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January 22nd, 2010 / 1:09 pm Roxane—

I am shocked by the number of writers who reply to rejections. Sometimes, they are very gracious but when they are angry, writers do get mighty angry.

January 22nd, 2010 / 1:29 pm Sean—

I just had a guy email the magazine after a rejection and say, I will never send to your magazine again!

Um, OK.

January 22nd, 2010 / 1:32 pm Roxane—

I know you will be very devastated about that.

January 22nd, 2010 / 1:45 pm Ricky Garni—

I replied twice this year to rejections…once was to a very nice person named Roxane and…eeeek! I am doing it again! There she is! Honestly, sorry. Although in my defense (well, as much as I can have one) I don’t think I complained about being rejected – I believe I just mentioned some other poets/writers who I thought were great. Sometimes I forget how busy a poet/editor can be…

The second occasion, though, I am completely and absolutely guilty. The rejection was, I am almost completely certain, a form letter, and yet said “your submission lacked freshness and originality” – OH yes! We all want to hear that! I wrote back and suggested that their form letters should be a little more, well, formy. I didn’t think that comment was necessary, and I was a hootin’ and a hollerin’ in my brain.

That being said, I LIKE being rejected by poets that I read and admire. Well, ‘like’ is too strong a word, but I certainly don’t mind. I have read Roxane and Sean’s stuff, and I love it, so, in a weird way, my response to either would be a kind of fan letter. (I can hear “Thanks but no thanks” – and I can’t blame them for that!)

January 22nd, 2010 / 2:12 pm Tim Jones-Yelvington—

I do not understand why anyone would reply. People are busy. Why don’t people think about the quantity of unread shit in their own inboxes before they hit reply? Maybe nobody emails them and they do not realize the quantity most people are confronting.

I’ve only replied to rejections twice… neither time was related to the writing, but because editors said shit in their personalized rejections that pushed my political buttons re: gender and sexual content. Even that I mostly regretted.

January 22nd, 2010 / 2:16 pm Shane Anderson—

This actually brings up a question I had and one which I thought about asking an editor but now see that that might be foolish.

I have no idea really what the difference is between the two (I’ve only submitted to very few journals). Has this been explained here before? Or is this something you just figure out with experience?

If they include your name when they address you, is that personal? Do the small indie journals obey the same rules as the bigger journals in this matter?

For instance, I got this from an online press I like:

”
Dear Shane,

Thank you for your submission to [X]. While we enjoyed reading your poems we felt in the end that they didn’t fit as well as we hoped. We truly hope you’ll consider submitting to [X] again.

Thanks again for your interest, sincerely,
The Eds.
”

When I got that, I was puzzled. What do you do with a response like that? Is this a good sign or something? It’s in a way really friendly but couldn’t they make a form that friendly? Are they always that friendly?

For juxtaposition, here’s another from a bigger house:

”
Dear Shane Anderson,

Thank you for sending your manuscript “[X],” number [X], to us here at [X] via the online submission manager. We are sorry this particular manuscript (with emphasis on “this particular”) was not selected for publication in [X]. We hope you will send us another soon, though. We could not publish [X] without the fine writing we receive. And while we regret that the large number of submissions we receive makes it difficult for the editors to respond personally, we want to stress that an editor personally read your manuscript. Devoted reading is part of the [X] editorial mission; it is also our own personal one.

Thank you for supporting the journal with your reading, writing, and subscribing!
Yours,
[X and X] Poetry Editors
[X] Fiction Editor
”

A form right? The standard form? Or are there a number of forms that they can click on, depending on mood and like-factor and whether or not they had a fight with their partner before they read your manuscript?

Also, when an editor tells you to ‘stay in touch,’ what does s/he mean? Certainly to not hound them again, right? This is merely polite, right?

Like I said, I have no experience in this matter and have only submitted to like 5 journals (with no publications arising from these submissions) in the past year.

Excuse the indulgence, but any clarification would be helpful.

(But then again, maybe an explanation will ruin all the magic behind it, like when someone explains the odds of roulette or how a magic trick works…)

January 22nd, 2010 / 2:35 pm Troy Urquhart—

Shane has just inspired me to write form-letter replies to rejections.

I see it as a way that we can further develop the illusion of conversation in the submission process.

