The Acceptance, the Rejection, and the “F You”: I Go Back and Catalog Years of Short Story Submission Responses

For reasons unknown, I’ve decided to continue alienating my readers by delivering something that is neither fiction nor poetry but, at the end of the day, is me riling myself up.

Let’s lay some ground rules.

I recently read a post by the great Erica Verrillo, hero of short-form writers everywhere, long may she reign, that surprised me because she named names. “This contractual clause is a red flag, and here’s an example of that language from a contract I once received from Six Hens Publishing” (I’m paraphrasing).

“Oh, wow,” I said to myself. “That’s gutsy. Guess she never plans on working with them again.”

Point being, I will not be following that strategy, for I have yet to find a publisher that I have completely embargoed. Except maybe one (pay your writers, Black Ink Fiction).

1) Names will not be named, but direct quotes from emails will be supplied.

2) This article will not become a link fest or another thinly veiled promotion of my own work disguised as a “reflection after hitting a certain milestone.”

I see these too often, and they never cease to annoy the hell out of me. This kind of “look at me” nonsense may be par for the course on LinkedIn, but that’s not why we come to Vocal. No, we come to Vocal to bang our heart against the Challenge wall over and over (any Pink Floyd fans out there?).

There is a particular reason that the acceptances categories come at the end, and that’s because I suspect it will be necessary to help me cool off.

3) I will not break down the larger process of short story submissions.

I talk through some of that and the “why” behind it in another post (and that’s the ONLY link to another piece of mine you will see). If anyone’s really curious, I might write a post specific to how I identify opportunities, draft cover letters, etc.

4) I welcome any lit mag, anthology, and/or e-zine editors to respond to any and all of these rejection snippets with their own takes or thoughts.

I know there’s at least one of you on this platform, and I welcome any insights/justifications you have. Specifically when it comes to Category 3. Give me a good reason for this kind of tone-deaf response. Let’s get into it.

5) I cannot and will not promise objectivity.

In many other parts of life, I pride myself on being able to see both sides of the issue. But some of these responses make my blood boil, and I’m not going to pull back for this piece. I’m going to embrace it. So, fair warning all around.

All right, time to dive into it.

Category 1: The Standard Rejection

Having done a deep dive into my inbox, I came across what is likely the first-ever form rejection I received. Back in 2017, fresh out of college and with good knees, I decided to take one of my first-ever short stories and throw it out into the world.

This is what I heard back:

Thank you for submitting “U-235” to [REDACTED]. Unfortunately, we’re going to pass on it for publication.

Best of luck with placing this story elsewhere.

And “U-235” (now retitled “Loch of Darkness”) remains unpublished to this day 😊

This email is a perfect example of what you should expect. A dry thank you to soften the blow. The actual decision. Then a perfunctory encouragement to send you on your way.

This was also my first exercise in proper rejection etiquette, which goes as follows:

1. Open the email.
2. Feel the growing sense of dread in your gut when they first thank you for sending in your work.
3. Reach the first “Unfortunately,” “However,” or “But” and sigh.
4. Read the rest of the email and confirm your initial instinct.
5. Archive the email and, whatever you do, DO NOT RESPOND. Nothing good can come out of writing back unless explicitly invited to do so.

Somewhere along the way, I realized it was probably a good idea to start sorting these emails and came up with two folders: Writing Responses and Encouraging Writing Responses. Writing Responses is full of these cold, clinical replies.

Point being, I could go back and find more Category 1’s. But what would be the point? They all follow the same format to varying degrees.

But honestly, this is my preferred way to be let down. Over time, you build up a certain numbness to these form rejections. Not to mention, the shared structure means you can spot them a mile away.

After all, they’re cold.

Unfeeling.

Mechanical.

Category 2: The Non-Standard Rejection (AKA a human wrote this❗❗)

These ones always send a spike of adrenaline coursing through my system, especially since I come into every response email expecting the form rejection we just examined. I’ve at least built up a callus to those.

