September 21st, 2010 / 10:55 am
Snippets
Snippets
Blake Butler—
Why is it writers so enjoy blogging/tweeting/talking/going on about their rejections?
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Because there are a lot more of them than acceptances.
Because writers like to complain.
Also, because you can’t do that with acceptances without people thinking you’re an ass. There’s nothing more obnoxious to the rest of us as a loud winner.
do you feel physical pain?
that seems reductive to me, roxane. all topics are just topics? there seems a definitive mechanism in it. i also wonder why others would really care? it seems like a bad beat story in poker: everybody has them, nobody really cares to hear about it. it’s part of the game.
ingratiating affected modesty
Masochism?
It feels good to share the pain with people who go through the exact same thing. I don’t tweet mine, but I do share the big ones with a few writer friends. It always helps.
For the same reason you enjoy blogging/tweeting/talking/going on about whatever it is you blog/tweet/talk/go on about. It’s just a topic, like any other topic. I don’t know that there’s any particular significance in that the topic is rejection.
Probably insecurity.
Just to feel again, man
I don’t.
Someone responded to a rejection I sent recently, emailing me to say only, “It hurts.” I didn’t know whether or not to take it at face value, but even as a joke it made me feel bad.
The horse is dead, man. The horse is dead. Buried and done. I saw its eyes: holding still and forever. Beaten and gone. Or so I thought. Leave it be, man. Leave it be.
Because there are a lot more of them than acceptances.
Because writers like to complain.
Also, because you can’t do that with acceptances without people thinking you’re an ass. There’s nothing more obnoxious to the rest of us as a loud winner.
I like your website
You ever see that Andy Warhol documentary by Ric Burns? There’s that part where a reporter asks him why he would bother with just copying an everyday product like a Brillo box and Andy says, “It gives me something to do.” I don’t blog or tweet about rejection but if I did that would be my answer.
Misery loves company.
I think it’s weird they sent it to you, but I definitely prefer the honesty of that person’s statement compared with the sort-of douchey and belligerent conspiracy theorizing some folks engage in. I really dislike when people feel the need to project and externalize their shit instead of just owning their disappointment. It really does come off as entitled.
I wonder the same thing every time I read one of those posts.
a topic for the sake of a topic? really?
Yes, really. You always ask these questions with such a tone of disdain. I don’t think there’s always some deep significance to something like blogging about rejection. I blog about rejection. I do so because when I thought of having a blog, I thought, WTF am I going to write about, and then I thought, rejection. Why? Well, why not? It provided a kind of schedule and a consistent topic. I talk about 100 other things too so for me, rejection really is just a topic. I’m not being reductive here. I also think, as others have pointed out, that misery loves company. Writing and reading about acceptances, I find terribly boring but rejection is always amusing to me. I love to poke a stick at that sort of thing. Is it self indulgent? Perhaps. But so is writing.
ingratiating affected modesty
Writing about rejection delays the harder work of writing things that might not be rejected.
because it is a metaphor for every human interaction we endeavor…
Because it gets other people to talk about/respond to it. And (a big) part of the excitement in blogging/tweeting/going on is having people respond to you. Don’t tell me you don’t love having dozens of responses to your provocative little questions. People love to compare rejections/experiences and will almost always end up fighting with each other in the comments section. That’s the other part of the excitement.
Because our culture is obsessed with nudity.
yeah, misery loves company. ive always hated that idea, i think im the kind of person who i dont think willingly puts his misery onto other people, its been sort of bread into me to own it, so i feel kind of annoyed that others feel no restraint in putting their’s onto me. but its personalities. kind of eventually learn to just pay less attention to those people.
Rejection might be the new acceptance. I mean, isn’t there a presumption of status — even if just negative — in receiving a “no” from a prominent journal or a publisher with significant household name-ed-ness?
It doesn’t bother me at all unless it comes off as entitled, which sometimes it does. (A person I know who complains that she’s writing all this stuff and none of it is published. Well, there might be a reason!) I try to look at it like this: when I get rejections, I see it as a good thing, because it means I’m doing my job, which is to write my best and try to share that writing. Rejection is the main thing about being a writer for most of us, most of the time — it’s the main thing that reminds us we *are* writers. That’s how I try to look at it, and how I try to understand other people’s fixation, even when it becomes annoying.
