by Leslie Wibberley
Judging by the numerous comments I’ve read on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram one might assume if you haven’t found an agent or made a sale by the time your thirty, you might as well give up.
I’m here to tell you that’s just not the way this business works.
Five years ago, when injuries and failed surgeries forced me to reduce my hours working as a physiotherapist, I rekindled a childhood love of writing. I began writing short stories and narrative non-fiction pieces, most of which served no purpose other than to help me hone my craft. And then…
I wrote a middle grade novel. I thought it was good. It was not.
FYI, it’s still sitting in a box under my desk to remind me how far I’ve come in these past five years.
I wrote more narrative non-fiction pieces. This time I dared to submit them. To my surprise and delight, a few were published in literary journals.
Emboldened by this success, I entered one in a national contest and I won 8th place. This helped me take even more risks, and I wrote more short stories. I submitted one and was stunned when it was accepted for publication.
I thought, “Wow, this is easy!”
FYI, it was not.
This success was followed by many rejections. Many, many rejections. But I didn’t give up, I just kept writing.
I wrote a young adult novel. I thought it was good. It was not.
But, this time, I received enough feedback to know I could make it better. So, I rewrote it and jumped into the querying trenches.
In the end, I sent out sixty-seven queries, received fifteen full requests, ten partial requests, one revise and resubmit which I ultimately turned down, four step asides after I received my offer, and a total of sixty-five rejections.
So. Many. Rejections.
I let this book rest, waiting for the responses to those requests to trickle in, but I didn’t stop writing, or learning, or honing my craft. And, I didn’t completely give up on that book. I told myself I just needed one agent to fall in love with my project. Surely, they were out there. I just had to find that proverbial needle in the haystack.
While I waited, I wrote more narrative non-fiction pieces, and a lot of short stories. I submitted to literary journals, anthologies, and contests. Sometimes I was successful, but more often I was not.
Despite many rejections, I didn’t stop submitting my short work. Winning contests and having pieces published was amazing, and helped to build my confidence, but I actually think it was garnering so many rejections that helped to desensitize me to all the literary agent rejections I would eventually receive.
I wrote another book, an adult story this time. I thought it was good. And this time, I really do think it might be.
And then, the fateful email. An agent I’d met and pitched at a conference, and who’d had my full for almost an entire year, wanted to call and chat. I’d been through this before, with the revise and resubmit request, so I forced myself to remain calm.
She called, told me she’d just finished reading my book, and she really loved the story, my voice, and my writing. “This seems positive,” I thought, still not daring to think this might actually be “the call.”
She said, “Your story is great, but what really pulled me in was your writing and your voice. It’s so, so hard to find a writer with that natural ability.” (I jotted this down on a scrap of paper because I really wanted to remember her words.)
My hands started to shake. While this conversation was definitely heading in a positive direction, I wasn’t quite willing to give into my excitement, not yet. With feigned nonchalance, I said, “I’m so glad to hear that.”
And then, the words every author seeking traditional publication waits to hear, “So, this is your official call offering representation.” I held the phone away from my ear, screamed, silently of course, and did a rather disjointed version of an Irish jig. My husband, who had followed me upstairs while I took the call, videoed the entire performance.
We talked for over forty minutes. I remember telling her I write in multiple genres and age groups, and I recall her saying she loved that. But I don’t remember much else. A voice in my head was yelling, “Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God,” too loudly for me to think.
I did have the where-with-all to tell the agent I still had four fulls and several partials out, and that I wanted to give those agents two weeks’ notice.
Ultimately the other agents stepped aside, but all were so complimentary and wished me great success.
I had the opportunity to meet with the offering agent in person, at the same conference we’d met at the year before. A perfect full circle. She was just as amazing as I remembered, and even more enthusiastic. It’s hard to put into words what it felt like to know someone believed in my writing and my story so completely. We signed the contract and I was finally able to say the words I dreamed of saying for so many years. “I have an agent.”
By the way, I was sixty years old at the time.
In the past five years, my words have been published in print seventeen times and online another sixteen, including two novellas which will be published this fall. The plan is to go out on submission to editors with my young adult project in September.
Not bad for “an old lady.”
The takeaway?
Keep honing your craft and keep submitting. Hold back those demons of doubt and please, don’t be afraid of rejections. They merely prove that you are trying.
And remember, you’re only too old if you believe you are.
Leslie Wibberley lives in a suburb of Vancouver, Canada with her amazing family and an overly enthusiastic dog. She writes across a wide range of genres, age groups, and narrative styles but has a passion for dark, speculative fiction. Her award-winning work is published in multiple literary journals and anthologies, including Chicken Soup for the Soul. You can reach her at lawibberley@gmail.com or at any of the following sites: Medium: https://medium.com/@lawibberley Twitter: https://twitter.com/feismo Instagram: https://lesliewibberley.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wibberleythewordsmith