We writers don’t have time for a lot of self pity because we’re too busy writing. (Well, except for maybe Percy Blysse Shelley. Doesn’t that guy look like “Woe is me” popped out of his mouth after every other sentence?) But recently several of my colleagues have run aground on writing hard times and, good friend that I am, I thought I would exploit their pain and turn it into an object lesson on the internet.

Thus, I’ve dubbed August 10 – 14, 2009 “International ‘It’s Hard Out Here for a Writer’ Week.”

Our first tale of woe comes from a colleague and grad school friend of mine. After submitting a short story to a fiction ezine, our colleague received this response:

“Some people might be offended by parts of this story, so you should be careful what you write in the future.”

I have to admit that, after the initial outrage subsided, I was titillated by this letter. What on earth could our colleague have written to elicit such a response? Surely it’s spicy or salacious if Grandma Editor felt the need to warn our colleague off the topic ever again, right? Wrong. Our colleague had submitted a short piece that dealt very mildly with the issue of race. Not only was the personalized rejection letter from the ezine dumb advice, it was bad advice and unprofessional advice all rolled up into a hateful little ball about the size and worth of the tar that gunked up Dorothy Parker’s cigarette holder.

Fiction can be offensive if it damn well wants to be offensive. People learn about different points of view from reading compelling, sometimes offensive, fiction. From watching the news lately it seems to me that we could use quite a bit more a.) informed discourse on race b.) respect for unfamiliar points of view.

Even though the piece did fit the posted publication guidelines, what the editor should have said, of course, was that the piece isn’t right for the publication and good luck. By advising our colleague that she could muzzle her natural writing voice in order to write within some sort of “rules of polite society” this editor basically let a good writer know that their publication wasn’t professional enough for a writer of her caliber. Which is an upside, really.

“Be careful what you write in the future”? Honestly.

I wish I now had a classic rejection letter to share, but  mine have generally been some variation on the old “regret that we can’t use it at the time” pleasantry. So instead I’ll share the absolute worst rejection letter ever received, and also ask for your contributions. Bring on the bad rejections! Let’s laugh about them and then take a moment of silence to imagine poking the editor in the eye with Dorothy Parker’s cigarette holder.

For more on this topic from the freelancing point of view:

The Seven Stages of Writer’s Grief or What to Expect When You Get Rejected