Gertrude: Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Publishers. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble writings in the New York Times bestsellers list. Thou know'st 'tis common. All that write must edit, Passing through Rejection Letters to eternity.

Hamlet: Ay, madam, it is common.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oS1NOXWVWgo

Whilst I completely understand how busy are the editors of literary journals, particularly the very tiny ones, I always so very much appreciate when the better editors take the time to write a note on the standard rejection slip. It might say 'loved this story but the ending isn't as tight as it could be', or 'we found this very appealing but it's too long for us'. Or sometimes just a simple handwritten 'Nigel' up the top to show that this is a human-to-human exchange. It really is the little things.

Well, we may not give a whole piece of A4, but we at Meanjin would certainly never go about dumping anyone via text.

Cheers for a Friday morning laugh Hackpacker.

I realise that "rejection of a rejection letter" is 'satirical', but oh boy. Don't actually send one of those to an editor unless you're okay with never, ever getting published.

Mel, I think you may have a point!

Very funny and some worthwhile advice.

The line about personalising a rejection letter to help the ego of writers is interesting - I think Hackpacker is being kind by labelling writers of all degrees of professionalism as "writers" (thanks HP). However, for the aspsiring writer still in the early stages of actually getting published, I wouldn't say it's yet about ego. Submission for me is a terrifying experience and receiving an impersonal note several months after the fact can leave me stupefied. Personalising rejection gives hope.

Of course, it isn't the journal's role to tell writers whether they think they should keep at it or not. It does not have to be a detailed response about the submission - just something. I think Nigel summed this up well.

The keep-it-moving-buddy type of rejection, however, does make that letter of acceptance oh so sweet.

First let me say that the rejection letters I have received from Meanjin have been amongst the better ones. No, really! I am not just crawling.

I agree with what everyone has said about a little bit of personalised comment helping to buffer the blow. The fact that the editor has gone to that trouble suggests that they do not regard you as a total waste of their time, that they saw at least some potential in your offering. But the other trap is when they say something but it is either so cryptic that it can do you no good at all (so why did they bother? - an example I had of this is when an editor said that he was rejecting my poems because of the line endings but failed to tell me what it was about the line endings that he did not like, so I was left none the wiser), or it is just stupid - either it is peddling a particular literary aesthetics that you do not share, and protraying this aesthetics as THE ONLY AND UNIVERSALL CORRECT way to write, or the editor just gives you advice that makes you wonder how they got their job. In this last scenario, you might seriously think about what they have said (after you have stopped laughing at its absurdity), and try to imagine what they meant to convey. But if you know (or think you know - who can tell which is which?) just a bit about writing, enough to know that the advice they have just given you is BAD and STUPID advice, then you are left shaking your head and wondering why you would wish to subject your work to the judgement of idiots. (Thinking this may help bolster your own wounded ego, too.) I think that the problem may be one of communication. It takes a particular writing skill to respond to submissions in a helpful and intelligent way, and editors are usually chosen for their achievements as writers and not because they possess this skill. I am sure it is not a skill that many possess naturally, so perhaps we ought to be more understanding when some do a poor job of it.

The counter rejection letter is definitely a gag and should not be treated as anything other. A commenter over at my blog did pass on this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oS1NOXWVWgo which you could send as a 'joke link', Mel.

Jeff, I agree with your comments about giving feedback being a skill that not all editors possess. It's a rare treat when you experience it as a writer. The best rejection letter I ever got was from the team at Harvest Magazine. It was obvious they'd taken the time not only to read the story but to think about it. The feedback they gave was detailed and insightful, and more importantly, it gave me motivation to rework. Their encouragement was really important to me at a time when I was doubting myself. The worst rejection letter I ever got was from an o/s magazine I won't name, but it was a one liner: 'Unfortunately we have no use for your story in our publication.' Huh!

Thanks for your response Anne. I have found Harvest good to deal with too.

I wonder whether the annoyance I sometimes feel at some rejection letters is sheer bitterness. Well, it definitely is bitterness, but perhaps not sheer bitterness.

I can even get annoyed at a rejection letter that simply says, 'We cannot accept your piece for publication." What annoys me is that it is untrue, and so plainly untrue that the author of the statement ought to have realised that it was a faslehood, in which case they have deliberately lied to me. It is untrue because they could, of course, have accepted my piece, had they wished to. The reason that they have not is that they chose not to, not because of any incapability or impossibility.

Of course, language of this kind in part reflects a humane wish to soften the blow. By using such distancing and objectifying language, the author hopes to minimise the offence. I suspect, though, that it may also be a gesture intended to deflect responsibilty for the decision away from the editor, which seems to me rather contemptible. I cannot help but think that someone who is in the position of judging other people's writing ought to have the literary skills and intellectual acuity to express themselves diplomatically while remaining consistent with the facts. "I am sorry, but we have not chosen your piece for inclusion" would be sufficient as far as I am concerned, and far preferable to any variety of euphamism or doublespeak.