Writing makes me miserable. I bet you think I’ll follow that by saying it also makes me excited, apprehensive, energised and a string of other adjectives, but it doesn’t. Mostly it makes me miserable because I’m pretty sure the odds are against me. Here are some depressing statistics to back this up. Most top literary magazines and quite a few lesser ones have an acceptance rate of between 0.5% to 10%. I’m no mathematician, but these figures equate to 90% to 99.5% of work submitted being rejected.
It's just as bad if you’ve written a novel you want to publish traditionally. First find your agent. The chances of hooking one, even if you’ve spent your hard-earned cash on top class pitching advice, are slim. Agents may read up to 2000 submissions a year and accept only two or three. Even if you clear that hurdle and an agent loves your book (they only take on books they love), they then have to pitch it to an editor, who sees hundreds of manuscripts a year, of which they may take on three or four.
Discouraged? You should be. I know writers who made it past the first hurdle and fell at the second. Manuscript sent to dozens of publishers, none of whom wanted it. After a few months or years of hawking your work around unsuccessfully, the agent will quietly let you sink to the bottom of their list, or tell you they can no longer represent you.
So, self-publishing. Any idiot can do that, you will rise to the top of the best seller list and all you have to do is be multi-talented. A writer, an editor, a cover designer, a finance whiz and a publicist all rolled into one. After doing five people’s work, or laying out money to pay others to do the work for you, you may, if you’re lucky, sell a few hundred books.
Along the way, you’ve probably paid good money to attend a webinar, a course, a whole series of courses about writing and/or hooking an agent and/or self-publishing. Unless you’re one of the chosen few, you’re never going to make that money back. Advances are generally pitiful and your book will be remaindered if it doesn’t sell. Even you do make a splash, the chances of your book staying in print for the next fifty years are tiny. Have a look here to see what I mean. All these authors put weeks, months, maybe years of blood, sweat and tears into their work, only to see it forgotten except by a few.
Forging a reputation is like climbing Everest, only harder. If you have an aptitude for climbing and possess the right equipment, chances are you’ll conquer a peak or two. If you have an aptitude for writing, know the ins and outs of plot, story, character building, point of view and structure, there’s still no guarantee anyone other than your nearest and dearest will read your work. Go to a book shop and look at the fiction section. Alongside the usual big names and your favourite authors will be shelves and shelves of people you’ve never heard of and who don’t interest you.
There’s another factor: age. If you’re in your twenties or thirties, or even your forties, you still have time to improve, develop, create more work and become a better investment. But if you’re looking to be published for the first time in your fifties and sixties, you’re competing with all the bright young things. Some do make their debut in their eighties or nineties but they tend not be hailed as ‘emerging voices’, more ‘it’s a wonder the old dear did it at all.’ But writers keep writing regardless, addicted to the hope of success. Or simply addicted to hope.
So yes, writing makes me miserable.
On the other hand, if I’d had three acceptances rather than three rejections in the past week, I’d probably say how great it is to write and this piece would have been completely different.
I quote Bradbury a lot in my last newsletter. One of his phrases that keeps me going is: "If it hurts, don't do it." Unless writers are masochists. Kidding. Even with the rejections, writing still makes me happy. And there are acceptances. They matter big time and they keep me writing.
Someone famous (but I've forgotten who) said: "A submission is a wager." It's exciting, and depends much more on skill and enterprise than does, say, buying a lottery ticket. It's a judgment and risk on both sides. Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes the bug. With practice you build strategies as well as technical skills, so it's a multi-layered challenge with infinite ways to grow. Pulitzer-prize winning poets get 90% rejections, so my stats are as good as anyone's, though, qualitatively, I have unlimited ways to level up.