Monday, August 23, 2010

101 Form Rejection Projects for a Rainy Day

I hope you enjoyed last week's guest posts, readeurs and readeuses, and that a little more of the publishing world (particularly the non-sales aspects) has/have been illuminated for you as a result.

It's Monday, which means I'm going to ease into the blogging week with a frabjous discussion of the myriad uses for form rejections.

I like to pin up my tiered or personalized rejections above my desk, but the form ones, being both a) more copious and b) neither near or dear to my coal-black heart, require something more involved/vindictive. Therefore—in patented (call the U.S. Patent Office if you don't believe me) Bullet-o-Vision™—the first 10 of my 101 Form Rejection Projects for a Rainy Day:

· Cathartic papier-mâché. Make a tiny replica of you sitting on a stack of your bestsellers! Make a tiny replica of you winning the Pulitzer! Do not make a tiny replica of you strangling all the agents who rejected you. Bad karma.

· A crackly quilt for super hot nights. Staple (or sew, if you're sufficiently crafty) your form rejections together to make a blanket. Note: crying yourself to sleep on said blanket may cause the ink to run and is not recommended. Additional note: crying over form rejections in general is not recommended.

· Fancy coasters. Glue your rejections to pieces of cork and drink (something alcoholic) off your rejecters! (Rejectors?) If you're fancy: Laphroaig. If not: Jack Daniels.

· Origami. Try and make a thousand paper agents! (See #1, above, regarding treatment of said paper agents.)

· Use the backs to write The Great American Novel. Be green and emulate Thomas Wolfe at the same time!

· Agency trading cards. Collect them all! Trade them with your friends!

· A flipbook. Remember: no violence! Images of you winning multiple Nobel Prizes for Literature or receiving a $1,000,000.00 advance are permissible (and, in fact, encouraged).

· Make a fire. Preferably in your fireplace. Not as imaginative, but definitely cathartic.

· Pretend traffic tickets. Put them under the windshield wipers of cars parked on your block. Hide in the bushes and observe people's reactions.

· Confetti. Throw yourself a party! You're one rejection closer to representation.

Add yours in the comments!


  1. Ooh, I like the last one!

    Great post. You obviously had too much time to think while you were away. ;)

  2. On an unrelated note, the Rejectionist had Laphroaig for the first time recently (thanks to the largesse of her Very Favorite Bartender, not the largesse of her paycheck), and is still reeling off the peat fumes.

  3. If by "peat" you mean "delicious," then agreed!

  4. Wall paper for the bathroom ... the best ones behind the commode.

  5. But what about ejections???

    doing some fun market research on my bloggie blog today... I wonder if it might be possible to get a qualifed EXPERT's opinion. (Eric?)

  6. Build a giant paper airplane to transport you to the mythical "Narnia" of your book!

  7. I love the recycle idea. The next best seller having been wrote on the back of rejection. (Hugs)Indigo

  8. --Create a collage of different form rejections.
    --Cut out words from the letters and create a positive letter to yourself like the classic kidnapping notes from all those cheesy old movies.
    --Crumple them up into balls and watch your cat(s) use them as cat toys. (If you have feline companions, of course.)
    --Doing the same thing as above, except for the entertainment of your canine cohorts.
    --Crumple them up and use them as stuffing for crackle dolls for said animal family members. (You ever see a cat go after something that crackles? It's hilarious).

    Um...yeah, I've never gotten a rejection letter before in my life. Nope! Not me!

  9. Hilarious.

    I'm dull and file all rejections, personal or not.

    I have chopped up old versions of manuscripts and used them to write Choose Your Own Adventures with my sons (think lots of gorillas and a lifeguard with no eyes).

  10. Well, let's not forget about the bird cage! I have a parrot and we both enjoy it when I line her cage with rejections and then she can poop on those who've pooped on me!

  11. I'd save the confetti makings for the day you do get a deal (or some other sufficiently happy event).

    Or yeah, I'd use the back of the paper to write (well, print off) another MS. *nod*

  12. Roll the rejection into a tube, slip it inside a bottle and toss into the ocean.

  13. ahahahah YOU WIN FOREVER.

    and thank you for the linkage!


    now to buy confetti.

  14. We might end up needing mine for extra insulation as we face our first Colorado winter..

    I'm still trying to figure out what to do with this one:

    "We did review your proposal, and for some reason we don't feel we can represent it. Some of them come close, and yours may well be one of those, but we do have our reasons for declining."

    It requires some kind of special treatment, I think.

    Terry's Place
    Romance with a Twist--of Mystery

  15. LOL. I guess I'm weird. I've save all rejections. Form or not. And I'm planning on making them into a collage and placing them in a frame and then on the wall above my desk. To remind me to never give up. On anything. :D

  16. My stepson makes paper aeroplanes (very good ones, too). I have an old ack-ack gun stolen from Bremen in 1945. Guess what happens?

  17. Oh, it's so nice to never have to deal with paper rejections anymore. It's been years.

  18. Love the post! I say tie each one to a helium balloon with instructions for whomever finds it once deflated, return it to the agency's adress at the top of the page. Then let the suckers go.

  19. With the aid of scissors and glue, I'd fashion a 900 mile long, 0.5mm thick rope for use in emergencies when agents cry from the bottom of an 899 (point 999) mile deep pit, "HELP!"