Secrets of the Editing Trade, Part 1: The Rejection Slip

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If the subscription list of this magazine approximated the yearly inflow of manuscripts – the editors would hire a long string of assistants, have cut flowers replenished daily on their desks, and be less harassed generally.  Even then, however, the impossibility of answering personally each letter that reaches the office would be equally manifest.  What is one to do about such a condition?

Those sentences were not written by any living editor of a literary magazine, nor ever blogged (except by me), but were written by Alice Corbin Henderson and published in Poetry – way back in July 1916.  You can read the whole piece here.  I’ve been noticing the theme of rejection that runs through some of the comments on my posts here this week, and thought I'd address them briefly before I melt away.  (I call this "Secrets of the Editing Trade, Part 1," but will probably only have time for a part 2.  There aren't really any secrets, despite what people seem to imagine.)

I guess the first thing to mention is that both Chris Wiman and I are writers who get rejections all the time just like everyone else.  This is true of most of the folks who read submissions at magazines and websites that publish poetry.  In fact, the only time I'd ever been in contact with Chris before I came to work at Poetry was via a rejection letter from him sent not long before I came!  And I speak to you as one of those recent Paris Review de-acceptancees.  No need to feel sorry for me, but I'm just sayin'...

Is this a tired subject?  Probably not.  Lots has been written about it already, though there's little need to state the obvious.   But it remains an important subject for most of us – it's not going to go away; heck, there’s even a whole Rejection Wiki these days.   Well, of all that's been written on the subject, I recommend Ada Limón’s  “Response Burger: A Story of Rejection.”   It’s heartening to see Ada’s strong and salutary response to her having received those mortifying rejection slips we all get: “I really believe that all those rejections made me better.” 

Understandably, not everyone feels that way.

For those who haven’t “made friends” with their rejections as Ada has done, it’s worth noting that Henderson’s piece is not a complaint.  Like all of Poetry‘s editors from Harriet Monroe on, Alice was grateful to those who take the time and trouble to send their work, without which the magazine would simply not exist.  Instead – and as are the present editors and Harriet herself – Alice was a poet too, and well understood the experience of rejection as “brutal and dispiriting.”  But, she asked, what sort of rejection would not be those things?

What she offered in solace to those whose work was turned away was the assurance that “All the verse that has come into this office up-to date has been read by the editors.” Despite the large number of submissions we get (about which I remarked earlier in the week) and the small number of staff here at the magazine, every submission is read with care and respect by the people on the masthead.  Our Consulting Editor, the poet Christina Pugh, and I, between us, read everything that comes in (as it happens we have no interns or students), and compose written comments on submissions that I then discuss back and forth for many days at a time with Chris.

I don't know how things will be under the next editor, but these past few years Chris Wiman and I have gone back and forth about submissions in what has become a continuous, illuminating, and humbling conversation.  I have never ever heard the world "slush" used here.  Our names go on the thing, so we take it very seriously.  And we all know we can be as wrong as Col. Higginson was in our judgments.  When we find work to accept, we feel real pleasure, knowing what publication means for a poet; when we turn things away, we both know how it feels, and we sincerely hope everyone will keep trying us, entrusting us, with their work.

Henderson put it memorably all those years ago:

“The poet knows that he is a genius; and the editor still hopes to discover that he is in each manuscript examined.  The editor has a hundred sorrows for the poet’s one.  The poet may swear at the editor, and rather adds to his dignity in doing so; but the editor, in addressing the poet, has to assume the polite demeanor of the dancing master.”

So, let’s dance, shall we?  It’s our share of what Ada nicely calls “the necessary work.”

Coda: A word about the photo above.  To celebrate his 15th poem in Poetry magazine, appearing earlier this year, it was taken by Todd Boss and posted on Facebook with the caption:

“12 rejections before they ever took one. Don’t give up, friends. Never give up.”

 

-- Don Share

Comments

[Des Swords]

I imagine Laura and Leslie's experience of regular rejection is the norm for most poets.

During the two years 2003-5 when I made a concerted effort at sending poems out to small magazines the acceptance rate was roughly 50/50.

I'd been writing for two and a half years before I had anything I was confident about and I think being in an academic environment when I started submitting helped me experience the process fairly detached because by that time I'd had a couple of years learning in the perfect positive place.

What I found very enlightening were the notes, however short, that came with both acceptances and rejections, because they offered a glimpse into the mindset and self-image of a range of editors I submitted to.

Some would be very gracious rejecting and others accepting would come across snotty, making sure to remind of what a big favor they were doing me.

As a general rule of thumb it seemed that the smaller the reputation of a magazine the bigger the ego of the editor. This can also be applied to poets themselves I think.

Galwegian poet Kevin Higgins has a great line about poets who'll cut your throat to get a poem published in the Ballybaloney Bugle. The biggest egos on the lowest rung of showbiz.