Well see, that’s it exactly, darby. You don’t have to read about people going on about rejection. If you’re not interested, you don’t have to partake of the conversation. It’s not like you can walk down the street and someone will walk up to you and be all, “so, you won’t believe what the editor of My Aunt’s Dead Diseased Cat Review said about my story.”
But what if the person was being sarcastic?
true… that’s just obnoxious
Haha, its always the worst when someone responds to a rejection months later with “Oh well actually this is being taken by [insert random magazine] anyway!”
That always cracks me up, Lincoln, the way a writer will do that as if to say, “so there.” The most amusing response to a rejection (it’s a tie) was when a writer blogged about his rejection, said he didn’t really care for the magazine and as such was extra bothered by the rejection, then submitted to us again. How can you not be amused by this stuff?
haha
Adam, this story makes me want to see more rejection posts from the editor’s angle. I know the stories I have from when I sent the pain are far more interesting than the ones in which I receive it.
I remember one rejection I received back in the 70s, while still in high-school, that came from the Canadian publication 3 cent pulp. (It cost 3 cents.) While the publiclation itself was small, only two folded sheets, and was published monthly, it received a large number of submissions and was famous or infamous, take your pick, for its rejection letters. These could be scathing, supportive, detailed; they might include editing suggestions, and bibliographies for further reading. Mine arrived on a single piece of foolscap-sized yellow paper that began, single-spaced, right at the top edge and contind ued all the way to the bottom. This rejection suggested I read immediately Zukofsky, Neidecker, and the Chilean Neruda; in addition to the Canadian Al Purdy. Then a rather brutal critique followed, and one phrase from that has stayed with me to this day: “You are squandering your talents on shit.” I loved that letter, I loved the indignant ferocity it displayed. I appreciated more than I could express how important it was for me to be treated seriously as a writer — a writer who was merely making mistakes, but a writer nonetheless. 3 Cent Pulp was an anarchist/socialist cooperative, I believe: there were many people writing these responses. Of course, today no one would think to engage a failed submission in this way. We’ve collectively so little time, patience, willingness to see behind flawed surfaces.
is this a bad time to bring up being rejected from this site?
Thank you for your fine blogicle and thread comments, but this material, interesting as it is, is not what we can imagine ever being willing to publish.
Please submit your further forays in the field(s) of memoir/commentary/fiction/poetry/reportage/correspondence to our Resource Engineering Department in the future.
Thanx again :)
Some sting more than others. Most don’t sting at all. You get to be a bear and you just go back for more honey anyway.
I tend to get rejected and accepted in the same day, so they balance out. Ups and downs. The acceptances are always a much bigger surprise (Wow, they liked it).
And I appreciate a rejection. It is at least a response, an acknowledgement. There are some venues (wink / wink) who won’t give you the courtesy.
Lots of times the blogger is just a young writer without a lot of experience, not enough rejections yet.
But then I see plenty of bloggers who are also editors and/or widely published (wink / wink). I was puzzled at first (they should know better, right?) But I came around to seeing it as charming. It gives me the strange impression that (like what your parents said before they spanked you) that for a couple of editors at least, rejecting actually does hurt them more than it hurts me.
This old thing?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RRiADhEhog&
Wake me up when our nudity is obsessed with culture.
Because I’ve been logging them for close to 3 years now, and it feels stupid to randomly stop. The narrative is just getting good.
Maybe this is a gender thing?
I see the topic of rejection being an alright one in the sense that it helps to add something to the conversation about publishing. As a less-established writer still in my undergraduate stage, it teaches me something, I feel, about how the process goes for others. It is also helpful to see what kind of writers are submitting where. I could see it being annoying/a problem if someone is being really irrational about a rejection, like many of the people others have mentioned responding to editors with nasty/odd messages. But, typically, I would say it is useful as a topic.
it’s what we have in common. we could either talk about that, or movies
Another poignant topic, and I was just wondering this after reading blogs by Roxane Gay, where it is a frequent topic of hers. Once I saw how many publications she had, I then asked myself, “Roxane, what the hell?!” I admired the fact that she talks rejection – I saw that she was “equalizing herself” in our community of writers rather than just putting up a bunch of PR-focused, “This is what I have done” b.s. In other words, she probably asked herself, “What would Sherman Alexie do?” and then did the opposite. Good for her.
Finally, a drive-by post from Blake Butler that I can agree with.
