Paper Submissions and Positive Rejections

In the middle of April, I started submitting a novel to literary agents. It took the best part of a month to put the basic submission letter together and each submission was then tweaked according to the requirements of each agent.

To start with, I did four submissions by email. I received two standard rejections – indeed, one was so standard that it applied to non-fiction writers as well as writers of fiction. One agent never replied, though, in fairness, she did say on her website that if you haven't heard after six weeks, it's because she is not interested. The fourth agent simply never responded.

I then did four submissions the old-fashioned way. Is it me, or does it feel better to produce a physical submission? To me, it felt more satisfying to have a paper document to send through the post; and I'm sure they're easier on the eye when it comes to reading them.

What happened to my paper submissions? There were four of them. One received a standard rejection; the others got personal replies. Two were what my good friend Jen Gilroy calls “positive rejections” - that is, a rejection letter that includes positive comments on your work. It's funny how something can be disappointing and give you a boost at the same time.

The other personal reply? Well, yes, it was another rejection; and, yes, it was positive, but it then went on to pick the book's opening to pieces. And you know what? That was the most positive thing of all – because, since I had started sending out my submissions, I had come to realise the beginning of the book wasn't right.

I don't want to make it sound as if I belted out a novel at top speed and submitted the first draft. Far from it. The book took around a year to write and the original version went through the RNA New Writers Scheme, in which it was put forward for a second read. I left it for some time, so I could edit with fresh eyes; and then I left it again before embarking on what turned out to be a major overhaul.

But whereas other areas of the book were substantially edited, the beginning remained largely untouched. Then, around the time I sent out my paper submissions, I began to realise that the book's opening wasn't right – which is why, having made those four paper submissions, I didn't send out any more.

And the comments from the last agent – a brutal list of what was wrong with the book's opening – supported what I had been thinking.

So for this novel, it's back to the editing desk.

How about you? How do you cope with rejection letters? Have you had positive rejections and how did they make you feel? And – oh, yes, I have to ask – am I alone in enjoying the paper submission simply because it's a physical thing and not a formless message that vanishes into the ether? Do tell!