Please forgive me for returning your work and for not offering comments or suggestions. I would like to say something to make up for my ungraciousness, but I don't think a few quick remarks would really help. The truth is I have so little space, I must return almost everything -- 99% -- of what's sent to me, including a lot that interests me and even some pieces I admire. (Also, I make mistakes; my taste is erratic, my judgment flawed.)
The important thing is this: Do not be discouraged by this or any other momentary setback. The road is long; the struggle must go on.
Then, too, the ways of the Muse are strange. When she does visit again, I hope you will give her my best regards.
Keep the faith.
When I am feeling cynical, I feel this letter is insincere, but just now as I was typing it in, I thought it seemed kind of nice. Maybe I've given the old Junk Man too much grief. It's not his fault that he only has a few pages an issue for publishing great work--or that my Muse is indeed quite strange-acting and looks like an ugly dog named Rodolfo (see photo above). I should really give the guy a break; he even posted about rejection on his blog this week.
(Also just wondering: What does your strange Muse look like?)