An unfortune reality of submitting your work to be considered is that you’re going to hear ‘no’ a lot. And I mean a lot. I’ve submitted to dozens of places over the last few years and have gotten three yeses, which I’m very proud of. I’m now very unfazed by rejection letters, unless it was something particular I was really excited about. For a while, I’ve been saving them for… some reason. I didn’t know why, it’s not like I get anything from them. They were just sitting in my inbox.

I’ve gotten some weird ones over the years. I’ve gotten plenty of “Sorry, please submit again!” type letters, and some that tend to go on and on about submissions and the process and how one rejection doesn’t diminish the work of the author. They can feel, I don’t know, pandering? Almost infantilizing? I understand that a copy and paste rejection letter has to go to people of all levels. Someone getting their first rejection may be bolstered to hear that there is still a place for their work. But for someone like me, who pumps out a lot of submissions, it can get old.

So what better thing to do than break down 10 of my most recent rejection emails to see what I do and don’t like about them? Then maybe I can craft my perfection version of a rejection.

All identifying information has been redacted to provide anonymity to the submitted location. My own titles and project info have also been blacked out due to current in-progress projects and confidentiality I want to keep currently. Any pertinent context will be given. Without further adieu, here are 10 rejection letters ranked and scrutinized, on a scale from 1-10. 10 being a great rejection, 1 being the worst.

Number One:

9/10

This one is to the point and exact. I like that they emphasis that the poems weren’t right for this issue, and that they’re glad I was interested in submitting. Nice and standard.

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Number Two:

7/10

I kinda hate when submissions really try to let me know that a rejection doesn’t equal bad work. Maybe this is good to hear if you’re new to submitting, but it gets old after a while. I know that there will be many rejections, and I know that my work will find a home somewhere.

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Number Three

6/10

This one feels a little too impersonal? It’s fine, I’d rather it be brief than flowery, but I think this one is a smidge too curt for my taste.

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Number Four:

5/10

This one feels pandering to me. Is that just a me opinion? Maybe. Once again, I think brief is usually better. Being told that my submission was handled with care doesn’t really make me feel better, and there is also no way to prove this without feedback. Not that I’m expecting feedback, but I don’t need coddled. And once again, I know a rejection does not make me a bad writer.

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Number Five:

4/10

This one reads very similarly to number four. But this one is worded a bit worse? Once again, I know that my worth is more than just one appraisal. I don’t feel declined as an author because one journal said no. I get that it’s hard to tell people no, but I also think it’s weird to try and ego boost people in such a manner.

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Number Six:

4/10

I like my letters to come with distance! I am not friends with the publishers. If we’re all writers here, can we accept that I understand this unfortunate but real aspect of it? And I never doubted the belief in literature just because I was rejected, though I can appreciate the acknowledgement. My ego is not so easily wounded.

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Number Seven:

6/10

I don’t need to know how many submissions were rejected. I understand that my work is of a good quality, but maybe not the best of the best. And once again, I have no way of confirming how much deliberation went into my submission. But encouraging to submit further is a good way to end. That’s how we turn rejections into successes, after all.

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Number Eight:

5/10

I feel a little repetitive here, but hearing how great and numerous and excellent a batch of work is doesn’t really do much for me? Could be more pandering I guess, but still feels like it’s trying too hard.

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Number Nine:

1/10

What does this mean??? Honestly, I was so baffled by this email that I didn’t even mind the rejection. What the hell does ‘transmitting excellence’ mean? What do they mean by ‘complete it’ and ‘push the button’? Isn’t that what I already did by submitting? And did you not just consider it? Baffling, has a typo, insane.

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Number Ten:

-10/10

This letter is so dense!

And my name is not Stephen!

It hit basically all of my pet peeves. Acknowledging little resources and too many submissions. Submit again/elsewhere. Subscribe to their newsletter? A discount code to their store to ‘soften the rejection’? What a wild thing to include when all I did was send a few poems just to hit my submission quota. I wish I could be up to date and a follower and supporter of every place I submit to, but it’s not reasonable when you’re just throwing spaghetti at a wall to see what sticks. And to be called Stephen on top of it? Insane. Unforgettable. My favorite rejection letter.

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Not all rejections are made equal. Clearly. But what makes a good one stand out from a bad one? Here are a few key things that I think makes a rejection letter good:

• Calling the person by the right name. This may seem obvious, but apparently, it’s not. I understand most letters are copy and pasted, but the attention to detail is important.
• Be coherent. Don’t be super poetic or vague to soften the blow. Don’t say BS like ‘transmitting excellence’, or have typos. It should be clear and to the point.
• Reminders to resubmit. Bonus points if a ‘when’ is provided. Knowing when the next submission period is open makes me more likely to try again. And I don’t need to be told my work wasn’t a good fit this time around if you’re already telling me to try again.
• Keep it brief. I don’t need to be coddled or given a whole essay about the reality of submitting my work. Most submitters aren’t first timers. And first timers learn quickly how to handle the rejections that come with the job. Be professional and keep it short!
• Don’t ask for followers or purchases. I just got rejected. I’m not in the mood to subscribe to a newsletter to see the work that was better than mine. Maybe some people like to do this, but I’m sure they can figure out how to subscribe. If you want to make it easy, include your website when you sign off. But don’t ask me to buy some merch.

If I seem a little harsh with my rankings, I’m probably a touch jaded. I’m very used to rejection letters, but no one likes to get them. And I’m fortunate enough that I have some acceptance letters in my mix! I have three places where my work can be found, and it’s been such a boon to my motivation.

For those of you who are in the trenches, keep going. Use sites like Submittable, Chill Subs, and Subfolio to find new places. Follow creative writing social media pages that share contests. See if there are any local papers, like Tumbleweird, in your area. Start small and makes some zines to share/sell in small stores. It takes quite a lot of effort, but seeing your name in print/online is an unforgettable feeling.

You’ve got this, fellow writers! And to my readers who aren’t in the submitting sphere, show appreciation to the writers around you who get stuff accepted. More goes on behind the scenes than you think.

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