. . . And I Torture Animals and Children Too!
Written by John Erianne on December 16, 2006 – 3:16 pm -Let’s face it, no one likes to receive a rejection slip. Certainly, the rejection slips I’ve sent have gotten me into trouble with disgruntled recipients from time to time. So, I thought I would translate my rejection slips for you guys. Whether for future reference you find my translation more offensive than the actual rejection slip is for the gods to decide, I suppose.
My rejections basically come in four varieties:
1. The personal, long-winded, point-by-point critique.
Writers who receive one of these rare gems should not feel insulted no matter how blunt or hurtful the language. Basically, if I take the time to give you a real critique with constructive criticism, what I’m telling you is that I take you seriously as a writer, but think your technique needs some work. I almost never hand out these personal rejections anymore,however, as I get too many submissions and no longer have the time.
2. The “Sorry, No” rejection
To my way of thinking, the “Sorry, No” rejection is just a shorthand version of the form rejection letter. Like a form rejection (which I will get to shortly) it doesn’t necessarily mean that I think you are a bad writer. Most of the time, it just means you caught me on a day when I’ve run out of form rejection letters and don’t have the time to write out upteen thousand form rejections in longhand.
3. The Barb
The one-line barb gets me into the most trouble. Contrary to popular belief, I do not stoop to this level as a means to boost my own ego although, I do sometimes throw out stingers as a means to amuse myself. I can guarantee, that I will receive one or more nasty letters, threats, etc. If I reject a writer with an obvious insult, it usually means that I deem that writer to be rank stinking amateur who has, through ignorance or indifference, irritated me in some way. The theory behind the barb — and I cannot lie — is that it will sting the writer so badly that some soul-searching is inescapable. That writer will either be so shattered by the experience that giving up is a real option (thus sparing us of more of their dreck) or the writer will dig down deep and discover some hidden talent that hasn’t yet manifested, but also realize that there is a fair amount of hard work and discipline necessary to make their writerly dream come true. So far, the barb has accomplished absolutely nothing except pissing such writers off. Because of this I almost never resort to the barb anymore unless I am in a REALLY foul mood.
4. The Form Rejection Letter
We’ve all gotten these, haven’t we? The impersonal “Thank you for your interest, but we can’t use your submission” rejection. Ever diplomatic in tone with no indication as to why you were rejected. Such a mystery. Like the cheerleader who wasn’t asked to the prom by the boy she likes, crying out, “Why, why, why did he reject me?” And you never do find out. Did they sit around the conference table poking fun at your submission before tossing it back? Did they seriously want to use it, but Phil Roth was available and alas, they no longer had space for you? Was your story even read, or did some fat, lazy intern simply stuff a form letter in there so he could get back to stuffing his face with twinkies? The truth is, it could be for any of those reasons. The form rejection is a time-saver. Sometimes, the writing is so obviously awful that rejection is inevitable, but the writer didn’t irritate me and I still have form rejection letter laying around I’ll show a little mercy and take the path of least resistance. And sometimes, I DO like their writing but just don’t have space for it. My better angels are telling me that this person or that won’t be happy if I accept submission X and hold on to it for an indefinite period of time before I can use it so I toss it back with an inoffensive form letter, hoping that the writer will choose to submit again when our mutual timing isn’t so off. Most of the time, though, it simply means that the submission was somehow off the mark or inappropriate. That writer didn’t follow guidelines, proofread, or that the submission was just plain mediocre and/or boring. For example, I recall a guy once sent me a 10 page poem about his trip to Wal-Mart. The whole poem was like “I went down the aisle and bought a toothbrush. There was a black woman buying yarn.” What am supposed to do with that, much less 10 pages of that? The answer: a form rejection letter.
I do believe most writers know the drill when it comes to rejection and accept it as a fact of life. But some do not. Some are simply too arrogant or delusional to get that rejection isn’t really personal. It’s not about publishing certain writers while deliberately excluding others. On any given day, any writer has an equal opportunity to be either accepted or rejected. There is no science to it. It is just that editors have a finite amount of space to fill per issue and they have to reject most of what they receive. If you believe I reject you because I have a personal axe to grind and want to conspire to deprive you of your chance to be a published writer you must also believe that I torture animals and small children too.
January 6th, 2007 at 6:09 am
I do NOT envy you one bit. Would I be a total asshole if I assumed that you probably get tons of mediocre crap that you have to sort through to get to the quality stuff? Do people really take it personal if you reject their submissions? Welp, let ‘em go watch some more Lifetime. If you were polite about selecting and rejecting, then wouldn’t you end up with a politely watery publication?