#RevPit 2018: reflections from a runner-up

Last week, I participated in #RevPit on Twitter. It’s an annual contest where writers submit their query letter and the first five pages of a completed novel. Winners receive five weeks of one-on-one work with a developmental editor.

Competition was fierce, but the community was a delight. Fellow participants were friendly and supportive. The editors tweeted out insightful #10queries as they read their subs. Many of us grew as writers and made new friends.

#RevPit week gave me some necessary reminders about contests, rejection, submitting your work, and the writing life in general.

I’ll get some bragging out of the way first by saying my novel, Driving Forces, was chosen as a runner-up!

In the same breath, let me say that winning (or runner-upping?) is only the icing on the cake. I outlined this entire post before the winner announcements. My feelings on the experience would’ve been the same either way.

Here’s what I gleaned from #RevPit:

My writing group is amazing.

This has to come first, especially since my name is on the winners page. I entered #RevPit with my friend Anne, a fellow Red Pen Addicts Anonymous member and critique partner. We were both finalists with the same editor. When this editor tweeted that she was agonizing over her list, we hoped she was trying to choose between our two books. As I watched the announcements roll in, I wanted Anne to be the one who beat me out for the win (she wasn’t — sad face).

Anne and I have been reading each other’s work for years. And our #RevPit submissions? We first exchanged chapters of those books in 2013.

The RPAA is small — we cap out at six full-time members — but mighty. We’re strong writers who’re passionate about honing our craft in the face of parenthood, crappy day jobs, or whatever else life puts in the way.

My writing group’s support, feedback, and tough love made Driving Forces what it is. We don’t stop until a piece reads like something we’d buy off the shelf. If anyone ever does buy this book off the shelf, I’ll have my RPAA friends to thank.

Rejections help us get published.

#RevPit entrants each submitted to two editors. The first passed on my submission right away. She also emailed me the notes she used to capture her initial reactions as she read.

These notes confirmed that my query revisions were spot on (Yay! Finally!) but my opening pages could use some minor tweaks. Even the editor who named me runner-up had critiques of my first five pages in her #10queries tweets. (Side note: I’m 99 percent sure this is about mine based on the description and the thread afterward, but I haven’t confirmed it.)

No one with a mature manuscript should hesitate to enter a contest like #RevPit out of fear they won’t win. Some information can only be learned through rejections, just like we can only discover minor flow issues in our writing by reading it aloud. Submitting widely and analyzing the results is part of the process. #RevPit’s #10queries sessions and editor feedback provide precious insights into how your submission materials are landing with agents and editors.

The industry is subjective.

It’s a form rejection letter cliche: “This industry is very subjective, and another agent may feel differently.”

#RevPit reminded me that the cliche exists for a reason. I submitted to two editors. I chose the first because her MSWL described the kind of story I had written. I chose the second based on a “bonus points” item at the bottom of her MSWL. The main body of her MSWL didn’t align with my story much at all.

That first editor passed on my sub immediately. The second marked it as a “definite request” on the #10queries thread, requested two rounds of additional pages, and eventually named me a runner-up.

A pass from one agent/editor is just that: a single data point. One data point doesn’t provide a complete picture of anything. For a rejection to take on meaning, it needs to fit into a trend, with a broad sample of agents giving very similar comments.

Context matters.

When writers submit to an agent, editor, or literary mag, we want publication and validation. Accept my work, give me legitimacy, put my words in print.

Agents and editors want to make a sale, or print a successful magazine/anthology/whatever. They’re reading our subs and wondering, do I know an editor at a Big 5 publisher who might pick this up? Is this manuscript too similar to something I already rep? Will this brand of post-apocalyptic fiction sell well in the current market? Will this story support the theme we’re looking for in this issue? Etc.

There are many reasons for an agent or editor to say no that have nothing to do with the strength of your writing. Most #RevPit editors have commented on how much they struggled to choose their finalists and winners. Some stories were heartbreaking to let go. Every editor had to pass on 99 out of 100 entries, regardless of quality.

