Rejected again

So I got this email just now:

By the time you read this, your man­u­scripts will have already been rejected.

There’s no sense in ask­ing me why or what you could have done dif­fer­ent­ly, because I’ve already moved on to oth­er stories.

It was­n’t you. It was me. I — Awww, who’m I kid­ding… it was part­ly you. You did­n’t make me feel like you were real­ly inter­est­ed in mak­ing this rela­tion­ship work. I did­n’t feel any sparks between us. You did­n’t make me laugh.

This sto­ry was­n’t a match made in heav­en, but the next one may be. Sub­mit again. If you don’t, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomor­row. But soon. And for the rest of your life.


On the Brighter Side [the mag­a­zine I sub­mit­ted to –Ed.]

PS: I’m keep­ing the ring. 

I like when I get amus­ing rejec­tion let­ters*. But noth­ing has yet topped being called “Ms. Johan­neson” by the now-defunct


* By which I mean, if I must be reject­ed, I pre­fer to be reject­ed by some­one with a sense of humour. (Though I must say that con­struc­tive crit­i­cism trumps laughs.)