January 22nd, 2010 / 2:48 pm Adam R—

Sean, in what instance would a reply be necessary? I guess I don’t want to say there is NEVER a reason — but I cannot fathom it.

January 22nd, 2010 / 2:59 pm John Dermot Woods—

As an editor, I don’t see accepting and rejecting worked as such a simple binary, and I would think it unfortunate to create a social protocol that makes a person feel rude for discussing his or her work beyond its initial submission to me. I find that I often have much more to discuss with a writer whose work I don’t accept, than with one whose work I think is ready for me to publish. It seems completely natural and reasonable that a writer would want to discuss the opinions of an editor (whom they presumably respect).

January 22nd, 2010 / 3:22 pm Joseph Young—

i like that john, thanks. i’ve gotten a couple thanks for rejecting me notes and i’ve sent a couple and i don’t see the problem and in one instance i can think of we emailed back and forth about things a bit.

January 22nd, 2010 / 3:24 pm Sean—

Ok, this is why I said rarely.

At the magazine level, NEVER is pretty much right, but…

We actually had a deal recently where the author was getting confusing information (from our end, our fault) about a MSS. A couple editors not on same page in the process. So the writer replied to a rejection, rightly.

January 22nd, 2010 / 11:27 am Sean—

JDW, I’m going to stand by my post on this one. If an editor is seriously into discussing rejections with rejected authors, let the editor start up that conversation. I still think the correct, professional, insightful thing for the writer to do is NOT email back to a rejection.

January 22nd, 2010 / 3:45 pm Lily Hoang—

At the book level, some small presses offer authors a chance to review editors’ notes. (At least the press I edit for does.) I think this is nice. Some authors choose to engage in a back-and-forth, about specifics, which is fine. It takes someone much longer (presumably) to write a book than a story/poem, so I think it’s ok to have a dialogue if a book ms is rejected, again, as long as it’s a polite conversation…

January 22nd, 2010 / 3:52 pm Adam R—

oh go ahead and take the high road.

January 22nd, 2010 / 3:58 pm Sam Ligon—

I can’t either

January 22nd, 2010 / 4:10 pm -—

I have to say I do think there would not be so many angry replies if rejections were handled differently. Most rejections I’ve received have been “nice”. But that is only an editorial formality of the rejection process. It makes the editor feel like a good person engaged in a regrettable act (even though editors then carry on publicly about what a burden on their time, though an utter necessity, such niceness is). But the effect is like prefacing “I don’t like you” with “I don’t want to seem like an asshole but…” To me, rejections are overwhelmingly delivered in a polite manner but hardly ever really constructively. Very few editors are actively mean and most make some kindly toned remark as to ‘why this didn’t work for me’. They almost always encourage you to keep writing, which I’m sure is meant sincerely in a spirit of camaraderie but is often more like a kind of friendly punch on the shoulder to round the rejection out. Despite the politeness, however, which I do not dispute, a brief justification to the effect of why I didn’t like your work is not constructive criticism – it’s more about an editor acting conscientiously toward a charity case than taking a serious interest in the work of those they reject. It rankles me more in that the short editorial reply is publicly considered to be such a good Samaritan act or something and the idea of doing more is treated as an impossible fiction. Editors, be nice but don’t commit to it! I have to say I’ve never written back to an editor nor would I because I’m not defending the solipsism of many who think they’re already fully fledged writers and can’t grasp the idea that writing is fucking hard. But I’ve alwats been left to seriously wonder what I actually did that didn’t work concretely as opposed to being immersed in some floaty “it just didn’t light me up” critique which is actually way more depressing than being told you’re a shit. Angry responses are not justifiable reactions but the fact they happen does make a kind of sense to me, in that sense they force a confrontation that replaces funk with defence. It’s probably the only reason a lot of people do keep writing. In other words, what I’m saying is that no rejection I’ve received has ever even tried to take me seriously as a writer. Mind you, I’m not making the egotistical claim that I am a writer to be taken seriously. But that’s the problem: that it’s just assumed that a submission always means I think I’m unproblematically worthy of an editor’s attention. The rejection actually always lands right on faultlines of extreme anxiety over whether I ‘really’ am a writer or not, a thing I don’t think is taken nearly enough into account. Even nasty ‘you’re fucked for rejecting me’ replies only evince a hidebound confidence that comes about from this kind of resounding silence in the submission process rather than being taking for real on the level of your writing. So, in such a ‘nice’ but essentially hollow knock-back that only announces “sry, yr story didn’t grab me” then adds “but hey I’m just one person”, I’m actually made to feel like I’ve wasted everyone’s time because you’re the one person that counts right now. I think submissions are rarely treated as good faith gestures people make of submitting to a place they mostly have some degree of awareness of, and admiration for. Nor are submissions ever thought of as hard work for the writer: they’re only lamented as hard work for the reading editor. Moreover, why is it rejections must be flat rejections rather than invitations to rewrite if potential is truly seen in the work submitted. It seems to me there is an implicit operating assumption that each submission rejected is botched beyond interest or use for the editor rejecting it. And even if you get the sense that a writer’s submission is rankly careerist, or totally oblivious to the kind of work the place the writer is submitting to publishes, that’s neither here nor there if you’re an editor truly serious about supporting the writing process. Hell, in those situations, you could even say that the first step in your opinion is to read more literary journals, recommend names, authors and so on and to advise the writer to look for a place that would suit the style they wish to develop better than your own concern. It’s not like that thought has to be withheld as a critique for later, complaining about all these writers who don’t “read” but submit anyway. Finding out about stuff isn’t about laziness or effort; it’s about orientation and cultural capital. Finally, I honestly do not believe that busyness is an excuse for neglect on this front: this should be an editorial duty of the same significance as any other. It’s one of the main reasons a person should want to be an editor. For the unglamorous hard work of influencing writers creatively in rejection. Either that or stop complaining about the angry emails you’re never going to stop getting.

January 22nd, 2010 / 4:11 pm Sam Ligon—

I agree Sean. While the writer might like to talk to the editor, it’s unreasonable to think that the editor could possibly have time to talk to each person who submits to the journal. If that were the case, there would be
telephone rejections, or lengthy, personal e-mail rejections. Editors often do send personal notes and/or begin a conversation with a writer during the rejection process regarding work they especially like. And when that happens, it means the editor is very interested in the writer, and that you should definitely send more work. But I can’t think of anything to gain from replying to a rejection. If the thinking is that you might gain insight into why the work was rejected, I can’t imagine who would have time to do that, or what such a response — even if it was perfectly articulated — would do for the writer. You still have to write that next piece.
And, besides, who’s to say the editor’s criticism is accurate?

January 22nd, 2010 / 4:16 pm David—

I was going to publish this anonymously because I don’t think this will do me many favors here but actually never mind. I just want to say that I don’t intend any of what I’ve said to be a discrete attack on any individual editor here. There’s a reason this place encourages a reply like mine and that’s it’s intense openness to reflection, scrutiny and exchange. I guess I’m trying to argue that the other side has a serious case to make. It isn’t aphoristically obvious.

January 22nd, 2010 / 4:42 pm Troy Urquhart—

I think we might draw some distinctions about the sorts of responses writers might send.

Typically, I don’t respond to a rejection. When I do, it’s because I believe the editor has done something out of the ordinary with my work (in spite of the rejection). Perhaps it’s a useful bit of feedback, perhaps it’s an unusually quick response time, etc. And in these (very few) cases, I’m sometimes motivated to write a short note of thanks. Does the editor want to read it? I don’t know. But it strikes me as the courteous thing to do–when someone’s been kind to me (or my work), I want to express a bit of gratitude. I don’t ever expect to hear anything back, but I do want to do the right thing.

I think, though, that any writer who sends an angry email to an editor about a rejection is pissing into the proverbial wind. I don’t think for a second that there is any editor–at least not any editor that I’d want to publish my work–who would be badgered into reversing the decision on a piece.

January 22nd, 2010 / 4:58 pm Mike Meginnis—

Those are both forms. Online submission managers let you use one of several forms to convey different levels of rejection, ranging from “we didn’t really like this at all” to “we liked it okay, maybe try again” to “try again soon, please.” In the first case you probably were getting “we liked it okay, maybe try again.” In the second case, I’m pretty sure I recognize that one, and I’m also fairly certain that journal sends out that version as its most basic rejection.

Hope that helps.

