Bad Reviews and Rejections

 

Is there anything worse than seeing that dreaded one star review appear below your book? Or get that dreaded “No” in the mail? 

For authors, I don’t think there are many things that are worse than rejection. We spend months or maybe even years on our manuscripts, polish them up, read them countless times, put beautiful covers on them and send them out into the world. 

And then...

We wait. For some authors, the wait is short. For others, it is excruciatingly long. 

Seconds slip by into minutes, which somehow become days. And then, it happens. 

Someone, somewhere in the world, has read the book. And they decided it just wasn’t for them. 

It has taken me a long time to realize that part of being an author is recognizing that not everyone is going to appreciate or enjoy our art. That’s just the way it is. Art is subjective, and no matter what we write, it won’t make everyone happy. 

Still, knowing that we will receive bad reviews is very different from actually experiencing the reality of someone taking the work we’ve spent countless hours on, and saying it is garbage. I wish I could tell you that as an author, you won’t ever get a bad review or a rejection. But I’d be lying to you. The terrible truth is, you will. We all will. I have, and I will again. 

How we choose to cope with them is up to us. 

First, let me say this: Never, ever engage reviewers. 

Especially not bad reviews. It will never end well. 

This is the golden rule. 

Do not engage reviewers. 

Reviews are not for authors. They are for readers. I know that sometimes we get a bad review that makes us itch and we want to say, “But wait! That’s wrong! You just didn’t understand ____.” 

But believe me. Any type of answer is the wrong one. You can, and probably will, make the situation far worse by replying to the reviewer. Don’t do it. Do not engage them. 

Just don’t. Please. If you take nothing else away from this, take that with you. Don’t reply to reviews. They aren’t meant to be personal, and they are almost always directed at the work, not the author. 

Remember this: whether it was a bad review or a rejection, it means your art was not a good fit with that particular reader. It doesn’t mean it was bad. It just wasn’t the right fit. 

When we get that one star review or that rejection (God forbid they show up on the same day), we have a choice to make. Are we going to let this rule our lives and destroy our productivity for the day (I’ve definitely done this), or are we going to try to be adults about it? 

While I’ve been guilty of choosing option A, there are much better and more productive ways to tackle bad reviews and rejections. Here are a few things that I personally find helpful. 

Of course, the easiest thing to do would be to not ever look at reviews. Right? That would make sense. If you don’t see them, you don’t have to do that. If you are able to do that, I applaud you. 

If you’re anything like me, however, common sense falls to the wayside when you want to see what people are saying about your book. In that case, read on, fellow author. 

1. Cuss a little. There are no rules saying you can’t do this. In fact, I find it helps. Get it out of your system. In private. Without anyone watching. Call the reviewer all the bad names you want and walk away. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. 
2. Since you’ve already gone ahead and looked at reviews, take a look at some of those good ones. Copy them. Print them out. Frame them. Just because your work wasn’t the right fit for that dreaded one star reviewer doesn’t mean it’s bad. Other people probably think it’s amazing! Take that to heart. 
3. If you really need to write something out in response, do it on a piece of paper and then burn it. Don’t let that response see the light of day. But get it out of your system. 
4. Go look up your favorite book on amazon and read some of their one star reviews. Every book has them, it’s just a matter of time. 
5. Remember why you write. Everyone’s story is a little different, but we all have that reason. Let that be the driving force behind everything you do. Let it push you. 

And then—and this is the really important part—dust yourself off. Get back on the proverbial horse. 

Don’t let a bad review or a rejection stop you from pursuing your dream. Let it be a learning experience and grow from it. 

You are stronger than a bad review or a rejection. 

Happy writing, friends! 

Elayna R. Gallea is an author of young adult dystopian novels and new adult fantasy romance novels. She lives in beautiful New Brunswick, Canada with her husband and two kids. She is an avid true-crime lover, and in her spare time, she eats copious amounts of chocolate and cheese. If Elayna isn't reading and writing, she can probably be found watching The Food Network. Elayna and her husband have dogs and cats and enjoy touring their beautiful province whenever they can.