I used to do the same thing, but then realized how lame it was to complain publicly about something that affects writers of all ages and experience. I also realized some stuff along the way: 1) Because most rejections are quick (not the waiting time, but the time spent reading the story) why should I take it personally that someone rejected my story after looking at it for 2 seconds? Even some of the best stories with most interesting language are only read a paragraph or sentence in. 2) Many stories are rejected for reasons that have nothing to do with the story 3) A lot of the people doing the rejecting are 23 year old kids who are at that “I hate everything stage.”
But sometimes it’s not complaining and this is assuming people mentioning their rejections are taking it personally.
Also, I don’t think most people that blog a rejection think they’re “sharing their misery” – or at least I don’t see what Roxane does as that. It’s sharing information, maybe even taking the misery out of the equation to a certain degree.
I agree with this. Also, if you asked me why I enjoy writing at all, I couldn’t answer it beyond some vague satisfaction I get from it, but that doesn’t answer the question at all.
I don’t know many people who simply post their rejections, do you? And if they did, I wouldn’t know them for long because they’d be hidden on Facebook for posting what amounts to be basic record keeping for the world to see.
There is no reason to discuss rejection.
For, maybe beginning writers, it is a interesting academic lecture.
After that, Fuck Off.
Who cares? What does rejection mean, writers? As an ex-athlete, can I go there?
You just got sacked, who gives a fuck? Now run the offense.
Oh, really, you lost a baseball game. You play 162. Move on.
Please.
Fuck rejection. Let it go. Write.
That’s what I do: jacjemc.wordpress.com
That is a really fascinating documentary. Strange to be disgusted with, feel sympathy for, and feel relatable to a person at the same time.
Mentioning rejection is humanizing and being realistic. Obsessing over rejection is masochistic, histrionic, and begging for sympathy. There is a difference but it’s a somewhat fuzzy line and people disagree on where it lies.
I’m sorry, but that just seems sort of passive-aggressive to me, to broadcast that information to the world while pretending “not to take it personally.” Have we reached the point where we share everything about ourselves on the Interweb?
Also, the problem with such a site is that it might still be there when you become successful. How many successful writers with books tweet and blog about their rejections? Seems amateurish.
This might be why I started collecting my rejection letters when I first started sending my stuff out. …Eventually I stopped collecting them when I realized it was stupid.
But the thing is… sometimes the reasons for rejection might not actually be viewed by the author as ‘valid’ or ‘reasonable’ reasons. When we begin to see patterns in publishing tendencies — as many of us do (and many of us will disagree on the patterns we see) — we begin to see a kind of injustice: that “My writing will never be published because the sort of material is being blocked, in favor of this stuff here and this other stuff here.” The degree to which this rationalization can be verified is really highly disputable, since… well… it’s kind of hard to verify.
There’re lots and lots of journals out there, so the presumption that probably most people have is that “anyone can find his/her outlet” . . . but when you begin to take a look at the journals that can be described as ‘your sort of outlet’, it’s hard for us not to see patterns . . . it’s only human nature. And when, as a young writer, we receive rejection after rejection: it’s easy to use that pattern as a rationalization.
It’s sometimes less difficult to verify a prejudice toward ‘your sort of writing’ if you keep hearing that prejudice over and over again from editors and even other writers. Thus you begin to think: What’s so bad about my writing? I’m writing what I feel compelled to write. Why is that bad?
Then, obviously, we become resentful.
Um… do you have something you’d like to discuss?
Owen, people aren’t publishing “my sort of writing” because they don’t want to publish “my sort of writing.”
Or, long version: I empathize with the feeling that people aren’t necessarily as open to your stories as you would like them to be. But it’s nobody’s job to be your venue. Worst case scenario, your work really is great and everybody really is missing out and, well, hey: at least you do great work. That’s something! Keep writing. More likely, your work is less gratifying to others than it is to you, and so you should continue to create it.
But you can also stop.
So you know: I’m not talking about me, I’m talking in general, I’m including myself among lots of people who feel or have felt this way at some point in their life, people I know and people I’ve seen posting on forums, as well as people I’ve only talked to by email . . . and this extends into the world of visual art, as well, which is somewhat more cruel.
All I’m saying is that the statement that “there might be a reason” is too simple and dismissive: in some cases there really IS injustice. The ICA really does show only certain kinds of visual work, and dismisses others. Every literary editor has his or her prejudices. The reasons that people are rejected are always based on prejudice. It’s no different for me, as an editor, than it is for any other editor. Some people don’t understand why I don’t publish straight verse. It’s a prejudice that some people might see as discriminatory — and in a literal sense it is — but which might or might not appear to indicate a pattern, depending on who you are and what you write.
