writer Archives - chris wheeler

2018 was the year I took up the challenge to accrue 100 rejections – with the goal, essentially, of submitting to 100 or more publications in a year.

The publishing landscape is sprawling and extremely diverse, but if there’s one thing I learned this year it’s that there’s a seat at the table for all of us, as long as we’re willing to listen and follow the rules. I think the biggest complaint I had within the first month of sending things out was that I either had too much faith for secular publishers or too little for Christian publishers. But I came to understand that the vast majority of publishers aren’t trying to weed out faith or inject it into somebody. They have a mission for their publication and they are responsible to guard that mission. “Not a good fit” is not just a generic phrase, it’s a true one. And once I found my people, I felt a lot more freedom to write what I wanted with authenticity then if I had pushed my way into a different niche entirely.

Here are some basic things I learned during this year of submissions:

ALWAYS read the guidelines and follow them to the letter. If you’re shoddy about following instructions, you won’t get read.
Get on email lists of publications like Authors Publish, Winning Writers, and Freedom with Writing, along with your favorite publications that have regular calls for submissions. Make your inbox do the searching for you, and then keep a running list of possible publications to look into later.
Read at least 5 different published works from any individual publication before you even decide to submit to them. If you get to the know the feel of what they publish better, you have a higher chance of sending them something that matches their goals. You might also decide that this particular publication just isn’t a good fit for your style.
Submit your best stuff and edit-edit-edit before you press send. Don’t just assume that because you like your words other people will even understand them at all. Publications want to publish your work, but you can’t give them crap you just wrote the other day on a napkin (unless you’re Ernest Hemingway – which you’re not, so just re-read and edit your words until they are the best they can be).
Keep good records. Set up a spreadsheet and track which pieces you’ve submitted, where you submitted them, and when you’ve submitted them. Then, of course, track your acceptances and rejections so you have bragging rights someday. (“Sure, Rowling got seven rejections on Harry Potter, but guess how many I’ve racked up…”)
Most importantly, invest in publications you admire and support. Find lit mags you love and follow them. Buy their stuff. Like and share their content. If you believe your work has value and should be out there, be a true fan of other people’s work. Say you get published by a small lit mag. Don’t just add their name to your Twitter handle and hit the road. Submit again (within the time frame their guidelines suggest, of course; see rule #1). In the meantime, engage with their content and your fellow writers.

Beyond the Basics

But beyond the basic advice, I’ve learned a lot about myself in the process of submitting to all these places.

I need community. In the process of researching literary magazines and wading through a towering pile of submission requirements, I began to discover online writing communities that are both informative and encouraging about the process. The diverse range of authors represented didn’t take anything away from the similarities we all shared: we love to write, and we’re trying to get published. Twitter has a burgeoning writing community that supports and loves on each other’s work and provides opportunities to write daily stories. Facebook groups abound for Christian writers and creatives. Not every community I’m a part of now has directly led to opportunities – but they have led to good friendships and partners on the path to publishing, and that’s more important in the long run.
Getting rejected will always be hard. I kind of assumed that I would get numb to it after a while, but getting told that your work isn’t wanted will always and forever suck. But here’s the thing – the point is less about getting rejected and more about how quickly you turn around and send something somewhere else. Submitting to places was excruciating at first – mustering up the courage to even press send on a piece took forever. But now it’s the new normal, partially because…
I don’t need to take my writing so seriously. Part of submitting is letting go of a very personal thing which you have brought to life through your own sweat, blood, and tears. Initially, I loved my stuff too much. I wondered why others couldn’t see the importance and brilliance of what I was doing. But I came to realize that my writing isn’t always the greatest – in fact, it’s RARELY the greatest. And most of the world could care less about what I have to say. But with this realization came a great freedom – the freedom to pursue writing for the sheer joy of it, with the goal of getting better – step by step, little by little. As I repeatedly let go of my work, as I continually let it out into the light of day, I saw it for what it was – flawed. But also – hey, look at that – improving! And I loved writing all the more for it. I came to value the journey of writing and submitting more than I valued the accomplishment of finishing a piece or getting something published.
I need challenges to grow. Sending things out consistently was hard, and it would have been so much easier if I had just stuck with self-publishing things. I have nothing against self-publishing – and I plan to do some of it this year! But sending my work out to objective parties helped me to grow up in general and to grow as a writer in particular. I got valuable feedback and pushed myself to write better stuff, to unearth more striking metaphors, to write and write and write and write. And now looking back I see clearly the areas where I’ve grown, and why growth has happened at all.
I don’t need a platform, I need to love people more. I’ve struggled from day one with the concept of platform – the idea that in order to get your work out there, you need to have a following, and you need to cultivate that following. I would be lying if I said I don’t struggle with it now. But I understand it more – how it’s all part of a large information marketplace that has its own quirks and rules, but that isn’t inherently evil. As I’ve developed my own authentic voice and figured out the ins-and-outs of hashtags, I’ve learned primarily that it’s not so much about selling something as it is about giving something away. Now, even as I acknowledge and make use of Facebook algorithms, I ask myself different questions: How do I bless people when they see my posts? What gifts can I give to them? How do I challenge them? I’m learning to love on my communities instead of use my audiences. Also, when I like or comment or share something from my fellow creators, I do it honestly and out of love for them, as a way to support their art.
My level of rejections or acceptances has nothing to do with my value in God’s eyes. It has been said and it will be said again, and I will say it until I am blue in the face. Over and over again this year, God has proved to me that He is all I need. He has given me desire, ability, and opportunity to write – and out of it He has provided joy in the work of my hands and motivation to love people through my writing. This blessing is not something I have earned in any way – as my long list of rejections attests. I have gained a new understanding of the idea of unmerited favor. In the process I’ve learned that acceptances don’t change my standing with Him any more than rejections do. He is at work in it all, and out of His fierce love, He draws me closer to Him through it all.

