their relationship with you is going to be secondary to your relationship with agents?
Jim: I think the one thing you’re missing is that we aren’t allowed to accept material directly from writers, unless we’ve specifically requested it. Therefore, it’s not that we’re dismissive of forming relationships with writers–obviously they produce the content–but they are not, in our case, the supplier. The agents are. Once we do contract an author, though, obviously our primary contact and concern is them, and we work extremely closely with the author to help take their manuscript from draft to finished form.
The key thing to remember is that this article is about the submission process, and not the editorial process. So yes: authors write the books. But agents sell us the right to publish those books. And, regardless of what we all can hope and think, this is a businsess as well as an artistic field, and being an editor means balancing between those two worlds. Hence: why this isn’t the easiest job in the world, sometimes.
Why would a writer want to submit their work to Del Rey if they know their relationship with you is going to be secondary to your relationship with agents?
As a Del Rey author, I have never felt that my business relationship to my editor was secondary to anyone, despite the fact that I know she has bosses, office responsibilities and other authors to work with.
David,
As one of those agents in the middle, I understand your problem from both sides (receiving lots of rejection for books that I love, and having to reject authors whose work I don’t feel I can represent for any number of reasons–particularly because one human can only handle so many projects at once). I appreciate when an editor takes the time to comment on why they’re passing on a work as it helps me with better insight into what might work better for that editor in the future, even if I disagree with the specific editorial advice on the book in question.
And, Jim, in the situation discussed, David has to trust to the agent’s knowledge of their client to handle how the information is passed on to the writer. We ALL care about writers, that’s why we’re in the business whether you believe that or not.
Thank you for taking the time to write and post this article. I’ve worked in a small slush room before, but the reality that agents can’t always place books is something I’ve recently learned. It’s always nice to hear the perspective of the person sending the rejections.
@Jim — there are lots of publishing opportunities. Self-publishing with e-books is very cheap, and there’s no capitol investment in selling through a POD publisher. I honestly believe that the reason traditional publishers are still in business is because their brands are marks of quality. Taking the time to sift through very good manuscripts to find what they believe to be the very best is, I believe, what makes them work. It’s also why I’m content to accept that if a novel makes the rounds and doesn’t sell, it was a practice novel, and on with the next one (either that or a difficult-to-market novel that might later be publishable if future books sell well…but I generally assume it’s the former).
To get back to what Jim, the first commenter said, It’s not as if the rejections you send are only seen by the agent. When my agent gets a rejection letter for one of my manuscripts, she tells me what the editor had to say. I imagine I’m not the only client who knows what the editors say. I’m an old hand at the submission/rejection business by now, and I don’t take it personally. I know that editors can’t take everything, and they can’t even take everything they like.*
I just have to say though, that photo at the top is hilarious. I want to link to your blog just for that photo.
*Not to say that it doesn’t HURT sometimes, however, especially when it feels like my manuscript was 99% there.
“…agents sell us the right to publish those books…”
Sorry, David, but even in your reply to Jim you again exhibit the disconnect he was commenting on. Agents SELL you nothing – no more than a street vendor sells you the right to look at whatever he’s peddling and you choose to buy/not buy the products being offered.
I have to agree with Leigh. Agents are not your suppliers – they are middle-men, operating between the suppliers (writers) and you. Many of them are extremely smart, very hard working middle-men, don’t get me wrong. But they’re not the source of your supply, and the only reason that agents have as much role as they do in publishing is because publishers have farmed their slush piles out to agents, instead of handling that slush themselves. It wasn’t always so, and the trend seems to be that it might not always remain so.
There’s reason for concern if agents, who after all are contractors working for the *writer*, are finding themselves more worried about their relationship with editors than with their employers. The main role of an agent is, still, to represent the writer in negotiating a legal contract, and ideally negotiating the best possible contract as the writer’s representative at the table.
Agree with ^^^^^
If agents are selling you rights, they are breaking the law. That would be like my plumber selling you the pipes in my house. Not his to sell.
I certainly am not looking for an editor who wants to keep my agent happy. You can keep me happy or I’ll sell my books to other publishers. My agent works for me. Period. End of story. If you want agents to work for you, good luck, but I won;t be part of it,.
