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Encouraging WordsMarch 24, 2007 In the writing biz, indifference, obliviousness, and skepticism about what you're doing is so common that you can dine out for weeks on a few words of encouragement and for months on something a little bigger. This is why writers may rejoice upon receiving what we call an "encouraging rejection" -- a term that sounds oxymoronic, delusionary, or at least redolent of Pollyanna to normal people. In an arena where form rejections are the norm, any evidence that a live person has actually read your manuscript is taken as encouragement. An encouraging rejection might mention a specific strength -- "you handle dialogue very well" -- or express hope that you will submit other work in the future. Outright hostile responses can be encouraging, as long as you're sure that the hostility wasn't provoked by your own egregious imcompetence: it often means that your work got through the reader's forcefield and made him (the overtly hostile responses usually come from hims) uncomfortable. Unfortunately it's been years since I encountered any hostility worthy of the name. In the last couple of months, I have encountered some serious signs that I really am on the right track -- have I said lately how much I love my new apartment?? Squatters' Speakeasy is alive and growing. And ten days ago I received an e-mail from the project administrator of the Boston Fiction Festival. Last fall I submitted two excerpts from The Mud of the Place to the festival organizers. The e-mail began: "Thank you so much for submitting your novel excerpt, Showing at Makonikey, to the Boston Fiction Festival. We would very much like to use it for the Festival and subsequent publication in our Boston Fiction Annual Review (B-FAR)." This means I'll get to read my story at the festival in July -- July 14 is the likely date.* This is all seriously cool. Sending out work to people I don't know and who don't know me is draining. I'm way in the back of the auditorium, in the shadows under the balcony, jumping up and down and waving my hand -- and getting no acknowledgment from the editors up front. Every year I'm more convinced that if I schmoozed the editors at writers' conferences or developed connections at an MFA program, my chances of being called on would be greater. (On the other hand, what they'd see would probably be a stocky, unfashionable hick in her mid-fifties who wouldn't look too good on TV so maybe it wouldn't enhance my chances at all.) I believe in my work, and most of the people who've read it believe in my work -- but most of the people who've read my work know something about me. So I just got this acceptance from a writer-editor-administrator who's never heard of me and who wants to publish my story and hear me read it out loud. I mean, hey, this is seriously cool. Naturally, after I e-mailed back my happy acceptance of the offer, I started thinking, Who are these people? Could this festival be worth anything if they want me in it? The festival is a pretty new thing -- I think last year was the first one -- and maybe they'll run out of money and not be able to do it again? The main reasons I'd submitted work in the first place were that the festival emphasized reading aloud (which I love to do and am pretty good at) and that I was impressed by the works from last year's festival that were posted on the festival website. When the administrator asked me to submit a 100-word bio for use on the site and gave the URL for last year's bios, I followed the link. Hey, these are real writers from all over the place! So I'm back to thinking it's all seriously cool and wondering where I'm going to stay in Boston and what I should wear. And if that isn't enough in the Encouraging Words department, my credit card balance is back in three digits after too many months in the low fours, I'm pretty sure I have enough money to pay the feds and the state on April 15, and yesterday at the post office I picked up a huge box from Bronwyn in Vermont: chocolate chips! Reese's peanut butter chips! cookies! And not just any cookies. We're talking quality stuff here, like Milanos and Nutter Butters (two of which I just had as a breakfast appetizer) and (gasp!) McVities chocolate digestives. And two bags of biscuits for Rhodry, who clearly approves. I'm on a roll. Now if only Uhura Mazda passes inspection . . .
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