The Rejection Reward Program

I did it! After a year in which I took on more writing and editing jobs than I thought I could handle in my spare time, I finally finished revising my own book. Sure, it took a lot longer than I initially expected, but the past 12 months have brought me so much growth in terms of my understanding of writing, and the opportunities I’ve had have done a lot to boost my confidence in my skills. As I closed the final chapter late Sunday night I was able to sit back and say, this is a story I would read again. I honestly can’t say that for a lot of the things I’ve written in the past.

Now comes the bigger challenge: queries, book proposals, sample chapters, and rejection letters. This won’t be the first time I’ve submitted a book to agents and editors, and I don’t expect it will be any easier than previous attempts either. The one thing I have on my side this time is a little more experience and a great reward program.

I’ve heard stories of other writers taking each of their rejections and skewering it on a bill spike. Some use them for target practice. Others have simply burned them. I use them as an excuse to treat myself. It’s kind of like my coffee punch card, for every rejection letter I receive I get a stamp. Once my stamp card is filled, I get a book, or I go to dinner with a friend — something to celebrate the fact that I put myself out there.

The Rejection Reward Program serves two purposes, it helps take the sting out of a form letter (I get an extra stamp if the letter is a personal note), and it encourages me to keep trying. After all, who can say no to the reward of your choice?

I’ll keep you posted as to my progress in the weeks ahead. For those of you who are in the same stage of writing as me, I’d love to hear what you do to keep yourself motivated. You can answer via the comment section on this page, or visit me and connect with some other writers over on my Facebook Writer’s Page.

–Jen

The Overlooked Character

Like most writers, I spend a lot of time getting to know my lead characters.  I catalog their likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, what they dream of, what they fear. But while revising a chapter in my book I came to the realization that I don’t put nearly that much effort into the majority of my secondary characters. I’m not talking about the blink-and-you-miss him walk-on roles here. I’m referring to the people my protagonist and antagonist deal with on a regular basis.

Where my lead is fully realized, the person he was interacting with in this particular instance came off as a partially rendered 3D character in a live-action film. What could have been a show-stopping scene instead fell flat. Everything from movement to dialog seemed forced and unnatural. As a writer I was stumped. As a reader I was frustrated.

Then it dawned on me: Secondary characters are as vital to a well-written story as strong leads. Without them the protagonist has no steel against which to sharpen himself.

One of the best ways I’ve found to fix this problem is to tackle the scene from a different point of view. In this particular chapter my protagonist is dealing with an acquaintance who seems to live to make his life difficult in any way possible. Until recently it was just a literary device to move the story along; I didn’t realize why it was that this particular person was so strongly opposed to my lead. Writing the scene completely from the secondary character’s perspective resulted in two things. First, I discovered Reason and Motive, bringing a realistic depth to both the character and the scene. Second, I uncovered a few new foibles about my less-than-perfect hero that I can use to my advantage at a later date.

This exercise also reminded me of another fundamental truth about writing: There are always two sides to every story, and as a writer it’s my job to get to the bottom of both.

The Missing “Scents”

I think smell is one of the five senses we tend to take most for granted, and yet it’s one we depend on more than we realize. It’s allergy season for me. The cottonwood trees are in full bloom and are filling the air with their own form of watery-eye, itch-inducing, fuzzy snow. Even with taking allergy meds it’s a miracle when I can breathe clearly through both nostrils at the same time.

Today happened to be one of those days. While Phillip and I were walking across the pedestrian bridge spanning the Rogue River, I noticed two distinct scents. They were so strong we joked that someone had stopped and sprayed two canisters filled with the particular smells just to catch people’s attention. (In truth, they come from two different trees growing along the river.) The first smell was sweet, a mix of floral and spice drops. It’s the perfume I attributed to the fabled gumdrop trees in the realm of Fancy. The other reminded me of my brothers’ soccer bags after a week of daily doubles.

Smell is also key to taste. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to differentiate the passion fruit from the rest of the flavors of the tea I ordered this morning. Everything just blends together obscurely. I know it’s there, I get a hint of the flavor, but it lacks the full body. And then there is the role it plays in creating memories. A whiff of cologne or body spray will bring to mind a friend or family member I haven’t seen in years. Vinegar reminds me of the summer my grandmother spilled a full bottle in her car. Finally, smell can alert us to danger long before we see or hear it, such as smoke, gas, or milk that has recently turned.

Why this long-winded talk of smell, you wonder? Well, I’ve been helping some friends with their writing projects over the past few months and I’ve noticed sight and sound has been abundant, but there has been little mention of the smells surrounding their characters. This made me take a closer look at some of the books I’ve been reading. Lo and behold, there it was: Sight. Sound. Touch. Taste. And Smell. Coupled with the past few weeks of limited breathing capabilities, I’ve become more aware of just how flat the world is without the sharp, sweet, sour, and gym-bag fumes permeating my environment. It’s one more thing I’m keeping in mind as I work through my own revisions.

The Return to Creativity

Between my day job and some additional editing jobs I’ve taken on over the past few months, I’ve noticed my personal writing has been increasingly pushed into the background. Especially where my book is concerned. At first it didn’t seem like that big a deal, but as the weeks passed I started to feel more and more disconnected. Even my daytime daydreams seemed to be fading into the deep recesses of my mind. There has been more than one occasion when I’ve worried I lost the key to my imagination and wondered if I’d be able to find it again.

Yesterday, however, I found myself inexplicably caught up for a few moments and couldn’t wait to get home, slip into a tank top and yoga pants, strip off my makeup, and jump onto my bed with my laptop. When it comes to writing, I’ve found the most effective spot is in my room. I’m comfortable, I’m less apt to be distracted by any clutter in the kitchen or videos and books in the living room, and the face I present to the world — the editor — has been completely banned from this place.

Here I am free to be creative, to express my most heartfelt thoughts. This is my sanctuary.

At first I was a bit concerned I’d have trouble getting started because it had been so long since I’d last opened one of my chapters, but it turns out I needn’t have worried. Everything else in my life was forgotten: bills, upcoming tasks, a close friend’s imminent move across country…they all faded into the distance as I slipped easily from this world into the realm of Fancy. And in that moment I felt more content than I have in a while.

I didn’t realize how much I missed my characters or how big a part of my life they have become. It was as if no time had elapsed at all as we moved together from one page to the next...and the next. Before I knew it, my Lego Darth Vader alarm clock (go ahead and laugh) was telling me two hours had passed. After expressing my surprise, Bobblehead Han Solo (a gift my aforementioned friend gave me earlier this year) seemed to give me that cocky grin he’s so famous for and ask, “What kept you so long?”

Needless to say, I was quick to promise him and the others I wouldn’t let it happen again anytime soon.