I also want your ‘touch’ on my book when hell freezes over. I write – you edit. If you want to write go become a writer. You are giving me a good reason to be wary of your publisher here, sir. Maybe you should think about what you are saying – or perhaps how you are handling your ‘partners’ – and clarify some of this.
Unless of course you really think agents are supplying you and selling to you. In which case, please keep posting your thoughts so more writer will no better than to work with you.
Who gives a book to Del Rey? A writer? Or an agent?
If you say writer, you are wrong. Del Rey does not accept unsolicited manuscripts from writers. They only accept them from agents. If you guys want to get angry at semantics, go ahead., but David is not doing anything illegal and he doesn’t keep agents happy at the pain of writers. All he is saying is this: “He is tactful with agents when he gives a rejection because he wants those agents to keep bringing him new material from more writers to take a look at.”
And if I’m not mistaken, I think that is a wonderful thing for all writers. The more editors an agent trusts to be tactful and professional, the more times a hopeful writer’s book is going to be read. Which means the more opportunities a writer might become a published writer by finding that needle in the haystack editor who wants to publish it. The odds are stacked against writers enough and every possible open avenue needs to exist. David is merely saying he makes sure that happens. Just something for you to think about.
Shawn, except it’s not just semantics. The book may reach Del Rey via an agent, but the agent neither owns the book nor has the right to sell it. All the agent can do is present the *authors* book on behalf of the author for the editor’s consideration.
Also, from experience with publishers whose corporate guidelines say “no unagented submissions”, I can tell you the easy way to get around that. If corporate doesn’t want an editor buying books they didn’t request, well, just request the book. That’s what the query process is for, after all. A synopsis, a sample, a quick professional letter telling what the book is about and what the writer’s qualifications are. Very simple. If the editor likes the sound of it and it fits their line, they can ask to see the full manuscript. Then, guess what? The book is requested. I’ve known too many writers who sell directly without agents to think for a minute that a semantic guideline would stop an editor from buying a book they think will make money.
Writers produce books. Publishers buy them. Without writers, editors wouldn’t have jobs. Nowhere in that are agents necessary to make the process work. Writers->publishers->readers, that’s what makes the publishing industry world go around
The other side of this is the fact that the relationship is being fostered between agent and editor not author and editor. So if I’m the writer here, who is loyal to me? No one. If editor pisses off agent – no more juice manuscripts coming his way. IF agent pisses off editor, his whole stable of writers is pushed to the bottom of the pile. I piss off editor? So what he is still in good with agent. I piss off agent, he is in with editor. So why am I paying agent 15% of my money? To get chummy with the editor or to negotiate like a pitbull for ME? It becomes an ethical issue. IF I am paying you, you should be looking out for me – not your buddy the editor.
Now maybe that makes less sense for the agent because he needs the editor more than he needs me. That means that I am wasting my time hiring an agent. because things are cozy now between the three of us is not the point. The point if, I am out 15% and am about to get hosed when I need agent to hash out a issue with editor somewhere down the road.
As an aside, since agents have no licensing body, no training and no guidelines, the idea that ‘no unagented submissions’ means anything is a farce. I could print letter head that says XYZ lit agency and I am an agent. Unknown agents get about as much consideration from a publisher as unknown authors. They are a dime a dozen and long term successful editors in this business know it. They know the big time agents and certainly give them a hard look because of their success and rep. Joe Agent is no one to them just like Joe Author.
Great comments here, folks. Hopefully the discussion will encourage more writers, new and experienced, to ask more questions about this massive business.
Anne wrote: \If corporate doesn’t want an editor buying books they didn’t request, well, just request the book. That’s what the query process is for, after all. A synopsis, a sample, a quick professional letter telling what the book is about and what the writer’s qualifications are. Very simple. If the editor likes the sound of it and it fits their line, they can ask to see the full manuscript.\
I know some editors and publishers do this, even though they (probably wisely) don’t often advertise that they do it. It’s much easier to throw the ‘no unagented submissions’ barricade up to discourage writers from sending in more slush to overworked editors. I get that, and I get that it’s a business. In an ideal world, editors would spend more time explaining to writers (their suppliers) what they want or don’t want in a novel, and less time keeping agents happy, as David wrote.
