The Evolution Of The Rejection Letter

I admit it. I am one of those sorry schmucks who’s kept every single rejection letter I’ve ever received.

I’ve got some that date so far back, you might not have been technically born then. At first, when I’d write some humor essay extolling the advent of cordless can openers, I’d shoot for the moon as far as possible publishers went. I mean, if Good Housekeeping published columns by Erma Bombeck, they’d certainly want my piece, right?

For my chutzpah, I received a mimeographed form rejection on a 8"x2” slip of paper, which looked like it had been cut to size with a pair of crummy scissors. I believe it was signed by someone called “The Staff,” which made me fear the paper might be infected with some type of germ. But I filed it away just the same.

After a while, the rejections started coming on entire half-sheets of paper. I sensed I was making serious inroads into the world of publication. The purple ink of the mimeograph machine still ruled, but on occasion, the signature of an actual editorial assistant appeared at the bottom. Once, under one of these signatures, I made out the words, “Try us again with something else.”

In the universe of newspaper and magazine writing, it honestly didn’t take long before I figured out to start local and small. I started racking up some nice acceptances from first the Kansas City Star, then several other newspapers, and finally some regional and national magazines.

Then one day seven or eight years ago, I decided on a whim to take a novel writing class at a local college. My friend, author Nancy Moser, was teaching it, and I felt confident my article and essay writing skills would translate smoothly into novel writing finesse.

After two aborted attempts at stories I’ll never pull out of the cabinet again (one was a NaNoWriMo 50,000 word monstrosity), I started the book I’ve been working on for several years. Unless I’m mistaken, I’ve written 8-10 complete versions of this manuscript, but what I’ve learned about craft with each new version is staggering.

Some of you may remember that I entered it in a contest in early 2004, in which I finaled. I shudder to think about the manuscript I entered, since it was—I now realize—nothing more than a seriously flawed first draft.

Since then, I’ve gotten paid critiques at conferences, pitching sessions face-to-face with editors and agents, submitted a piece of it to a panel of editors who ripped it up in front of an audience, entered a few chapters at a time in several contests, and had input from trusted friends and fellow writers. I’ve also emailed my proposal and three chapters to several editors and agents, garnering ever more valuable rejection letters every step of the way.

If you think I’m kidding about the value of a rejection letter, you haven’t seen the comps. When you’ve got ones from the old purple-ink days signed by The Staff, believe me, you’re grateful for the professionals who offer a kind word of advice for improving your submission.

These days, I get the best rejections in the world. My idea of a great rejection is an email from the editor in which the word “However” does not appear until at least the beginning of the third sentence. That means the first two sentences will likely say something encouraging (or at least not depressing) about my submission, which is a very kind thing for the editor to do before she uses the H word.

I’ve grown used to scanning the first few lines until the H pops off the screen. I turn to Doug and say, “Well, phooey. I just got rejected by so-and-so.” And he’ll say, “Did you read the whole thing?” And I’ll say, “Not yet. But I saw the H.”

By the way, a perfectly acceptable alternative to the H is the U. Which stands, of course, for Unfortunately.

If you’re hoping to get published like I am, don’t despair. Even though mimeographed slips are a relic from days gone by, you, too, will likely find your rejection letters evolving from “No, thanks. Not for us,” to something downright positive, right up until you get to the H word.

I’m sure another type of letter is out there, people. One without the H word anywhere in it at all.

I hope to soon let you know how it feels to get a letter like that.

Posted by Katy on 02/05/08 at 02:50 AM

Fallible Comments...

Yep, gotta love that file of rejection letters. I swear...they are going to wallpaper one of my bathrooms with those letters some day, with my framed book cover on top! :)
Posted by Bridget on 02/05/08 at 01:29 PM
Bridgie,
You will only need a small bathroom for the rejections. However, at least two of my author buddies have an entire wall of a large room filled with their framed book covers! Now THAT'S my idea of fine decorating!!! I'm thinking your bathroom will not be big enough. :)
Posted by Katy on 02/05/08 at 01:35 PM
I have five book covers framed, but so many more rejection letters that it would be too expensive to frame those too.

As I progressed in my writing, I saw the same evolution as you, Katy. Form letters that had been xeroxed ad infinitum. Then the same form letters with a message scribbled across the bottom. Then personal notes. Eventually, I got that acceptance letter and WHOOPED AND HOLLERED.

Here's to some whooping and hollering for you!
Posted by Mary DeMuth on 02/05/08 at 04:17 PM
It's an awesome feeling to have someone request a partial. I'm praying I get beyond that point very, very soon.
Your post has been encouraging.
Posted by Kathryn on 02/14/08 at 08:43 PM
Mary--What was REALLY bad were the purple mimeographed form letters with REALLY PALE ink--I think they reserved the crummy copies for the WORST writers--ha!!

