How to Write a VERY Sensitive Rejection Letter (A Modest Proposal)
"As we editors know all too well, submissions are the lifeblood of any literary magazine."
Welcome to our weekly column offering perspectives on lit mag publishing, with contributions from readers, writers and editors around the world.
FOR EDITORS ONLY:
As we editors know all too well, submissions are the lifeblood of any literary magazine. No matter how much financial support the lit mag might receive from subscribers or a university, and no matter how juicy we make those writing contest fees (which most definitely are not a scam despite any claims otherwise!), it is ultimately submissions that keep the lights on and the gears spinning. Particularly at our journal, The Protean Ptyx Review, where we charge a modest fee of $12 per submission to guarantee high quality and keep us in the lit mix.
Let’s be frank: our job as editors involves more than just shaping a magazine, giving it a voice and a vision, it includes something much more important. You’ve heard of the salesperson’s motto ABC, Always Be Closing? Well, at The PPR we’ve adopted a similar motto:
KSC. Keep Submissions Coming.
Capisce?
It’s a fact that every man, woman, child, and Instagram cockatoo (we love those reels!) wants to be a writer these days. And all of the above think that they have poetry, essays, or short stories which absolutely must be shared with the world--and that the world will be thrilled to see these effusions online, in print, or both. It is also a fact that reading most of what comes to us is, shall we say, a somewhat less than productive activity. As wise Polonius says so well, “'tis true 'tis pity, /And pity 'tis, 'tis true.”
In addition to the necessity of rejecting work due to the sheer volume, it’s important that we reject submissions in order to maintain our awesome reputation. You see, it’s good to seem exclusive and guarantee good PR in this tiny world we think is a universe. The more we reject, the more we cultivate that je ne sais quoi which every lit mag editor seeks.
However, we never wish to sound exclusive or elite. It’s a delicate balance, really. Inclusive but also exclusive. Accessible but totally elite. Welcoming but impossible. Prestigious but never snotty.
All of which brings us to today’s crucial lesson offered to our fellow editors in a spirit of affirmation and compassion: Crafting the right form rejection email.
At the end of the day, we’re really like those third-party firms that are tasked to reject as many insurance claims as possible. Unfortunately, we don’t get paid for saying “no.” We’re in business to publish. But we’re also in business not to publish, if you get my meaning. And if you don’t, don’t worry. Meaning is always a site of contention.
Here are examples that might inspire you and your hard-working, besieged staffers. Feel free to adapt them to your own needs and taste.
We're in business to publish. But we’re also in business not to publish…
Dear -----
It was lovely to hear from you after we’ve passed on so many previous submissions—twelve by our count. Thanks so very much for keeping us in mind and following up on our invitations to submit again.
Your work stands out from the madding crowd for its purity of style, its energy, its boldness, its originality.
Sadly, so do many of our other submissions and choosing among them is a time-consuming effort. Many of our readers--and one or two of our previous editors--have had to either take a break from this onerous task or move into a different kind of work altogether. Their heads were just too full of words. Beautiful words, yes, but the noise became deafening.
One former reader for the journal is now very happily working as gallery guard in her local museum where she can relax since she has to answer very few questions, nobody throws protest liquids at the museum’s holdings, and she gets to enjoy masterpieces of art without feeling obligated to read the explanatory labels. Words, words, words no longer oppress her. We hope you wish this reader well as much as we do.
Well, back to your recent submission. It's a cliché to say this, but it just didn't have that je ne sais quoi we have historically looked for. What is that je ne sais quoi? We wish we could tell you. Please consider ordering a back issue or seven. If you find out, let us know.
Nonetheless, we all feel here that you are getting very close and we encourage you to keep trying because we believe in you, perhaps more than you do yourself.
Best from the Team
***
Dear -----
We want you to know first of all that all of us here are writers (check our lavish bios on the masthead page) and we understand that being rejected just plain sucks. We get that, and we ourselves get rejected a lot. Well, some of us more than others. Not an issue, though, because one staffer is also an intern at a psychiatric hospital and a superb resource on a bad day. He sometimes even leads staff retreats that have been wonderfully productive and supportive.
But we nominate for Best of the Net; have a very strong social media presence (even on that snake pit X); and work from our journal has been widely anthologized and even won a Pushcart Prize or two.
So we commend you both for your taste in choosing us and for trying to fit our submission guidelines. We do understand that some submitters find them verbose and vague and others think they're too specific and exclusionary (though we obviously reject all forms of hatred, even the most abstruse).
But that’s because taste is so finicky. Even Roman writers who we believe did not submit to journals back in the days of The Roman Empire—since there weren't any lit mags that we're aware of—even they understood in that trenchant phrase de gustibus non est disputandum that you can’t argue about taste. Well of course you can, but what could be the point? Especially with a journal that’s rejected your writing. We are grateful that in the past you have even thanked us for our “nice notes”—as you put it. You wouldn’t believe the kind of hectoring, abusive, and totally tone-deaf response we sometimes get to our rejections.
Thanks again for submitting. Please wait a full year and a half before trying again, and meanwhile have a wonderful time in the world of words.
Sincerely,
The Editors
We commend you both for your taste in choosing us and for trying to fit our submission guidelines.
***
Dear Creative*:
We’re profoundly sorry that we have to send you this rejection letter after all the blood, sweat, and tears you poured into your writing. But you did more than that. You had the courage to share your precious and beloved words with us, and we are beyond honored.
Please know that in our hearts we hate that word “rejection” even more than you do. That’s why we’ve taken so long to respond in what no doubt is a disappointing manner. It pains us to have to share the bad news. But we hope you can be uplifted a little by knowing that we have crafted every word of this rejection in a super-careful way, hoping to spare your feelings and manifest profound respect for your creative process and your emotional well-being.
We unfortunately have to reject all work that does not fit our current and future needs, no matter how good it might be. And we do so with equal amounts of regret, sorrow, and recognition that a rejection like this might not just spoil your day but lead to depression. Which it shouldn't, please believe us. You are amazing!
Your submission has been vetted with the utmost care and attention, and just because it didn't grab us doesn't mean some other journal won’t snap it up if they have different needs at this time or see value in it that escapes us at this time. We encourage you to keep writing, keep submitting, keep ignoring any negative subtext you might be gleaning from this rejection. Taste is totally subjective and this rejection says absolutely nothing about the writer that you think you are.
In conclusion, we thank you so much for the great honor you bestowed upon us by giving us a glimpse of your creative world. It was truly a privilege and a pleasure to read your work, and rest assured that we genuinely hope you don't let this discourage you from creating and sharing your art with the world. Your voice demands to be heard!
The Editors
*Not every writer is comfortable with the use of “Creative” as a noun to describe themselves, but we believe that the term has the potential to soften the blow of rejection.
Editors: Don’t like these? Feel free to send us your own suggestions! We might accept them. If you’re lucky. To really understand our vibe, though, read the profile of The PPR in the latest issue of La Petite Revue Littéraire des Revues Littéraires/Het Literaire Tijdschrift der Literaire Tijdschriften. Excelsior!
 | A guest post by
|
You forgot to add “Please record your rejection on Duotrope, because our high rejection rate inflates our egos.”
I laughed.
I cried.
And I (barely) resisted the impulse to compare any of the examples above with those ones that live on my computer in a folder labelled “GTBKM”—because, at the end of the day, when a form rejection arrive and begins, “desr Poate,” followed by four paragraphs, a button to donate to save the marsupials, and purchase a discounted five-year subscription . . .
sometimes, it’s worth splurging on a Ben& Jerry’s “Babies are Creamy Too.”