I was selling some of my books at a local book fair when a cheerful woman walked over, scanned my table, waved her hand over my display then asked, “But do you self-publish these stories or did someone else publish them?”
“Both.”
With a squint and a head tilt, she asked me to elaborate. I explained that I publish some small books on my own, and they’re a mix of things that have been published in various places and some that haven’t.
She nodded. “That’s good.”
She clearly wasn’t keen on self-published books. That’s cool. I’m all for self-publishing, obviously, but don’t disagree with her. Stories need to go through a gauntlet. So do their writers. I want control over everything, but I also crave the validation that comes from having my stories go through a gatekeeper. I like to mix it up. I don’t want people telling me what to do. But I do want them to validate me. I want criticism and rejections.
I want a lot of criticism and rejections.
Everything I write goes through several rewrites before facing a gauntlet of beta readers who throw some of those sweet, sweet critiques at me. Then more proofreading and rewriting. Then I close my eyes and hurl them to the brutal winds of the submission process where they flail about until they land with a kindly editor willing to take them in and give them a home, or fling them back to me with a, “Thank you for your submission to our magazine. While we enjoyed it, we have decided not to accept it for this issue. Please wait two months before sending us new work, but please feel free to try us again.” (Direct quote from one of my many, MANY rejection letters.)
And you know what? That’s great. Not because it makes the writing better. That’s a given. People need to develop the humility and self-awareness that comes from criticism and rejection. Look at someone like Johnny Depp or Justin Bieber. Those poor shits don’t have enough people telling them “no,” or letting them know when they’re doing stupid crazy shit. But we let it slide because Edward Scissorhands. Okay, I let it slide because Edward Scissorhands, but you see my point, yeah?
When an unknown, self-published writer is out there publishing books under the belief that every sentence they bang out is genius without ever having another person tell them, “This story isn’t ready. Keep working at it.” the results can be comical, or horrible, or a cringey combination of the two.
A few months ago, I witnessed a shitshow like this taking place on Twitter. I wasn’t involved. I just crept around, watching from the outside as it all unfolded. I’m not going to name names, but long story short, a new writer self-published a badly-written novel and lashed out when the reviews on Goodreads and reader blogs were negative. The incident made a lot of noise among writers and readers. The writer had a meltdown. People piled on and mocked them, which is par for the Twitter course, but still quite shitty. My point is, a lot of shitty could have been avoided if the writer had joined a frickin’ writing group and run the work by a few honest beta readers. Collecting a few rejections could save you some pain later on.
The thing is, you have to admit to yourself that the work isn’t perfect to begin with in order to accept the criticism. We can all sing along to Bohemian Rhapsody, but it’s foolishness to think you sound like Freddie Mercury right out of the gate. I know we all get participation trophies these days, but that doesn’t mean you’re instantly entitled to adoration without putting in the work and enduring some failure.
Several years ago, some asshole told me to quit writing. In retaliation, I decided to be the best writer I could be. For myself, and to spite the asshole. I’m petty like that. So, I joined a writing group. Every story I write goes through them. They tell me what works and what doesn’t. Often, their reactions are varied. It’s interesting to see how the story hits different people. This is useful in discovering what kind of a writer you are, for finding where your strengths and weaknesses lie. We don’t really know ourselves until we see ourselves reflected back to us through other people. Writing is the same way.
And dealing with beta readers teaches you when to ignore other people and listen to your gut and your own story.
That’s not to say anyone who does run their story by a few readers before going any further is open and receptive to feedback. I’ve read and critiqued stories for people who have immediately responded with, “read it again” or, “you need to learn how to read stories.”
My friend and fellow author, Nicholas Temple-Smith put it best one day quite some time ago when he said to me, “Rejections are a writer’s rite of passage!” and he’s absolutely correct. It’s a necessary part of the gig. (It just so happens that Nick has self and traditionally published and has written two very excellent novels that you should check out here.)
One of my most important beta readers is my husband, Olivier. We’ve been married for a long time and over the years, he’s become pretty reliable when it comes to finding typos and weird turns of phrase that don’t quite work. Although, many times, he’s read something, handed it back it to me with a “Yeah, it’s good,” or even worse, “I can’t find anything wrong.”
This, to me, is the worst. What makes me happy is when he asks to borrow my red pen, then proceeds to attack the pages with his brow furrowed in concentration. Yeah. Give it to me. Spatter my words with red ink. Whip me. Beat me. Point out my adverbs.
You can’t level up without discovering your weaknesses. You can’t improve without learning some humility.
I’ll be DIY ’til I die, but I don’t see myself turning away from the gatekeepers any time soon, either. As much as I need constructive criticism and happily amass rejections, it’s those acceptance letters that make all the difference. A short note from a stranger that reads, “Thank you for sending this powerful story. We thought it was awesome and would love to publish it.” is what I need to quiet the voice of insecurity. The voice that feeds my imposter syndrome and says I have no right to put my books and stories out into the world.
That voice that is suddenly absent when a friendly stranger looks over my books and says, “But do you self-publish these stories or did someone else publish them?” because I’ve been criticized by trusted friends and family members and validated by strangers. I’m still trying to be the best writer I can be, but I’ve gone through my rite of passage.