The Composing Process -- Acceptance

The Creative is taking an in-depth look at the steps I go through in composing a piece of music, from first ideas clear through the end of the publishing process.  Realize this is only my process -- this may or may not work for you, so use it only as a guide.  This is the eighth post in the series.

On Wednesday we looked at one possible outcome from submitting your work to a publisher, and it was the outcome no creative wants.  However, we decided that rejection isn't always a bad thing, and sometimes, under the right conditions, it can even be a good thing.

But, as someone who's had both, I can tell you: getting an acceptance is better.

My first acceptance letter came back in 2006, and I can still remember to this day what it felt like.  It was a joyous feeling, a pounding in my chest, a rapturous elation that simply could not be contained.  Somebody was going to publish my piece!  It had to be the greatest thing in the world!

Well, it was pretty good all right, but definitely not the greatest thing in the world.  Still, it is pretty wonderful to have a publisher tell you, "Yes, we like your piece, and we think other people will like it, too -- like it enough, in fact, to pay actual money for it." 

Now here's the weird thing: we talked before about how a rejection is just a rejecting of your piece, not of you as a person or composer.  With acceptances, you get a little of both -- not only do they accept your piece, but it's a healthy dose of validation that you are, in fact, on the right track and doing your work in the right way. 

Yes, getting an acceptance does many things for a composer, but there are many, many other things it does not do:

• Acceptance does not mean every other piece you write will get accepted -- Despite the validation an acceptance gives you, it is still just accepting your piece and nothing but your piece.  Don't assume everything else you write will be snatched up automatically.
• Acceptance does not make you an instant success -- Getting a piece published is great, but it won't make you an overnight household name, won't cause members of the opposite gender to hurl themselves at you, won't let you take exotic half-year-long round-the-world cruises.  It will, however, get your piece in print.
• Acceptance does not eliminate your financial worries for life -- We'll talk about this more in a few weeks when we talk about royalties, but the simple mathematical fact is that a single piece, no matter how well received by the public, is astronomically unlikely to take care of all your future financial concerns.  In fact, it's more likely not even to do much in terms of taking care of your immediate financial concerns.
• Acceptance doesn't mean you get to stop working -- I learned this lesson the hard way.  After my first piece was accepted in June of 2006, I sat back, dreamed about what life would be like with a handbell arrangement in print ... and did nothing.  It was over a year later when I got my second piece accepted, and not because I was racking up the rejections, but because I simply didn't write and submit anything for a goodly length of time.
• Acceptance doesn't mean you're done with the piece -- Our next couple of posts will look at the life of your piece after it's accepted.  Getting that acceptance letter (or more often these days, an acceptance e-mail), doesn't end your relationship with the piece, just your relationship as the only one in its life.  Some publishers will be happy with the piece as it is, while others will want you to make corrections and alterations to it.  Even then, there are proofs and other considerations that go along with actually getting the piece in print.  Far from saying you're done with a piece, getting an acceptance just means you've got more work to do with the piece before you lay it to rest.

As of now, we're leaving the actual composing process and moving on into the publishing process.  For any composer who wants to be published, it's a necessary thing, but most of it (at least on the composer's end) is about as far from the art of composing as you can get and still be in the music realm.  It's still interesting as anything to be involved in, but it does really make you ache to get back to the keyboard or computer and start composing again.

Next time, we'll look at potentially the scariest part of the whole process: the contract.  Until then, keep composing, keep submitting, and good luck!