You can find her at: https://www.elaynargallea.com/

Reviews, Rejections, and Other Opinions

You want to know how I handle rejections, critical reviews, and other opinions? The facial expression of this photo of me in Ireland (at a 14th century monastery ruin) pretty much covers it. "Whaddya mean NO?"

Yes. You're going to get a lot of Ireland photos for the next couple of weeks cause I came home with 200+ and frankly, there's jack all to take photos of around here in the sweltering heat where everything and everyone is just melted. 

Listen. I don't know what it is about my make up - or my particular mental dysfunction - but most of the time, rejection and shitty reviews don't get me down. I've got a mental filing system for rejections and bitey reviews. 

First file: Crooked photocopy rejections and rubber band rejections. These are the easiest to blow off. They're meaningless rejections. These are the ones that come in so fast or so anonymously that it's obvious no one read my material. These aren't rejections. These are cries for help. Whoever sent them is so overwhelmed, they've closed to submissions without saying they closed to submissions. No problem. That's not really a rejection. They never even looked at the baby to tell me it's ugly.

Second file: Whiny one stars. These are the reviews people leave on a book that make me laugh and/or wonder aloud if they actually read the book I wrote. The second cousin to that review is the one star that whines 'man, this is nothing new or interesting why does everyone else like it?' Both of these reviews say more about the people leaving them than they do about my writing or story. Again. Easy to blow off (or leverage for a reverse psychology advertising campaign in you're into that sort of thing.) The first one is pitiable and the second is whining because their 'nothing new or interesting why does everyone like it' cry is code for 'I had an idea like this! How dare you write it!' Ask me how I know that and I'll show you the story I started in 8th grade (and never finished) that sounds a whole lot like the movie ET that came out a few years later and was a far better story anyway.

Third file: Rejection with cause. Critical reviews with specifics. NOW we're getting into the daggers to the heart. These rejections and reviews come from editors/readers who obviously read my work and read it thoughtfully. They've identified problems or issues I failed to address or that I hoped no one would catch. Occasionally, someone will catch something I was entirely blind to in a story. I'm pissy about the first and grateful for the second. I get het up about having issues and problem identified *when I knew about the issues and ignored them* - but note. I'm not mad at the person who called me out. I'm mad at me for thinking I could get away with it. Dumb move, author. For the people who call out issues I didn't see, I still get mad at me for not seeing it, but I'm grateful to having my eyes opened to it so I can fix it. It's possible I give myself a 24 hour pity party after it all hits before I have to adult up and fix my mess.

Fourth file: This one stings, y'all. This is BIG pain. Rewrite on spec and STILL get a reject. Not winning contests when a story finals goes in this folder, too. This one is when an editor asks for revisions on spec - they're asking for work with no guarantee that they'll acquire when that work is done. Of course I have to take the chance. I'm going to invest that time and that energy knowing that it may still not be good enough. It's that sunk cost that hurts when I feel like I got SO close (both in edits and in a contest) only to have what feels like the prize yanked from my fingers at the last second. Of course the 'prize', whether statue or contract, was never mine to begin with, but dang if my fingertips didn't brush if just for a second. The other tough aspect here is that when a rejection finally comes or a book doesn't win a content, there's no why. Typically, the editor won't go into reasons why the rewrite didn't hit the mark. They just say, 'not going to work for us. Good luck.' and contents say nothing at all. That twists the rejection knife becuase there's no clear action I could take to make my writing better. Again, I'm allowed to sulk like I'm three. But only for so long. Then to get past this, I have to turn my eye and my thoughts to what's next - the next goal, the next target, the next whatever it is. 

I suspect, for me, that having a new goal to move toward is the secret to recovering from rejection. I need activity - some new shiny to chase. I do have to give myself space to wallow in messy reaction. Based on my brain, I know that I have to sit with something emotionally loaded for 24 hours before the gears will shift. When those gears shift, ideas start rolling. The 'what if' thinking starts up - it's like having a relentless five-year-old in my head throwing "What if this happened? What if that happened? What if we . . .?" At that point, I'm not longer focused on the rejection. I'm focused on solution. Which may include getting spiteful and saying, "Fine. Your loss. I'll self-puh."

