My first agent critique, a confession of struggles and the happy news that followed

By Mayra CuevasAfter a decade-long career in journalism, I pride myself on the ability to take criticism and rejection. At least that’s what I’d tell my writing partner every time literary rejection came up.I once worked on a mini-documentary series for six months only to have it cancelled after it was ready to air. But that is the nature of the TV business, so it was easy to accept.But writing a novel, I have come to find out, is different. It is a very personal, almost visceral experiment that brings out every hidden insecurity. And faced with criticism and rejection, it can be devastating.Last month, I participated in the Atlanta Writers Group Spring conference - my second writers conference and my first taste of literary judgment. My first conference, last October, was a mix of excitement and the unrealistic idealism of the first time novelist. This second time was a reality check brought about by an agent critique session.Before the conference, I sent the organizers a copy of my first chapter and my synopsis, wrapped with all my dreams, hopes and aspirations. The pages went to an agent I had never met, but whom I hoped would appreciate the merits of my work. Instead, after a 10 minute meeting, I walked out with a nicely written letter of all the things, in her opinion, I needed to fix.I have included a redacted copy of her letter, in the hopes that some of you reading this post will not feel alone and know that others share the pains of being critiqued.For me, it was not the criticism that stung. It was the source. An industry professional. And agent. The one person who can validate whether you are the real thing.So far, a few close friends, all with some experience of young adult/fantasy books, had read first drafts of the manuscript. They offered constructive notes on the draft in an encouraging way. They inspired me and pushed me to continue. They believed in me as a writer and they had a vested interest in my success.But getting feedback from a stranger, who represents authors for a living, and who had no interest in my future career as a novelist, was a whole different experience.Her letter conveyed two main critiques. One was an issue of too much narrative summary. I had had previously discussed this with my writing partner and I knew it needed work. Her second point was that I was trying to build my world too fast in that I was introducing too much information too quickly.I must confess, the days following the critique were difficult. Did I had what it takes to become published? Could I re-write as many times as it would take to make this book publishable? Did I even know what I was doing? I started to doubt myself and was unsure in my ability to see this book through.The thing with critique is you have to be open to it without letting it discourage you. And normally, I like to think I do an ok job at it. I listen to what is being said. I try to be level haeded. I discern what is valid and what is not. And I take to heart the things I feel I need to improve on.But keeping enough separation from my book proved challenging. Its entire contents is coming from my mind and my heart. It is literally my creation - my child of sorts. You get so close to it that you see no separation between you and the work. And herein lies the problem. You need separation. Just enough so that you can see your child for who they are and not for whom you believe them to be.So, I took the advice of my fiancé, who said I should take a break and put the manuscript away for a few weeks in order to get some headspace. But since I’m a control freak and I didn’t want to feel like I was wasting time, so I picked up the book the critiquing agent recommended, “Self Editing for Fiction Writers”  by Renni Browne and Dave King. A book that is now on my must-read list for new authors.And just as I started to wallowed in my pity party of one, I got a call from my writing partner to share the wonderful news that she had just received an offer from an agent she had met the weekend of the conference. I shrieked for joy and did a little happy dance in the kitchen. It was immensely gratifying to have played a small role in her success. And while we were on the phone celebrating and going over the details of her contract I asked her the one question I had never asked, “How long did it take you to get here?” She sighed, “Five years.”In that moment, as we went over commission percentages, and how much would the agent make if they built a theme park out of my writing partner’s book, her happiness made it all worth while. The late nights and early mornings of writing, the dozens of re-writes and the 60 plus rejection letters she had received. It was all in the past now. She had arrived. And a part of me had arrived with her.During our celebratory lunch a few days later, we laughed about the times she almost gave up and were thankful that she hadn’t. She reminded me that writing a book is a constant learning process, one that can only be learned by doing.And as we clinked our glasses of iced tea and toasted to her success, I found myself inwardly grateful for her friendship, her wisdom and the honor of sharing the happiness of that moment.