Lately,
I’ve been haunting my Inbox. Back in the day of typewriters, large manila
envelopes and trips to the post office, writers haunted their mailboxes, hoping
for a sale, dreading the rejections. In today’s digital world, most submissions
(not all) are made by email and thus it is at the inbox where you discover
whether an editor loves your baby and wants to publish it or has decided to
pass on it. It’s been a trend in the last few years for no rejection to arrive.
If you haven’t had a reply in say four to five months, you can figure it’s a
No, which allows you to go on to Plan B, if you haven’t already submitted
somewhere else.
I
submitted a proposal (detailed synopsis) to a publisher by email two and half months
ago and the request for the first three chapters came within a few weeks. That
was followed by the request (JOY!) for the completed manuscript. The editor who
is considering my story has given me a date of December 15 (on or before) for
her final word. All of this has transpired by email.
So
that any communications wouldn’t be lost in the daily inundation that fills my
regular email, I sent all of this from an account that I use for writing
business only. Conveniently, I have the app on my phone and when an email comes
in, it shows up on the app. All I need to do is look at the app and see if any
new messages have come through. It’s pretty handy, but it does tempt me to
check that app numerous times in a day. I can’t say it’s better than walking to
the mailbox, because at least that involved some exercise, but it certainly
does keep the anticipation high. While one check of the mailbox a day was all
it took to know whether you’d gotten a reply, checking the email app can, and
does, happen often in 24 hours. I have to say, it puts an entirely different
perspective on the submission process.
My
writing/publishing history goes back far enough to remember when rejected manuscripts
were actually returned in the self-addressed stamped envelope that the author
provided and was a submission requirement. I remember peering into the mailbox,
wondering if I would see the tell-tale large yellow envelope, hoping to see a
regular business size one that included an acceptance. Of course there was also
The Call that every writer lived to receive. The one where a real live editor
actually spoke to you, told you how wonderful your story was and how much they
wanted to buy it. One memory that stands out is the time I was sweeping the
kitchen floor and for the moment not thinking about writing when the phone
rang. When the caller identified herself as xxxxx from xxxx publisher, I, not
paying attention, almost said, “No thank you, I’m not interested in whatever
you’re selling.” (There were telemarketers back then but no caller ID.)
Fortunately, before I made a complete fool of myself, I heard her say, “We’d
like to publish your book.” I guess I’ll always remember that call.
I’m
not sure if the waiting ever gets any easier. I think not when I count the
times I’ve checked my phone app in the past few weeks, hoping for an early
answer. It’s just a different method of delivery. Writers throughout time have
had to wait. It’s really what we do best.