Instead, the editors are saying no and telling me in specific and exacting detail why not.

To be fair, sometimes their points are valid and inspire real changes, so it’s not like there isn’t value to be had. Other times, they’re a bit of, well, dicks about it.

This is the section I was most apprehensive to write, but it wouldn’t be a complete picture without it. Goodbye my writing confidence after dredging these up.

Let’s start with one of the ones that inspired actual changes in my story:

Thanks for letting us see "Midnight Ride." I regret to say that it's just not right for [REDACTED].

Here's what our editor had to say: The author does a fine job of handling setting and backstory alongside the action and maintains a brisk pace throughout the story. Unfortunately, the short length precludes much meaningful character development, and the climax is a bit underwhelming. Also, the author uses the terms rifle and smoothbore interchangeably; these refer to explicitly different types of long guns. Overall, I’m afraid it just didn’t work for me.

I'm sorry. Best of luck with this one in other markets.

“Oh, hell, they’re right,” I remember saying when I got to the part about rifle and smoothbore. As a student of history, that was doubly embarrassing. Naturally, I fixed the references to be consistent and accurate.

As to the other parts about the length and character development, well, I set out to write a fast-paced thriller in 2,000 words or less that blended in classic horror elements. I’m not going to change up the fundamental structure of the story.

But the main focus of the tale is the climax, so that bit of feedback was more alarming. Once again, though, that’s their opinion. I’d only act on something subjective like that if I already had a similar feeling that maybe things could be reworked.

Of course, if multiple editors shared similar feedback on the climax, then I’d take that as more of a call to action.

Here’s another one that had some valuable feedback but also pissed me off enough that I knew what I was looking for when I went to resurface it:

Another issue I have with this story [Yes, there are previous paragraphs I, Stephen, didn’t include] is the narrator asking himself questions. Basically that's a device that allows the writer to continue to explain, but it also indicates the writer has not fully envisioned the story before sitting down to write. I've read the requisite three pages (see our guidelines), and can tell that this story needs a serious revision. Put it aside for a while and give it some deep thought. What are you trying to say? Whatever that point is, do it through action and dialogue, and kill all that explanation. And try, as much as possible, to hide that this was originally an Owl Canyon entry. Most journal editors are familiar with this contest, and I doubt very many would be interested in publishing this piece based on that.

First off, I took the Owl Canyon entry bit straight to the bank, and that story no longer contains the prompt paragraphs verbatim. So again, valuable feedback.

As to the other bit, humans ask questions. It’s what we do. We ask questions to each other, we ask questions to ourselves, we ask questions to no one in particular. I’m not saying this person is completely incorrect in other points of their feedback, but the idea that the narrator can never ask questions or that that’s some sign of my lack of vision as the author stands out to me as ludicrous.

I also love the “serious revision” piece. Fuck off, that is all.

Oh, and I left the extra spaces in their response unedited 😉

Here’s an example of doing it right:

Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, we are going to pass on this one.

I enjoyed the setting hook you crafted in the first scene. However, the slow burn after the initial setup was a little too slow for me. I also didn't feel like I had a solid handle on the overall setting beyond Lilymeade Court in the first couple pages, so when high school was brought up, I had a moment of confusion which dropped me out of the narrative. Now, this last bit might not actually be a problem--I may have just missed a detail early on.

Regardless, I wish you the best in placing this elsewhere.

Now this is a class act. I don’t agree with every point this editor made, but they presented them in a respectful and encouraging way. 10/10, and that’s all I have to say about this one.

At the end of the day, I suppose I should be happy someone took the time to share their thoughts at all. But quite honestly, I’d almost rather they didn’t. As you saw with our one particular example, it can really ruffle feathers if not done in a tactful way (and the worst part is I paid extra for that particular feedback 😞).

Category 3: The “no thanks, but why don’t you buy the book/sign up for our newsletter/read the guidelines next time” Rejection

Vocal needs to launch a “best subheader” challenge, because I’m fairly certain I just won it.

