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Glimmer Train doesn't want the story I sent them and told me so in a form letter. Included in the form letter was a link to a pdf called "EditorsPerspective2004," something that might be of interest to me, a "relative beginner."
What proceeds is a six page document which includes both encouragement ("Absolutely no one has ever seen the world through your eyes except you") and also a seemingly derogatory presentation of the dictionary definition of the word "cliche," which I actually found interesting so here it is:
Main Entry: 1 cli∙ché Pronunciation: kl sh , , kli sh Function: noun Inflected Form(s): s Etymology: French, from past participle of clicher to stereotype, of imitative origin; from the noise of the die striking the metal 1 : a stereotype or electrotype; especially : a single stamp of which a number are joined to form a plate for printing a whole sheet of stamps at once 2 a : a trite or stereotyped phrase or expression; also : the idea expressed by it b : a hackneyed theme, plot, or situation in fiction or drama : an overworked idea or its expression in music or one of the other arts <such photographic clichés as indicating change of seasons by the transition from snow to fruit in the orchards John McCarten>
Thank you for the generous education, Glimmer Train.
Well, here it is: my first rejection from an agent. I waffled a little about whether to write about this or not, and then, for whatever reason, decided to just go ahead and do it.
Claire Johnson from the Irene Goodman Literary Agency sent me a note saying she liked a story I had up in Opium and said she would be open to considering any full length work I sent her way. She said their agency mostly represented commercial women's fiction, but that they were looking to expand to more innovative and humorous work.
I sent a query for a novel I've been working on for a few years, with a synopsis and the first ten pages. After having this for about a month Ms. Johnson said she'd like to see the full-manuscript. And after about another month, she sent me an email thanking me for sharing (never a good sign) the novel with them. She said there was a "realism and a sadness" to it that made for a "compelling read." She found my writing "sharp and fresh," but ultimately didn't fall in love enough with the story to represent it."
She did refer me to someone else, though, which I imagine isn't a bad sign. Now, I had been really excited when I first got the letter from her, but all along I have known and been saying, not just as an act of self-preservation, that I don't think this work is what this particular agency is looking for and I also don't think this is a novel which is going to get sold to a big publishing house. I think it will be extremely lucky if it finds a nice, warm home with a small press. That's where I want it, in fact, more than anything. Big fancy power-words like "agent" and "representation," though, do have their lure, if for no other reason than I wonder how someone high-powered and executive-ish would view my work and how they would attempt to market it. I really can't comprehend this little book in a big arena of publishing and if someone else can, I'm interested in how that's possible.
Anyways, there you have it. This rejection doesn't get a number. It's somehow different in my mind, and I'm the one in charge, so I say, "No number for agency rejections."
Weird-est. Today I received what, at first, looked like a form rejection email from Perigee, until I realized it was not a rejection or an acceptance, but rather a link to their blog where they had announced who would be in the next issue. They claimed this letter was sent to people whose work would be included as well as those whose work would not appear in the next issue, but upon inspection of the blog, it appeared they had announced the upcoming writers days ago.
My work was not listed on the site, but even if it had been, I would have been a little miffed. I'd like to know such things before the general internet population does. Maybe the people at Perigee are just terribly passive and pretended like everyone got this letter so they could remove the act of rejection as far as possible from them. I don't know. Something just seems strange here. Is this a valid thing to do? Announce you're publishing someone's work before you confirm with that person? I realized I don't actually know the rules, but I have the feeling Perigee might be working a little out of order.
Issue 7 of Circumference: Poetry in Translation arrived in my mailbox today with new work from the likes of: lots of original writers and the saints who translate them. You might be saying, "But, Jac, you only know a small (and even then mostly cognate-driven) amount of French? How did you get into Circumference?"
Well, that's a very accurate (and slightly impolite) observation of you. Circumference, if you didn't know already however, has a loophole for those of us who would like to congregate with translators but are under-qualified, and that lovely little back door is a feature called "Homophonic Translation." If the name isn't self-explanatory, they provide lines to be translated based on their sound alone. That's what I have in this issue and since there are so many contributors in the entire issue I will list only my fellow homophonic translators:
Stephanie Anderson, Mary Jo Bang, Ken Chen, Billy Collins, Emily Drumstra, Adam Giannelli, Jac Jemc, Karinne Keithley, Jill Leininger, Jessica Nordell, Matt Reeck, Elena Rivera, Christina Svendsen and Elizabeth Willis.
The differences in what we pulled from the words that were to me, gibberish, are exciting and strange. Check it out.
I don't know what the next landmark is: 200? 500? 1000?
Any which way - that's what we're looking forward to now. Rejection 101 arrived from Sarah Blackman at Diagram. I can't seem to find my last rejection from them, but I think this one might be slightly more encouraging. Ms. Blackman gave me what seemed like a familiar line about my submission not being a "good fit," rather than it not being "good."
But then she said this, "We did admire this submission, and are certainly open to seeing more in the future." I don't remember seeing the word "admire." That's a new one, I think.
Movin' on up.
Well, friends, today I reached two milestones: Not only did I receive my 100th rejection letter, but today was also the first day in which I received 3 rejections in a 24 hour period. Who knows? Maybe there will be even more.
A finely printed notification arrived today on quality card stock from The Antioch Review. Aside from the envelope also containing the first page of the story I sent them, it in no way otherwise indicates that anyone at AR is aware that I exist as a human being. Normally, I would not really care all that much. Journals in this class call up images of yachting jackets and boat shoes in my mind. I know, somewhere in my heart of hearts, it is unlikely I will ever find a home there. The Antioch Review, though, houses the Jackie O. to my Edie Beale (though we are not blood-related): Amy Hempel.
If I'm the messy writer with the sweater tied on her head, then Ms. Hempel is the one who knows and follows Coco Chanel's rule to take off one unnecessary item before leaving the house. I love her for all that I am not, and, today, the feeling, it turns out, is not mutual.
Whoa. All of a sudden Rejection 100 is imminent. It could happen today!
But that would really be a banner day for me: I don't remember getting 3 rejections in one day. 2 a couple times, but not 3.
Anyways, the benevolent JA Tyler of ml Press, did not find the story I sent "raw or weighty" enough for his series, but he did invite me to send more work, saying he thought the right piece might fit nicely there. Thanks, Mr. Nice Guy. I'll send that right over lickety-split.
I don't know why I've suddenly started submitting to McSweeney's all the time, but maybe it's because I miss that quick rejection of Thieves Jargon, and, believe it or not, each one I've gotten has been personal. I think this will wear off soon, as I don't sense victory coming any closer, but just to let you know, there will be at least one more rejection coming from them, hopefully soonish.
Mr. Monks didn't want the last story I sent him for the website. He said it was fun, but it didn't quite tickle his funny bone enough to let through. I also do not think the story is funny, so this is fine.
I've mostly given up on trying to get onto Eyeshot, but every once in a while I think I've written something that Mr. Klein might like and send it over, figuring that, at worst, I'll get a creatively insulting rejection. Such a thing happened today, when I received a rejection for my story, "Let Me Be Your Tugboat King."
Mr. Klein directed me to a song called, "Tugboat," by Galaxie 500, and said that while my story didn't do much for him, it did remind him of this song and he hoped I would become a big fan.
Based on the lyrics, Galaxie 500 and I have similar feelings about the merits of being in charge of tugboats. Strange. I did not know this existed. I cannot wait to get to a computer with speakers so that I might hear if their rhythms match the ones in my head.