Colleen--Give yourself a week to think about the editor's comments. The fact that he said you could resubmit if you decide to do a rewrite is very positive. The fact that he described your story as having a "naturally powerful undertow" is very positive.

Did your agent have any thoughts about the editor's response that could help you?

Thanks for the kind words Gail! My agent forwarded the message to me this morning and then went home for the day (she is as sick as the rest of us apparently) but wants me to call on Monday so we can talk strategy. The book is still out with 5 other pubs but I imagine we will consider a new round of editors to send it out to next week. I am interested to see what she has to say about all this though - she obviously knows a lot more about it than I do so her insight will help a lot.

What I like about your blog is the passion you show for whatever subject is engaging you (including the self-flagellation here). Does your book have that passion? Or is "terse" a code word that editors use meaning you are holding back on passion?

Hmmm. I think it might be a style thing - here's the opening:

Sometimes pilots fly into mountains simply because they are there.

On a good weather day – on a CAVU afternoon where the sky is crystal clear and the visibility goes on forever – the mountains are still there. You might think you have plenty of time, that you have it all figured out, that you are better then any stupid mistake but still the mountains will be there; they will not move out of the way; they will not open up the sky.

They will not save you if you can not be saved.

It was a really "blunt" job, for lack of a better word. We didn't sugarcoat anything (and sometimes that made the job pretty brutal emotionally). So I think I'm just blunt or terse in how I wrote the book. That might be a Rhythmic problem when reading though.

Colleen, m'dear, I second Gail's opinion -- this is REALLY good news, to have such a detailed rejection and an INVITATION to submit it again.

But I feel ya on the "if I could have written this in a way you would have wanted don't you think I would have!?!?" thing. It's really frustrating. It could be that the editor is looking more for a story than an essayist's voice; perhaps your writing is a bit more removed emotionally, as a result of writing the very emotional. I definitely, definitely think that this is a GOOD thing, and have my fingers crossed for you. Rest up and let it sit awhile, and then you'll be ready to look at it from a new direction.

Any comment from an editor is a positive sign. They don't have to tell you anything. On the other hand, their comments may not give you much direction. It's been my experience that editors know what they want when they see it. Only the best ones, however, are able to get you there. I agree with Gail. Put it aside for a couple of weeks, think about it, talk with your agent, see what other editors have to say. If they all say the same thing, that's a good indication that there's a problem you need to think about. Or they may tell you completely different—and contradictory—things. You're the writer. It's your book. You should only rewrite to the extent that the changes make sense to you. It's a tough business. There are no guarantees. But on the other hand, you never know when luck will appear out of the blue.

As for those who want to know why you aren't been paid for your writing, here's what you do. Tell them several important New York publishers are looking at your manuscript; there's talk about it being optioned by a major motion picture studio. There's also talk of developing it into a video game, a TV series, and a reality show. Watch their jaws drop. It's a hoot!

By the way, I've got my blog up and running. Just posted my first entry today. Thanks for your help and advice. Writers are a community. We have to be. We'd better help each other because if we don't, no one else will do it for us.

I am going to give you a blunt opinion you won't like - and of course it's just an opinion. I agree there's a style problem in the opening you've posted. It verges on the trite: from the crystal clear sky to the fustian of 'They will not save you if you can not be saved.' You're not writing; you're pronouncing. Sonorously. Your blogging voice is very different.

Triteness is a problem I struggle to write against all the time - and I mean all the time. It's never easy to decide whether to post criticism. So please don't take offence, because I'm not trying to be mean-spirited.

As to editors and agents, you already know I have no interest in any of them. I'm hardly the best person to give advice in that regard. Eric, however, is right that you shouldn't let yourself be forced to write someone else's book, not your own, no matter how much you want to be published. And he's also right that luck has a good deal to do with success in a career.

No it's fine Lee - I went back and forth a lot on that opening. I wasn't sure if I should dump that in there then or wait. Here's what follows:

I knew about Ryan’s crash hours after it happened. He was an old friend, a college friend, another one of those twenty-something guys who came to Alaska looking for flight time and adventure. But he was low on flight time and even though he barely met the minimums for hire as a co-pilot at the Company, everyone knew he must have pencil-whipped the numbers; there was no way they all could be true.

But it didn’t really matter.

He was friendly and eager and determined to get a job, any job that would see him flying. And everyone liked him; Ryan was so easy to like.

My crazy college friend.

Ryan thought for sure he had a job at the Company and he was maybe just a little bit too cocky that way – too sure of himself. And that was the only thing the Bosses really did not like in a pilot. They didn’t like arrogant until you had earned the right for it – until you had proven you had a place; or more importantly until everyone else decided you were good.

They didn’t like co-pilots who thought they were as good as captains.

