OK, it sounds arrogant, but I am pretty good at writing rejection letters. Every month, the Read This team and myself sort through our heaps of submissions and sort out the lucky few from the unlucky masses… then I go away and write about a hundred rejection letters! It’s never a pleasant task, but pretty much every month, someone will respond to one of my rejections, just to say “thanks for breaking it to me gently.” Someone recently asked me whether it was ever possible to make rejection “pleasant” for the person on the receiving end — I’m not sure whether rejection can ever be pleasant, but I am a firm believer that it doesn’t have to be unpleasant! So here are my tips for editors everywhere, on how to write A Nice Rejection Letter…
1. “Dear Writer…”
Fairly obvious (you’d think): address your letter correctly. If you pride yourself on being formal, you can go down the ‘Dear Mr/s Doe’ route, but at RT we take the more cheery ‘Hi John/Jane’ approach. It doesn’t matter which you choose, just make sure you address the writer by their name. That way they at least know that a) you know it and b) you’re not (or at least, not obviously) carbon-copying this rejection letter to four thousand people.
2. “Thank you for submitting…”
Again, obvious: please, please thank the writer for their submission. OK, you may have thought it was drivel, but there’s no need to be rude — without submissions, your publication would not exist, simple as. You owe this person, really, so thank them!
3. “Although we liked your work…”
I always think it’s a bit mean to cut right to the ‘thanks but no thanks,’ part, so I always tend to put a little bit of chat in first to soften the blow. It’s RT’s policy to respond to each submission individually (no mass emails!), so I sometimes give a sentence or two about the pieces, what we liked about them, etc. Other times — because sometimes you don’t want to go into detail about the pieces, for whatever reason — I talk a little bit about the magazine and our decision-making process: “there are six editors, we always discuss each piece individually and give every submission a fair chance,” or the like. It shows the writer that you didn’t just shove them automatically on the slush pile, which is always comforting to know.
4. “…it wasn’t quite what we were looking for.”
On the other hand, you don’t want to garble on to the point where the person on the receiving end starts to get confused, or worse, mistakes this rejection letter for an acceptance! Give them a bit of intro, but then let them know that, sadly, their work didn’t make it. Say you’re sorry — no, you didn’t do anything wrong and you don’t have to apologise for anything, but “I’m afraid your work didn’t make it” sounds much nicer than just plain old “your work didn’t make it.”
5. “We just get so many submissions…”
Be honest about why you are rejecting this person — but be NICE about it too. “We don’t feel these poems are quite ready to be published yet” is the nice way of saying “your stuff isn’t very good,” but there are plenty of other reasons why a writer might not have made the cut. If you just don’t have space, say so — if you get huge numbers of submissions and have to be very selective, say so. If you liked the pieces but were overruled by your fellow editors, say so. Writers appreciate this insight, and they can use it to improve, so make sure they know what the situation really is.
6. “We hope you can place these elsewhere…”
It always annoys me when rejection letters slam the door in your face — you should always keep the door open for writers to resubmit to you if they want to, even if you rejected them because they just weren’t good enough. Fine, if you don’t want to say “you can resubmit” in so many words, don’t — just don’t make it sound like they’re no longer welcome. If you want to say “please wait x amount of time before resubmitting,” that’s also fine — many publications do this. But writers should always feel they can send you redrafted versions of the poems you previously rejected (particularly if you gave constructive feedback), or new pieces they feel are better.
7. “We wish you all the best…”
End on a pleasant note, and one that’s relevant to the writer in question. If you feel they need to practice their writing, say “keep up the hard work.” If you reckon their submission wasn’t quite suited to your publication, try “I hope you find a home for these pieces soon.” If you just couldn’t fit this writer’s work into your busy pages on this occasion, go with “sorry we couldn’t publish you this time.” Something sincere, pleasant and personal is far better than a boring old “thanks again” or “yours truly.”
8. “Yours, The Editor’s Dogsbody…”
Editors: write the rejections yourself, or if you really can’t, at least sign them. There is nothing worse than a PP on the bottom of a rejection letter — it just screams “you’re so insignificant the editor can’t even be bothered to reject you.” With emails, even if some intern or admin person writes the rejections, they can always sign the editor’s name. It’s a fib, but the writer will be none the wiser and will go away less crushed!
9. “PS…”
PS: this might sound like a long, slow process — no fun when you have hundreds of the things to write — but it doesn’t have to be. Make a template that incorporates the basic wording of all these elements, and fill in the blanks, if you must. This is far better than a Xeroxed slip or a mass-email, even if it does take a little bit longer. A nasty, rushed or off-hand rejection can make the difference between a young writer going on to become a rising star, or giving up and going to work in Tescos. And do you really want that on your conscience?
Who did your ‘best’ rejection come from? Any other tips?
(Photo by Suzana_aut)
