It Was the Worst of Times. It was the Worst of Times.

Here's an interesting little ditty from GalleyCat about why not to pitch your book, bug your agent, approach your editor, or basically breathe in publishing this week.  Hmm....very interesting, Dr. Lockhart!

Passing The Time

There has been some apt suggestions in the posts lately that I'm wasting my time waiting for Agent 99. In previous years, I would have agreed and become antsy, but my new philosophical and Zen self thinks that things are how they are supposed to be. (Believe me I am plenty antsy, just not going to do anything about it.) Call it too much yoga. Call it a life of dysfunction and denial that has served me well. Besides, I have yet to have the experience where I actually have any control over these matters. Can I make her read it any faster? No. Can I pressure and be a dick about it? Sure, but I'm not much of a dick so that doesn't interest me. Can I send it elsewhere? Oh, please. What's the point? I finally found someone who loves this book, and if she's a little slow, so be it. Maybe that seems passive and lame, and maybe it is. I'm working on faith here, people. I've got to let it unravel on its own.  In the past, my attempts to hurry things along have been futile, frustrating, and sometimes detrimental to my own purpose. In other words, I only tend to fuck things up.  So, I'm sitting back and working on my paid work, and writing a memoir that tries to unravel the mystery about why I was disinherited. Interesting topic: Did you know that the U.S. is the only country where disinheriting a child is even possible--legally and morally. In most other cultures, it's considered a moral outrage. King Lear, anyone? So, that's what I've got on this Friday of Labor Day. I think I'll just wait it out and do whatever I need to do to get by. It's kind of like recovering from heartbreak: it doesn't really matter what you do to fill up the time, as long as the time passes.  That's the key to it.  Eventually, something else happens.

Here Comes the Sun

So many words for one little standard rejection:

Thanks for sending us your submission. We're sorry to say that it's not right for The Sun.This isn't a reflection on your writing. We pick perhaps one out of a hundred submissions, and the selection process is highly subjective, something of a mystery even to us. There's no telling what we'll fall in love with, what we'll let get away. We rarely respond personally to submissions, as the number of manuscripts we receive makes this difficult. We're aware that writing is hard work, and that writers deserve some acknowledgment. A form letter doesn't speak to that need. Please know, however, that we've read your work and appreciate your interest in the magazine. We wish you the best in placing your work elsewhere. The Editors P.S. We've returned your work if sufficient postage was included. If not, we assumed we could recycle it.

Glad they recycle.

It's My Birthday today

Wouldn't it be great if Agent 99 wrote me today to say that she loves my novel rewrite and wants to send the manuscript out to publishers next week for a fresh, crisp start to September? That would be my birthday wish. That, or world peace. Or maybe just a simple hope that everyone out there from the Eastern parts of the U.S. did okay in that hurricane. I don't know. I lose perspective sometimes. Maybe it doesn't matter so much if the thing gets published in my life time. Maybe the sheer fact of writing it is good enough. One thing's for sure: This writing life is testing my patience.

Form Letters that Raise Hopes (For A Little While)

 Dear -------, Thank you for sending your manuscript "XXXXXX," number ---- to us here at Crazyhorse via the online submission manager. Ultimately, the manuscript was not selected for publication, but we want you to know that we very much enjoyed reading your work. The manuscript was one of the best we've read recently. It was difficult to say no. We hope you will send us another manuscript to consider soon. Since we enjoyed this one, we hope to read more and to give your next manuscript our highest consideration. Yours, The Editors

[Comment by the receiver of this rejection: "I'm thick-skinned, but this one that was emailed on Saturday really got to me. I'm still at the stage of my career where I judge my successes by the quality of my failures-- and this was really just so unbelievable. When I first saw it, and for a half hour thereafter, I felt elated. And then I just got depressed. I couldn't write for maybe twelve hours. I just kept berating myself-- which is silly, no?-- but when you're butting your head against a brick wall, it's your head that suffers most."]

Viewer Call-In Question Time

Someone commenting on the blog wants to know:

Are you guys submitting your stories with cover letters? I never do unless it is explicitly asked for, but I wonder how many more acceptances (or nice rejections) I might get if I mentioned 3 little letters. Le sigh.

Answers, anybody?

'Nough Said

But is it real? Backstory says yes.

So, No Problem Then...

Hey, did you hear that the book industry is alive and kicking? Speaking of yesterday's Atlantic rejection, there's this recent article in said magazine that quotes a study that:

"...the publishing industry is healthy and growing during a time of unprecedented change... Publishers in every sector of our business have made significant investments in content and technology to better serve their audiences' needs and those efforts seem to correlate with the results we're seeing."

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.

Revise for Us!

I regret that these structural flaws prevent us from making an offer on [Title]. However, if you are willing to revise the manuscript, we would be interested in taking another look at it.

It's always tricky to know when to revise for someone. These people don't even tell you what they want, so that's either good or bad.  Not sure which is better.  The question is always whether or not to go down this path.  It's hard to remain confident after getting a note like this, but I always send it out to many places before taking it back and thinking long and hard about what to do next.  Sometimes, a revision is called for.  Other times you stick to your guns.

Funny, I'm Always Thinking of Opium

Thank you for sending us "Title of Story." Sorry to disappoint--as we really enjoyed this piece--but we didn't feel it was quite right for Opium Magazine. Do send us your next, best work. Thanks for thinking of Opium, (Editors)

Your next, best? Why yes, by all means, do.
BTW, headquarters location is in Brooklyn.
The very, very formal part of Brooklyn.

200 Pages Once A Year....But Not Yours

Ah, college students. How innocent they are. Founding a literary journal at the University of Tennessee and learning to reject at an early age:

Thank you for sending your manuscript to us at Grist via the online submission manager. After careful consideration, we regret that this submission does not meet the editorial needs of the journal at this time. We do hope you will send to us again in the future as we could not publish Grist without the many quality submissions we receive. Although we would like to send an individual response to everyone, the number of manuscripts we receive makes it difficult for editors to respond personally to each submission. Please know that we are devoted to giving each submission to Grist at least three reads and an editor personally reads each submission. We do appreciate your interest in Grist, and the opportunity to consider your work. Thank your for supporting our journal with your writing, reading, and subscribing. Sincerely,____________________.

A Literary Journal For the Mostly Alive

Oy...No kidding that you're killing me:

Hello [Name]: Thank you for considering kill author for your work. Having read "[story]," though there's an interesting idea at the center of the piece, we unfortunately don't think the story as a whole is quite suited to our journal, so we're going to pass on it. We wish you the best of luck with placing this work elsewhere. Do feel free to submit material to us again in the future if you think you have something suitable. Best, kill author

Ploughshares Redux

Let's do a mini retrospective on the esteemed journal. Compare this one to some of the other rejections from Ploughshares through the years:

We regret that your manuscript does not fit our current editorial needs, but we appreciated the opportunity to consider your work. Thanks very much for submitting. Sincerely, The Editors of Ploughshares

zzzzz....huh? Oh, sorry. Anyway, happy weekend, people.

Or They Might Simply Blow Up Your Manuscript

Here's some interesting rejection news from the Left Coast. The article title itself is a riot: Police Explode Briefcase Left for Literary Agent. What do you do when your agent sends your manuscript package to the police who explode it for safety reasons? My favorite line in the article is a quote from the agent: "This guy’s been kind of pestering me to read his stuff." The agent noted that he neither asked for nor wanted the briefcase. (Note to self: Don't pester agent.)