What Volunteering as a Slush Reader Taught Me About Rejection
"[T]he people rejecting my submissions are not trying to ruin my day or feel superior to me."
Welcome to our weekly column offering perspectives on lit mag publishing, with contributions from readers, writers and editors around the world.
I’ve always been sensitive to rejection, which is not the most helpful personality trait for a writer! Over the years I’ve gotten more thick-skinned, but I’ve definitely been irked or puzzled by the sheer opacity of the rejection process. I think most writers have moments when they wish they could peek behind the curtain and find out what the editors who just rejected them are thinking. I recently got the chance to do just that when I experienced my first reading period as a slush reader for a small literary magazine. I spent months reading through what felt like an endless queue of submissions, and it’s given me a new mindset when it comes to submitting my own work.
Here are a couple of the things I’ve learned:
No one is going to “blacklist” me.
I used to worry sometimes when I received rejections that I had forever tarnished my reputation with that magazine. I’d picture the editors gasping over my next submission. “Isn’t this that writer whose poem we rejected three months ago? Can you believe she has the nerve to submit here again?” News flash: I honestly don’t remember the names of any of the writers whose pieces I marked as a no. Even the (very few) people whose submissions were truly terrible. If any of these writers were to submit a great poem or story for our next issue, not only would I not hold their earlier work against them, but I wouldn’t even remember it. These days, I don’t let prior rejections deter me from submitting to a publication a second (or third, or fourth) time. On a related note…
No one actually wants to make you feel bad.
One of the things I love about the magazine I volunteer for is that we’re known for giving detailed feedback, and trying hard to keep it kind. I try to be as constructive as I can in the feedback I give for rejected stories, because I want the writer to be able to either improve their craft or improve this specific submission so it can be accepted elsewhere. I am genuinely rooting for all of them! But I know that honest feedback can hurt, even when presented with the best of intentions. I am so thankful that as a reader, actually sending rejections is not my job, but it doesn’t feel good to know that people may be disappointed or hurt by my criticism.
It’s made me realize in a very concrete way that the people rejecting my submissions are not trying to ruin my day or feel superior to me. I’m sure there are some sociopathic editors out there that make it their goal to be unkind, but I have yet to actually come across one. Most editors and readers are simply doing their job, which is to put together the best publication they can, usually after receiving way more submissions than they could ever publish. Now when I look at rejections I’ve received that seemed terse or blunt, I realize that they’re likely the product of a very busy person trying their best to be helpful.
Follow the submission guidelines.
The most common reason I rejected stories wasn’t that they were bad. The majority of the works I rejected are totally publishable (or would be with some editing). However, I had to disqualify them because they didn’t match the issue’s theme or were much longer than our stated word count.
Now I know that if I follow the submission guidelines to the letter, I’m already ahead of the game. It’s amazing that so many writers simply don’t do this. Editors know what they’re looking for, and if they state that they only want flash fiction or only want stories on a specific topic, that’s probably a rule, not a suggestion. If they’re looking for microfiction about cats, it’s a waste of time to send them your 5,000-word story about dogs. Even if it’s really, really good. Even if there is a brief mention of a cat on page 3! If I have a piece already written that almost fits an issue’s theme, or is a bit over the word count, I might submit it anyway, but I’ll know that it’s a long shot. If it’s somehow not rejected, that’ll be a pleasant surprise.
Most editors and readers are simply doing their job, which is to put together the best publication they can, usually after receiving way more submissions than they could ever publish.
Cover letters don’t matter (that much).
A rambling cover letter with grammatical errors doesn’t make a great first impression, but I’ve yet to see one of those attached to a story I wouldn’t have rejected anyway. I have never judged a writer for having a “boring” cover letter; a few lines is fine!
I used to agonize over my cover letters, but now I know it’s not worth the stress. Unless the editors specifically ask for extra information, I’m going to keep it super simple. Readers and editors are busy, and unless I need to give some sort of helpful context on my piece, I’m sticking with a couple of sentences that cover the basics, like my word count, publication history and whether it’s a simultaneous submission. They don’t need to know my influences, life story, or even what I thought of their last issue. None of that is likely to move the needle unless it’s profoundly compelling.
Good writing is (somewhat) subjective.
As a slush reader, I got to see other readers’ comments on the stories I was reviewing. Generally, there was consensus: the knockout pieces blew us all away and the ones that were poorly written or didn’t meet the guidelines were universally rejected. But some of the submissions we received were polarizing! There were pieces I really enjoyed and advocated for that didn’t make the cut and a few that others loved that didn’t resonate with me.
I have a couple of takeaways from this. When I get rejected, I keep in mind that there might have been debate about it behind the scenes. Just because a piece was rejected doesn’t mean that no one on staff liked it. And because I now know just how subjective editors’ and readers’ tastes can be, I’m more willing to submit rejected pieces to different markets. You never know how much of a role an editor’s specific pet peeves played in a rejection. Maybe they just hate second person narration, or stories with talking animals, or poems that use simple language, and the quality of the piece had nothing to do with it. Maybe the editor of a different journal will love it! One a related, and final, note…
Literary journals get way more great pieces than they can publish.
I had heard this before, but being on the other side of things made it really hit home for me. Let’s face it, there are so many people out there competing for a limited number of shots at publication, and a surprising number of them are very talented. I saw this firsthand. There were so many amazing pieces that we just couldn’t include because we were running something similar already, and even more pieces that were so close but didn’t quite meet the bar due to the competitive group of submissions we received. I have no doubt that they will find other homes, as long as the writers have the confidence to keep submitting them.
I know now that just because a story is rejected by one publication (or even by a few), that doesn’t mean it’s unpublishable. This industry is a numbers game, and not necessarily one that works in writers’ favor. Being forced to reject some great submissions due to the overabundance of excellent writing we receive has made me feel more confident when I face rejection. Because, you know what? I’m in great company.
I hope that by sharing these experiences, I can encourage other writers to reframe how they see rejection. But nothing beats the firsthand learning that comes from volunteering at a literary journal, and I would urge other writers to give it a shot. For me, it has taken so much of the sting out of rejection and helped me to see literary “gatekeepers” as allies, not adversaries. Rejection will never feel good, but having seen the other side of things, I am able to accept it as a decision made by fellow fallible humans, involving factors beyond my control, not a universal judgment on the quality of my writing. The ultimate lesson? Just keep submitting.
Thank you for this article--there's so much distance and dehumanizing when submitting work through the computer (into the "void") it can be hard to remember real people read those submissions--and those people aren't out to get us :)
Loved this post. I picked up on the extremely high subjectivity factor (also totally beyond the writer's/poet's control) early on in the submission game. It helped me be much more philosophical about rejections. I always adhere to the writer's guidelines and am actually glad they are there, because it gives me a better chance of being accepted, since I'm good at following guidelines and constraints. Beyond the basics of competent writing, tastes are SO EXTREMELY subjective that my jaw drops regularly when reading what a publication picked to publish or to win prizes. If I have this reaction, I don't submit there again, as my tastes and theirs are so different that they definitely won't pick what I write.