Once again, we return to 2017 and the first-ever instance of this kind of “you’re not good enough, but why don’t you help us promote the publication you’re not good enough to get into while you’re at it” response. All this time later, it still sticks with me to the point I knew what I was looking for before I even went plumbing the depths of my Gmail inbox.

Thanks for sending work for [REDACTED]. Unfortunately we cannot use it at this time, but we wish you the best of luck with it elsewhere. In the meantime, I hope you will take a few minutes to read our current issue at [REDACTED] and pass it along to others. As you can see, our theme is the natural world and its current state of endangerment and loss of habitat and species. Thanks again for sending.

Suffice it to say, I did not read their latest issue or share it with my friends. Perhaps you might find a more sympathetic audience among those whose works you didn’t reject in the same email? Just a thought ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The only way this could have felt more disingenuous is if they asked me to buy the upcoming magazine I hadn’t placed in.

Here’s another gem:

After careful consideration and deliberation, we have now finalised the LONGLIST for our [REDACTED] anthology. The full list will be released via our newsletter (sign up here) [LINK NOT INCLUDED] on Friday.

We know that you will be disappointed to learn that on this occasion, you have not made our longlist.

Boy, you were really hoping I clicked that newsletter link before I read that second paragraph, huh? Talk about burying the lead.

Suffice it to say I did not sign up for the newsletter to learn whose work had made it into their anthology.

Final example, and then I need to take a walk to lower my blood pressure (pay attention to the final sentence):

Thank you so much for sending Lost in Orbit to us at [REDACTED]. We appreciate the chance to read your work. However, we are not the right home for this particular selection. Please consider reading our current publications to see if your work is a good fit in the future.

Ouch. I mean, I didn’t read it—and I won’t—but jeeze, what if I had and was really excited to be a part of their magazine? Just tell me it isn’t a good fit at this time and leave it at that. No need to kick me on the way out the door.

If anything, I’m tempted to start sending them things wildly outside their genre and throw some line into my cover letter to the effect of “After reading your latest issue, I’ve decided this poem is a perfect fit for your upcoming fiction anthology.”

Category 4: The Conflicting Rejection (“we liked this, but not enough”)

I once applied for a job with the U.S. Government. Weeks later I received an automated response:

Thank you for your application. You have been deemed QUALIFIED for this position. Your application has not been moved to the next stage.

Let that little piece of cognitive dissonance sink in for a moment.

These types of responses are always a head scratcher. They leave you feeling all mixed up. Like your insides have been replaced with club soda.

These next couple just leave me more disappointed than anything.

Thank you so much for your submission. It has been a difficult choice, but after the third round of reviews by our full reading team, it has been decided to pass on this piece. Clearly it is a quality tale, and we believe you should have no problem finding a home for it.

Thank you again for the fine read, and we hope you will submit again in the future.

As is so often the case, I actually note down their pub name in my “Publications Asking for More” tab of my submission tracking Excel workbook and send another story in the next reading period.

Then I get a form rejection. FML.

Next up:

Thank you once again for submitting your story to [REDACTED], and for your patience in awaiting a response. Unfortunately, while I greatly enjoyed reading your story and appreciate your work and time, on this occasion your submission has not been successful in securing a position in the anthology. Narrowing down the shortlist to just a handful was incredibly difficult, and I'd like to reassure you that to have had your story in consideration in this second round is an achievement in itself.

Okay, so why didn’t you take it?

That’s all I have to say about that one.

Category 5: The Rejection, But It’s Actually Encouraging

What defines the line between Categories 4 and 5, I’m not really sure, and yet I know these next three responses strike a different chord when I read them.

To be fair, I didn’t promise objectivity.

Thank you for sending us your story. We enjoyed reading it very much. Your writing is good, your plot is engaging, and your characters are well executed – but, alas, it’s not quite what we're after for our [REDACTED] call, and unfortunately your story has not made it through to the final round of reading. We’re sure you will find a spot for it elsewhere and we wish you the best of luck in placing it.

