Adam J. Whitlatch

I’m a writer… but you already knew that. What you probably don’t know is that I have a dark secret that will label me a traitor to my fellow writers. A few months ago I went over to the Dark Side — and it’s true… they really do have cookies! During the month of October I worked as the submissions editor for a small publisher that will for the time being go unnamed. Why? Because if I rejected your manuscript I don’t want you showing up here in the middle of the night to rape my cats, that’s why.

Why am I just now coming out with this announcement? When the publisher approached me about this position I made the personal decision to keep it a secret for the simple reason that I didn’t want every writer I’ve acquainted myself with over the past six years coming out of the woodwork to cash in favors. I also decided that if any familiar names came across my desk that I would pass them on to one of the other editors, because I wanted to remain unbiased. Luckily the situation never presented itself and I only found myself evaluating unknowns.

There’s this misconception in the “indie” writer community that agents and editors are our mortal enemies. The term “gatekeeper” gets thrown around a lot and, while I admit I used to throw it around a lot myself, after walking a mile in the shoes of a gatekeeper I can say I’m rather sick of hearing it.  Are gatekeepers holding you back? Yes? Do you want to know why? Three reasons:

1. Your work (at this point) sucks.

2. Your work is not what they want.

3. You’re an asshole.

I can’t wait for all the butthurt complaints and death threats to come rolling in now, but it’s the truth.  But before you unleash your wrath upon me, let me elaborate on each point.

Your work (at this point) sucks.

Do you know how often editors struggle with the idea of rejecting a submission? Quite often actually. You like the concept, but the characters aren’t very fleshed out, or maybe the story is fantastic but the spelling is at a sixth grade level. I know what you’re saying, “But you’re the editor! That’s your job!” No. It’s not. An editor’s job is to help apply the final polishes that make an already superb manuscript into a true jewel. It is not our job to proofread and ghostwrite the fucking book for you. So get that notion out of your skull right now.

Probably more than 25% of the submission packages I rejected were of first draft quality. That means the writer pounded on their keyboard for six months to a year, clicked “save,” and then attached it to an email. Wrong! I had to learn not to do this the hard way when I sent both the first drafts of “Retribution” and “Earth Realm Army” out. I know you’ve heard this countless times, but it is sound advice… stick your novel in a drawer for four to six months and then look at it again with fresh eyes. Trust me, the typos, redundancies, and cliches will just leap off the page at you.

Even the most world-changing novel sucks in its earliest drafts. If you’re still getting rejected after the twelfth rewrite, do it again, but make sure you analyze the rejections. Are you being rejected at the query stage? The opening chapters? The full? Look at the area that’s being rejected and direct your attention there. The manuscript will continue to improve. I promise you that. So, yes, your work does suck, but it won’t forever if you put forth the effort to hone your craft. So put that first novel away and forget it for six months while you work on your next masterpiece. Wash, rinse, and repeat as necessary.

Your work is not what they want.

I hate to be the one to break this to you, but different people have different tastes, and editors and agents are no different. Do you want a person that doesn’t “get” your work representing or trying to sell it? No. So stop being a whore and make sure a publisher or agency is a good fit before you submit. And if you do submit and get a rejection that makes it obvious they “just don’t get it,” move on. Submitting a romance to a hardcore horror market will get you nowhere. Neither will sending the same manuscript to all three of a publisher’s imprints. Take the time to note what email address you’re submitting things to before you blindly press send.

Have you ever gotten this line in a rejection: “We just don’t know how to market your work.” Newsflash! This is not an indicator of the editor’s intelligence, it is a sign that your work is really bizarre and nobody knows how to categorize it or who the hell would want to buy it. I had one submission that had me scratching my head for about a week. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it, and neither could the rest of the staff. Obviously there are instances where the advice to “write for yourself” just doesn’t apply. So if you find yourself ripping your hair out because you keep getting “we just don’t know how to market it,” just take a moment to consider that maybe it’s not the editors… it’s you.

Here’s the bottom line: this business really is subjective, and you can’t please everyone. It’s nothing personal, I promise.

You’re an asshole.

What? Moi? Yes, you. You know what pissed me off more than anything when I was reading slush? Assholes that didn’t take the time to read the submission guidelines any longer than it takes to locate an email address.  I don’t ask much. I ask for the first ten pages in 12 point Times New Roman with a brief synopsis in the same document. I did not ask for your entire four-hundred-and-twelve-page manuscript in 14 point Arial and a nine-page synopsis in the body of the email.

Yes, I get it. You’re brilliant. You’re a special little snowflake. You’re a rebel. The rules just don’t apply to you. Well, here’s the deal, young Skywalker — you either follow the fucking instructions or you’re going to be the most brilliant, rebellious snowflake in my recycle bin.  I delete submissions that don’t follow the guidelines unread, and I’m not the only one.

Also, to the genius who sent me a submission with a cover letter adorned with only the single word “Enjoy” — you’re not an asshole. You’re a fucking moron!

Now, folks, let’s get something straight. I’m not a jerk. I don’t think I’m better than you. I’ve simply seen things from the other side. The truth is that editors and agents want to accept your book. Believe it or not, they do. How do you think they make a living? By saying “no?” Saying no doesn’t pay the bills, my friends. What you have to understand is that we writers are a dime a dozen. We are a hydra — for every writer an agent or editor rejects, two more spring up to replace him.  Now, before you take that as a war cry of “they need us, we don’t need them,” just simmer down and think about this. We are not united. We are not a force. We are writers, and we are all in it for ourselves.  The guy who wrote the manuscript below yours in the pile doesn’t give two shits about you and your dreams. So what do you do? You work, you sweat, and you strive to make your work the best in the pile. Make your work irresistible.

What sense does it make to make life hard for the person who wants to buy your work? Come on, tell me. I’ll wait.

Yeah… that’s what I thought.

I enjoyed my time as a submissions editor. It was an enlightening experience that honestly strengthened me as a writer. I realized some hard truths that helped me to make some difficult decisions about my own work, decisions that have helped tremendously. Out of something like twenty-five submission packages I only requested three full manuscripts, and they were phenomenal. There were at least three that I struggled with rejecting; all three had strong premises and great hooks, but could stand one or two more rewrites in order to be truly great. The rest either did not appeal to me or the rest of the staff, were poorly written, or completely failed to follow directions.

So there you have it, the confessions of a gatekeeper. Now for you, dear writer, I have just one question — Are you the Key Master?

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