Frame This One: Rejection Letters

Frame This One: Rejection Letters

“Did you keep your very first rejection letter?”

That’s an awkward question. My answer usually begins with the caveat: “Okay, please keep in mind, I was only 13 at the time …”

(Spoiler alert: No, I didn’t.)

I vaguely recall wandering around the schoolyard at recess, feeling sorry for myself and lamenting the untimely demise of an otherwise promising writing career. (Ah, the self-centered melodrama of the adolescent mind.)

Fast-forward to 2020: A fresh rejection letter arrives, and really makes my day.

A statement like that deserves some explanation.

Just to be clear: I’m currently in the midst of self-publishing a dystopian series, the Tracker Trilogy. And I’ve been shopping a stand-alone novel — a supernatural thriller set on another world — to publishing agents after learning about “hybrid” authors (indie + trad published).

That’s how an indie author still manages to get rejection letters.

Here’s why I’d consider framing this one:

It was professional.

If you’ve ever pitched a novel face-to-face with an agent, you know the thrill when they request a larger sample of your writing. It’s not a guarantee of publishing, but it shows they’re interested and — HOT DANG — that’s a nice feeling.

Then you never hear from them again.

The rejection letter I recently received was from an agent in New York who’d requested thirty pages of my stand-alone novel. Unlike some others I’ve pitched to, this agent later contacted me to inform me of their decision.

Here’s why that matters: It shows respect.

A rejection letter is still, well, rejection. But it’s validating for an author to be treated with respect. It’s the way professional agents should communicate with authors, especially if they’ve requested a larger sample of your work.

It was courteous.

The agent thanked me for my time. That was courteous and funny, considering how busy New York agents tend to be. They thanked me for the opportunity to read my work, and commented on how much they’d enjoyed our conversation and the conference where we’d met.

The agent signed off with an encouraging note to keep pursuing my writing.


Again, not every agent or publisher does this. You’d think they would, but they don’t.

Of course, if you’ve submitted an unsolicited manuscript, that’s understandable. They don’t “owe” you a reply if you’re the one initiating the contact. The overwhelming majority of unsolicited stories are slaughtered on the slush pile, and expecting the publisher to contact each and every writer is, frankly, unrealistic.

But when an agent/publisher requests a larger sample of your work, it says a lot about their professionalism when they take the time to communicate the bad news as well as the good. That’s why — honestly — I was encouraged by this rejection letter. Professionalism and respect should go hand-in-hand at all levels of the publishing world.

I wrote back and thanked the agent … for rejecting my book like a pro. (Insert ironic emoji here.)

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