Our Very Own New Yorker Addicts Preferred

Here's an argument for how it's all about who you know. The New Yorker will hire its very own internal cocaine junkies, thank you very much.

Lady Wants Her New Yorker Rejection on Time!

Cynthia Ozick told the New Yorker where to get off in 1962. Years later she became a regular contributor the magazine. Coincidence? Who's to say?

                                                                                   January 5, 1962
Gentlemen:

For a number of years now I have been sending you poems, and until very recently I have always found you entirely reliable. Exactly seven days after each new poem has been dropped into the mail, it has come punctually home, accompanied by that little rejection slip of yours marked with the number 1 in the left-hand bottom corner. (You know the one.) You have, as I say, been altogether faithful and dependable. For example, it is never six days, it is certainly never eight or nine days. It is always seven days to the minute, and your conscientious devotion to precision all these years has been matched, to my knowledge, only by the butcher's deliver-boy, whose appearance is also predicated on a seven-day cycle.

This time, however, you have failed me. A poem of mine, entitled "An Urgent Exhortation to His Admirers and Dignifiers: Being the Transcript of an Address Before the Mark Twain Association by Samuel Clemens, Shade," reached you on December 18, 1961, and, though eighteen days have already passed, a daily inspection of my letterbox yields nothing. I have enough confidence in your hitherto clean record of never considering anything I have submitted not to be tempted into the unworthy suspicion that the delay is actually caused by your liking this poem. What has been shattered, I must admit, is my sense of serenity, of certitude, nay, of security — not to mention my sense of rhythm. Does this mean you can no longer be relied on to conform to the seven-day schedule you have consistently adhered to in the past? In short, is the Age of Doubt truly upon us? O tempora!

Or (but I venture this with a cheery hopefulness I do not dare to feel) is it only that you have finally gone and lost my manuscript? I realize I am probably being too sanguine in putting forth this rosy possibility, but I guess I am just basically an optimistic sort. Please reassure me that this, rather than some flaw in your clockworks (even to contemplate which disillusions me hideously), is the real nature of the difficulty.

I expect your answer in seven days.

*Courtesy: The New Yorker and the World It Made by Ben Yagoda (Scribner, 2000)

Rare Specimen: A New Yorker Acceptance

I love Ann Beattie stories. I taught them once in Freshman English in the 1990s. Here is an acceptance she got after 13 straight rejections over the course of 21 months*:

                                                                                     November 1973       

Dear Ann Beattie:

Oh, joy...
Yes, we are taking A PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP, and I think this is just about the best news of the year. Maybe it isn't the best news for you, but there is nothing that gives me more pleasure (well, almost nothing) than at last sending an enthusiastic yes to a writer who has persisted through as many rejections and rebuffs as you have. It's a fine story, I think — original, strong, and true.

Roger Angell
Editor,
The New Yorker

*Courtesy: The New Yorker and the World It Made by Ben Yagoda (Scribner, 2000)

Ann Beattie: New Yorker Rejections

According to Ben Yagoda's book, The New Yorker and the World It Made (Scribner, 2000), editor Robert Angell wrote several encouraging rejections to help develop Anne Beattie. Such as:

"These little slices and moments are often surprisingly effective, but the story itself seems to get away from you as it goes along. It seems possible that there is more form than substance here, but perhaps that is unfair. What I most admire is your wit and quickness and self-assurance. I hope you will let us see more of your work, and that you will address your future submissions directly to me." 

Though he did occasionally get frustrated with her, but only mildly so:

"I wish you would try a very quiet and modest story — one that relies on no devices and is content merely to bring us to its discoveries. But whatever you do write, please continue to send it to us." 

New Yorker Rejection: So Sad, Not That We Don't Like Sad, Just...Well, No

Here's one from the New Yorker archives of confusing rejections*:

Dear Mr. Irwin Shaw:

We have a feeling in general that a story so ambitious, so sad, of such generally dismal setting, hardly has a place in a more or less cheerful or humorous magazine. We think, however, that you write with considerable distinction and we want you to do more at once and send them all to us.

I did not mean to indicate above that we do not publish stories of tragedy, but that we are perhaps more demanding and critical in such cases than we are in our lighter moments. After all, I suppose that it is perfectly justifiable, and that the grimmer aspects of life require more delicate handling than the more comic.

John Mosher
Editor
The New Yorker, 1935

*Courtesy: The New Yorker and the World It Made by Ben Yagoda (Scribner, 2000)

Nearly Robots...My New Fav

Here's a funny New Yorker rejection parody, but this time not published in the New Yorker.

Guess Who's Parodying Rejections Now?

Well, this sure is something, a few years old (and R.I.P., Mr. Rakoff), but still....it's kind of a pot-calling-the-kettle situation.

