Rejection Letters
I hate them. I hate writing them. I procrastinate the task so long that practically all of mine begin with “I apologize for the unconscionable delay…”
Occasionally, I hate writing one because I’m not sure I’ve made the right decision and I’m afraid I’ll want the paper/essay/poem back in a few days. But mostly I hate them because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I also don’t want to be falsely kind about a bit of writing that is really bad. I do, honestly, find something to like about almost every submission I read. It feels like a sacred trust when people have plumbed their souls to make an offering, and I want to find and acknowledge the gifts in each poem or essay or story. Still, sometimes something goes awry, and the beautiful thing that was in an author’s soul comes out in an ungrammatical or unoriginal or uninteresting or simply unlovely way and it’s my job to say so.
So, what’s the right way to say it? Do you want a form letter so that it’s not a personal rejection? Do you want specific criticism? Do you want to know exactly how bad it is and why, or is it enough to know that “it doesn’t fit our needs at this time”?
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May 14th, 2009 at 2:03 pm
Rejections aren’t personal. Words on paper are being rejected, not the writer. I’ve never understood why writers take them personally. Not true. I do understand the temptation to self-pity, that “I’ll never be good enough.” But that is something a writer has to shake off–fast.
I started collecting rejection letters a very long time ago and have them not-so-nicely arranged in a 3 ring binder. About the time my rejections were bursting out of that binder, I began getting acceptances, a nicer thing by far. But I still have that binder, still occasionally put something in it. I’m proud of every rejection letter I’ve ever received and look forward to more. {heavy sigh} There are some rejections I received via email that I didn’t print and I regret that.
But back to the question. I do think that if there is something positive to say about a story, it should be said. (Unfortunately sometimes editors are too busy to hold hands.) The first rejection letter I ever received said some very nice things and blamed the rejection on a backlog. I lived off of that rejection for years and years, even though I sent the story dozens of other places and received nothing but form rejections back. You never know who will have the gumption to stick to it, learn the craft, and mature as a writer. So I don’t think an editor should worry about giving false hope. That is, unless you are saying “No thanks, but remember I’m just one editor and the next one might think this is wonderful” and you know its a lie. The encouragement I in that one rejection letter sparked ambition in me, not false hope.
Conversely if there is a weakness, say that too. Half the writers probably won’t listen anyway.
The other half will. IMO its very, very helpful to hear what a reader didn’t get or felt wasn’t crisp enough in my work.
The problem is, it takes time to write those specific rejections. Sometimes I just don’t have it.
May 14th, 2009 at 2:23 pm
Hello. I’d like to apply for a never need receive a rejection letter because everything he writes is worthy and wonderful exemption.
———–
But yeah, I’d rather hear something that I can work with (if there is time). I’m still struggling with the feedback Quinn Warnick gave me when I submitted Return to Irreantum lo these several years ago. He said it was “thin.” And he was right and I rewrote it, and it is better as a result (although the ending still needs work, I think). And thin is still a problem I have when writing short stories. One solution has been to go for “compact” instead (there is a difference). Another has been to try to be more full-bodied. Discovering that that didn’t come naturally to me has been of great use to me as a writer.
May 14th, 2009 at 2:29 pm
Form letters are a fact of life. I’ve received my share. And if you spent all your time responding personally to everything you reject, then you would become less of an editor and more of a writing instructor.
But if an editor sees potential in my submission and they have time, then I want to know what they didn’t like and why, and what worked or didn’t work and why. I’m never offended when an editor takes the time to show me how to better my craft. If a writer can’t take some honest criticism, then they are in the wrong business.
May 14th, 2009 at 3:25 pm
Hmmmm–you all seem very together. Clearly, I am too neurotic to become a writer, but I should worry less about you!
May 14th, 2009 at 4:34 pm
At Segullah we often get submissions that are almost there, but not quite. We have not had a great track record with editing poetry, and the almost-there poems are the hardest for me. I’d love to see the almost-there poets (and essayists, but especially the poets) revise and resubmit. But it’s hard to convey that without promising too much in the way of future publication.
For me personally, I would prefer a personal rejection letter to a form letter. Feedback is good. But I know those take much more effort than a standard form letter. Sometimes detailed feedback just isn’t practical, and I understand that.
May 14th, 2009 at 4:52 pm
As I recall, Quinn gave me three total sentences to work with. I don’t know how much time he spent on it, but if the writer has some talent and dedication and savvy, then you don’t have to quite go the full writing instructor route to do some good as an editor.
I think editors are very important to the development of a national/ethnic/literary movement literature and one thing that the field of Mormon letters could work on is developing more good editors.
May 14th, 2009 at 5:33 pm
I agree with everyone above, and I love getting feedback on my submissions. But Kris, if you are having such a hard time getting them out, you should just type up a short form letter to send. You can always scribble a line or two at the end if you have time or inclination. Less stress all around!
May 14th, 2009 at 6:35 pm
I am not a writer, but I did once submit a paper to Dialogue which ended up being published a few years ago. So, my experience is limited, but I wanted to mention two things. (1) I was sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear back about my submission and when the letter said I would hear back in two months and it actually took much longer it was, well, unpleasant. If you are going to reject something, I say be quick about it. (2) I did a fairly major revision of my paper based on the initial feedback before it was accepted. In my case I had three anonymous peer reviewers and one did not favor publication. Due to an accident, that reviewer’s inline MSWord comments were retained in an attachment that got back to me. It was very helpful (despite being simultaneously frustrating) for me to see the unfiltered reaction of that reviewer and I made several significant edits because of his feedback. I’m glad someone screwed up.
May 14th, 2009 at 6:50 pm
BiV, I don’t mind taking the time to write personal ones–it’s really only that I hate thinking about how people will feel (or, more accurately, about how *I* would feel if I got the rejection).
Jacob–it’s a little different for Dialogue because of the varied types of content and the peer review process. It happens often that I have to evaluate an article about a topic where I really don’t have sufficient expertise (hard to believe, I know!!), and then I’m at the mercy of reviewers. If the initial reviewers are sharply divided, I’ll send it out to another referee or two, and that just takes a long time. The things I know I’m going to reject tend to get letters more quickly.
Also, I tend to send authors most or all of the reviewers’ comments (though I will occasionally pretty them up). You’d be surprised at how often people get really angry and want to tell me all about how unfair and stupid and wrong and mean the reviewer was–skin thickness seems to be a highly variable characteristic
May 15th, 2009 at 5:45 am
I just want to know whether something is accepted or rejected (but please don’t use the word “rejected” the way the MHA committee did this year — “declined” or “turned down” are as efficient and leave less cause for authorial complaint).
Unless something would be accepted if specific mechanical changes were made (length, move footnotes to endnotes, whatever), I don’t want editorial feedback, either. You can’t trust editorial feedback even when it is sincerely offered, because too much useless flattery masquerading as editorial feedback has gone out to know what to trust and what to reject.
I especially don’t want suggestions from anonymous peer reviewers. They review the article they wanted to read, not the one you submitted. Half of them give orders to make it longer, greener, and sweeter, and the other half give explicit directions to make it shorter, redder, and tarter.
So I’m an easy letter — or I would be, if I submitted anything anywhere. Just give me thumbs up or thumbs down. And do it in a timely manner.
May 15th, 2009 at 6:38 am
That does sound easy, Ardis. But I can’t imagine ever needing to reject anything from you.
May 15th, 2009 at 10:33 am
I used to be articles editor for my Law Review. My job was sending out rejection letters.
I sent a form email. Our submissions were by email, and my rejections were by email. All I did was type in a different date, name and article title.
I didn’t have time for anything else. We had a ton of submissions. Usually people were surprised I responded at all.
Which taught me the lesson, once again, that “perfect” is the enemy of “good enough.” If you bother to respond, you’ll be ahead of expectations already.
If you are trying to be sensitive and provide constructive feedback, you’re in the wrong job. You’re not a friend, you’re not a counselor, you’re not a grammar teacher. If their sad about rejection, they can go cry on a friend’s shoulder. Your sympathy doesn’t add much to the equation. If their article sucks, they can either find someone to tell them so, or they can fail in life. It happens. People fail. Tough beans.
In fact, I would suggest that part of the reason your rejection letters are always late is probably because you are over-inflating what is supposed to go into one. You’ve blown this process of writing rejections into something so demanding of your care and concern that your mind is subconsciously rebelling by procrastinating the task.
The task, as you’ve painted it, is unmanageable. Your mind knows this, and procrastination is its way of telling you so.
Save a sample rejection email to your email “drafts” folder and go spend time on other things that matter more.
May 15th, 2009 at 10:46 am
I think form rejections are fine. But I also think that when it comes to creative work in the very small field of Mormon letters, the more we can provide substantive feedback to each other, the better.
Within reason, of course. About 25% of the reason Popcorn Popping ground to a halt was that we were trying to provide substantive, individualized feedback to every submission.
May 16th, 2009 at 6:21 am
I feel like form rejections are fine in most cases. Occasionally, though, if a piece shows a lot of promise but isn’t quite there, I’ll offer encouragement and perhaps let the writer know what he/she could do to improve. But for those pieces that are obviously not ready? Frankly, it would take too long to explain all the “whys.” And I also think that a personalized rejection is an encouraging sign as a writer, so I save them for those writers who seem to be on the cusp. I’ll also write a little note if it’s somebody whose writing is strong, but whose work truly doesn’t “meet our needs” for whatever reason, so that writer doesn’t think the “meet our needs” line is just an empty excuse.
But I agree with you–writing rejection letters is one of my least favorite things to do as an editor.
May 17th, 2009 at 10:04 pm
writing rejection letters/emails gives me the willies.
as a writer, i expect to get form rejections. but i haven’t submitted many pieces in my life.
May 28th, 2009 at 9:00 pm
form rejection letters are fine–better than certain other options–provided they’re neutral and polite. the Iowa Review had these form rejections based on WC Williams poem “this is just to say” that went something like
This is just to say
we have rejected
the poems you sent us
even though you liked them
we got some other poems we
liked better
far more juicy
far more sweet
Not surprisingly, people wrote back to express their outrage at being rejected with such glee.
The worst rejection I ever got was when someone took a magic marker and simply scrawled “why?” on the first page of a story and returned it to me. I will never submit to that journal again.