Several months ago, Sarah and I were discussing the bewildering behavior of writers who shook their fists at the skies and cried, “Where’s my rejection letter, dammit?!” I mean, why would somebody be demanding to know where their *rejection* letter was? Isn’t that putting the wrong sort of vibe out into the universe?
I get it now.
It’s not that they’re shaking their fists at the sky and hoping for a rejection letter. It’s that they’re desperate for a *response*. An *answer*. *Any* kind of answer is better than the interminable waiting. If it’s a rejection, fine, just get it over with and stop wasting their *time*.
I’m feeling that way today. All week, in fact; I’m expecting the mail to have a *response* in it. Since it’s pretty much entirely the wrong amount of time for anybody to respond to anything, there’s no logic behind this, but it’s itching at me anyway. Where’s my rejection letter!
I’m not actually /expecting/ rejection letters, mind you. I’m certainly not hoping for them. I’m hoping for insanely positive responses–we’d like to buy your book! That’d be good. Or, we’d like to buy your comic! That’d be good too. Or, please send us the rest of the manuscript! All good, and those are more what I’m expecting, because despite what I said earlier, there is something worse than the waiting, and that’s the soul-crushing rejection.
I know, too, that publisher time does not work like writer time. Publisher time reflects an entire industry; writer time reflects the agonizing hopes and dreams of an individual. Publisher time has to consider will this sell? can we market it? who will buy it? while writer time is I need a response, I’m trying to build a career here!
I’m having a bad case of writer time, today.