Personal Rejection Letters

When I first began submitting stories more than ten years ago, I was quickly introduced to the type of form letter used by most magazines and agents who weren’t interested in my works. Form letters in general were nothing new to me, but I was foolish enough to believe that such things weren’t used in the publishing industry.

Within a year, I became bitter at the form letters. Why was this piece rejected? What didn’t the editors like? A series of such questions went through my mind, and the question I most wanted answered was: what, if anything, can I change in this story so that it is accepted by another publisher? Without any feedback, I felt lost and completely uncertain of my writing skills (or lack thereof).

When I finally began to receive personal rejection letters on occasion, I felt like my questions were answered. I would change what I could with the feedback provided in hopes of making the story better. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand that each editor has his or her own viewpoint. They aren’t all hanging out in the same club waiting for a new revision to satisfy a common desire in storytelling.

I’m now at a point that I prefer form rejection letters. I’ve realized that magazines need to stay focused on their core business, which is publishing stories. Commenting on rejected stories doesn’t make any money. As writers, we need magazines to stay in business and keep up with their deadlines, and I would rather receive a form rejection that came from an editor reading two paragraphs of my story if it meant that the magazine remains profitable and on schedule. Even if I look at it with a purely selfish motivation, what good would it do to have a story accepted at a magazine that has to close because it can’t meet its own business needs?

As writers, if we want feedback on our stories, we need to seek other writers, critique groups or seminars. It isn’t the responsibility of editors to make us better writers. They need to focus on the works they have accepted and on the other priorities necessary in meeting deadlines and growing subscriptions.

Form letters are a good thing. All we need to know is that a story was not accepted. Put a fresh manuscript in an envelope and send it to the next place. Trust me, the time I spent in years past grumbling and complaining was wasted. It’s fun to get a personal note at times, but don’t use it to guide your entire writing career.

Six Ways To Not Look Like A Writing Newbie (Even If You Are One)

Here are a few helpful hints on how to submit to magazines without appearing clueless.

1. Format your manuscript. There are numerous places to find information for standard manuscript format. Many magazines have links on their sites for such standards. Writing single-spaced in Times New Roman is fine, but if you don’t reformat the story before you submit, it won’t set well with most editors.

2. Know the market. Don’t submit your 7,000 word story to a magazine that only accepts works between 1,000 and 5,000 words, and don’t submit fantasy to a romance magazine. If a story doesn’t fit the magazine’s guidelines, you’ll loudly proclaim, “I have no clue what you publish, but here’s something I wrote anyway.”

3. Address the editor. In your cover letter (and mailing address), use the editor’s name. Omitting this (or even worse, using the wrong name) will show a lack of research on your part.

4. Write a proper cover letter. There are numerous web articles on this as well as examples within writing reference books. Essentially, you’ll want to be brief, covering at least the title of the story, word count, genre and writing credentials. Even if you have no writing credentials, you won’t smell like a newbie unless your letter is strange. Examples of strangeness include: comments about how wonderful your story is, comments about what others think of your story, comments about what the editor should think about your story, comments about how you wrote the story, comments completely unrelated to the story, suicide threats, death threats, blood stains, teeth marks or hieroglyphics.

5. Use proper packaging. If you’re sending a story in the mail, don’t cram ten pages into a greeting card envelope. Use a flat envelope so that you’re not folding the pages. In a stack of slush, you want your story to stand apart, not the package you mailed it in.

6. Don’t send a follow-up query too quickly. If a market clearly takes 90 days to process submissions, don’t send an email two weeks after submitting. You don’t want to reveal yourself as an irritating person before the story gets read. At least wait until you’re working with an editor on rewrites to show your true colors.

Common Mistakes

After learning many writing mistakes the hard way, I thought I should make some notes for the benefit of those that want to avoid similar pains. This is not about writing technique; it is about selecting a market for a finished work and then submitting to that market properly. By no means is this an exhaustive list of my mistakes, so I will likely share others in future posts.

Mistake #1 – Failing to properly prepare a submission. There are standard rules for submitting fiction. For short stories, there’s a query letter, the story itself and a Self Addressed Stamped Envelope (SASE). For novels, there’s usually just a query letter until the publisher or agent asks for more. Each market may have subtle differences, and in missing those differences, you have demonstrated your ignorance about whom you’re submitting to and stand little chance of having your material read.

Mistake #2 – Assuming you know more than you do. I always thought the most professional-looking font for story submissions was Times New Roman. Later, I discovered that it’s better to use Courier because it makes it easier to look at the length and is more of an editing standard. It may be a small thing to use Courier font, but it is yet another identifier of your level of professionalism and may be the difference in how much of your submission is read by the editor. Don’t make any assumptions about your submissions. Buy a book (like Writer’s Market) and check websites for suggestions.

Mistake #3 – Paying for confirmation with a submission. This means that whoever receives your submission cannot simply pick it up from the post office box or mailbox. Instead, someone must sign a receipt that it was received. While doing this confirms that your submission reached its intended destination, it marks your submission as more trouble than it’s worth and labels you as insecure and paranoid. I did this in the past before I learned from multiple sources that it’s a really bad idea. Now, if I haven’t heard anything on a submission for a number of months, I send follow-up letters. In the few times that I’ve sent follow-ups, I’ve received responses within a week or two indicating reasons why I haven’t received my SASE back.

Mistake #4 – Submitting to the wrong market. I never properly researched the magazines I submitted to at first. Even if your writing style is superb, not all magazines are the right place for your story, and not all publishers are right for your novel. It takes time to research the markets, but when you send something to the wrong place, you’re wasting time because instead of sending the story to places where they actually publish similar narratives, you’re waiting months to hear back from someone that never would have published your story regardless of how well it was written.

Mistake #5 – Asking to have your manuscript returned. I don’t know that this makes any difference in how you are perceived by the publisher or editor, but it’s a waste of money. In order to have a manuscript returned, you must purchase an envelope large enough to contain it and pay for the extra postage. Once it comes back, it’s highly unlikely you will be able to submit that same manuscript to a new market because it has lost its pristine quality in which you sent it originally (in fact, I once had a manuscript returned with a shoeprint on it). My reason for asking for manuscripts to be returned was out of the fear that someone would steal my work. This is, of course, an irrational fear because as soon as anything is printed on paper, even to go into submission, it has an inherent copyright.

The five mistakes listed are common pitfalls to many new writers. If you are committing any of them, rather than panic, simply adjust what you’re doing for future submissions. It’s never too late to change as long as you’re drawing breath. Slap your forehead, and move on.