Successful Query

I'm becoming accustomed to the feel of rejection letters. They're short, fairly impersonal and try to get the message across without offending your vanity. I hate them. So when I received the most recent such no-thank-you-missive, something clicked. I couldn't let them have the last word. On a whim, I sent this reply.

Thanks for getting back to me. You're right. What I've sent you in the past has been interesting (though conventional). Here's an idea that I'm sure you haven't already covered — Web-based Youth Outreach: How to Build Interactive Communities. I captain an international chess team that has spent the last year, experimenting with outreach, discipleship and communion on the Internet. We have more than 30 members from five different countries, and most are high school-age boys. We've struggled with issues of invitation (how to get people to join us), investment (thinking about what it takes to move kids from aligning themselves with the group to actually doing ministry and serving others), retention (considering what is required for helping people to feel that the extra work of community is worth their time and necessary for their own spiritual health). I look forward to hearing from you soon.

And it worked. Now the editor wants an outline and an opening paragraph. But instead of elation, I feel fear. I've walked this route before, cobbling together my jumbled thoughts and experience, birthing a full-fledged work. But rejection isn't a one-time hurdle. It hides behind each block of text, each step of the way. And if it comes — as it can — at the end of a piece (rather than at the beginning), the hurt is worse.