Kathryn--I've enjoyed reading your comments over on Rachelle's site. Welcome here!! Requesting a partial is a great step in the right direction. Hard not to get distressed by how "baby" the steps are, but when we look back on this someday, it will all make sense.....
Posted by Katy on 02/16/08 at 11:39 PM
Hi Katy,
This is Jason - one of those unknown writers:)
I just wanted to share my personal experience in rejections affairs.
What I usually do after I receive a rejection letter is not just lower my head and rush improving my writing skills elsewhere, but read the thing attentively and respond right away.
It is sooo fascinating when you manage once to force them to answer :)
Then I understand that my writing style and technique works and worth more than their approval.
Posted by Essay Writing on 11/28/08 at 03:37 PM
Right!
That's the way to react I'd support Jason :)
Don't stop writing whatever you got in response!...and regardless whoever from you got the letter - don't be lazy to write back!
Posted by freelance writer on 12/15/08 at 07:20 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	The Evolution Of The Rejection Letter I admit it. I am one of those sorry schmucks who’s kept every single rejection letter I’ve ever received. I’ve got some that date so far back, you might not have been technically born then. At first, when I’d write some humor essay extolling the advent of cordless can openers, I’d shoot for the moon as far as possible publishers went. I mean, if Good Housekeeping published columns by Erma Bombeck, they’d certainly want my piece, right? For my chutzpah, I received a mimeographed form rejection on a 8"x2” slip of paper, which looked like it had been cut to size with a pair of crummy scissors. I believe it was signed by someone called “The Staff,” which made me fear the paper might be infected with some type of germ. But I filed it away just the same. After a while, the rejections started coming on entire half-sheets of paper. I sensed I was making serious inroads into the world of publication. The purple ink of the mimeograph machine still ruled, but on occasion, the signature of an actual editorial assistant appeared at the bottom. Once, under one of these signatures, I made out the words, “Try us again with something else.” In the universe of newspaper and magazine writing, it honestly didn’t take long before I figured out to start local and small. I started racking up some nice acceptances from first the Kansas City Star, then several other newspapers, and finally some regional and national magazines. Then one day seven or eight years ago, I decided on a whim to take a novel writing class at a local college. My friend, author Nancy Moser, was teaching it, and I felt confident my article and essay writing skills would translate smoothly into novel writing finesse. After two aborted attempts at stories I’ll never pull out of the cabinet again (one was a NaNoWriMo 50,000 word monstrosity), I started the book I’ve been working on for several years. Unless I’m mistaken, I’ve written 8-10 complete versions of this manuscript, but what I’ve learned about craft with each new version is staggering. Some of you may remember that I entered it in a contest in early 2004, in which I finaled. I shudder to think about the manuscript I entered, since it was—I now realize—nothing more than a seriously flawed first draft. Since then, I’ve gotten paid critiques at conferences, pitching sessions face-to-face with editors and agents, submitted a piece of it to a panel of editors who ripped it up in front of an audience, entered a few chapters at a time in several contests, and had input from trusted friends and fellow writers. I’ve also emailed my proposal and three chapters to several editors and agents, garnering ever more valuable rejection letters every step of the way. If you think I’m kidding about the value of a rejection letter, you haven’t seen the comps. When you’ve got ones from the old purple-ink days signed by The Staff, believe me, you’re grateful for the professionals who offer a kind word of advice for improving your submission. These days, I get the best rejections in the world. My idea of a great rejection is an email from the editor in which the word “However” does not appear until at least the beginning of the third sentence. That means the first two sentences will likely say something encouraging (or at least not depressing) about my submission, which is a very kind thing for the editor to do before she uses the H word. I’ve grown used to scanning the first few lines until the H pops off the screen. I turn to Doug and say, “Well, phooey. I just got rejected by so-and-so.” And he’ll say, “Did you read the whole thing?” And I’ll say, “Not yet. But I saw the H.” By the way, a perfectly acceptable alternative to the H is the U. Which stands, of course, for Unfortunately. If you’re hoping to get published like I am, don’t despair. Even though mimeographed slips are a relic from days gone by, you, too, will likely find your rejection letters evolving from “No, thanks. Not for us,” to something downright positive, right up until you get to the H word. I’m sure another type of letter is out there, people. One without the H word anywhere in it at all. I hope to soon let you know how it feels to get a letter like that. Posted by Katy on 02/05/08 at 02:50 AM Fallible Comments... Yep, gotta love that file of rejection letters. I swear...they are going to wallpaper one of my bathrooms with those letters some day, with my framed book cover on top! :) Posted by Bridget on 02/05/08 at 01:29 PM Bridgie, You will only need a small bathroom for the rejections. However, at least two of my author buddies have an entire wall of a large room filled with their framed book covers! Now THAT'S my idea of fine decorating!!! I'm thinking your bathroom will not be big enough. :) Posted by Katy on 02/05/08 at 01:35 PM I have five book covers framed, but so many more rejection letters that it would be too expensive to frame those too. As I progressed in my writing, I saw the same evolution as you, Katy. Form letters that had been xeroxed ad infinitum. Then the same form letters with a message scribbled across the bottom. Then personal notes. Eventually, I got that acceptance letter and WHOOPED AND HOLLERED. Here's to some whooping and hollering for you! Posted by Mary DeMuth on 02/05/08 at 04:17 PM It's an awesome feeling to have someone request a partial. I'm praying I get beyond that point very, very soon. Your post has been encouraging. Posted by Kathryn on 02/14/08 at 08:43 PM Mary--What was REALLY bad were the purple mimeographed form letters with REALLY PALE ink--I think they reserved the crummy copies for the WORST writers--ha!! Kathryn--I've enjoyed reading your comments over on Rachelle's site. Welcome here!! Requesting a partial is a great step in the right direction. Hard not to get distressed by how "baby" the steps are, but when we look back on this someday, it will all make sense..... Posted by Katy on 02/16/08 at 11:39 PM Hi Katy, This is Jason - one of those unknown writers:) I just wanted to share my personal experience in rejections affairs. What I usually do after I receive a rejection letter is not just lower my head and rush improving my writing skills elsewhere, but read the thing attentively and respond right away. It is sooo fascinating when you manage once to force them to answer :) Then I understand that my writing style and technique works and worth more than their approval. Posted by Essay Writing on 11/28/08 at 03:37 PM Right! That's the way to react I'd support Jason :) Don't stop writing whatever you got in response!...and regardless whoever from you got the letter - don't be lazy to write back! Posted by freelance writer on 12/15/08 at 07:20 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: My Favorite YouTube Ever Previous entry: Quotes To Live By << Back to main


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The Evolution Of The Rejection Letter

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri