Why Do I Bother?

I go out of my way to make sure that the rejections Perigee sends out are diplomatic and kind. I have received enough rejections (numbering in the hundreds) to know that they can be disheartening. The fact is, almost across the board, publications send out form rejection letters. It simply isn't practical to respond on a personal basis to every rejected piece--it would take weeks and weeks and weeks. And why would it be necessary? The people receiving the rejections, like it or not, will not be part of the upcoming issue. Why then should an editor waste valuable time on them?

Yet every issue, almost without fail, I receive some kind of angry response to a rejection letter. Perhaps it has something to do with the entitlement people (dare I say Americans?) feel these days. It is a very toxic combination of egoism (dare I say conceit?) and the coddled belief in an external locus of control--that the external world is responsible for all of your failures and problems, not you. We teach this to our children and it is confirmed every time someone sues McDonald's for their weight gain or because they spilled coffee on themselves.

Specifically, our rejection e-mail this time around reads:

"Dear XXXXXX,

Thank you again for submitting to Perigee, and for your patience as we considered your work for our 18th issue. On the whole, we were extremely impressed with the work sent our way for the fall issue. This made an already meticulous and difficult process even more challenging. It was also a thrill to read so many quality pieces and to be able to consider them for our readership.

Although we enjoyed considering your writing, we have decided to decline publishing it at this time. You should know that there were many pieces submitted to us which resonated with one or another editor, but did not make the final cut.

Often times these decisions come down to taste, and we hope you will not be discouraged by our decision. In fact, we hope you continue to write and submit work—and that you will consider Perigee when marketing your writing in the future.

With Thanks,"

Ask any experienced and reasonably minded writer and he or she will tell you this is an unusually sensitive rejection letter. Yet I received the following curt e-mail in response to that same rejection letter:

"I find this a particularly egregious form of form rejection.

S----- K-----"

Because I love words (and because I am slightly baffled by SK's e-mail), I confirm my understanding of "egregious," consulting Webster. Egregious: extraordinary in some bad way; glaring; flagrant.

Egregious?!

I write this ...

"Dear S-----,

I was distressed and disappointed to receive this note from you. We go out of our way to be diplomatic and kind. All of us have gone through the rigors of submitting work and receiving rejections.

In addition, it is simply not practical--nor is it necessary--to reply to every rejected piece with a personal note. What more can be said? It wasn't the right fit for us. Our behavior more than conforms to industry standards and our "form rejection," as you call it, is far more personal and elaborative than most.

Perigee wishes you the best of luck in the future with your work. You would do well not to take rejections so personally, or it might be a long hard road.

Kindest,"

... but never send it.

And one more self-centered, entitled member of the human race goes merrily along her way. And I wonder why I bother.