I could write so much more about the past year, but the thing that weighs on my mind after thinking through 2018 is mostly: thank you. Writers are nothing without readers. And not only have you encouraged me and supported me in numerous ways – from a like on Facebook to a friendly word on Sunday morning – you have given me someone to write to. I hope you’re not tired of me yet, because I’ve got some projects I’m really excited about in queue for 2019.

So – thanks. I really like you people.

Until next time,

-Chris

Recently I’ve been receiving this rash of wonderful wise words from established writers about the act of writing – everything from excerpts from John R. Erikson’s “Story Craft” …

“My approach to writing has not been dramatic or romantic. It draws upon practical wisdom from ranching: Don’t pump your water well so hard that it goes dry; don’t overgraze your pastures; don’t milk your cow so often that she drops dead. The model I use in my writing is not the tormented genius screaming back at the storm, but a mule pulling a plow, around and around, hour after hour and day after day. Pulling a plow is a mule’s vocation. Mine is writing good stories for people who need good stories.”

to Stephen King’s On Writing…

“It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room. Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.”

Of course, early on in the multi-year process of deciding that writing was what I should pursue, I read Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water …

“You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.”

and Neil Gaiman’s View from the Cheap Seats…

“It is the writer’s job to explode, and the analysts to pick up the pieces and figure out what happened.”

I love reading about the craft of writing because whenever I dive into these things I feel this affinity for the person on the other side of the page – like I get this person deeply, like if I sat down with them they would get me too. Maybe I’ll get the chance. Three of them are still living…

I realized as I was reading through these accounts that I have some thoughts myself about the writing process that might be worth sharing. Of course, they would never (at this point) be as extensive or tested as these giants of storytelling – in fact, they’ll only be as long as this blog post – but I hope these thoughts are helpful.

And if not, well, I’ll have written them down for the day that I write my own book on the craft of writing. *crosses fingers*

There were some recurring questions I ran up against in the past two years of transition. Here they are, with what I learned from them.

Can you get rejected and keep going?

Notice I didn’t ask if you’re okay with rejection; no one is. It sucks. But rejection is a fact of freelance life – of any writer’s life – of any creator’s life. By last January I had sent out around twenty or so manuscripts and single pieces to different publications and publishers, and hadn’t received anything back. I was writing like mad so I had plenty of material, but I was discouraged by the responses I was receiving – all kind, but all “thanks-but-no-thanks.”

I remember reading somewhere about turning rejection on its head, making it a goal instead of a failure. Doing this shifted your priorities enough to push past the fear of it and keep sending out work. So I made my 2018 New Year’s resolution to get 100 rejections in a single year.

I made a list, with the help of sites like AuthorsPublish, Freedom with Writing, and Writers Weekly. I snooped around the bios of authors I liked to see where they were published and added those places to the list. And then every night, I submitted one to two pieces to a contest, blog, or literary magazine. While I racked up a decent number of rejections in the first half of the year, I also racked up a few acceptances. When it was possible, I asked editors for feedback, and I applied their feedback to my writing.

Shifting the game from accruing acceptances (a rare commodity) to accruing rejections (an abundant commodity) was what I needed to remind myself that rejection was going to be my norm. Without the understanding that disappointment was going to be a part of life and I needed to use it to grow, I would never have been ready to make the decision to dive into freelancing.

Can you set realistic goals and will you complete them?

Notice I didn’t ask if you could write well. That’s a good question to ask, but it’s complicated and personalized. What’s more important is determining whether you will make goals that match your abilities so that you can actually follow through. My goal of one submission a night was feasible for a dad with a full-time job and four kids five and under. It was small enough that I could definitely do it. Previous goals were writing-based – one post a week on a blog, taking one night a week to write for 2-3 hours, etc. Whatever the goal, small steps can and will turn into big steps, as long as you understand your limitations and realize you have to be in it for the long haul.

It’s the same thing with the Christian life, btw. We all need to be reminded that nothing we do will separate us from the love of Christ. But what we do matters – just ask the sheep and the goats. What so many consider to be inconsequential pieces of the Christian life are, according to Scripture, THE Christian life. Prayer, Bible reading, going to church, participating in the sacraments, living in community – these are how we talk to and hear from God. They aren’t big or flashy methods of Christianity. They’re lifelines that produce courageous faith, and they help us to mind our own business and work with our hands.

Start small, and follow through.

Do you know what you love to write?

This takes a while to discover, but having a general idea of what you really like to write about will stand you in good stead. Early on I realized that I loved story and creative writing much more than other types of technical and marketing writing. I also was passionate about the arts, particularly music and story. And finally, I loved writing for the worship of the church. These are all guideposts pointing me to what I’m good at writing.

I can fake a lot of other things. But the fact remains: if I’m not excited about something, it’s harder to write. This is not, as many people claim, a bad phenomenon. It is something to realize and use. Believable writing comes from an authentic place. I can write marketing copy. But it won’t be that great by comparison to a report about how God is working in the world, or a liturgy for confession, or a story for or about my kids.

And if you can’t find a readily accessible market for what you love, do three things in order: 1) Dig deeper. 2) Be patient. 3) Make one.

Are you and your community supportive of each other?

I believe strongly that the merit of what we as artists accomplish is based on the level of community we let into our process. Simply – the best art comes from community, and gives back to the community. This goes way beyond simply asking your friends if they know anybody who needs writing. It goes to the heart of why you’re even doing this writing thing at all, and if your answer is for yourself, you’re not going to succeed. Spiritually, an individualistic pursuit of a goal will dry you out and wear you down. Practically, without a cushion of encouragers, first-network fans or healthy support group, you won’t even get good gigs.

So consider this – how would you respond to your church family if they asked you to write something for them? How are your words pointing those around you to Christ? How are you giving of yourself – in all ways, not just writing ways – to love and care for the people closest to you? Dig into this community, not for what it gives you in return, but because they’re your family.

Who owns your words?

I have to repeat some big ideas to myself a lot, and the primary idea is that my identity is not “writer,” it is “child of God.” This reminds me that, of no merit of my own, and having done nothing to deserve it (not even writing a best-selling novel or a stellar blog post), I am accepted and loved and valued. Your writing is not the best writing in the world, but it is unique to you, because you are a unique child of God. Your voice has meaning and value, and God gave it to you for a reason. As you submit yourself to Him as a willing vessel, He will use you.

The second idea that needs a lot of repetition is that my work is not mine. Madeleine L’Engle captures this idea in “Walking on Water” when she says:

“The artist must be obedient to the work, whether it be a symphony, a painting, or a story for a small child. I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says, “Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.” And the artist either says, “My soul doth magnify the Lord,” and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses; but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, and not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary.”

This is the other thing I need to bump into daily – my writing isn’t ultimately about me or my experiences. It is a window into something eternal. As soon as I clench my fist around what I’ve written and claim it as my own, the work is stillborn. But if I open my hand and let the words live and move and have their being in submission and boldness, the work is endlessly meaningful.

Your turn.

So I would love to know what wisdom you’ve learned about your vocation. Also – what books on the craft on the creative process would you recommend to me?

Tag: writer

what I learned from 100 rejections