from the Korean Army to being published

This month was supposed to be a productive month for me. A rewrite-the-entire-book-and-change-it-into-a-fucking-literary-masterpiece kind of month. Instead, I’ve probably revised a couple of paragraphs and spent the rest of the time reading and smoking and drinking and watching old movies. In a lame attempt to salvage the month, I decided to query one more agent and try my luck. The one redeeming quality of this rejection is that it was quick; the rejection came less than 24 hours after the query submission. I’ve always been a rip-off-the-bandage-quick kind of guy.

Dear Author:

Thank you so much for sending the [agency name] your query. We’d like to apologize for the impersonal nature of this standard rejection letter. Rest assured that we do read every query letter carefully and, unfortunately, this project is not right for us. Because this business is so subjective and opinions vary widely, we recommend that you pursue other agents. After all, it just takes one “yes” to find the right match.
 
Good luck with all your publishing endeavors.
 
Sincerely,
[agent name]
[agent name]
[agent name]
[agency name]

Again, an impersonal “Dear Author” rejection. At least they were honest about their “im-personality.” I say “they” because all three agents in the agency have their name at the bottom of the rejection. It’s kind of like trying to hit on a girl at a club and, having been rejected, hearing her two friends say “No, thanks” when you weren’t planning to play for them anyway. Three rejections for the price of one, or maybe just one agency-wide rejection.

* This is my fourth reply (still a small number, I know) but I assume that the one agency who hasn’t replied for the past three months just didn’t bother with the rejection letter, making a grand total of five.

This is the rejection that hurt the most, primarily because it was one that I thought I had a chance with. In terms of the dating analogy I’ve been using to describe my search for an agent, this was a case where I got to first base only to get shut down. After a second date, I was politely and tersely rejected. “Thanks, but I don’t see things going anywhere. Bye.”

Holden:

Thanks for sharing this memoir with us.

It’s a compelling story and well-told but we don’t think we’d be able to get a major house interested in it. It’s the nature of memoirs that they’re really tough to sell. We hope you find an agency willing to take it on.

Best of luck,
[agent's name]

I still haven’t heard from the third of the agents I queried a month ago, but I figure it’s more of the same. Time to start querying again. It’s a rule of probabilities. The more agents I query, the greater chance I’ll have of finding one who’ll take me. I guess my story is not so appealing so it looks like I’ll have to get busy.

I woke up this afternoon—I need to stop drinking—to my first rejection e-mail.

Hi, Holden, 

Thank you for your query. While your project certainly has merit, I’m just not wild enough about what I’ve read to ask for more. As I’m sure you know, it’s important that your agent be totally excited by/committed to/passionate about your project, and I’m afraid that just didn’t happen here. But opinions vary considerably in this business, and mine is just one. I’m sure you’ll find others who feel differently. I hope so!

I wish you the very best in your search for representation.

Warm regards,

[Agent’s name]

[Agency’s name] Literary Agency

It’s not hard to figure out who it was since I’ve only sent a query to one agent. It’s not surprising because I sent it prematurely—is it a big problem among aspiring writers?—and as befits the metaphor, both she and I left the experience disappointed.

Oh well. Hopefully I’ll have more luck tomorrow. Today I need a drink.