Rejection is a necessary hazard in writing, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. When an essay I submitted a year ago was rejected, I received a form letter along with the manuscript in my carefully folded SASE. It read as follows:
Thank you for sending us your article query. It was read carefully and given our full consideration. Unfortunately, it misses the mark for our pages.
The glories of a rejection form letter!
I understand that editors don’t have the time to respond to every submission that lands on their slush pile, but I’m still at a loss at the rejection. I wrote the essay specifically for that magazine. I’d bought and subscribed to it for years. I thought it fit with their general interest. But apparently I missed the mark.
How a story or article gets chosen often depends on convenience rather than quality. I’ve read that university press journals will often tip the balance toward submissions from MFA students over non-MFA students since the MFA programs are essentially the only thing funding the journals. It’s become a pay it forward system for the literary world. In another account an editorial board uses a democratic system, wherein submissions with the most votes win. Stories that are the most polarizing, and therefore the most interesting, end up being rejected for want of a clear majority. Hearing all that makes it seem as if the entire game is rigged, that even in the literary world a meritocratic system is just as equally out of reach. But even under the best of circumstances, chance and luck still win out. Having interned once at my alma mater’s campus undergraduate literary journal, I know that, among the list of possible poetry selections that went through the first round draft by students, the ones we rejected weren’t bad. It’s just that for some reason or another they didn’t wow my co-editor and me. The entire process is subjective. Another editor might have chosen our rejections and rejected the ones we accepted. It’s all a matter of getting the right work into the right hands. So I keep reminding myself not to take it personally; it wasn’t meant to be.
Yet knowing all that doesn’t sting any less when the yellow envelope reappears in my mailbox (or as the case may be a rejection email in my inbox). The entire process is maddening because I don’t know whether the actions I take will lead to satisfactory results. I’m flailing around, trying to find some soft place to land. Sure, there are rules and tips that I follow time and again, but that is no guarantee against rejection.
What would make the entire process a lot easier is if I knew why my work keeps getting rejected. However the reality of the submission process makes that next to impossible. Years ago, when the number of small literary magazines were a healthy ratio to the number of submissions they received, editors could take the time to write rejection notes, explain why each piece wasn’t accepted, or even offer criticisms. As a writer it helps to know what I’m doing right or what I could do better. But that job has been taken over by creative writing programs. As valuable as these programs can be, a jury of your peers isn’t quite the same as a judge.
Still, as soul-crushing as submission rejections can be, they aren’t the end of the world either. After the rejection, I had a good cry (I’m just sensitive that way), and renewed my sense of purpose. I doubled down, went back to work on my novel, and looked for other opportunities to place my prose. I’ve been lucky enough to get a few of my essays and reviews published and placed three of my short stories as well. Hopefully that luck will continue. All I can ever do is keep trying. Giving up is the worst rejection of all.
- Ask the Writing Teacher: Fifty Shades of Rejection (themillions.com)
- That Rejection May Not Be (Completely) Your Fault (darkgeisha.wordpress.com)