Dealing With Rejections

Whew—this was a difficult post to write.  

As an author, you’re signing yourself up for rejections on so many levels. Querying for an agent=rejections. Submissions to publishing houses=rejections. New story ideas to agent/publisher=rejections. And then there’s bad reviews that will come no matter which publishing path you choose. 

I’m not a negative person. I’ve always purposefully looked for the bright side and believed I could get through anything with the right mindset. And after going through some dark valleys, I still believe this is true. 

I didn’t write for a little over a year, as far as book writing goes, because of rejection. Well, that and my own body chemistry that sent me into depression. When your body can’t filter out the junk, it builds up and causes multiple systems to malfunction. And when you’re trying to write and all your brain registers is negativity, it builds up and clouds your ability to create. 

Rejection of any form can be hard, especially when it comes from a trusted source, from a place where support is supposed to come from. If you’re living this, my heart goes out to you. Jeffe did a podcast about rejections and thick-skin a while ago, but it’s still a good one that may be a benefit. And maybe some of my experience will be able to help you.

How to deal with Author Rejection/Negativity:

Number One—and it seriously only has to be one—is to find support. 

Support=people who believe in you. 

Some authors find support in a writing group, some in a writing buddy. Others find it in their partner, a coach, an online friend, a fan, or a bestie. There’s no limit to where you can find support, but when your brain tells you you’re terrible and wasting your time putting words on the page, you need a genuine cheerleader to give you a lift up. 

Second: Be Kind to Yourself.

Such simple words that hold a universe of challenges. Being kind to yourself will be different for everyone. For me, I had to stop piling on more negativity when I wouldn’t be able to write. I had to stop myself from wallowing in the pit. Count Rugen may have designed one specifically for Wesley, but our brains are even more malevolent when it comes to trapping our own potential. 

And to do that I learned, and am still working on, how to meditate and do resonant breathing (huge source of my health issues is my body being stuck in fight-or-flight mode and both of these are tools to help break the cycle and move into rest-and-digest mode).

Third…Time.

Rejection stings. Bad reviews, if you read them or are oh-the-horror tagged in them, sting. Edit letters, sting. But the best way to deal with them is to give yourself time. Step away and meditate, let your furry sidekick distract you, anything that can give your brain time to digest and set aside the negativity. 

If you’re in the pit and don’t have anyone to lend you a hand, reach out. I know, it’s not easy. Trust me, I know. But one of the wonderful things about being a writer is knowing that there are gobs of other writers out there that have been and are going through the same thing, and many of them are more than happy to reach out. Trust me, you’ve got this.

Some links if you’re curious:

https://www.healthline.com/health/breathing-exercise#resonant-breathing

https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/meditation/in-depth/meditation/art-20045858

https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/consumer-health/in-depth/mindfulness-exercises/art-20046356

Rejection Stories.

Today's photo brought to you by He Who is Fussed By Nothing. This is Crow, 'helping' me get this manuscript finished.

As to godsawful rejection stories. Mine is pretty tame, but I do still hold a grudge. So there is that.

One of the great benefits of having gone through an acting conservatory program was that we actually had training in how to handle rejection. There were rules. First rule was: It's never, ever personal. It may FEEL personal, but it's not. It could happen that you'd walk into an audition situation and a casting director would stop you and send you home before you'd even opened your mouth. How was that not personal? Easy. You had to realize that you probably look like that casting director's ex and there's not a damned thing you can do to counter that.

So when I screwed up the courage to start submitting my writing for publication, I figured I was pretty well adjusted for handling rejection. And to be honest, for 99.9% of the time, I absolutely was. Mainly because the rejections were all so professional and nonjudgemental. It's all been stuff like, "I just bought a story on this same theme. Sorry." That was my very first rejection and was from Marion Zimmer Bradley. It was a sweet way of laughing in my face and not saying, "OMG, this tired theme? Again? Did you not read or pay attention to my guidelines at all??" It's only after years of rejection letters that I've learned to read between the polite lines to the core of what an editor wants to say with their carefully worded 'thanks but no thanks' letters.

And then.

I subbed a story I very much loved to a small house that still exists (and which, will therefore not be named.) I'd talked to the editor at conference and been invited to sub. The rejection letter I received straight up said, "Writing's not good enough." Those exact words. You may deduce from this that the editor was male and you'd be correct. At the time, other writers shrugged when I raged over it. "Eh. It's the business. Get over it." No. It isn't the business. That's the point. It's an opinion. It's a value judgement in a business were editors have no professional business telling writers their work isn't good enough. Do it on Facebook and people will call you out for shit posting. Professionals stick to facts. The facts were that my work wasn't appropriate for this editor's line(s). Fine. Say so. That's a professional, business oriented rejection. I don't require a break down of what it is about the work that doesn't work for someone. That input is ALWAYS appreciated, but never expected.  The professional, no value-judgement rejection is what the romance industry has pretty much mastered and has been the standard rejections I've received. Except for this one editor (who no longer works in the business, much to my satisfaction.)

Does that make me petty? Good. I'm comfortable with that. The best revenge is to have been published, won awards, AND outlasted the jerk judgy.

Worst Rejection: Public Scorning

Worst rejection I've ever received from an agent or editor?

Public Scorning
Once upon a writers' org, we used to have editors from agented-only publishers hold open submissions for a finite period to unagented authors. We'd post our query to the forum and the editor would respond with their asks or passes. For those who received requests for fulls, the editor would comment on what part of that query piqued their interest. Great opportunity and learning experience...until one particular editor posted her pass on my submission. It wasn't the canned "thank you but not for me" that was used on other passes. No, my query was special enough to merit a diatribe, wherein the words "disgusting" and "unthinkable" appeared. And she didn't keep her scorn limited to the work, she decided to light into me too. Something in the mere 200 words summarizing the opening of a fantasy romance had teed her off.  If the editor had chosen to unload her vitriol in private via email, that would've been harsh, but I would've gotten over it. The public lambasting? Yeah, that makes it memorable. 

Bonus "Worst": "No answer means no."
Back in the days when agents were moving from hardcopy queries (see Jeffe's Sunday post about the beloved SASE) to email/FDM queries, a no-good and very-bad trend cropped up among the agents. In response to the deluge of emailed queries, agents and agencies adopted a "No answer to a query meant no interest" policy. ~facepalm~ No answer turned out to mean a lot of things. Mostly that technology is only grand when it works as designed, and back then filters and private servers worked less reliably than now. Lots of queries disappeared into a void, worse, requested materials were also gobbled up by technology gremlins. Once in a while, silence meant the agency was one of those outfits that respond five years after receiving a submission. Far less often did silence mean, "I have received, read, and rejected your query." From an author's perspective, the silence policy ended up being a poor excuse to avoid the bare minimum of professionalism.

Still Bleeding - the Worst Rejection Ever

Why what do I spy with my little eye?!? @jeffekennedy Cover Flats WITH FOIL. 😍 #TheOrchidThrone @SMPRomance @jcon713 pic.twitter.com/XNrKSCjCvy

— Sarah E. Younger (@seyitsme) April 12, 2019

I had to share this tweet from Agent Sarah. We got the cover flats for THE ORCHID THRONE (out in September 2019, but review copies are going out now - eep!) and they have foil! That's the shiny stuff on the cover. It shows best in the video from her tweet, but here's a still pic, in case the video doesn't play. Super cool, huh? It's my first cover with foil, and it's SO PRETTY!

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is Knife in the Heart: The Harshest, Meanest Rejections from a Publisher/Editor/Agent. I think this is a great topic because it's always good to hear that *every* author receives rejections. While 99% of them are usually vaguely kind, there's always some who have to be vicious about it.

This was on my mind the other day because there's one rejection I received about 25 years ago, when I was a super newbie author - and it was so mean I STILL THINK ABOUT IT TO THIS DAY.

