E.L. Deards on If At First You Don’t Succeed, Edit, Edit, Edit

If there's one thing that many aspiring writers have few clues about, it's the submission process. There are good reasons for that; authors aren't exactly encouraged to talk in detail about our own submission experiences, and - just like agent hunting - everyone's story is different. I managed to cobble together a few non-specific questions that some debut authors have agreed to answer (bless them). And so I bring you the submission interview series - Submission Hell - It's True. Yes, it's the SHIT.

Today’s guest for the SHIT is E.L. Deards, author of Wild with All Regrets

How much did you know about the submission process before you were out on subs yourself? 

Not very much to be honest, but I used my handy dandy google skills to put together a basic query letter and submission package (which includes query, bio, pitch, comp titles, target audience, synopsis (of varying lengths), and a section at the bottom for ritual sacrifice which may or may not help.  

After a number of rejections I sought some professional help and had my novel edited and the query package reviewed and tweaked.  I think I have the basics down now, and have had more success with more newer works with querying than I did with Wild with All Regrets. 

Did anything about the process surprise you? 

How simultaneously formulaic and soul crushing it was! I think many baby writers probably start thinking that it’s going to be hard to pick an agent from the billions of offers you’re sure to get right form the offset, but my story was largely one of rejection or just being ignored.  

Did you research the editors you knew had your ms? Do you recommend doing that? 

Absolutely! This is a must do for anyone querying agents.  There are hundreds of agents getting hundreds of submissions every day, and it’s important to make yours stand out.  So my process is basically this: go on a website like querymanager or MSWL and filter by your genre.  Then go through all of the who are interested in your genre, and go to their pages.  From there, I try to see if we have similar interests, goals, or passions when it comes to fiction.  It’s worthwhile making sure they are actually open to queries, and also to make sure there isn’t another agent at their agency who might be a better fit for you.  Then, I tailor the query letter to reflect what it was about this person who made me want to submit my work to them.  

Sending out five specific, targeted queries is probably more likely to garner a positive response than sending out twenty random ones.  

What was the average amount of time it took to hear back from editors? 

Completely variable, some will respond in a day, some don’t respond at all.  Being a cute little autistic like I am, I have a giant spreadsheet where I keep track of submissions and try to include notes like ‘can poke in 8 weeks’ or ‘will only reply if interested.’

What do you think is the best way for an author out on submission to deal with the anxiety? 

Don’t take it personally.  I made a concerted effort to stop having ‘hope’ about any of my submissions, and just assume that they’d all be rejections.  What this meant was that I was never sad and would sometimes have a pleasant surprise.  It’s a lot easier to do this once you realize that most agents will say no, and that it doesn’t reflect on you as a writer.  That being said, the project you’re working on now is probably not the last thing you’ll ever write, or even the best thing you’ll ever write.  Keep honing your craft and try your best.  Not everyone will get an agent, and that’s okay too. Try your best, and write if it makes you happy.  

If you had any rejections, how did you deal with that emotionally? How did this kind of rejection compare to query rejections? 

That was a lot harder, since one tends to get one’s hopes up a little more when you’ve made it past the slush pile stage.  You start questioning if you’re a good writer or if anyone will want to read your work and so on.  I kept reminding myself that I wouldn’t want representation from someone who didn’t believe in the project anyway, and a good fit was worth waiting for.  I think what helped me was realizing that my book was quite niche and weird and it’s not that surprising if a traditional publisher wasn’t that excited about taking a chance on it.  It’s hard.  It’s really hard.  I think my main advice would be to try and keep an emotional distance from the process. 

If you got feedback on a rejection, how did you process it? How do you compare processing an editor’s feedback as compared to a beta reader’s?

I didn't get any feedback from rejections unfortunately, but with any kind of feedback I try and determine whether it's worth making any changes to the narrative.  Feedback you get consistently is probably worth looking at, but other types of feedback may not be as valuable.  Some people have different tastes, and no manuscript is going to be perfect for anyone.  I tried to weigh up the vision I had for the book, how difficult making a change would be, and whether I thought it would improve the narrative, before adjusting anything in the manuscript.  I'd probably give more importance to an editor's feedback than a beta reader's, but if they've already rejected me I don't need to change everything to make them happy.  

When you got your YES! how did that feel? How did you find out – email, telephone, smoke signal? 

It was unbelievable.  Submitting to SheWrites was actually going to be my last attempt at getting Wild with All Regrets published since I was so frustrated with the process.  I got an email basically saying that my book had been greenlit and I was so happy that I danced around my desk for a bit and left early cause I was too excited to do any real work.  I remember driving home, blasting Ukranian folktronica music and just going YES!!!

Did you have to wait a period of time before sharing your big news, because of details being ironed out? Was that difficult? 

Nah, I just kept things vague while the details were being hammered out.  I couldn’t really believe it was happening and I didn’t want to jinx it.  I still kind of can’t believe it happened, I’ll let you know if it was a dream I guess.

E.L. Deards grew up in New York City and attended Barnard College at Columbia University for her undergraduate degree.  She studied Japanese literature and biology and won two awards for writing during this time.  She was then accepted to The University of Edinburgh and completed her veterinary degree, and remained in the UK after completing her degree.  All throughout this time she has been honing her craft and writing every single day.  She loves being a vet, but writing gives her more peace and satisfaction than anything in the world.

