Sometimes you get a personalized rejection that exists in a quantum state of sense and no-sense at the same time. Like this week’s example of rejectitude, from more than a decade ago and venerable publisher HarperCollins…
And, yes, there were pet rabbits in this sci-fi novel of mine, but they weren’t “space attack rabbits” of any sort. (Although the idea of rabbits engineered to survive in the vacuum of space, equipped with little rocket packs and laser beam helmets activated by the twitch of an ear, is just too adorable not to exist.)
As always with TWiR! entries, I’m not posting this or pointing out any of this stuff in order to mock those whose names I’ve redacted. I post this to show you that sometimes you will get a rejection letter that seems not to make sense. Trust that it made sense to the person who wrote it. And in the case of the letter above, more important than the rejection itself is that it wasn’t a form letter! I had sent a novel to a major publisher and someone read the whole damn thing and got back to me! That was a huge jump forward for Young Barry.
Remember: It’s not about being rejected or not. It’s about how you’re rejected and what kind of progress you’re making. Did I shake my head at “space attack rabbits?” Well, yeah, of course I did! But at the same time, I was heartened that someone had at least taken me seriously. Seriously enough to write an actual letter back to me.
Twitter is interesting and fun and useful, but it’s no place for nuance, circumspection, or reasoned debate. Unfortunately, most of the people on Twitter don’t seem to realize that.
Hey, cool! What was I just mentioning the other day…?
Best thing on the Internet so far today: Lego 007 in a shot-for-shot remake of the opening to Casino Royale!
My pal Varian Johnson talks about the lack of black main characters in middle grade.
In response to DC canceling Legion of Super-Heroes (my fave comic of all time, BTW), mega-blogger Chris Bird has posted a slew of terrific panels from the comic’s 50+ year history, including more than a few that rank among my favorites.
If you’re so inclined, check ‘em out.
On Monday, as the Senate at last voted for marriage equality, Dibble blew a kiss to his husband in the gallery. He may as well have been bidding Bachmann farewell.
I am curious: How many individual states have to pass marriage equality laws before it becomes ridiculous that there’s no such national law? Minnesota makes twelve — do we need to get to, say, half of the country? When we hit 25 states, will the federal government finally say, “Oh, maybe this is the will of the people?”
Where is the line to be crossed beyond which lies common decency?