I know, I know - I should really let it go. For the most part, I really have. I don't feel bad about it, but I do remember the words from this editor and they float back into my head from time to time.

So, I'd made this Huge Life Change™ and gone from a PhD program in Neuroscience to working as an editor/writer for a petroleum research group. The job had flexible hours, paid well, and let me develop my chops as a writer. I'd decided I didn't want to be a research scientist and wanted to be a writer instead. As part of this effort, I took courses from visiting writers at the university. One of the first was the class Essays on Self and Place. Thus, my early writing efforts were personal essays, also known as Creative Nonfiction.

(In fact, my first book was an essay collection: WYOMING TRUCKS, TRUE LOVE AND THE WEATHER CHANNEL.)

But before that happened, I was doing the magazine circuit. I'd send out work to places that published essays, from literary journals to commercial magazines. And I sold essays to that broad gamut, with my biggest score an essay I sold to Redbook for $1/word. I built this career largely through writing a lot and sheer tenacity. Which, come to think of it, is what I still do.

I'd read a piece of advice from some author I can't recall now to treat submitting like a game of ping pong. You submitted work, and as soon as it got rejected, you batted it right back out to another venue. I even called my folder of essays I was actively submitting "Ping Pong." I had a rule that I had to have every finished piece on active submission at three places at one time. As soon as a rejection arrived in the mail - and these were the days of paper printouts sent in the mail with a self-addressed, stamped envelope (the infamous SASE) - I had to whack that essay back out right away. I kept a list of publication venues (in a spreadsheet, OF COURSE), in order of preference, and I'd just go to the next on the list.

All in all, this approach worked very well for me. Treating the submission/rejection process like a game helped to take the sting out of rejections. It also meant I got a LOT of rejections. Every time that envelope showed up in my mailbox, addressed in my own hand, I'd feel the pain. They almost never *accepted* via the SASE. An acceptance came via phone call, maybe email (depending on the year), or as a thick envelope with their own postage containing a contract. Maybe even a check! I always wondered what they did with my SASEs in those cases, but it seemed cheap to ask for them back, even though I could have reused them.

So, yes, I received many, many rejections of various flavors, but I also published work at a steady rate in a variety of venues. I kept up a high velocity in my personal game of ping pong. It worked well.

This one magazine though...

It was called something like Women's World Weekly. I could be conflating several publications. But I do recall I discovered it in the Women's Bathroom at the petroleum research institute I worked in. Someone left copies in there every week. It was low-quality paper, with lots of ads for things women supposedly liked, and then those kind of heart-wrenching "real life" stories of love and loss.

So I sent them one of my essays on love and loss. And I got a rejection back pretty fast - hand-written, saying that it wasn't exactly the kind of thing for them - too long, or whatever. This was early on and I didn't always pay attention to the content of the rejections. Often they didn't say all that much that was useful. Also, I came from a scientific background and the non-scientific nature of their criteria often stymied me. Finally, I was busy - and the game of ping pong meant I had to get stuff back out there rapidly.

I sent them another essay on love and loss. I got another rejection saying no, it wouldn't work for them.

I sent a third essay. (Maybe I only sent two, but it might have been the third submission.) And I got this hand-written, black-ink, furious scrawl that said:

YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, JEFFE!

And I don't remember the rest. It was some sort of excoriation on how my work would never, ever, in a million years, be right for them.

Thing is - they were probably right. And it was true, that I didn't "get it." I was very new at that point, and green. I didn't yet understand how to discern what a particular publication or editor preferred. I viewed it all as a vast crapshoot - or a game of ping pong - and figured the right thing at the right time was what got accepted.

Which is actually very true.

But there was something in the sheer venom of that rejection that has always stuck with me. And sometimes I hear that guy's voice - the editor was male, which is interesting in retrospect - shouting at me in that scribbled note, telling me that my work was a waste of his time.

Of course, I took that publication off my spreadsheet and never submitted there again, which likely came as a relief to them. I sold those essays elsewhere, and I've gone on to build a career.

Still, every time someone implies that I "just don't get it," I feel the twinge of that knife to the heart. Funny, what gets to us, huh?