Thank You, But No Thank You: Thoughts on Electronic Submissions
Years ago a mentor told me, “always have something under consideration.” I took her advice seriously and for the past several years I have always had quite a bit of work under consideration at quite a few magazines. Until the last year and a half, nearly all of those were print submissions.
There was a tangible excitement to getting the mail everyday—the predictable time and, with the quantity of work I was sending out, the predictable flow of mail. Sure, it was mostly rejection, but I was once again holding that envelope, laboriously self-labeled, with the knowledge that it had been in the hands of someone whose decisions had a real impact on my life.
Some journals consistently wrote personal notes, mentioning a specific poem that came close, or at least encouraging me to send again. And without any sense of masochism, I have saved all of the rejections I have ever received. They stand as the physical representation, however slight, of my tenacity.
When a few, then many, journals started offering, then encouraging, the option to submit electronically, I bit. It was more efficient, less wasteful and usually free. Responses arrived more quickly, though unpredictably, and my tracking system became streamlined. And yet, these rejections almost never include a personal note. I have continued to see the varying tiers in rejection, but the absence of the personal touch is troubling.
Some of the journals that finally took me on after years of rejection encouraged me along the way, letting me know I was at least aiming in the right direction. Of course, this wasn’t always the case, but it seems with electronic submissions there is an ever greater distance from writer to editor.
Even so, I’m still a sucker for the convenience, so much so that in the past year I have nearly submitted work entirely to magazines that accept work electronically. I’ve been busy and broke, and trying to follow my mentor’s advice has been a challenge. “Like” isn’t the right word for how I feel about rejections, but I do appreciate them and believe they are as valuable as acceptance. One needs to continually recommit to this often thankless practice and for me rejection has strengthened my devotion.
Seeing as I’ve been on the other end of the stick, turning other writers down, I know it doesn’t take too much to send a bit of hope when earned. I’ll keep up my end of the deal sending in any form possible and hope that editors might learn to bring along their old practices to this still-new digital medium. After all, writers and editors depend on each other to do good work—and we all know a few words can go a long way.
March 8th, 2010 saat: 11:26 pm
I never thought I’d say it either, but I miss rejections. If I hear from an editor, it’s usually because of an acceptance. About 1/3 of what I submit receives a form or a brief, personal “Not quite what we’re looking for” response. Then there’s the other third that I refer to as the blackhole, no comment- rejections. However, if an editor is too busy to write a rejection…I wonder if that means it’s a loophole and I don’t have to technically count the lack of communication a rejection? So maybe I have less rejections than I thought I did. Maybe a more positive way to look at it.
Thanks for bringing up this topic. I figure editors these days are swamped with e-mails and are just having trouble, like the rest of us, keeping up.
March 17th, 2010 saat: 5:27 pm
Some of us are still keeping it personal! At Verse Wisconsin, we encourage electronic submissions to help all of us streamline the process. But as an editor, I enjoy the personal contact with writers, and while not every rejection is personal, many, many are. The way I see it, too often poets feel like editors are on the opposite side of some antagonism — keeping them out, maybe? Not true–at least it shouldn’t be. We’re all on the same team.
March 18th, 2010 saat: 1:12 pm
Thanks for your thoughts Sarah! I’m glad to hear your perspective and to know of the good practices of Verse Wisconsin. I can’t speak for everyone, but I certainly don’t feel any antagonism for editors—something more like reverence for the hard and necessary work they provide. Editors ensure that work sent out into the world is ready to be sent out into the world (one of my main qualms with self-publishing—but that’s another topic). And good editors put their own names behind the authors they support, which can never happen enough. Keep up the good work!
March 20th, 2010 saat: 9:37 am
So there is (more of) a shortfall than before at the submitter’s end–
I tend to be a Luddite about computerization, usually wanting to intone Thoreau’s “improved means to unimproved ends.” But the problem here is that the ends suffer, or at least a valuable byproduct.
And I wonder now about the other end–how the speed-up that computerization makes possible, and nearly imposes by making possible–might mean that writing that should get another look is rejected as editors electronically clear their desks.