January 22nd, 2010 / 4:59 pm jackie corley—

i heard a male/female editor team say the angry responses only tended to be especially angry when the female replied. i kind of find that to be the same on word riot. i don’t think my male editors feel the wrath of po’ed writers as much as i seem to.

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:00 pm David—

hm, that’s interesting

January 22nd, 2010 / 1:00 pm David—

hm, that’s interesting

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:02 pm Lily Hoang—

i replied when roxane rejected me. only to thank her for rejecting me. i’m sick. what can i say?

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:19 pm Mike Meginnis—

I’m glad you put your name on this David because your name means something to me here that an anonymous writer (rightly or wrongly) does not.

I agree that “this didn’t light me up” and similar critiques are not useful or genuinely personal, though I also do not personally get them very often — maybe because my work isn’t even at that level yet. The truth though is that I really don’t think editors have enough time to be constructive except in very special cases, and that’s fine with me. I have friends and family to be constructive with me. And the truth is that suggestions for rewriting and other advice can be taken too easily as a conditional promise to publish by immature writers. I don’t think you’re that kind of writer, but it’s impossible to tell who is and who isn’t from the editor’s position, and so we have to be very careful not to be constructive in a way that implies the author could “get in” with the right combination of revisions. I have the energy to work with mature writers in developing (though not necessarily the requisite experience or talent — also remember how many editors are in fact students) but not the energy to deal with all the little freak-outs that would result from trying.

I also personally have a lot of fear of annoying the writers I would respect enough to do that sort of thing with in the first place. I *accepted* something by Blake a while ago and I felt bad corresponding with him about that; what’s really terrifying is writing to somebody whose work you genuinely respect, but not enough in this case to take it. Maybe that is a problem more specific to myself, though.

I’m not sure this is a great response. I would personally love, of course, for someone more experienced than I to take me under their wing a little, and mentor me in my writing and attempts to publish, but there are so many people like me, and we are all very hungry.

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:36 pm Adam R—

One thing that has struck me is how many times I will offer detailed feedback when rejecting and the author will respond saying, “Oh yeah, I see what you mean, I just scrawled this off so thanks, I’ll go back through with your suggestions in mind.” While I don’t mind a response when I’ve written a few paragraphs in the rejection (in fact, I appreciate the acknowledgment and I know I’m not expected to respond, so it’s easy).

BUT GEEZ I hate it when the writer admits to having submitted a draft, and one that he or she hadn’t deliberated over at length.

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:46 pm james—

i know what you’re saying adam, though i do wonder how much of that is the author just trying to save a little face in the transaction. like, “oh, you didn’t like it? well, it’s not like it’s my best work or anything.”

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:53 pm james—

interesting. just from the language, i’d have thought these were “nice forms!”

i guess you’d have to submit to the place to twice to figure it out.

used to be, you could tell if it’s “form” or not by the amount of additional handwriting on the page…those were the days…

January 22nd, 2010 / 5:58 pm David—

hi adam, i do hear you on feeling like the effort you put into an editorial critique feels like you wore a dinner suit to mcdonalds or something when you get that kind of ‘oh hay this was just a thing right quick, peace’. but i wouldn’t necessarily take the i scrawled this off response to mean they didn’t deliberate at length. i know that i’ve written before in a mad burst but about an idea i’ve had for a long time and i’ve submitted that ‘scrawl’. i could see why i’d take the psychological tack of saying it was less of an investment for me than it was. but say for argument’s sake, you did have a writer who’d submitted some thing they’d dreamt up with and dashed off in their lunch break. i don’t know if that lack of lengthy deliberation is a sign of a lack of seriousness so much as kind of related to that dreaded question for many people about ‘becoming’ a writer, which is th question of limits: is my time on this devotion or waste because maybe i just cant write? this is a serious problem with no easy answer. the other thing is, for me personally, when i edit my work, i tend to lose the ability to salvage the piece i’ve written: it sinks beneath the edits. so, in a way, i submit sometimes as an external measure of how i’m doing. i honestly and sincerely can’t tell. mike noted above that his friends and family are there to be constructive with him. that’s true but i’ll also point out that the stranger reading your work is closer to what we consider a proper test of writing. and not everyone can get the informative perspective across so many read works that an editor has from their close circle. obviously there’s more chance that a dashed off kind of submission will be knocked back but i also think that an editor is absolutely entitled to say in their critique that the piece felt rushed and too much like a draft and understand that that isn’t an indication of a writer’s lack of seriousness about writing but a manifestation of some of the internal conflicts and fight to organize one’s self that is totally tangled up with ‘becoming’ (or ultimately not becoming) a writer.