Fair enough. At least it wasn’t rejected for being a bad story.

Thank you for sharing your work with us. While "A Plane Ticket and a Promise" isn't quite right for us, many on our staff were impressed with your writing, and your submission merited additional consideration before we reached our final decision. Please take this note as encouragement to submit to us again in the future.

With this particular magazine, I’ve thrown a lot of proverbial noodles at the proverbial wall, so I know for a fact that this is not their usual rejection. That I’d been trying to get something placed with them for so long (and still am today) made this response all the more edifying.

Thank you for submitting "North of the Tracks" to [REDACTED] for consideration in [REDACTED]. Unfortunately, after careful consideration, we've decided not to take the story for the anthology.

Due to the number of submissions received, we cannot personalise rejections. Suffice to say that this wasn't quite right for us and we wish you luck in placing it elsewhere.

(I will add that this was a good crime story well-told, but doesn't quite fit for this anthology).

Wow, that tiny little addition at the end after stating they won’t add any custom notes or feedback completely reframed this rejection. Maybe I won’t relegate this one to the podcast after all.

Nah, still going on the podcast.

Category 6: The First-ever Acceptance

I know, I know. I said this wouldn’t turn into a self-promotion post, and, to be fair, you have already seen me dragged through the mud quite a bit at this point. Regardless, we’ll keep the next two sections brief, I promise.

Finally, we defeat the rejection gremlins:

Well done. I'm holding this for consideration, mainly because I have to decide where to slot it into the 2021 schedule. I'm pretty sure you'll be getting a contract soon.

Oh my God, it’s finally happening! Years when all I could publish was poetry later, I finally have some proof that my prose is decent.

That particular placement is still one of my greatest publish credits to date.

Category 7: Other Acceptances

Thankfully, that wasn’t the only one. Sometimes they can be just as clinical as the form rejections:

Thank you for sending your work to [REDACTED]/[REDACTED].

I’m pleased to inform you that your submission has been accepted for publication in our [REDACTED] anthology. If your piece/pieces is/are still available, we would very much like to include it/them in this anthology ([REDACTED], releasing [REDACTED]).

Oh, do I feel oh so special having my story/stories accepted into this e-/print magazine 😊

I’m being facetious. I was very much excited to receive this news, no matter how standardized the format was.

Other times, it’s clear there’s someone on the other end:

This is [REDACTED]. I just wanted to let you know that we enjoyed your story very much! I’d love to include it in [REDACTED]. We do want to forewarn that it may be quite a while (possibly a year) before the anthology is released, first because we want to ensure we include high quality stories, and second because it's currently filling up at about the same speed as a couple of the others we have open calls for, and publication time is dependent on which fills up first. Meanwhile, if you decide you'd rather submit the story elsewhere, we understand completely. Just let us know. That said, if you don't mind waiting, it will be a sure inclusion. :)

Personal and up front. That’s one of the many things I appreciate about this particular publisher. I feel like I have an actual relationship with them after working with them for a few different anthologies, like they actually recognize my name when I submit.

Another thing I appreciate is 1) that they take reprints and 2) don’t reduce their pay scale for said reprints, but that’s another story.

Category 8: The Single Greatest Response I’ve Ever Received

No, it’s not because it was an acceptance. That’s secondary to the fact. You’ll see what I mean.

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed out loud so much reading a story submission response:

I enjoyed your submission, but I'm trying to compile an anthology that can be enjoyed by as many readers as possible. Although I find it silly, many readers take great offence at the words fuck, shit, and goddamned, and, incensed, will immediate stop reading and start posting one-star reviews everywhere they possibly can. I'm wondering if you'd be willing to substitute lesser "profanities"--maybe crap, damn or hell and such--in the place of these, or perhaps substitute other words, such as saying, "stupid seagulls" rather than "fucking seagulls"?