We’re applying for a job, not a stamp of approval.

Writers are usually competing for some kind of business relationship, not an A-F grade on our writing project. #RevPit editors had to consider:

• Does this book need enough work? Will it benefit from five weeks of developmental editing, or could another writer use it more?
• Does this book need so much work that we won’t be able to accomplish it in five weeks?
• Is this writer someone I want to work closely with for free over the next five weeks? One editor commented on Twitter that she loved a manuscript, but some negative tweets gave her misgivings about keeping the writer in the running.
• Do I feel 100 percent excited about this manuscript? There are many, many bestselling novels my friends and book club have loved — and I haven’t. Editors are readers, too.
• Does the author seem willing to put in long hours over the next five weeks? Will they work hard to produce a product worthy of the final showcase?

Most of these bullet points have nothing to do with writing skill. While we can control some things, like the tone of our public interactions online, we have to let most of them go. An agent or editor doesn’t make a decision based on writing alone. We can’t all be a perfect match.

A happy writer has more than one iron in the fire.

On the eve of #RevPit winner announcements, my husband asked me how I expected myself and other participants to react.

First, I told him the writing and publishing community on Twitter is a lovely, supportive place. #RevPit is a shining example of this.

Equally important, I hadn’t hung my hopes on this contest. Not that I wasn’t nervous, or I didn’t care. I was and I did. But even with my piece in the running right beside my friend Anne’s, I felt completely at peace with whatever result came in. If Anne’s story had won, I would’ve been just as excited for her as I would’ve been for myself.

To stay sane, you need to focus on being a writer, not a published author. I love Driving Forces. It’s a first novel, and I know those usually don’t go anywhere, but I’ve worked hard on it. I’m proud of it.

I also didn’t stop writing when started querying it.

My writing life looks like this right now:

• After I started querying Driving Forces, I polished two short story drafts and began sending them to literary mags.
• I’ve drafted another short story that I really like. My writing group will discuss it for the second time tonight.
• I spun off a non-fiction book from The ADHD Homestead and need to finish the final edits soon because it comes out in three weeks.
• I just wrapped up my 2018 reader survey for The ADHD Homestead. My head is now full of ideas.
• In addition to my work on The ADHD Homestead, I’ve revived this blog for personal and writing-related content.
• I lead a fantastic writing group (see above), and we’re recruiting!

Any single piece of writing may fail to go anywhere, through no fault of its own. Putting all your stock in one project — let alone one opportunity — is kind of like being in middle school and feeling like you will just die if your crush doesn’t like you back. The only remedy for rejection is to keep writing and to make the writing your reward, not publishing or prizes.

A few final thoughts:

If you find yourself sitting on a mature novel manuscript next spring, enter #RevPit. Enter with no expectation of winning, for no other reason than to soak up all the free advice. It may be the most valuable rejection you receive.

Of course, don’t plan not to win, either. I had a moment of panic when I realized I hadn’t been rejected immediately, and winning would mean editing two entire books in the month of May. Obviously I could’ve done it. I would’ve put my son into aftercare at school and told him and my husband they were in charge of cleaning the house. I would’ve refused to cook on the weekends and stopped hassling my mom and my in-laws to set a date to visit us. I would’ve gotten it all done because that’s what I do (with writing, anyway — don’t ask about anything else). But it may have been at the expense of sleep, sanity, and preparation for the 10-mile race I’m running in June.

Am I happy I almost-won? Absolutely. I feel incredibly validated for the hard work I’ve put in on Driving Forces over the past [redacted] years. But that recognition is only a small part of what I gained from #RevPit. It wasn’t my primary reason for entering the contest, and I wouldn’t have felt anything had been taken from me if I didn’t win. By the time announcement came, I already felt like I’d received far more support, advice, and friendship than I could’ve imagined.

Have you participated in #RevPit or a similar event before? I’d love to hear about it! This post is already too long, so let’s chat in the comments 🙂