Rejection Contest Winners

The results of the Rejection Templates Revisited Contest have been tallied by an independent panel of rejection experts who stopped bellyaching and whining long enough to hand down a decision.

First Place goes to:

J. Brisbin said...
Dear Writer:This is going to hurt me a lot more than it's going to hurt you. I realize you worked really hard on this and probably poured your soul out into it, but the accountants say your book won't sell. Accountants actually run things in this day-and-age, and let me tell you, after that whole Enron thing, they're all a little edgy. You do NOT want to piss off an accountant these days. In order to let you down easy (and to avoid possibly getting hate mail every week for the next year and a half), I'll close by telling you that another agent might jump at the chance to represent you, yadda, yadda. It's completely untrue, of course, but you creative types are so emotionally unstable that I can't risk a lawsuit by telling you what I really think and having you run out and rob a bank with tree limbs duct-taped to your body like that guy did not too long ago and then blame it all on me telling you the God's-honest truth about the steaming pile of hooey you so carefully packaged and sent to us. Have a great day! Hope you make manager at McDonald's soon!

Second Place goes to:

The Quoibler said...
Dear Writer: My hands tremble as I write this missive by candlelight. Outside, the snow falls silently, interrupted only by the gunshots snuffing out the lives of my colleagues. The guards pace... one, two... their boots crunch. Do they know what I'm telling you? Will I be next? I shouldn't be writing. It's not allowed. Not like this. But your manuscript--I weep as I frantically scribble--was just too perfect. I read it twice before they took it from me like a babe removed from the bosom of its mother. I ran after the beasts, spitting at their ignorance as they dropped the package into the flames, laughing. The butt of a rifle met my belly and then all when dark. When I awoke, I was here in my cell, beaten but not defeated. I found this scrap of paper. I am weak from hunger and thirst as I scrawl in my own blood; still, it's important I make contact with you:Your work was outstanding. Really and truly. But I am not allowed to work with you for reasons you must never try to discover. Yes, Writer. You are among the best. I wish you great success and... dear God... are they back?... I hear the thud... the keys jangling... avenge me! The Editor

Third Place goes to:

aj said...
Dear Writer: It's not you. It's me. Sincerely, Gloria Loomis

*****And honorable mention for getting the joke to Editor, Advising who said: "Wow. If I thought you were serious with those template ideas, I would have a lot to say about them."