Welcome to the Runway of Rejection

As you know I’m writing this Killer Heels series as I write, pitch, launch, etc. all the things for my first book. So, these blogs come out just a few weeks behind what I’m doing in real time. It’s slightly delayed so I can gather all the info I get and so I can tell you the outcome. We’ve reached the much more difficult steps. This week has been especially hard and I’m not going to lie….I wanted to walk away for a bit. I didn’t because I am doing my best to see it through, but I almost did. It’s been rough, it’s been real, and it’s been a real humbling period. Just a heads up, with this topic I’m not sure it’s going to go as fast as the other parts. Anyways lol on to what I’ve learned so far…..

There’s a very specific kind of delusion required to query literary agents. It’s the kind of delusion where you slip on your heels, open your laptop, and whisper, “Today… I will be discovered,” even though you’ve been rejected twelve times, your coffee is cold, and your cat is judging your entire personality. Querying is not for the faint of heart. It’s for the girlies who can take a rejection, add it to a spreadsheet, and still strut like they’re walking into a book deal. This is the Slush Pile Strut. The emotional reality of pitching your book in Killer Heels. Let’s talk about the glam, the chaos, the heartbreak, the rituals, and the delusional confidence required to survive the publishing trenches.

THE EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER

Querying is basically a relationship with your inbox. Some days it loves you. Some days it ghosts you. Some days it sends you a rejection so polite you want to scream into a pillow.

The Highs

• The moment you hit “send” and feel like Beyoncé releasing a surprise album.
• When an agent requests your full and you ascend into the astral plane.
• When you realize your book is actually pitchable and not just a Word document you trauma bonded with.

The Lows

• The rejection that arrives at 2:14 AM for no reason.
• The silence that stretches for weeks.
• The “I loved this but it’s not right for my list” email that feels like a breakup text.

The Neutral Chaos

• Agents who say your writing is great but the market is bad.
• Agents who say they don’t know how to sell it but wish you luck.
• Agents who say nothing at all.

THE RITUALS THAT KEEP YOU SANE

Querying requires rituals. Little acts of self-preservation that keep you from spiraling into the void.

Healthy Rituals

• Put on heels and stomp around your living room like you’re rejecting them.
• Buy a treat: lip gloss, candle, iced coffee, emotional support pastry.
• Read your favorite chapter to remind yourself you slay.
• Text your writer friends and scream together.

Unhealthy Rituals

• Rewriting your entire book after one rejection.
• Sending angry emails (never).
• Querying agents who don’t rep your genre out of desperation.
• Comparing yourself to authors who got six-figure deals at 23.

Delulu Rituals (The Killer Heels Signature)

• Pretend the agent who rejected you simply wasn’t ready for your greatness.
• Visualize your future book tour outfits.
• Practice your acceptance speech in the shower.
• Strut like you already have a movie deal.

STAYING STYLISH THROUGH THE SLUSH PILE

This is where Killer Heels energy becomes a survival tactic.

The Vibe

• Heels high.
• Standards higher.
• Confidence borderline illegal.

The Aesthetic

• A querying playlist.
• A querying candle.
• A querying outfit that makes you feel like a publishing villain.

The Mindset

You are not begging for a seat at the table. You are deciding which table deserves your presence.

So, for me, I’ve decided to remind myself I’m not in the slush pile… I’m on the runway. Strutting in my metaphoric killer heels. Ive learned that querying is messy, emotional, chaotic, and occasionally soul crushing but it’s also powerful. It means you’re in the arena. It means you’re trying. It means you’re brave enough to want something and in bravery looks good on everyone. Part 2 is where I’ll get strategic and talk about the art of the pitch.

XOXO,

Savi Monroe