All I’m saying is that sometimes: patterns DO exist, that sometimes certain types of work — literary or visual — really are blocked from the majority of venues, because of whatever prejudices. Some prejudices are isolated, others are widely agreed upon. It’s the widely-agreed-upon prejudices — as well as a variety of [often suspicious] notions of marketability — that become problematic.
i dont agree with this way of thinking about it. entitlement begets justice or injustice. what is an example of a widely-agreed-upon prejudice? i mean there are sins writers commit in their writing that are widely-agreed upon to make work less interesting for readers or whatever. its strange to throw around the word prejudice with respect to this, if its with respect to this.
Okay. First: You’ve used the word “sin”. What’s a literary sin? I mean, really?
Sins translate from prejudices. A writer must not do this or that in his or her writing. You must not be introspective. That’s a sin, to some people. Your work must be shorter than 1500 words to be published. This is a bias, and to exclude longer works is a prejudice. You must not discuss religion or politics. You must not describe a bowel movement, whatever. No sex scenes / you must have a sex scene. No drawing room scenes. Nothing that sounds like it was written 100 years ago. Nothing that does not obey all the conventions I learned at State University.
Every editor has his or her prejudices and biases.
James Frey could not get his book published as a work of fiction. When he sold it as a memoir it was accepted for publication. When news came out that it was actually fiction: all his fans suddenly hated him and his book.
Finally, in regard to “entitlement”: What do you mean? The desire for something that others do not feel you deserve, based on whatever? Or proving to those people, through the lenses of their biases and prejudices, that they are deserving of attention?
what is an example of a widely-agreed-upon prejudice?
sin is hyperbolic. if you cant suss out hyperbole you probably shouldn’t be reading htmlgiant.
on entitlement, i’ll echo mike’s well-put “it’s nobody’s job to be your venue.” writers aren’t entitled to an explanation as to why their work is rejected. elevating rejection to the level of “injustice” implies a sense that acceptance is entitled. that you are being denied something that is your given right to have.
you keep talking about personal prejudices, and i can almost agree with those, though i dont think of them as prejudices, just the little things that add up to making all literary journals aesthetically diverse. one journal tends not to take things that do something but other journals do, so whats the issue?
the bigger question i have is what are examples of “widely agreed upon prejudices.” that would be a different category that im not familiar with. is your james frey example one of that? that’s obviously kind of a remarkably rare case. I dont know what you are complaining about w/r/t prejudice. Journals are open to work that makes them excited, however that gets broken down. if your work doesn’t fit any niche, its your problem. its not an “injustice” or a “prejudice” because there is no entitlement of publication.
But I really don’t take it personally.
Also, that record being open for people to see if I happened to become more successful is precisely the point. Im not comparing myself to David Markson, but isn’t one of the most famous stories about him that Wittgenstein’s Mistress was rejected 54 times before Dalkey accepted it for publication. Has that hurt his popularity? Has that reflected poorly on him? Does he seem amateurish because of it?
I’m not saying everyone has to log their rejections. But I think a handful of people, and I’m not even saying I’m the most appropriate person, letting people know their rhythms for sending out work, and the course increasing acceptances take can be useful. I’m not lionizing myself either.
Quite honestly, I wanted a subject I could regularly update on a blog that was meant for self-promotion. Rejections were what I decided on.
And no, I don’t share everything about myself on the internet. I’m a relatively private person, but if my publications are public, I don’t see why the rejections should be hidden.
i like jac’s blog. it’s a place where the context actually makes the rejection interesting or fun or something to track. that context is rare. usually it is information no one needs. and i agree w/ you jac: i don’t see the misery.
I think: not “passive-aggressive” – aggressive-aggressive. And why not?
Publicizing rejection isn’t more ‘aggro’ than actually rejecting, is it? The publishers don’t have anything to hide or be sheepish about; they – most of them – probably – don’t want to hurt writers’ feelings in an unprovokedly obnoxious way, but neither do they want to agree to do more business than they materially can. Their reasons for declining to publish are no secret either: logistics, timing, suitability, [um] misplaced writerly confidence.
It’s the rejection blogger who ends up out on a limb by rejection-blogging: ‘here’s what I wrote that people didn’t agree to publish.’ ‘let’s have a look-see; oh . . . dear. well, have you learned anything?’
And the history of shotcallers rejecting writers like Markson is pure comedy. (Not that there’s much funny about the desperation of talented people, but anyone with any grit understands that entitlement is an evil racket.)
And what’s wrong with taking rejection at least a bit personally?? Of course one wants to be sane and abstractly knowing and constructive about disappointment, but who wants not to know that they’re disappointed? who wants to take a chance, and not feel the result?! (You might not want to magnify your vulnerability by telling other people that you’ve been rejected – fine; it’s an option, not a requirement.)
I think what Jac Jemc is doing is cool: ‘here’s my bag, here’s what happened.’
I agree, Jac. I don’t take it personally 97% of the time. Your blog was one of the first “writer blogs” I ever read and I loved your approach and it really helped me to see that every writer, even widely published writers receive rejections. I think it’s about the approach and not taking yourself too seriously. The editors who reject me comment on my blog quite a bit and it’s clearly all in good fun.
ive stayed away from jacs blog for a while, knowing its not the kind of thing thats useful for me, but i just went there and one of the comments on her recent post says something about her blog made them feel lazy, as if submitting often equals being productive, and this is a mentality i have been trying to shake for the last year or so. this is going off topic or something, but publishing as often as possible and always having submissions “out there” i think gives a writer a false sense of productivity. ive relied on that mentality for the sake of my sanity for a while, but in the last year, ive logged like over 40k words into new projects and not really sent much out, and i still have this inkling like im not being productive because im not submitting work nearly as much, and that i havent published much this year, or im being incredibly selective about where i send things. rejections and rejections, submitting and submitting, publishing and publishing etc. are not real productivity. productivity is writing, that’s all. it takes so little effort to submit something somewhere, it just seems like a trivial aspect of a writers life.
You blog about rejection as humor, I feel almost satirizing the histrionics some writers exhibit over the whole process of submitting, receiving rejections, etc.
Roxane blogs about rejection to normalize it, because sometimes it seems like the silence people keep about rejection vis-a-vis acceptances makes rejection seem somehow shameful rather than everyday and unremarkable.
Neither of these projects is the annoying kind of rejection blog, which is all about expressing entitlement and concocting crazy-ass conspiracy theories abt how editors are all syncophants or just doesn’t understand the blogger’s genius.
Yeah, I mean there are some really broad ones like “don’t send something that ends in ‘Review’ a genre story” but genre magazines often pay and have bitchin’ dragons on the cover. Sometimes you are in a between-place in terms of your aesthetic and subjects and whatever but either you conform a little because you want to publish so bad or you get so good that people have to publish you. Either way it’s on you. And there are more and more great magazines that just publish whatever rocks them regardless.
a pro doesn’t talk of bad beats…
I’m not saying that perceived ‘injustices’ are not natural — they are natural — all I’m saying is that they ought not be dismissed as delusions of somebody not virtuous enough to write “well” (whatever that means), and that artists have the right to express their bitterness about whatever affects them, and ought not be criticized for it. It’s freedom, baby, yeah!
I’m also not complaining about anything. I’m simply trying to contribute a perspective which… well… I think is needed.
Robert Walser was quite bitter about all the rejections he kept getting, he felt that he was locked out of the German ‘literary world’ by editorial prejudice. He wrote about this. Was he wrong? Was he a dickhead or a loser for having done so? Well, maybe someone will tell me that ‘times have changed’ . . . sure they have, but we still have prejudices.
Louis-Ferdinand Céline complained often about the reaction that critics had to his writing. Did this make him a bad person? That he had feelings?
Even William Gass admitted being upset, as a young writer, by constant rejection.
I also happen to think that the word “sin” is a good one to describe these prejudices. Actually… it’s probably even a better word than “prejudice”, since it highlights both the almost-‘religious’ grip upon certain beliefs about how people should write, as well as the delusion that the dismissive rule they believe in so securely ought to exist.
Even here: I’m not saying that these “delusions” are not natural or even necessary. They’re both natural and necessary. I entertain these delusions as well. They help guide my writing. Every writer has to pick his or her delusions.
I’m not attacking anyone, here. To clarify: All I’m saying is 1. that it’s natural for a writer to find patterns in years of non-stop rejection, and that there’s nothing wrong with them feeling that way, and that their feelings ought not be dismissed as whining, delusional, whatever. And 2. that all editors have their own prejudices for whatever reasons, and that some of those prejudice tend to be common — such as the one against introspection… or the one against, I don’t know, say, writing about writing. If a person’s material goes against a commonly-held prejudice (or “sin”) then that person is going to have a hard time getting published. That this writer, assuming he or she is equal in skill and talent to, say, Rick Moody, has a harder time than Rick Moody had can be described as an injustice. That doesn’t mean that the injustice is unnatural, nor does it mean I have a cure for it in my back pocket. I’m only saying: acknowledge that such injustices exist and that it is the artist’s right to complain about it if it helps.
Perhaps that all sounds lame, but… it’s all I have to say, and I honestly don’t see where the controversy is?
Sorry, aggressive-aggressive if you enjoy wasting your time fighting pointless battles.
You’re right, Darby. It is a trivial aspect of a writer’s life, and I also agree that it can make a writer feel falsely productive. I appreciate your saying that it wasn’t useful to you and that’s why you’ve stayed away. I think that’s super-generous and mature of you to call it what it is. I certainly don’t think it’s a blog that’s useful to everyone.
For people who do read the blog regularly, they can tell that my tendencies to submit or not to come in waves. There are weeks where there’s nothing to post because a couple months before i wasn’t sending work out at all.
I do try to be selective about where I send it. I’m interested in placing my work in the company of writing that excites me and I think will complement it well. That said, I get comfort from hearing back from editors, positive or negative. I like an audience, though sometimes it takes a while to get one. If I didn’t I wouldn’t send out work at all. And I think there’s value in reminding people that you’re still around, working, contributing, reading, responding.
I don’t think I’ll ever become a bestselling author. Maybe that’s a cop-out. But I don’t have the faith right now, that I could disappear for 5 years to write my magnum opus, and this same community would still care in 2015. Maybe, but maybe the world will have changed entirely by then. I don’t know.
I’ve never been a writer that works every day. I write several times a week and I get my work to a point where it does what I want it to do, to the best I feel I can attain at this moment in time, and at that point, I want to share it. Sometimes it takes a minute to find the editor that can read that voice and agree. I don’t think there’s shame in finding that support.
I’m not saying that perceived ‘injustices’ are not natural — they are natural — all I’m saying is that they ought not be dismissed as delusions of somebody not virtuous enough to write “well” (whatever that means), and that artists have the right to express their bitterness about whatever affects them, and ought not be criticized for it. It’s freedom, baby, yeah!
I’m also not complaining about anything. I’m not offering a manifesto, and I’m not about to suddenly reveal to everyone that I have the cure in my backpocket. I’m simply trying to contribute a perspective which… well… I think is needed.
Robert Walser was quite bitter about all the rejections he kept getting, he felt that he was locked out of the German ‘literary world’ by editorial prejudice. He wrote about this. Was he wrong? Was he a dickhead or a loser for having done so? Well, maybe someone will tell me that ‘times have changed’ . . . sure they have, but we still have prejudices.
Louis-Ferdinand Céline complained often about the reaction that critics had to his writing. Did this make him a bad person? That he had feelings?
Even William Gass admitted being upset, as a young writer, by constant rejection.
I also happen to think that the word “sin” is a good one to describe these prejudices. Actually… it’s probably even a better word than “prejudice”, since it highlights both the almost-‘religious’ grip upon certain beliefs about how people should write, as well as the delusion that the dismissive rule they believe in so securely ought to exist.
Even here: I’m not saying that these “delusions” are not natural or even necessary. They’re both natural and necessary. I entertain these delusions as well. They help guide my writing. Every writer has to pick his or her delusions.
Perhaps that all sounds lame, but… it’s all I have to say, and I honestly don’t see where the controversy is?
Sorry, aggressive-aggressive if you enjoy wasting your time fighting pointless battles.
Beautiful.
[…] rewards the expression of self-doubt rather than self-confidence. I think it’s related to the question Blake posed the other day, about why writers obsess in public over their rejections in a way that they never would (and, […]
The difference between “passive” and “aggressive” is “pointless”?
Of course! – what was I thinking? – that you might have been choosing your words??
