First off, I should tell you that I am ALSO at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash today, Spreading the Love (literally—that's my blog title)--so if you want a little love, head on over THERE, too.
Now the project HERE today, has to do with The Rejectionist's Blogiversary... she asked for an 'essay' on what a form rejection means to ME.... So here it goes...
Y'all know with the Naked World Domination Tour, and the ever-growing cadre of minions, that sometimes I FORGET the world won't be handed to me on a silver platter. I mean it SHOULD, right? I'm deserving. But there are bizillions of people out there, including pretty much ALL the literary agents, who haven't gotten the message. It all reminds me a little of how I became intent on Total World Domination (even if I had yet to merge the fact of my Nudism with it at the time). I have Mrs. Ringo to thank.
My high school math teacher looked... pretty much EXACTLY like the girl of the Campbell Soup Kids (somebody back me up here—calling on Moscow High School grads—she DID, didn't she?) Her voice didn't help, it was high pitched and very precious... imagine how a Cupie Doll would sound... And I gave her an awful lot of grief, though hopefully she only knew the half of it, as part of it consisted of writing down what she wore each day (she had 4 outfits) and keeping track of how many days her pants had a chalk line from leaning on the blackboard (she ran about 85%). I was a SERIOUSLY TERRIBLE HORRIBLE STUDENT. A NIGHTMARE.
You see though, the joke was on ME. Mrs. Ringo would say things to me (by the time I got to Calculus and so only had same age peers, which emboldened me to be more openly a smartass), “Well, Tami, I don't think YOU can do this.” (Tami is my peon name, if you'll remember) She was referring to getting an A on a test, or a certain kind of problem. And do you want to know how I responded?
Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time KNOWS I hate to be told what I can and can't do... that being told 'you can't' makes me do it just to spite them... no matter HOW I have to bust my butt to do it... So all these things Mrs. Ringo said I couldn't do? I did. Oh, I didn't always get As in Calculus... Only when she basically DARED ME. She was a whole heck of a lot smarter than I gave her credit for—one of VERY few teachers to EVER tap into my inner rebel.
And what does that have to do with form rejection? *cough* My second round of queries, my inner rebel yawned. My third round it opened an eye. And then I proceeded to find ANOTHER WAY IN. HA! Take that you Tart Rejector you! I will make it WITHOUT the query process! HA!
By this, I mean... I managed to find a back door... get a referral... establish a relationship with an agent... audition for a specific series and get a contract offer... erm... Okay, so it's not even a back door. I crawled in a window... but there was no Query involved.
I really get the NEED for form rejections, but I think as writers we can't take them too personally. To a QUERY, I really never have. To a requested partial or full—it is a little offensive—a sentence at least, would be nice, but hey... I am in the process of hiring right now, and I don't relish contacting the people we didn't pick, so I guess I get that to some degree too... just part of the process. I am just not inclined to follow rules.