Again, I think it’s important to point out that this article is about a particular moment in an editor’s day–the moment of dealing with submissions. As this is a pretty important part of the job, I thought it would be useful for people to see where I’m coming from–and how I approach the issue of writing a rejection letter. To be clear: I obviously foster relationships with my authors, and I like to think I actually have very good ones with my authors.
Writerguy: I’m sorry you feel that way, but if that’s your experience with agents, then you’re working with the wrong agents. Trust me–I’m friendly with a number of great agents, but when it comes down to negotiations, it’s all business. I can have drinks with an agent one day, and then argue over advances and sub-rights the next. So yes, there’s a relationship there–and, in some cases, genuine friendship–but no successful agent is going to screw over their client (and therefore themselves) because they’re friends with an editor.
The key thing to remember is that the relationship I’m building here isn’t about hurting writers, but about making sure that I see the very best submissions I can in the way I’m allowed to see them–through an agent–and then publishing to the widest possible distribution and audience.
At the end of the day, though, I think it’s also important that while you may think of agents as middle-men, that’s the reality of the business right now. Some big houses take unsolicited manuscripts, some don’t. My house doesn’t. That’s a decision for you to make when submitting or deciding on trying to find an agent. But I will point out that I do rely on agents’ tastes and their knowledge of what I like to know that I’m getting the best possible submissions from them. The only way to know if our opinions about each other are valid, however, is by getting to know each other–by forming a relationship.
Do I wish writers had more access to editors and publishing houses? Actually, I don’t. We are an artistic business, but we’re still a business, and reading submissions takes up a lot of time. Agents–by knowing the editors and what they like to read and are looking to acquire–help me manage my time effectively, so that when I am working on a manuscript from an author I have signed to a contract, I can give him or her my undivided attention.
That said, I read every submission that comes across my desk–agented or not–and I give each one the same attention, regardless of how it came to me. It may take me a while, but I’ll get back to you. So if you think I’m being callous, I know I’m not going to change your mind. But that’s the way the business works–at least for me.
As a “new” author, I must admit that I somewhat understand the way a fellow writer could take this personally. Everyone has the initial gut reaction of offense when criticism is offered, even if it’s constructive. To blame the industry policies, however, is ludacris at best. As an “old” agent, albeit in the music industry, not the publishing world, I can say from experience that the title is sometimes akin to a bad word. Agents are NOT always slimy people who are just out for their own pocketbook. A good agent believes in their client, and only wants to see the best successes happen to them. If the client doesn’t return that belief, they should shop for a new broker. The agent may be nothing more than a “middle man” to many opinions, but without a good one, you’re going nowhere. I personally appreciated when industry execs would tell me WHY they chose to not work with my clients. It was through that rejection that I was able to convey to my bands what they needed to do to improve their sellability. If they refused to explore those options, they didn’t get picked up by a label and never would. Seems to me like the same thing applies to the publishing world. There’s a reason that most forms of entertainment, music, movies, books, etc., have an “Independant” genre now. Thank you dpomerico, for your honesty and candor. A little advice is always needed, even if your name is William Shakespeare.
SRaine- how are you going nowhere without an agent? Even Mr. Pomerico here has just said that while his house doesn’t take un-agented submissions, he still reads everything that crosses his desk. IE if your book is good enough to be published and fits his line, it’s going to get published.
Thank you, Mr. Pomerico, for clearing that up.
Jumping in a few days late, but I want to thank you for posting this. It’s easy for us as writers to think of editors as faceless, uncaring “cogs in the great publishing game”. But as your well-thought out post shows, they aren’t.
What I was disturbed with was the amount of hostility some posters on here are flinging about. Agents and editors aren’t all evil- and if you feel that way, then go self-publish. I don’t understand the mentality of calling editors, agents, and or the current publishing model names. If you want to follow traditional publishing- you play by their games. You find an agent who loves your work and is willing to fight for you. That agent works with editors such as Mr. Pomerico to see if your book is a fit for their company at that point in time. If not, said agent moves on to next publisher.
If you don’t like the rules- then don’t play.
It’s a pretty simple concept, yet more and more hostility such as shown in some of these posts keeps popping up. Ya don’t like it, then just move along and self-publish.
And I will now get off my soap box
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Point is- great blog- thanks for posting
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