Rejecting Rejection with author Betsy Franco

We hope writers look forward to Mondays with us at The Writing Barn. We enjoy sharing them with you. Today novelist, actress, poet, anthologist, mom (to three handsome sons, including actor James Franco), Betsy Franco joins us sharing her tale of publishing perseverance.  Welcome, Betsy.

Rejection is My Middle Name (but that’s okay)

by Betsy Franco

I’ve always told myself that in order to write what I need to write, I have to be able to handle rejection. I considered it a major part of the job from the start, and it certainly has played out that way.  I had a series of math picture books that took fifteen years to find a home–editors said I was too far ahead of the curve. In response to my first novel, Metamorphis, Junior Year, one editor said the manuscript didn’t follow the traditional structure of a novel and asked me to take out the poetry the protagonist writes and to delete the parts where he sees his friends’ dramas as contemporary mythology.  I was shocked and discouraged because I took it to mean I wouldn’t be able to publish my novel, but about a week later, I realized I had to hold my ground because those elements were the crux of the novel for me.  I eventually found an editor who understood it and described it as fresh and different.

I don’t write to a formula; in fact, I sometimes purposely write against the grain of formula, so it takes longer for me to get accepted.  But it’s when I’m out on a limb that my best work happens.  When I think I’m crazy, I’m just vulnerable, and vulnerable is interesting.  If I’m not interested, I can’t expect anyone else to be, so I’m willing to be a maverick and spend a lot of time finding the right publisher, and that means a lot of rejection.

Practicality is another aspect of the whole picture.  I always tell young writers they’ll need to use their creativity to find a way to make a living as well as to do their art.  When I was writing picture books, I would write about five at a time to balance the likelihood of rejection.  When I’m writing a novel, I have to be doing other creative projects along with it–teaching acting on film, staging my plays, and writing and directing short films.  Novels take years and rejection takes time.  In the meantime, I have to pay the mortgage.

My first adult novel, Naked, had its own lengthy journey.  I thought it would be snatched up immediately, but it wasn’t.  When I first started writing, it seemed as if I was destined to write Naked:  Originally, I wanted to set a novel in the Rodin Sculpture Garden, and coincidentally a young friend invited me to a dance recital at the garden where students picked a statue and brought it to life.  Perfect.  Then my poetry mentor, Maria Damon, suggested that I look into Camille’s role in Rodin’s life and into her own sculptures.  I was very excited and felt a strong pull from Camille to write her story in a fresh way, so much so that my late husband said I needed to calm down and get some distance.  I told Camille she needed to patient with me, knowing that patience wasn’t her strong suit.  I had Camille meet Jesse Lucas, a troubled, talented Stanford student and I was on my way.

Though the rejections for Naked described the novel as very creative and imaginative, it didn’t seem to fit anyone’s list.  The rejections piled up high.  I kept revising, using comments from my writing group and from the editors’ comments.  I changed the novel from third person to first person, from Camille’s point of view.  Next I wrote it in first person from Jesse Lucas’ point of view, then settled on dual voices.  The voice of my male protagonist Jesse came naturally (I seem to have a young man’s rebellious spirit inside me), but one morning, I dared to get closer to Camille, my first female protagonist.  It was scary and I felt vulnerable.  It worked.

When Naked finally reached Tyrus Books, they were all over it. They were excited, and my editor Nathan Singer was so in tune with Jesse, it was uncanny.  He did performance art like Jesse, and he understood Jesse as no one had before.  We had inspiring conversations about what Jesse would say out loud and what he would keep to himself.  I knew angry young men and so did he.  Tyrus has been wonderful to me.  I have a personal relationship with the publisher who I find inspirational.  It had taken so long to publish Naked because I needed to wait for Tyrus Books, the right home for my novel.

My sons have taught me a lot about fearlessness and doing what you need to do.  I have two actors and an artist.  James directs, too, among other things; sometimes he is panned as too esoteric, sometimes he’s lauded as a visionary.  Tom’s Firehouse Art Collaborative was voted most revolutionary collective.  Dave creates his own edgy, charming videos while acting in movies.  They keep doing what they’re drawn to do, no matter the feedback.  They have to be practical, too.  They say that seeing me sitting at my desk being a writer helped.  While they were growing up, I was writing educational books to supplement my own books because rejection was my middle name.  It took decades to get a trade book.

These days, Tom and I are speaking together about Naked.  I’m delighted that my son is the illustrator of my first adult novel.  He is so whimsical and unpredictable.  I’m also working on two more novels, one YA, one adult.  I’m expecting a lot of rejection on both.

Bring it on!

 

 

 

Betsy Franco has written over eighty books for children and young adults—picture books, poetry collections, and nonfiction. She also writes young adult novels and compiles anthologies of teenage writing from across the country and around the world. She particularly loves to show how exciting, sassy, and creative math can be, and how wise, honest, and insightful teenagers can be. She lives in Palo Alto, California, with her husband Douglas. They have three sons, James, Thomas, and Dave–two actor/​writers and a sculptor/​illustrator.

Her publishers include Candlewick Press, Margaret K. McElderry/​Simon & Schuster, Tricycle Press, Scholastic, Harcourt, Grolier Children’s Press, and Charles E. Tuttle.