How a Painful Rejection Fueled my Five-Year Plan

In the business of dreams, it's easy -- even practical -- to remain detached on some level. Not detached from our work or the love of our art, but detached from its reception.

If an agent doesn't like my book, maybe another will. 

If an editor rejects this project, maybe the next will come across his or her desk at the right time. 

So what if I don't win this contest? At least I finaled. 

That all changed for me around the holidays when my agent told me one of my books was going to editorial board at a certain publishing house I'd pitched to at a conference. At first, I kept my cool and stayed busy working on other projects. 

But then, a tiny pinprick of hope permeated the practicality. I started thinking about what made me want to pitch to that house in the first place and then wondered how my other planned books in that series would appeal to their line and what it would be like cross-promoting with and being co-workers some of their higher-profile authors. Who was I? Where was that detached level of chill when I needed it?

I would need it sooner than later.

The rejection came, and it hurt. My manuscripts have been rejected more times than I can count on two hands, but this was different.

It didn't feel like the end. It didn't feel like I'd spent my life's savings building a house on this shoreline only to have it washed away. It just set this dull ache loose.

I gave myself the day to mourn. My husband took us to dinner and brought home a chocolate ice cream cone for me. And then it was back to work -- not to distract me, but because I had a new lease on my creative work and the pursuit of publication. 

It was okay to want something, I found out, but it wasn't the end-all, be-all when I didn't get it.

It helped me take an honest look at what I wanted for my writing, to set some concrete goals beyond writing X number of books a year and pitching them to publishers. And, being the list-maker that I am, soon I had a five-year plan. My first ever that didn't sound like "Graduate college and see what happens from there."

I will say that, in publishing, I think it's healthiest to set goals that are based on productivity, of course, or ideals that are more conditional or "if/then" based. It's important to be flexible, teachable, resilient, and willing to adapt to a market that is constantly evolving while maintaining your unique artistic integrity. 

But I learned that it's okay to want something, to dream of it, to envision it -- as long as you are willing to get right back up again, learn something from it, and keep going if it doesn't turn out exactly as planned. If this isn't the book, write another. Nobody and nothing can take that away except for you.

Dreaming tangibly helps you set realistic goals you need to get there, wherever there happens to be. It alleviates your temptation to settle. And (so I'm told) it makes it that much sweeter when you're finally signing on the dotted line.

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Laurie Tomlinson is a wife and mom from Tulsa, Oklahoma, who is passionate about intentional living, all things color-coded, and stories of grace in the beautiful mess. Previously a full-time book publicist, she owns a freelance copywriting, editing, and PR consulting business called 1624 Communications. 

She's a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, a two-time Genesis Award winner, and the runner-up in the 2015 Lone Star Contest's Inspirational category. Her work is represented by Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary.

You can connect with Laurie here:

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Twitter - @LaurieTomlinson

Web - www.LaurieTomlinson.com