All writers know what it feels like to be dumped. Sorry, did I say dumped? I meant to say rejected. The feelings are quite similar and it can be easy to confuse the two. When submitting, I court the journal like a lover. I get to know it and its candid style. I’m interested in its childhood and awkward adolescence. I admire its stealth lines and the wonderful way in which it arranges it archives. It’s a polyamorous relationship and I have many lovers/journals that hold a place in my heart. They do not, sadly, always return my affection and the numbers on my Gmail inbox often signal that the journal has returned my work like it was a cheap bunch of petrol station flowers. (I have a special purple folder for rejection letters.)
That might seem exaggerated, but that is what it feels like, especially after a rough day. Rejection gets easier over time. I’ve learnt a lot.
1. Rejection is not personal
Even if it is the briefest of form rejections, it’s not personal. Perhaps, indeed, your work isn’t suitable for a journal’s aesthetic. Perhaps, they have filled their quota. Form rejections do not mean that your work is bad.
2. There is an opportunity in every rejection
I feel that acceptence equals finished. Until it a pice of work has a reader, I feel that I cannot draw a line underneath it, like a wonderful cake, that just needs to be iced. Actually, it’s more like a wonderful cake that has yet to be eaten. Though I always polish my pieces before submissions, the days, weeks, months or years that they spend in the hands of the editors is a cooling off period and in that time, I won’t look at them. Rejected pieces come back fresh, if slightly tainted, and I have the opportunity to tweak them before re-submitting them elsewhere. Or if they are a well-baked, well risen, well iced cake, I’ll stand by them unchanged and send them on.
3. Relish the non-rejection rejections
Some rejections are better than others. A recent poem of mine was described as having “sparkle” (and then rejected). Though a piece of flash-fiction was rejected for a journal, the editors requested more of my work. It’s the difference between being dumped by a text message and lovers decided on a mutual parting over a bottle of wine, rehashing old memories. (Apart from the fact that one lover is holding all the cards.) Cherish the non-rejection rejections, they are a lot less traumatic.
4. Be Polite and Professional
The internet is full of horror stories of disgruntled writers sending hate mail full of profanity and abuse to editors who have rejected their work. I relish stories like these, in the same way that people guiltily watch the Jerry Springer show. Even though a person watches the Jerry Springer show, they would never wish to partake in it. Don’t be the bitter writer with the chip on your shoulder, calling people idiots because they do not recognise your genius. It’s juvenile. Remember that editors are humans too. And that the internet has a very, very long memory.
5. Have self-respect
A couple of years ago I received a rejection that was so disheartening that I didn’t write for a long time following it. (Very dramatic, but I was young and possibly overtly sensitive.) My name was spelt incorrectly and the mail was full of grammatical errors and poor syntax. I won’t send them any more of my work, no matter how bad or good it is, nor will I buy the journal. (Sad because I really liked it.) Editors are also obliged to writers to be polite, courteous and professional, and that email wasn’t. I wouldn’t send them such sloppy work, so they shouldn’t send such sloppy responses.
6. Know your journal
Lessen the chances of rejection by sending your work to the right places. All journals request good work, but what good is, is a very subjective matter. If possible read the journal, but before parting with your cold money for a tepid journal, do internet research. It’s a lot easier with online journals, though there are ways to grasp an overview of a print journal before you subscribe. Duotrope has a great collection of interviews with editors that give a better insight into what they want, beyond “good”, but there are plenty of other great resources that give insight into the styles and aesthetics of literary journals, such as The Review Review, NewPages.com and Poets & Writers. All provide reviews and descriptions and often the critiques of the writers that have already appeared on their pages are the best way to decide whether, or not, your work would fit alongside them.
7. Follow submission guidelines
I once read an interview with an editor who described submissions guidelines as an IQ test for writers. I don’t really have to say much more than that.
(All images are by Katie Holten from her marvellous street art exhibition On the Nature of Things that is brightening up the dreary city of Dublin. You can find more of her work here.)