Um..Yeah, I Would Call Your Rejection Officious

You would be correct in thinking that Jerry is J.D. Salinger and that this is a rejection from the New Yorker.  Click the image to read it.  It's really something. My favorite line from Mr. G.S. Lobrano: "Another point: we can't help feeling that this story is too ingenious and ingrown."  Seriously, shut the front door.

A New Digital New Yorker Rejection is in Play

I received the following notice from an LROD reader, who received a new (signed) New Yorker digital rejection that varies from our last digital report:

I have received the standard rejection reply from the New Yorker magazine many times. This last however was different.

Dear (my name): We are grateful for the opportunity to read and consider your new work. We are very much regret that we are unable to carry it in the magazine. We do, however look forward to reading more when the time comes. Sincerely, Paul Muldoon (poetry editor) and Elizabeth Denison (poetry coordinator)

What does this mean? I'm not obtuse. Maybe paranoid. Does anyone think this is positive or a tiered response or "here's a nice way to reject your work so that you don't go postal on our offices?" 

A Ki-Ki Rejection from the New Yorker

Well, well, well, and hubba hubba! Someone we know--well, actually it's someone we "know," meaning a person who reads this blog--received a personalized e-rejection from the New Yorker and sent it in for posting.  It looks like this:

We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. The first pages are strong and very funny. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider it. Sincerely, The Editors

Makes you wonder how the second pages were, doesn't it?

Look Who's Gone Digital!

From: Fiction, TNY_Fiction@advancemags.com   

Date: Tue, Nov 29, 2011  

Subject: Re: via contact us form 

To: LROD_reader@rejection.com

We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank youfor giving us the opportunity to consider it. 

Sincerely,
The Editors

Inspiring!

An inspiring story from the editor of Anderbo:

I started writing my first short story, "Boys Who Do the Bop" in 1976 (I was born in 1950). I finished writing it in 1982 and promptly submitted it to The New Yorker -- and it was rejected. Over the next six years I submitted it to publications large and tiny (including two re-submissions to The New Yorker) but nothing but rejections came back. I wrote no other stories, just kept sending out "Boys Who Do the Bop". Then, in the spring of 1988, the story was finally accepted -- by The New Yorker! (By this time I was 37 1/2). Rick Rofihe, Publisher & Editor-in-Chief, anderbo.com

He also included his new revised rejection letter, complete with handy resource links:

Anderbo.com is an all-volunteer organization. We are able to use less than 1/2 of 1% of what comes in; most submissions receive a response within 6 to 96 hours.

Effective August 1st, 2011: Due to the increasing number of submissions we are receiving, we cannot consider more than one submission from any individual in a 3-month period. Other literary sites of interest:

http://newpages.com/literary-magazines/
http://www.pw.org/literary_magazines?apage=*
http://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~lcrew/pbonline.html
http://www.duotrope.com/listallmarkets.aspx
http://litlist.net/online_journals
http://www.litmags.org/list.php

Elsewhere

Though your manuscript has not found a place with The Atlantic, we thank you for the chance to consider it. Best of luck placing it elsewhere. The Editors

Wrote the mouse who received the above rejection:

"I am really starting to hate this whole "best luck placing it elsewhere" thing. It's like one of those terrible breakups where they REALLY HOPE you meet someone...who really deserves you." 

Personally I don't try for The Atlantic anymore. I think of it as one of those dreams that the world quickly rips from your heart, replacing it with something more realistic, like war and poverty.  It's probably true that I have about as negative a chance of getting in The Atlantic as in the You-Know-Where.

Some Editor's Child Sent This One

Everyone just keeps getting younger and younger. (Sigh.)

Speaking of New Yorker Rejections

This would be refreshing, but I don't think it's real. The New Yorker editors are too genteel for such crude language, right?

Because We're So Warm and Fuzzy

This really cracked me up. Who said the editors at the famed magazine were a bunch of cold-hearted douches? Best regards to you too, esteemed sirs and madams. Best regard to you.

Gender Dysphoria, For Realz!

So, let's just say you get that novel published. Ever wonder what the odds are of getting it reviewed, or for getting a phone call from editors at the New Yorker, Atlantic Monthly, or the Times Literary Review asking you to write an article in their esteemed pages? It appears to be much more likely to happen if you are a man.  (Third-gendered persons like myself were not included in the study).  Very interesting article with stunning graphic data; you should def check it out.

The New Yorker Admires You

Hold the presses! There's been a change in the old gaurd. New New Yorker Rejection language has been spotted in the field. A loyal LROD mouse sent this in:

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider your work. Much as we admire it, we regret that we are unable to carry it in the magazine. Warmest regards, The Editors

Almost Good Enough

So, this is what a non-form New Yorker rejection looks like.  Nice.

Not Quite Right For Junior High

Found this online. Is it me -- or are the editor's handwritten notes appearing in a younger and younger hand?  This is, like, 8th grade.