I often bring up a story about Roy Kesey that he told an audience at a recent AWP conference. Great guy, love his work (i.e., ALL OVER). I may butcher some facts, but here it is:
He sent in stories for YEARS to The Kenyon Review and got nothing but rejections. Not even a personal note. Well, one day he said, “This is it, this is the last time I’m sending them a story,” and sent a story in. Well, that story got accepted. And it went on to get nominated, and make it into the 2007 Best American Short Stories (ed., Stephen King). When he was talking to the people at TKR he mentioned that he was happy to finally get in, that he’d been trying for years. They said, yes, they knew that, they’d absolutely loved his work over the years, and were happy that they could finally place something.
So, you never know. Often we get rejected for a wide range of reasons, the least of which is the quality of the writing. But it’s encouraging TO ME to hear these stories, it gives me hope that I can break through. I’ve had stories get rejected 10, 15, 25 times and then land at a 1% acceptance market. It can happen. And when we share these things, it can be a good thing.
When I said earlier that misery loves company, I didn’t mean that when we’re depressed we like to bring other people down into that depression (although, that happens sometimes, and being the masochists that we are, we probably do enjoy that as well) but MORE that when we’re struggling with something (in this case, the endless rejections, the odds we try to beat to get accepted into journals and magazines and online, with anywhere from less than 1% to maybe 20-30% acceptance rates) it’s nice to hear of others that are fighting that same battle, to find strength in their struggle, to know that we’re not alone in these wars we wage. Wow, a lot of cliches in there, my apologies.
//rant
I often bring up a story about Roy Kesey that he told an audience at a recent AWP conference. Great guy, love his work (i.e., ALL OVER). I may butcher some facts, but here it is:
He sent in stories for YEARS to The Kenyon Review and got nothing but rejections. Not even a personal note. Well, one day he said, “This is it, this is the last time I’m sending them a story,” and sent a story in. Well, that story got accepted. And it went on to get nominated, and make it into the 2007 Best American Short Stories (ed., Stephen King). When he was talking to the people at TKR he mentioned that he was happy to finally get in, that he’d been trying for years. They said, yes, they knew that, they’d absolutely loved his work over the years, and were happy that they could finally place something.
So, you never know. Often we get rejected for a wide range of reasons, the least of which is the quality of the writing. But it’s encouraging TO ME to hear these stories, it gives me hope that I can break through. I’ve had stories get rejected 10, 15, 25 times and then land at a 1% acceptance market. It can happen. And when we share these things, it can be a good thing.
When I said earlier that misery loves company, I didn’t mean that when we’re depressed we like to bring other people down into that depression (although, that happens sometimes, and being the masochists that we are, we probably do enjoy that as well) but MORE that when we’re struggling with something (in this case, the endless rejections, the odds we try to beat to get accepted into journals and magazines and online, with anywhere from less than 1% to maybe 20-30% acceptance rates) it’s nice to hear of others that are fighting that same battle, to find strength in their struggle, to know that we’re not alone in these wars we wage. Wow, a lot of cliches in there, my apologies.
//rant
Don’t bother trying to think when you fight your pointful battles.
Yes. Try to think next time instead of worrying about which words to boldface in your latest self-indulgent post.
Don’t bother trying to think when you fight your pointful battles.
These blogs sound fictional, though, when you don’t list any. As regards this tiny community, Jac’s and Roxane’s are the only two that come to mind, but I’m of course months out of step.
I first submitted to Word Riot in 2005. Since then I have floated a number of stories in front of them. In September 2010, my first Word Riot piece went live.
Along the way, I might have mentioned rejections. What Darby was saying, about submissions being some gauge of productivity, I like that. Because I’ve done a lot of intellectual and emotional maturing in these five years, and the piece that finally was published “High-Wire Morning Bird,” certainly couldn’t have been written by the 17-year-old author of stories like “The Cure” and “Final Solution.” Was that even the title that ended up going on that story? I don’t remember. All I’m saying is that that kid never could have written that story. He’d never even fallen in love yet.
I’m not above sounding the alarm when I see nepotism happening. But then again, who cares? The Zoetrope.com forum archives tell the stories. And no, my friends, I’m no more confident about my work ever appearing in SmokeLong Quarterly now than I was in 2005, but I still send them something every now and then. At least the form letters are now written by various hands. Pasted, anyways.
My point is: most of the magazines that rejected my earliest works don’t even exist anymore, and the ones that I wanted the baddest still do, so I had good taste then (minus some mistakes), as I do now, and so eventually, in another 35 years or so, I’ll really have a repertoire to sing about.
Thanks.
yeah fine. however, it’s not helpful for people to go ‘oh you got rejected too? ah well, back to writing’ moral support