je ne rejette rien

We were asked to write the rejection letter 

we would love to have received...

Dear You,

(I say 'You' to avoid using a name because lots of people are going to get this letter! Just kidding!) It's a worry isn't it? No really, Keith. (Can I call you Keith? Well, you don't really have any choice in the matter, do you? Keith it is.) Keith – what can I say?

And perhaps in asking that, I say everything.

I imagine you understand the publishing business by now, and have submitted your efforts to many other publishers and agents and competitions even though the rules clearly state... Well, why not? No-one's going to check are they? Unless you really get published in which case all the other publishers will sue you for breach of copyright which they obtained under clause 32 (b) on page sixteen of the terms and conditions when you submitted to them.

Or are you a first timer, submitting to us alone and waiting six months for an answer, while you fretted and agonised and awaited the dreaded feedback? In which case, refer to the previous paragraph.

So assuming you are an old hand, you will have received lots of bland rejections and no real feedback. It's horrible being rejected, isn't it? So this time things are different, Keith. Here is some genuine, professional feedback. Which is: that your submission is pretty impressive, actually. I mean: original idea, with a clear story arc, well defined, realistic characters and a really elegant twist in the final chapter that would make the reader gasp. That feels good, I hope, Keith! Positive feedback.

In fact, your work is as good as dozens of submissions we receive every week, here at Ferzackerley House. Ah yes, there's the rub, you see. We receive hundreds of submissions a week. In a year, thousands. Of course, there's a lot of dross from inarticulate fanboys and copyists and the plain illiterate. But there are surprisingly many that are good; original; brilliant – like yours in fact! When I started here it was a pleasure to read them and realise how much talent we have in this country. But then it starts to pall, Keith, it really does. So many and so few that can get published.

Because, the problem is, you're not a daytime TV 'personality' that had a book ghost-written by some poor hack like me. Or an already published famous writer of pot-boilers who can keep pumping out the same old crap and see it fly off the shelves. If your story had been about something that hit the right Zeitgeist buttons then you might have a chance. But otherwise, it's a pure lottery. Or even more to the point, you don't have the right connections to have your work put up forcefully in front of our esteemed Chairman for consideration. So you see, unless there's some hook to hang it on, some marketing ploy to make it attractive, it's not going to sell. (You're not J K Rowling trying another anonymous foray are you by any chance? That would work.)

Look: say we publish your work. Those that happened to pick up a copy in Waterstone's by accident might read the first page and be delighted by it and a few might even buy it. More likely, they'd smile and move on to the new pot-boiler by an author they came in for. So you see, you wouldn't have many buyers. One day you'd be in W H Smith and see a big pile on the 2 for £1 counter and feel depressed. Rejection again!

Is that really what you want, Keith? Of course not! Can I say that your CV is very positive! You've done amazing things with your life. I'm sure they have brought you great joy. And this writing thing – you say you love writing. Great! So write! Why do you go and want to then get published and all the anxiety that involves? All the time you've wasted printing out copies or emailing pdfs to obscure organisations you've never heard of, and worrying that they're just trying to steal your personal details. Or your plots. If you did by a miracle get published, think about all the time you'd have to spend going to boring literary festivals and endless wrist-aching book signings and meeting cynical journalists who haven't even read your book and just want material to make them look clever in their columns. All that wasted time when you could be enjoying yourself just writing. People do lots of things they just enjoy doing as an end in itself. Knitting, collecting china, appreciating art, hill walking, singing in a choir. Lots. None of them do it for fame or to make shed loads of money. They do it for the sheer pleasure they get out of it – so why can't you just write! You're good at it, you have my word.

Let me put it another way. Think of pop stars. Suddenly one becomes famous, goes platinum, and everyone wants to download their songs. They're racking up the numbers on spotify, they're appearing on Graham Norton and the One Show. Wow! Is it because they are the best singers? No. Mainly it's because they have the right look or meet what the record company thinks will tickle the fancy of the millennials or whoever they are marketing to. There's thousands of kids out there just as good, or better. It's a lottery, pure and simple. And they get fame and money and then what? Ripped off by their record companies and their accountants, no private life, drugs, tabloid exposures and ruin. And not much different for successful authors either. OK, not a perfect analogy. Authors don't get by on their looks. I mean, do they ever? But you get the idea.

So, yes, you could keep submitting your work to the likes of us and maybe one day you'll win the lottery. But what are the chances? And even if you succeed, is it worth it?

So I say, keep up the brilliant work, Keith. Enjoy what you do! Don't look back. But don't look forward either. It's not gonna happen and it's not that good even if it does. Write for fun, or do some more of those wonderful things on your CV.

Why am I telling you all this? Do I seem a little cynical? Well, to tell you the truth, I've had enough. This is a mug's game. Pretending to sift through all this fantastic work and selecting the best – when all we're really doing is printing some TOWIE yob's purported ravings or the work of the Chairman's floozie's niece (or is the niece the floozie?), while sending the rest off to landfill. And causing mass depression amongst good writers with rejection letters while we're at it. Time for me to hand in the blue pencil.

You're good – keep at it!

Regards

Olga de la Warr

Associate Director and Rejector-in-Chief

cc Sir H B Ferzackerley, Chairman

OfficeCirc@FerzackerleyHouse.com