Terrific post, it can’t be said enough. The business of creativity is a business, and should be treated as such. How many plumbers keep trying to sell bad pipes, in the hopes people will validate their skills?

You learn your craft, you hone it, then you go into the world.

Where are our journeyman authors?

Thank you!

The hidden message of every form rejection is “Look at what we publish. Look at what you sent us. Try to see the difference. If you can’t, look harder. When you do see the difference, apply it to your work, not to a letter to us.”

And that’s a message that most writers won’t accept, so there’s little point in sending it to them.

Another thing to keep in mind: the first thing many authors do when they finally get published is drag out all those rejection letters with the personal comments on them, and flaunt them to prove those rejecters wrong. No agent or editor wants to write anything that’ll be flung back in our face, any more than an author wants to see their query ripped apart and laughed at unprofessionally on an editor’s blog. Yet, writers do it. It happens. The form letter is also our CYA in that regard.

I wish I could be forthcoming when it’s easy and then not be forthcoming when the truth is harder to share. I do have slightly different variations of the form letter for slightly different situations, like a “This doesn’t match our guidelines at all” one, but in general it’s just safer to not be forthcoming, ever, unless it’s a case where I’d consider taking the manuscript if the problems I identify were fixed.

I understand that feedback doesn’t instill false hope in everyone, but it instills false hope in too many people and gives ammunition to others. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I suspect most of us who send out rejection letters have learned it the hard way. Being forthcoming and helpful, as often as not, comes back to bite us in the ass.