Won't you join me in hell?
Here’s some free and very important advice: If you ever happen to be talking with a writer—you know, just casually chatting with them about what they’re working on, or what’s going on with that book they were writing, etc.—and their reply is “I’m on sub,” that is your cue to back slowly away. Because the writer you are talking to is very likely not in a good state of mind.
“I’m on sub” means “I’m on submission.”
It sounds kinky but it’s very much not. What it means is that the writer’s book is currently being submitted to publishers by their agent, (or possibly by the writer themselves) in hopes that one or more publishers will make an offer.
It’s telling that writers are more likely to say “I’m on sub” as opposed to “My book is on sub.” It really can feel like it’s not just this piece of art you created that’s out making the rounds; it’s you, too.
You’ve spent months if not years on your book, likely sacrificing sleep, income, and/or your children’s wellbeing to get it done. Perhaps you’ve banged a hole into the wall next to your desk with your head, alienated your spouse, or damaged your liver along the way. All par for the course.
Bottom line, you are invested in the thing. So deeply invested that your book really does start to feel like an extension of you.
Then, suddenly, you (and your book) are out there being scrutinized and judged by the acquiring editors of publishing houses, with their cigarettes and their expensive slacks and their…cashmere sweaters tied around their necks and draped over one shoulder? Wait, no, no, no. That’s not right.
Sigourney Weaver as J.D. Salinger’s editor in the film “My Salinger Year” The editor who acquired and worked with me on The Society of Shame (and whom I adore) looked nothing like this. She’s got tats and wears cute alt / vintage-y clothes, and is not in the least bit intimidating. BUT the point is: when you’re on submission, especially when you’re new to it, it’s hard not to imagine editors as these very mysterious, all-powerful, sophisticated beings, sighing in disappointment in their Manhattan offices as they read one mediocre manuscript after another (yours being one of them), while wearing sweaters in some strange yet undeniably chic way.
To make matters worse, sometimes these editors dangle hope in front of your eyes—a note to your agent saying something like: I’m halfway through, and am really enjoying it or I love this book! Am getting some internal reads (meaning, from other people in the house—this is generally necessary before an editor can make an offer). And you start getting excited and hopeful, and even let yourself wonder if you have anything in your closet that might work for your appearance on the Today show.
And then, a week or two later, your hopes are violently dashed: I’m sorry, while I admire so much about this book, I ultimately just didn’t fall in love with it. Or: Unfortunately, the team feels like it’s too similar to another book about sex dragons that we just acquired.
It is…not fun.
The other thing about the submission process that non-writers may not be aware of is that it drive writers to do rather….strange…things. Like what, you ask? Well, here are a few examples. (I’ve totally never done any of these.)
— Looking up the editors your agent has submitted to on social media to see if any of them have started following you and/or have recently posted something like “just finished reading an AMAZING manuscript about sex dragons this morning and can’t wait to make an offer!”
— Following all of these editors on social media then immediately unfollowing them because you don’t want to look like a stalker, and god you hope they didn’t see; what were you thinking? Are you drunk??
— Drinking more than usual.
— Consulting Magic 8 Balls, fortune-telling pens, and other predictive devices about whether you’re going to get a book deal.
— Telling yourself that the first answer you got from the predictive device isn’t the right one, because you weren’t concentrating hard enough.
— Reminding yourself, when you spin / rotate fourteen times in a row and still don’t get an acceptable answer, that these things are bullshit. There’s no such thing as fortune-telling objects, signs from the universe, etc.!
— Going for long, soul-searching walks as the rejections start rolling in, looking for signs from the universe—like, if you see three crows, it means you’re going to get a book deal.
— Telling yourself, after seeing only two crows, that that counts too. And probably means something even BETTER! (Two-book deal?)
— Googling the editors that haven’t said no yet in search of proof that one of them is your soulmate.
— Googling yourself to see what editors might be seeing if/when they look you up. Is it clear from your web presence that you are their soulmate?
— Drafting an email to your agent asking for an update, then not sending it, because if there was any good news she’d tell you, obviously. Then, for several days in a row, pulling the draft back up and not sending it, and then finally actually sending it at eleven-fifty p.m. one night after getting back from commiserating with your fellow writers at a bar.
— Having a minor heart attack when you see your agent’s name in your inbox the following afternoon, then feeling bereft when you open the message and learn that that that one editor you were POSITIVE was your soulmate has decided to pass because as much as she adored it, she “just couldn’t get buy-in from marketing.”
— Throwing your Magic 8-Ball at a crow
— Going back to your manuscript to remind yourself that it really is good, dammit, and there’s no way it’s not—NOOO!!! Nope, nope, bad idea. Close that file STAT and forget you ever looked.
— Googling how many times various famous, bestselling books were rejected before they found a publisher. Then, counting how many people have rejected your book so far. Then, going back and Googling some more until you find a story about a book that was rejected more times than that.
— Very deliberately, angrily not hitting “like” on an Instagram post by that one writer you know who shares EVERY good thing that happens to him, this time announcing that his book was just shortlisted for the Pen/Faulkner Award and he’s just so very “humbled.”
— Hitting “like” and commenting “SO thrilled for you!” on an Instagram post from a dear writer friend announcing that she just got a book deal, and really, truly meaning it, but also now you’re crying.
— Reminding yourself that some of the world’s greatest artists and authors were never appreciated in their lifetime.
— Ice cream
Just to name a few.
What writers generally *don’t* do is tell thousands of people that they are on sub, in case the ultimate outcome is not good. But because I apparently get off on radical honesty, I am doing just that.
Yes, indeed, the novel I’ve been working on over the past almost-two-years is out there making the rounds as I write. I would have loved to stay with my last editor/publisher, but the imprint that published The Society of Shame, Anchor Hardcover, is sadly no longer in existence. Damned suits!
Interestingly, though, I’m not feeling nearly as anxious and miserable about the process as I did the other five (count ‘em!) times I went through it. Maybe it’s because I know so much more about the publishing business now than I used to, and I know what a crapshoot it is to get a book deal, and how many factors—including luck—come into play.
Maybe it’s because with The Society of Shame I finally—after years and years of trying— got the big, shiny prize of having a novel published by a major press, and getting it again would just be gravy.
Maybe it’s because I know that I will get the book out there one way or another, even if it means self-publishing or serializing the thing here on Substack, and honestly, being read is the most important thing, no matter how it happens.
Or maybe (gasp!) I’m actually getting better at staying sanguine in the face of things that are completely beyond my control?!!
Or….maybe (probably?) it’s too early. The book just went out, and I haven’t started getting (the inevitable) rejections yet. Will I be Googling, crow-counting, and digging around in my daughter’s room for that Magic 8 Ball a week from now? Will I slowly start to lose my shit? Reply hazy.
In the meantime, though, I’m enjoying the fact that I’m not losing my mind—and I’m sure my husband is, too.
To my friends (and anyone else) currently in writer hell, du courage. We’ll get through this together.
All posts on my Substack are free, but writing is how I make my living and pay for the wine and ice cream I consume whilst on sub. If you like what you read, please consider leaving me a one-time tip or upgrading to a paid subscription. Or, consider buying my book. Thank you as always for reading. xoxo Jane
P.S. I will be protesting the authoritarian Trump regime at a No Kings rally this Saturday, and I hope you will too.
