Self- Rejection and "Knowing"

Self-rejection is one of the easiest and most brutal things you can do to yourself.

It’s one of those things you hear all the time—that you don’t know unless you try. Even so, there gets to be a point where you feel pretty sure you do know. As much as I try to keep trying, I was getting near that point towards the end of last year in regards to querying CENTRAL AVALON. I’d get an email, and I’d “know” it was a rejection. With my track record, that was what I expected. Occasionally, it would be personalized, but barely a fraction of the time was there more than that. That was the pattern: query, query, query, rejection. I kept going because that’s what I do, even if I was thinking it was probably time I conceded that my ghost hunting book wasn’t going to get an agent.

The day after Thanksgiving, one of my friends mentioned that she’d just sent out a query and got a full request minutes later. I decided to query her, too, but my entire train of thought was, “Awesome! That means she’s online and actively reading queries right now! I can rack up another rejection real quick!” With that “knowing” mentality, I submitted. I didn’t expect to get a response asking for the full manuscript an hour and five minutes later, I didn’t expect her to enjoy it as much as she did, and I especially didn’t expect her to request a call to offer representation just under a month later. It was surprising and overwhelming in the best way possible. Even though I didn’t expect it to happen, it wouldn’t have happened at all if I hadn’t tried.

One of the things that really gets me is that I might have self-rejected if I’d let myself linger rather than just go for it. If I’d checked much more than her agency and her wishlist, I might not have even tried. She’s cool—really cool—and she’s done a lot of impressive stuff. She’s talented, accomplished, and professional. She teaches at UCLA and Stanford. Right there, if I’d realized that ahead of time, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have tried. That’s the kind of person you’d send deep books and high class “literary” works. My story is not that. I’m not being self-deprecating saying that. I’m not delusional about what it is and what it isn’t. Is it fun? I’d like to think so. Will it make you feel things? I hope so. But is it a high-class masterpiece? Dude. It’s about a group of misfit ghost hunters living out of a school bus.

And yet, Jeanne got it. She had that fun. She felt those things. And that team of idiots? She loved them. She loved the book for what it was—not what it wasn’t—and she loved it enough and with enough confidence to want to represent it. She wanted to represent me. Thinking about that even now gets me emotional. It’s a joy that I will never take for granted.

Jeanne? She is amazing. She’s knowledgeable, cool, easy to talk to, and beyond supportive. She makes me feel like anything is possible. I’m proud to be one of her authors. She is an absolute, utter dream. Had I self-rejected, it would have never happened. Working with her would have been unattainable, but only because I’d let it be. Because I tried, my life has changed for the better.

If you're fighting with that false “knowing” right now, keep trying. Keep striving. Don’t let your doubts, your fears, or yourself get in the way.