I Was Rejected Hundreds of Times. Here’s What Finally Happened.

Please pick meI have been seriously writing novels since I was 21. It might’ve been a year earlier, or a year later. But around then, I began writing my first book for reals. I started submitting it to publishers around 2016. I was 24. (Maybe). Most of the rejections I received are standard form responses. At first, I felt like I was earning my stripes as a writer. All writers have rejections. But how many… she who must not be named loves to w**k on about how she had 12 rejections before HP was published. I quickly surpassed her rookie numbers. Just imagine the above but a f*****g load of times.There was only one rejection that had me doubting everything. I read it sitting in the car before going to the gym in Waverton, Sydney. I remember it being hot. I remember the car being parked on a steep hill. I remember James being so kind to me. I remember going to the gym afterwards and seeing that there were thrusters and toes to bars on the program (kill me.)Sometimes, I think back to James, and how hard it would have been to witness me receive something like this, and because I am so thin skinned, then he had to witness me bawl my eyes out. I mean, f*****g hell, if James received an email like this I would want to kill someone. But I kept writing. This time, historical fiction. I finished The Rules Upheld By No One quickly. Maybe within a year (???). In 2018 I started submitting again.Please imagine the above but a f*****g load of times.This time, however, I had a contact in the industry. I had been interning at a small Australian publishing house, and the editor there took a look at my manuscript. Actually, and this is murky in the memory too, I think I paid them to look at it, as a freelance situation. They gave the book a solid edit, but they liked her! They passed Rules onto their boss and she liked it too. They took her to an acquisitions meetings, where the editorial stuff try to sell the book to the business people.James had left for a conference in Germany on the day of the meeting. I felt alone. I had built this moment up for four years. The day I would finally sell a book. My big break. I had decided that this day would change my entire life. All I wanted to do was be a writer, and I needed someone to choose me, so I could live the life I wanted to live. If I wasn’t chosen, I would have to live a life doing work I hated. A prospect which felt like dying. The meeting time came and went. There was no news. I messaged the editor and felt like an annoying little s**t. Nothing. The evening came around. It was one of the worst days of my life. Eventually, I get a message that the publishers couldn’t decide whether they wanted her or not, and that they’d let me know soon.I followed up so many times after that. I hated myself every time I reached out; I felt so small and so powerless. They never got back to me. It was the cliff hanger from hell. At this point, I was not okay. I feel embarrassed to write that, because we have this narrative that artists need to be okay with rejection. “It’s not personal.” Yes it f*****g is. That’s my whole heart you just cast aside. It is personal. Thick skin? No. I am thin skinned. That’s why I am a creative in the first place. I am an eerily quintessential enneagram 4, my core desire is to be SEEN, my core fear is to be INSIGNIFICANT. Rejection is painful. Being unseen, or cast aside is agony to me. Not insurmountable. But painful. Exquisitely so. I had hundreds of rejections at this point. Why did I keep going? Because I was f*****g stubborn. Because I had an intolerance for a life that didn’t sparkle, and a life doing work that was meaningless. A life without writing books was the dullest existence imaginable to me. Because I had the tiniest flicker of a flame within me that said: I think you have something f*****g incredible to give. From “pick me” to picking myselfI was told, then, by a lot of people to self publish. I was revolted by the idea of having to choose myself. It felt mortifying. Like I was openly declaring “No one wants my books,” “I’m the only one who thinks my novels are any good.” Emotionally, I was not yet able to move forward. I was still pissy. Angry that someone hadn’t handed me the big break, the opportunity I thought I needed. It was journaling that let me see the truth. I could see it on the page.I could see myself sinking into bitterness, victimhood and stagnancy. I knew authors who were angry and bitter. I had met those people at writing workshops and conferences, seen them online. I knew if I let myself go that way, it would destroy me. I did not want that for myself. I wanted to be an author. And so, I needed to do the most nauseatingly powerful thing one could do, choose myself, publicly. I found a journaling excerpt from a few months before I self published “There is nothing much to do, I must simply face my narratives about being a failure, and not being enough. I trust because I know my worth. I know my worth, independent of external validation, I see my way with words, I