If not, I completely understand. Frankly, I consider "fuck" almost as a conjunction. 🙂

I don’t care that I have many years ahead of me in my writing career; I welcome any editor to try and top that. It’s not possible. To see someone direct quote “fucking seagulls” out of context is sublime.

Category 9: No Response?? 🤬

As much as I’ve roasted some of the rejections I’ve received, there is a special place in Hell for any publisher that never shares the outcome.

I once commented on a Chill Subs Instagram post about what to look out for when entering writing contests:

tHe OnLy WaY tO lEaRn ThE rEsUlTs Is To SiGn Up FoR oUr NeWsLeTtEr

Sidebar: It’s 2023. Can we get some kind of hotkey for alternating caps already?

Even better is when you paid to enter and they still won’t give you an individual notification that you weren’t accepted.

By the way, if you’re in the submission grind like I am, Chill Subs is a very cool up-and-coming platform geared specifically for writers like us. Highly recommend.

I also joined a post-apocalyptic writing contest once where they announced one winner each day for 12 days on their social accounts. I’m sure it was great for engagement, but man was that painful to keep holding onto hope every day until the last.

Which is really unfortunate, because the contest had a very unique premise where you apply and then they assign you to write a story prior to, during, or after the apocalypse and compiled all the stories to tell a complete tale of the apocalypse. So in many other respects, they did this contest right, just not in announcing the outcome.

Finally, let me raise a special middle finger at any magazine, website, anthology, what have you that hits you with the classic “If you haven’t heard from us in [insert time period], assume your piece hasn’t been accepted.”

Okay, but maybe you could tell us that? Like, at the time you made the decision? Especially since some publications only take submissions that aren’t being considered elsewhere, so you’re potentially depriving us of other opportunities.

Since we’re already on that topic, here’s Stephen’s “Think Twice Before Submitting” list:

1. They won’t directly tell you the outcome unless they accept your piece.
2. They won’t take stories under consideration elsewhere but also won’t get back to you in a timely manner. I’ve had some stories trapped in limbo for months while other great opportunities have to be passed over.
3. They don’t pay and/or offer free contributor copies. This suggests that they plan to make money directly off you, the author.
4. They don’t revert rights to you after publication. Huge red flag.
5. They have some ridiculous exclusivity clause for stories they do accept. A few months is annoying but fine. A year+? Get out of here.
6. They need your story in an excessively tedious format. We all agreed that Shunn Manuscript format is the name of the game, so why am I replacing all my italics with underscores when no one else will likely ever ask to see my story like that? Too much effort for what will most likely be a “Thanks, but no thanks” email.
7. They ask for you to pay a “reading fee.” Unless the payout for the story is high, like a writing contest with a cash prize, this is another way they’re taking advantage of you.

I throw these in here because I found myself a lot less sensitive as a “younger” writer hungry to get his work published somewhere, anywhere. I’ve definitely fallen victim to a vanity press or two or some straight up arrogant publishers, and I figure this might help some others avoid the pitfalls.

Let’s Level Set

Rejections suck. No one likes them, except maybe masochists.

Publications get a lot of submissions on average, so I understand that sometimes decisions are made out of necessity. Editors and their staff often work very hard for little to no pay, and it’s not like I expect them to send a personalized message to every writer.

With that understanding, I do my best to send them pieces that meet their guidelines: word count, genre, theme, formatting, etc. This is both so that I set myself up for success and so that I avoid wasting their time with irrelevant pieces. All I ask in return is they share the result.

Like this gem:

Thanks for letting me see this. Unfortunately, I've decided to pass on this one.

That’s it. That was the whole email. Brutally short, but it does the job. I crossed their magazine off the list and carried on submitting that particular story elsewhere.

Well, this ended up being quite the journey. If you made it to this point, thanks so much for sticking around. Maybe you found some reassurance seeing someone else’s successes and (many) failures. Or maybe you simply enjoyed seeing me get roasted by those editors in Category 2. Or pissed off at those pitches in Category 3.

Just so long as you hit that heart button, it’s all the same to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