Guest Post, Julie Matsen: Why I Hate Writing Declines

RejectedI don’t often use the word, but I hate writing rejection letters.

You’d think they’d be easy enough: Offer some constructive criticism and some words of encouragement, then hit send. Lather, rinse, repeat. On to the next in the pile.

The problem, as it often is, is the human element. It is all too easy to forget that there are people on both sides of this process.

Now, I’m not implying that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I don’t want to insinuate that an editor’s job is to smirk behind an IP address, gleefully ticking away at their keyboards while picking an essay apart in their decline letter. Nor should we cower behind prewritten rejection letters, sending email after email of the same exact words, the literary equivalent of breaking up via text message.

I read somewhere that there is a word for being a background character in someone else’s story—a name on a cardboard coffee cup, a car on the freeway, an umbrella in the rain, a whiff of perfume exiting an elevator in a crowded mall—and that such a word affects lives only tangentially, for a few seconds. I cannot recall what the word itself is, and I try to find it in online dictionaries, a hail-Mary effort to procrastinate that next rejection letter.

Whatever the word is, I hope it describes the letters I write. I hope that it ends up in a bulging email inbox, surrounded by rejections and acceptances from other magazines, from publishers, from fans. I hope that this decline letter that I have drafted and sent will be marked as read and left to rot in cyberspace.

The alternative, you see, is that what I write is important. Every decline letter could be some writer’s first, someone’s last. There is some pressure in knowing that I have a long memory of criticism from strangers, and that you probably do, too.

I read slowly and write swiftly, like ripping cooled wax from leg hair. I leave the letter alone, come back to the computer to read it one last time before hitting “Send.” The computer asks if I’m sure, and I wince.

Julie Matsen

Julie Matsen had the good fortune of interning for Superstition Review for Issues 12 and 13 as a nonfiction editor and blogger, respectively. In the spring of 2014, she graduated from Barrett, the Honors College at Arizona State University with a B.A. in English and a minor in anthropology. Now, after spending a year abroad volunteering in New Zealand, Julie is a freelance writer and editor traveling in the southwestern United States.

4 thoughts on “Guest Post, Julie Matsen: Why I Hate Writing Declines

  • January 21, 2014 at 7:20 pm
    Permalink

    Writing rejection letters can be hard, I imagine, especially if it seems the writing has potential. However, it’s great you look at the human element of it and see the good in not using prewritten rejection letters.

    Reply
  • January 28, 2014 at 9:32 pm
    Permalink

    I have received one rejection letter, and it was a form letter (email). If they’d have given me a reason, I might have made changes to my story, I suppose. Tried to make it better, but I didn’t. It’s ok, though, because then I received to acceptance letters… so I don’t wonder about what the first place thought was wrong with the story anymore.

    I was reading from Stephen King’s craft book today, and he talked about how he had a nail on his wall where he stuck all the rejection letters one on top of the other, until the nail was overflowing and he had to get a bigger one. I just deleted mine since it had no real feedback. Maybe I’ll start a folder on my computer and call it ‘nail’ where I can stash future rejection letters as they come in, assuming the sender is kind enough to offer some insight as you do!

    Reply
    • January 30, 2014 at 12:58 pm
      Permalink

      My last writing teacher talked about a shoe box he kept full of rejection letters. This day in age I just keep a folder in my gmail, titled Rejected. Though I like your idea of renaming it “nail”.

      Thanks for reading!

      Reply

Leave a Reply