I think, as writers, we all want someone to say "yes" to our product. Our query, our pitch, our book, our workshop, our self. It's not un-human. We dig on the affirmations, as a species. We're not crazy about rejection. And nowhere is that more obvious for me than in my writing.
I don't like it when people don't like what I write. In fact, sometimes it's harder for me to submit to my critique partners than I will admit. Of course, they are all very gracious people, and even when they have to say the hard things (like maybe this chapter should be axed), they find very constructive ways to help me. And, I should add, I would not be where I am without their feedback and their consistent support!
And six months ago, I probably would have told you that all I wanted was for someone to publish my book... to say yes to me. Today, however, I feel very differently.
Through my relationship with my critique partners, through my entering contests and getting feedback from judges, through my other beta readers, I have learned that sometimes the value of "yes" is very low. Yes, I need affirmation like everyone else. But no one (no matter what they think of themselves) writes perfectly. Even in my favorite books of all times, there are things I would change if I was the editor/agent/writer. That's because, as I blogged about yesterday, the writing industry is subjective. Everyone will edit different pieces out (or in). And everyone is always growing. I defy anyone to read an early Nora Roberts book and tell me she's not a different writer today than she was fifteen (ten, five) years ago. That's because writing is a craft, and the more you do it (especially with active feedback), the better you get.
When I started my first MFA class, my professor came to the chalk board and, before he said anything else, he wrote on the board, "WRITERS WRITE." Then he gave us a writing assignment. I thought it was so stupid at the time, but I did it. And through the duration of that program, I wrote every single day. And I got better. Lots better.
Then, when I started really pursuing writing as a career, I went back to that motto. Writers write. Yes, I entered the Golden Heart with my very first completed novel and hoped to win. I did not. Yes, I entered every contest I could get my hands on hoping to win. I did not. And yes, each of those "no" votes was hard to take. But let me tell you, the manuscript I sent into the Golden Heart seven months ago is not the manuscript that I'm writing today. Because of the "no"s from agents, and from contests, from critique partners, and from beta readers, it is a better manuscript than it has ever been. I've also stepped up my writing, and am working on a new ms that is leaps & bounds better than what I was doing previously.
Why? Because "no" is valuable, sometimes. Even when I don't want to hear it. Because I have not reached the place in my writing where I would want someone to say "yes" yet. Of course, I wasn't aware of that when I was entering contests. But now that I'm more aware of it, I feel like every "no" has infinite value. I don't want a publisher or an agent who isn't as in love with my work as I am. So I'm willing to go through the "no"s to get to the right "yes".
I do believe the "yes" will come at some point. And I'm willing to wait for it. In the mean time, I'm using all the "no"s to turn myself into a better writer tomorrow than I am today. Every little "no" (don't use this "ly" here, or this "ing" here, or this "was" here) is a beneficial critique, whether I use them or not. Because every little "no" gives me that much more perspective about my work. And every little "no" today will prepare me for the big "yes" in the future.
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