January 22nd, 2010 / 6:08 pm David—

hi mike, thanks for your thoughtful response. as i said below to adam, i’m not at all sure the constructive critiques of friends and family – even friends and family that also write – is quite the same as the constructive critiques editors have the potential to provide. and as for the time issue, i think a lot of the terms you’ve used here like immature writers and so on suggest that there’s some limit where a written submission only comes to matter when it qualifies itself in some way as a writer’s submission. now, in some respects, i think that’s fine. obviously an editor would not possibly have the time or energy to guide every submission with promise through a rewrite process but there are also submissions that are on the verge in a way almost like a book or story might make it to a shortlist. this is what i meant when i spoke about invitations to rewrite if potential is truly seen in the work submitted. i don’t really buy the idea that an editor has no time to sit, read, and think over a piece for say an hour all inclusive (a little more if the story takes a longer to read) and then write two paragraphs of sustained response, especially with how skinny fiction is becoming these days. If we have time for blog commentary and debate, we have time for that. However, I should add that I’m not trying to dispel the idea that priorities might not overwhelm one’s ability to respond more comprehensively to submissions at times. Absolutely. My inbox goes through long periods of delay that sometimes have nothing to do with procrastination. But to claim this lack of time as a permanent, rather than fluctuating, phenomenon feels like it’s trying to downplay the duty of editors to edit the works they don’t publish as well.

January 22nd, 2010 / 6:09 pm David E—

indeed, i’ve gotten some long, personal rejections (one from adam) and i’d feel like a dick if i just replied with nothing. then i’d think the editor was thinking i was pissed about the rejection, even if i “knew” that was unlikely.

January 22nd, 2010 / 6:10 pm David E—

“replied with nothing” – i mean “i’d feel like a dick if i didn’t reply” (although i don’t always reply in such situations of course)

January 22nd, 2010 / 6:12 pm David E—

“Typically, I don’t respond to a rejection. When I do, it’s because I believe the editor has done something out of the ordinary with my work (in spite of the rejection). Perhaps it’s a useful bit of feedback, perhaps it’s an unusually quick response time, etc. And in these (very few) cases, I’m sometimes motivated to write a short note of thanks. Does the editor want to read it? I don’t know. But it strikes me as the courteous thing to do–when someone’s been kind to me (or my work), I want to express a bit of gratitude. I don’t ever expect to hear anything back, but I do want to do the right thing.”

This is what I tried saying a few minutes ago. That about sums it up for me.

January 22nd, 2010 / 6:18 pm Adam R—

I do appreciate a response if I’ve written at length, but it isn’t necessary. In fact, and this should NOT be taken personally, but in general once I respond, I stop thinking about a piece and what I said about it. That’s just because I start moving on to the next one.

January 22nd, 2010 / 7:20 pm Matthew Simmons—

When I get a rejection, I reply with my bio and an author photo. And then I ask when the piece will appear. Sometimes they forget that they rejected the piece and publish it.

January 22nd, 2010 / 7:25 pm reynard—

with all due respect, that seems more like self-importance than sickness.

January 22nd, 2010 / 7:36 pm Ben White—

And yet, the ones who usually seem to be doing the bitching are men. Right?

January 22nd, 2010 / 7:52 pm Ben—

I get a lot of responses saying thank you for the feedback or for the speedy response. Maybe even 1/4 to 1/3 of people respond? I don’t really mind; they’re pleasant but unnecessary. Sometimes people say “No problem, thanks” or something more or less meaningless, and then I kind of feel gypped because I thought I was going to get an interesting email and it was just tripe. I never reply back. But there is never a reason to respond back with a play on the “you’re wrong” or “take a look again” themes, mostly because it makes everyone feel cheap.

AND I don’t understand how anyone gives Roxane shit for responding back in less than 24 hours when she can. What do people think happens when they get a 200 day rejection? A reader opened the story on day 200 and said “this sucks” within 5 minutes and moved on. They probably weren’t agonizing on the metaphor on page 7 for half a year. That kind of response makes no sense to me.