Maybe Ryan didn’t feel that way, but he laughed a little too easily, he stopped by too often, he just fit himself in to the hallway and the hangar too quickly. He acted like he had a place there, before he earned a place there. And so the Bosses dragged their feet, they talked over cups of coffee, they considered his potential while they were out flying; they shot the shit while standing in the hangar smoking one more cigarette. And Ryan got antsy, got tired of sleeping on a couch while he waited for a paycheck. So he took his resume and his buffed up log book and he made phone calls and he got a job in the Bush. He got a job out in Kotzebue, out on the coast, out in the middle of fucking nowhere. And he told everyone, his old friends and his new ones, that this was the best thing he could do, this is where he would learn what it was really like to fly in Alaska; this would be more real than anything he could do flying out of Fairbanks. This was the kind of job he had really come to Alaska for.

He laughed out the door as he told the Bosses he would be back, he would see us in a few months, maybe a year and he would have the flight time and experience that would make him an easy hire. It was the best thing he could do for his career and he knew it. All he had to do was be smart and he would be back; that was all he had to do.

Just don’t hurt yourself and everything would be okay.

I could just start right there with "Ryan's" crash. It then goes back and forth between the specifics of his accident and the aftermath and the more general reference to how in the hell you can fly into a mountain on a clear day (and it was clear - it was see for miles and miles kind of clear).

I'll ask Michele about dropping those first few paragraphs and see what she thinks.

Rejection is never easy. But you only need to find one editor who likes your style.

I'm printing out the text that follows and will read it later when I've finished an awful - and awfully tedious - translation I'm working on. Again, remember that I'm only one small voice. In the end you have to write YOUR book. And so much of what you write makes for wonderful reading that I'm sure you'll find your way - and as Kim says, your one editor.

I found myself wincing at the swear words. They belong in dialog, but seem somehow forced into the narrative. Odd comment coming from somebody who just wrote a novel full of cussing carpenters, but there it is.

And I'm for opening with the crash. Bang - we're into it.

Just one opinion, of course.

Regarding criticism, be it from an editor or a friend or some ignorant yahoo, I find that 90% of it just doesn't ring true to me, and maybe 10% hits something that was already bothering me somewhere in my deeper subconscious but that I hadn't yet accepted. It's those 10% that we need to listen to. So really, only you can judge whether the editor is right. It isn't his credentials, his position or his power that would make him right. It's whether you feel the truth in your gut. And sometimes that truth comes from an ignorant yahoo, too. Only you can judge.

I guess what I'm fumbling to say is: Don't put too much weight on the opinions of others (especially me!). They're only useful in telling you - reminding you - awakening in you something you already knew in your gut.

Lots of interesting--and contradictory--comments here. Which is really what's so crazy-making about this. YOU CAN'T KNOW. And as for gut reactions, when people tell me to go with my gut reaction, I want to ask, "Which one?" My gut reaction changes pretty much on a moment-to-moment basis.

About six weeks after my novel, Stranded in Harmony, was finally deemed finished by Hyperion and given a publication date, they had a huge editorial upheaval and virtually everyone was fired. My new editor didn't think the novel was finished at all--and sent a letter with very specific reasons why. I swore for about a week solid, then got practical. What were were my options? I could ask my agent to withdraw it and try to sell it somewhere else. But I'd worked on that damn book, on and off, for 15 years; it had been NEARLY published several times and I didn't want to chance it. So I told myself, do what they want you to do. See what happens. If you don't like it, you still have the other draft.

Turned out the editor was right. I'd never have seen what was wrong at the core of the book if I hadn't been backed into that corner.

What does that say about the first editor who thought it was fine? I don't have a clue. I share the story only to say that the whole publishing thing is insane.

Maybe the only really good advice I've gotten on this issue over the years is that if more than a few (good) readers say the same thing, pay attention.

Meanwhile, carry on!

Barb: My agent said pretty much the same thing; we need to wait and see if the same critique comes up more than once.

And man - what a story on Stranded in Harmony!

Joe: Yeah, the cussing does come fast and furious. It might get toned down in the future but we were like that (and still are when we talk about it) so it's hard for me to back pedal. But I do think starting with the crash will be better; we'll see what happens in the next couple of months.

Hi Colleen -

I don't think there's a damn thing wrong with your style or your voice.

You might ask your agent to keep the detailed rejections to herself unless a pattern emerges. Otherwise you will only question your voice with each new "No."

I heard a vast variety of noes from agents until I got to a YES. Each rejection came with an opinion attached, and often they contradicted one another.

Then I got the agent-y validation, which led to the editorial affirmation. Yay!

The first editor who read my book rejected it with this pronouncement, "The boy's voice did not ring true. I was always aware I was reading a book written by a woman."

Okay.

I bleakly contemplated a rewrite.

Then an editor loved it and bought it. She told me when she passed my manuscript around to her colleagues, most of them did not realize I was a woman, since it was written by "L.K. Madigan."

Believe in your voice and find someone else who believes in it, too.

Lisa