It’s Not You, It’s Me

I am currently seeking a literary agent to represent me as I work to publish my second book. This is new for me, I didn’t work with an agent the first time I published and am hoping to follow another route to learn more about the publishing world; call it testing the waters. Unfortunately, it is a mind-numbing experience; I had more fun getting my wisdom teeth pulled, one at a time, over a one-month period. Part of my angst is the inevitable rejections that come from agents, part of it is the opaque feedback you receive. To be fair to them, they get lots of inquiries and so the math says they will say no thank you, a lot.

Setting that aside, after my fourth rejection in two weeks that followed the same pattern, I noticed the gentleness with which they said bugger off and didn’t know how to react. To demonstrate I offer the last rejection message and would point out it is effectively verbatim of the prior three, see you later notes.

It read, “Thanks so much for the look at your materials. Unfortunately, I wasn’t drawn in as much as I want to be to pursue a project. I do not believe I am the right person for you.”

That is very nice, don’t you think. They didn’t hurt my feelings nor give me cause for concern about my work. I got a pat on the back, a nudge out the door, and a goodbye wish for good luck. Kind of reminds me of my high school days when I suffered from the, I just want to be friend’s syndrome. Nothing makes you feel worse than hearing from someone you fancy, how nice you are and how you make them laugh, but you’re not someone they want to go to a movie with.

Saying no is a part of life and not everyone is adept at it: some people are rude, some annoyingly kind, others ghost you. Still others don’t know how to say no, so they never do. That wouldn’t work if you were a literary agent, and it shouldn’t work for most people; we should all be able to say no to something that isn’t valuable to us, or more concerning, a negative in our life.

I admit I haven’t always said no when I should; I am better at it today, but I still have things I need to stop doing. To be specific, nothing fits that description more than Facebook. I was a very late adopter to the platform. In fact, I didn’t have any desire to join but was convinced by others that I needed to have a presence to support my fledgling writing. Reluctantly, I opened an account and started growing my friend’s list.

To be clear, I can’t see any evidence Facebook has had a positive impact on my writing career. More importantly, I can’t stand it. And yet, I find myself surfing around and reading posts from friends, family, and old acquaintances. Oddly, it can consume you and if you’re not careful you end up spending thirty minutes reading posts about all sorts of nutty topics.

I have decided I am closing my account in the coming days. It hasn’t been good for me. Most notably, I have learned so much unwanted information about people I know. In fact, much of what I have seen is disturbing; I wished their little secrets had stayed secret. I don’t know if these people always harbored the views they have now or if their staunch opinions are an acquired perspective, but frankly too many people from my past sound batshit crazy. I don’t say this in a judgmental way; honestly, I don’t know how to describe it, but some people I used to like, or respect seem now make comments that are horrible.

If you take what people say literally you can find yourself wondering who is off kilter, them or you? I have relatives that say the worst things online. Things that if I had known they were capable of saying, or possessed deep in their consciousness, I would never have let them close to my kids. It has made me sad.

That is why I am saying no to Facebook.

However, I do this with no malice. I still want to care about people from my past; I just want to disengage from the platform that gives them a voice to alter how I see them. In the spirit of the thoughtful, sweet rejections I am getting from agents, I thought I would sever my relationship with Facebook like this.

Dear Facebook,

I have tried and failed to fit in. My efforts to contribute to your fabulous company and all the good it is doing in the world have been unsuccessful. I wish I could find the energy, the fortitude even to contribute, but it doesn’t appear I am up to the mark. I have spent time reflecting and I honestly don’t know why I can’t engage the way people I know do. It is with grave sadness; I commit to removing my account within the coming week. I wish you all the best, I know you will do great without me.

I have learned a lesson. Saying no isn’t hard, not if you are going to take all the responsibility for the breakup. Never again will I say no to someone or something without saying to myself and likely to them; it’s not you, it is me.