January 23rd, 2010 / 12:19 am GC—

My personal favorite response to a form rejection (encouraging the author to resubmit for the next submission period) was, “Not bloody likely!”

That is the sort of response–though amusing–is unnecessary.

January 23rd, 2010 / 12:50 am Stu—

Hahaha!

January 23rd, 2010 / 1:33 am Matt—

I work at a literary magazine that has been around since WWII, and we have a wonderful folder of crazy post-rejection letters sent to us. It’s enjoyable to go through them and see how the angry rejection letter has changed through the decades.

The best one received since I’ve been here, though, was a postcard–one of those ones you’d buy at the beach–where the front was a picture of palm trees and the back said, “Dear [redacted], you are a fucking asshole who doesn’t know shit about writing. I hope your office burns down.”

That being said, most editors are so busy with the regular stuff like not getting a backlog of submission and figuring out how to fund the next issue, they don’t care about any mail from rejected authors.

January 23rd, 2010 / 1:59 am Shane Anderson—

thanks for that. yeah, i figured they were forms since they didn’t make any real commentary about the pieces. the real question though is, if you respect the journal and you think a piece is a good fit but they obviously don’t, is it fair to ask why? not in some desperate need for success way but just out of curiosity and taking the chance to learn from the experience? i’m just hear to learn, man.

January 23rd, 2010 / 2:09 am Sean—

MAtt,

At BWR, years ago (and maybe now–I do not know), they had a cork-board with letters, postcards of this sort–insane writers venting spleen. Everyone would have a chuckle, generations passing by. I always thought, “Wow, don’t ever wanna make this cork-board in a lit mag’s office.”

But, hell, maybe that’s posterity, too? A letter to an editor so bad it stays around for 25 years?

January 23rd, 2010 / 6:24 am Roxane—

Right-o.

January 23rd, 2010 / 6:25 am Roxane—

She would still love to see something else from you, too.

January 23rd, 2010 / 6:27 am Roxane—

The first one is a personal form rejection. If you receive it, the editor really means that they want to see more of your work. We use something similar and we send it when we liked something but passed on usingit.

January 23rd, 2010 / 7:36 am darby—

sure kinda. ive probably replied with occasional ‘ppreciate the time’ comments, but never more than that. i do this more lately probably because im pickier with where i send stuff these days, so its like im entering a more meaningful potential and i have a desire to keep it more cordial than if i was just mass submitting things and getting rejections everyday, but i know editors dont care mostly on their end, but its for my sake more.

as an ed ive only had one guy who tried to get me into a back and forth about the merit of his story, like he asked for more feedback and i didnt respond and he sent a note a week later saying that me not responding was like saying fuck you to an old friend or something, so i was like okay, i wrote up a little thing on why i passed on it and thought i was pretty nice to the guy considering but he sent me back something questioning further and it was apparent he wasnt going to be satisfied and somehow the conversation fizzled until i felt the tension was diffused enough to stop replying to him.

i dont mind personally if people ask for feedback, i know writers are kind of stuck behind gates trying to get peeks. i get a lot of requests for more feedback, i just dont respond to them and i assume that is taken as it would be too time consuming for me to provide feedback so i just forget about it which i do. so its okay with me, actually, respond all you want with anything you want to, i dont mind, i just probably wont respond is all. thank you for your time, darby.

January 23rd, 2010 / 9:07 am Mike Meginnis—

No, don’t do that.

January 23rd, 2010 / 1:47 pm Tim Horvath—

Gallant stirs an ongoing trialectical relationship between writer, editor, and work that moves literature forward however incrementally. Goofus simply moves on.

January 23rd, 2010 / 2:49 pm Shane Anderson—

Gotcha, thanks. Really, I don’t envy this part of the process for editors. A bit of a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation: if the form is polite or even looser, then the writer reads into this as hopeful; if they’re more formal, the writer reads this as being rude.

A stoic attitude seems to be the recommended one.

January 24th, 2010 / 8:15 pm Nathan (Nate) Tyree—

When the editor gives what seems to be good advice, and has clearly taken time to consider my story or poem I like to say “Thank You”. That’s normally the only reply I will give to rejection.

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