Because I was in my mid thirties with a varied life-experience and my previous work being in the law where my day to day was dealing with people facing prison, though I tried, after a while I found myself unable to take the business of getting poems published very seriously. I was merely imitating what everyone else does. 'Building credits' in the mags before sending out the manuscript a fairy-editor from an independent press would then accept and bang! into the world of as an 'official' published poet with a slim collection being (un)sold on one obscure publisher's website.

The most profound learning experience I had in the beginning was when I wrote to Mick Imlah at the TLS during my final year of the writing and drama BA, droning on about myself and asking could I review some poetry for him. He wrote back and said, OK, send me some reviews, and at that moment I realized the extent of my bluff. That I had no reviews and was not yet sufficiently experienced in the reading or writing of poetry to review for the Ormskirk Advertiser, never mind the TLS.

[Des Swords]

Though I have never submitted a manuscript to any editor, on a handful of occasions since 2005 I've sent individual poems out, and the reply that gave me most joy was from Paul Muldoon, rejecting some long poems on behalf of the New Yorker. ..'not quite us, alas, hope all goes well with you.' It made my day just getting a reply from him.

After losing interest in the submit-reject-accept dance in 2005 after finding the Amergin poem and concentrating instead on the long slow process of putting in the 10,000 hours of writing practise that leads to getting a practice; a by-product of being on the sidelines and watching others at the same level of experience as myself as they made their ways up the ladder of 'success' in this model, was that the veil of mystery and mystique surrounding the business of poetry publishing slowly lifted and clarity dawned.

What struck me most is how short-lived the high of having their first manuscript accepted was. I have silently observed from a distance the trajectory of a number of poets go from un- to published, and in nearly all cases they merely replaced one set of anxieties and worries with another.

There was one British poet who had their first collection accepted by Salt in 2008, just at the crossover point when a new online start-up YouWriteOn.com, with the assistance of the Arts Council, began doing the job of traditional publishers but cutting out the middle man of the editor. They said they would publish the first 5000 people who wrote to them with a valid email address and a manuscript. If you had a manuscript they would publish it as-is, without any editorial input and sell it on their site for free, and for £40 they would assign your book an isbn and distribute it through Gardners, promising royalties of 40% 'less administration costs'.

contd

[Des Swords]

When the poet was accepted by Salt they blogged about it in a euphoric state, clearly over the moon, but a few days after the YouWriteOn.com appeared promising to publish the masses and the poet blogged in a rage, deeply unhappy and making all sorts of accusations about the scheme. One day they were very happy and the next they were very angry and ranting what a rip off it must be, how it was a dark day for Literature and how the pool of poetry would be poisoned if any old riff raff could be published without having been first 'accepted' by an appropriately qualified professional.

Ted Smith, the guy running YouWriteOn.com came in for sustained abuse from not only the poet but numerous other 'concerned' individuals defending the old submit-reject-accept model as the only one true literary way.

I had a great time debating with them, and they got angrier and angrier the more I wrote, especially as I had bought an isbn, saying how great it was and I was just like the newly accepted poet in that I too would be having a book out, but with more royalties.

contd

[Des Swords]

The contract was in plain English and 40% 'less administration costs' came to roughly 12% of the retail price, which the author was responsible for setting.

The doomsayers however were proved 100% wrong. YouWriteOn.com did exactly what they promised and not only that, the books came off the same printing press at Lightning Source and seemed to have a better distribution deal than Salt, because a friend ended up publishing her first collection of poems with them and it was easier to get hold of than the poet ranting about the disgusting changes, which amounted to the same books off the same press but with better distribution. Once it was proved to be kosher they went quiet on it and never mentioned it again.

But this aside what I noticed about the first time published poets is that once they got published they then began worrying about how few books they were selling, and then the disappointment of not getting onto any shortlists for first collection prizes; along with the suppressed envy of other first timers surging past them in the competition of getting their names in the papers.

[Des Swords]

It slowly dawned on them that releasing their slim collections of poetry, as Ginsberg said, was like dropping a feather in the Grand Canyon and waiting to hear an echo. At the end of the day all they had was a physical object selling a couple of hundred copies, that at times seemed an albatross around their neck and daily reminder of a dream that didn't come as true as they secretly hoped, because they were looking no farther than having a book of poetry published.

Quincy Lehr has a hilarious October 2011 piece on the Contemporary Poetry Review website: The Lighter Side: On Selling Your Poetry Book, in which he details the dilemmas of the newly published poet, the comedy and quotidian lack of any real change first collections bring to the lives of the majority of poets.

Cheers Don. Great week.

[Marissa Despain]

Des Swords, Sure wish you would learn to edit. Your comments are too long. The quote, btw, is by Don Marquis, not Ginsberg.

[Des Swords]

Thanks for the kind words of unsolicited advice Marissa. Wonderful to know one's thoughts affect you enough to reply. Hurrah!

[Bookkeeper Sunshine Coast]

Rejection is not hard to handle; but not for the second time, third, and fourth, monthly or yearly.But by being positive in all aspects, however, it could be a great training.By focusing and being determined, the more you polish everything until you will be accepted because of extra ordinary literary pieces, honed by rejection and time.