see my empathy, my communication, my tenacity, my storytelling magic.” I backed myself and published the Rules Upheld By No One on Sept 1 2021. Approx. two years after submitting her to publishers. Nothing spectacular happened. It didn’t get a lot of sales by the standard of a big publisher, but I took up space, on my own terms. I’d dallied so long in releasing Rules, that, by the time she was out, I had already finished Regrettably I am About to Cause Trouble. I didn’t submit Regrettably to anyone, I just decided to self publish. I had tasted the ease and power of doing it on my own terms. I didn’t want to be told that my novel was “not for me” by gatekeepers anymore. I had stories to tell. I was too creatively driven for that s**t. December 16th 2022 the day Regrettably launched, I wrote in my journal: “I don’t have any expectations for this book. If she resonates, she resonates.” I started seeing my career as a novelist with a long lens. I was going to keep writing novels, of course, and I was going to keep publishing them, of course. It didn’t need to blow up all at once. My more relaxed outlook here is partly because I was now making money with my self-pubbed non-fiction and teaching at this point. I had quit my shitty jobs, and was now a writer, speaker, creative mentor. I was a novelist always, this is what I wanted to do, but my fiction didn’t need to blow up tomorrow. She was inevitable, I simply had to continue on the path. Six months go by and Regrettably starts to surprise me. A few booktubers found it and made videos about it here, here, and here. Particularly, the audiobook (which I thought was such an indulgence to record), went gangbusters. But it wasn’t my main or largest income source.Obvs, I kept writing novels. The next one I wrote was, as I called it at the time, Jack. Now known as To Kill A Queen. My murder mystery. I intended to self publish her. I got an edit from my lovely freelance editor Kate who worked on Rules and Regrettably with, intending to publish her at the end of 2023. Getting pickedThen, mid way through ‘23 some things started happening externally. I got approached by Penguin about writing a non-fiction book. I got a non-fiction agent and a non-fiction book deal - these happenings connect me to potential fiction agents. In Feb 2024 I signed with the incredible agent Margaret, and I gave her Jack. I don’t know why I signed with an agent. Self-publishing was working for me. I knew how to do it. It would have been the easy option. Mostly, I think I was curious about it. How would it be different? I felt like I had to try both. Also, I still enjoy being chosen. Enjoying being chosen is not something I feel I need to vanquish entirely. It feels like a normal human thing to desire. To be Seen. The difference now is that: I do not need you to choose me, but if you do, and If I in turn choose you - cool. Margaret and I did an edit on the manuscript together (Margaret is an incredible editor) and then she began submitting it to publishers.On November the 22nd 2024 I had gastro—I feel like that’s a really Aussie term, so how else should I put it? I was f*****g vomiting everywhere. I am literarily lying on the floor of my bathroom, and I decide to check my emails.My first ever acceptance letter, after hundreds of rejections. The deal was for 10,000 USD, US rights only. A thirtieth of my non-fiction deal.My agent asked around to the other publishers to see if they wanted to up the bid, but no one else did. To Kill A Queen was sold to Crooked Lane.It was interesting to process emotionally.I felt excited when I read the news. Wow! Someone else wants to back my fiction other than me. But I didn’t need their approval anymore. If I had received this email back in 2018 it would have meant everything to me. Everything. I would’ve felt rescued. Saved. Chosen. Coronated.But in the past five years, I had rescued, saved, chosen and coronated myself. How f*****g beautiful. But how strange to be at this moment and have it be just another lovely moment in my writing journey. A few days after the deal was settled, I let the little 2018 Amie who still lives within me have a cry. The tears felt hot and old. From deep within.To Kill A Queen came out last week. And I have been reflecting a lot on this journey. I’m excited to talk to you all about how it’s been. For now, though, I want to scoop up past Amie, crying in cars, refreshing inboxes, begging the universe for permission. I want to hold her face in my hands. I want to look her in the eyes and say:“You have no idea how powerful you are.” AP.s. if you already have Spotify premium, you can listen to To Kill a Queen for free! This is actually super helpful to me as Spotify bought the rights to the audiobook and it would make them really happy with us. Follow the link in the player below.If you’re outside the US and struggling to find a copy of the book, audio is your best option. As of a couple of days ago, audio is live in multiple territories outside the US! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit amiemcnee.substack.com/subscribe