Verlin here. Thanks for all the help.
I guess a subtext here is: is it healthy or sensible to hang onto your idea of your ms' wonderfulness if the consensus feedback from professionals seems to indicate that it may be crap (least in terms of the marketplace)? Aren't some projects unsalvageable? And isn't a distinct lack of enthusiasm from a large sample of agents a good indicator of this? Believing in something when there is a lot of evidence to the contrary is simply fighting reality, isn't it? My sense is that reality is bigger than us and usually wins.
The thing is, your opinion of your work and the real reception of your work are not two immovable, unchangeable things. They will change with time, with revision, with the reader, with the market.
If you want to hang on to a book, you may have to let go of your sense of its wonderfulness (and I've been there! When I'm in the home stretch of a new book, I always think it's unbelievably amazing; it's a natural high). But you don't have to conclude it's unsalvageable crap. There are so many other possibilities between those poles.
I think it's healthy to hang on to an oft-rejected book
if you are getting feedback, learning about the market, and revising that book to meet the market in the middle. I drafted a book in 2005 and didn't get representation for it until 2011, after numerous major ms. and query overhauls. After it didn't sell, I overhauled it again based on editor feedback. I still have hopes for it.
While I obsessed about that book, I wrote more books. I got better at storytelling. I learned humbling lessons about why my writing wasn't working for readers, and applied them.
By contrast: The first book I ever sent to an agent was a 160K-word rambling literary speculative something-or-other. It meant a lot to me, but I know now it didn't work as a story — not even close. I gave up on that one, and I don't regret it.
I could be wrong, but I would guess that most working fiction writers do a lot of overproduction, i.e., produce many, many words that will never see the light of day for various reasons. (The agent doesn't like them, the editor doesn't like them, the author him- or herself has second thoughts about them.) It's the willingness to rethink and cut the crap
without abandoning the ship that leads to success — well, that plus talent.
And form rejection letters don't suffice to tell you whether you have "talent." I've known writers who had stellar talent for crafting metaphors and zero talent for crafting a story; they don't do well in the query game, but might fare just fine in a college writing workshop. That's not to say that
everybody has writing talent (far from it!), just that many factors go into these judgments.