Why Visible Queer Physicians Matter

By: Patricia Grayhall

As only one of five women in a medical school class of 100 in Salt Lake City, it was too risky to be out as a lesbian to most of my fellow students and professors. Here is a short excerpt from my book, Making the Rounds: Defying Norms in Love and Medicine:

My roommate Arlis and I were walking from our apartment to the anatomy lab when several of our Mormon classmates caught up and walked beside us. Looking over their lab coats, clean and pressed by their wives, I became uncomfortably aware of mine: greasy and wrinkled and reeking of formaldehyde. 

Muttering to no one and half joking, I lamented, “I need a wife.” 

Arlis heard me and said loudly, “What about that woman in San Francisco?” 

…This was Utah in 1971. I hadn’t known until this moment Arlis was on to me. I questioned her motives. We were both competitive. If it became known to my professors I was a lesbian, they could make it even harder for me in medical school. My face burned, and I said nothing—just pulled my greasy lab coat tighter around me and walked on in silence. I detected a faint smirk on Arlis’s face. 

That morning, I decided I’d better find a more compatible roommate and better cover. I’d begun getting to know David, one of the other ten non-Mormons who I suspected was gay. 

I invited David to share an apartment with me and he agreed. People would assume we were in a romantic relationship; in Utah, we would be a scandalous couple living together in assumed sin. But at least we wouldn’t be in danger of being ostracized for being queer, compounding the discrimination I felt as a woman in a nearly all-male profession. There were few women, let alone visible lesbians, who could serve as role models for me.

Times have certainly changed since I started medical school in the early 1970s. Nevertheless, LGBTQ+ medical students, and doctors still weigh the benefits and risks of being openly visible. A survey of graduating medical students as late as 2010 showed that 30% kept their sexual orientation a secret due to fear of discrimination.

LGBTQ+ people, who I will refer to with the current umbrella term “queer,” comprise every race, ethnicity, religion, age, and socioeconomic group and are estimated at 5% of the population of the US. However, we are disproportionally affected by lack of access to health care and health insurance, and the impact of societal biases on physical and mental health and well-being.

Queer youth are at a higher risk for substance use, sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), cancers, cardiovascular diseases, respiratory diseases, obesity, bullying, isolation, rejection, anxiety, depression, and suicide as compared to the general population. Up to 40% of homeless youth are queer usually due to familial rejection. To cope with stress and discrimination these young people are more likely to engage in risky behaviors and self-medicate with smoking, alcohol, and drug use. Queer youth receive inferior quality of care due to stigma, lack of healthcare providers’ awareness, and insensitivity to their unique needs.

Queer adults also have poorer physical and mental health and a higher incidence of preventable illness and substance abuse. Significant shares of our community report negative experiences when seeking care, including disrespectful treatment from providers and staff.

A few years ago, a study showed positive role modeling by, and increased interaction with, queer physicians decreased both implicit and explicit bias among medical students toward the patients they serve. Doctors with such exposure are more likely to perform more comprehensive patient histories, hold more positive attitudes toward queer patients, and possess greater knowledge of our unique health care concerns. 

Early in my career as a doctor, it outraged me that I was denied disability insurance with the explanation that women doctors were more likely to become depressed and alcoholic (due to discrimination). Later, after the passage of Title IX, prohibiting discrimination in education based on sex, many more women entered medicine. This correlated with improved outcomes.

For example, if you’re a woman needing surgery, you may be far better off in the hands of a female, rather than a male, surgeon. A study recently published in JAMA Surgery reviewed outcomes for more than 1.3 million patients and found that women were 32 percent less likely to die (and 16 percent less likely to experience complications) if treated by a female surgeon rather than a male one. We are more likely to follow guidelines, collaborate with specialists and ask patients about social circumstances that may affect their health; we also spend more time with patients. 

I can’t help but believe the visible presence of queer doctors, especially in positions of power in more medical schools and residency training programs, would also improve health care outcomes for queer patients as the increased presence of women doctors did for women’s health care. In choosing my own primary care physician, I not only chose a woman, but also an out lesbian. The health intake form asked about my partner rather than my spouse (although we are now married). Inquiries about whether I was sexually active did not assume I had sex with men. Pre-examination chit-chat, inquiring about life and my relationship with my partner as well as my medical history flowed easily without having to change pronouns or omit relevant information (as I had with previous doctors who were also my peers).

I would wish for my queer sisters and brothers similarly comfortable experiences with their health care providers, so that trust and understanding can begin to improve health outcomes for all. I regret that for most of my medical career I was not able to be a totally-out lesbian until about a decade from retirement--for fear of the very real likelihood of career damage and discrimination. However, society has progressed to the point, that I hope all queer physicians now make the choice to be out and proud.

Patricia Grayhall is a medical doctor and author of Making the Rounds: Defying Norms in Love and Medicine as well as articles in Queer Forty and The Gay and Lesbian Review. After nearly forty years of medical practice, this is her debut, very personal, and frank memoir about coming out as a lesbian in the late 1960s and training to become a doctor when society disapproved of both for a woman. She chose to write using a pen name to protect the privacy of some of her characters as well as her own.  Patricia lives with the love of her life on an island in the Pacific Northwest where she enjoys other people’s dogs and the occasional Orca and black bear.

Jessi Honard & Marie Parks on Co-Authoring, Pacing a Fantasy, and Responsibly Writing A Diverse Cast

Today's guest are Jessi Honard and Marie Parks, co-authors of Unrelenting, a fantasy novel that is paced like a thriller, and features a diverse cast of LGBTQ+ characters. The authors joined me today to talk about bringing a business mindset to the publishing journey, writing inclusively, and the process of co-authoring.

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