#0024 Race to Top (Bottom?) of the Slush Pile

Guess who got the most rejections last month?

I won the February Roundup of Inlandia’s 100 Rejections Club! That’s right, little ol’ me. 

Each month our fearless leader, Cati Porter, award-winning poet and executive director of the Inlandia Institute, tallies our rejections, acceptances, and submissions of the Rejects (that’s the nifty nickname she gave us members). For February 2024, I had more rejections than anyone else with four. Runner-up had two only because of a pesky honeymoon (congrats!) and writer retreat (fun!). Two members tied for third place with one rejection each.

The literary journal slush pile reimagined. (Source: Christopher Najewicz on flickr)

Since I’m unlikely to ever be at the top — or would that be bottom? — of the slush pile (work not solicited by editors) again, let me share some of the nitty-gritty details, not including journal names, of the four rejections. 

1. I submitted a microfiction (really short, usually no more than 100 words) in January for a monthly story contest. The guidelines stated that only the winning submitter would hear back before publication. When my tiny story didn’t appear on the lit journal’s website February 1, I knew I’d racked up my first rejection of the month. February is always a short month, though not as short this year with Leap Day, yet I started off strong in the monthly race.
   

2. I’m part of a small and magical writing group that’s met, in one form or another, on and off, for about a decade. Lately, we’ve written short stories, or the start of longer fiction, based on two or three words. One week in January, the prompt was pollywog + clandestine + cake. After I wrote and read my silly ad for a bakery that specializes in transformational celebrations (never did get “clandestine” in there), my writing friends encouraged me to submit it.
   
   On January 31, I searched on Submittable under Discover Opportunities (free for writers/artists) for places with end-of-month closing dates. The first lit journal I found had different themes depending on the day of the work week? (So five themes for M–F). Since January 31 happened to fall on a Wednesday this year, deemed Humor Day, I gave it a try. Two days later I got a form-letter rejection because, I’m ashamed to admit, my story didn’t fall within the word-count requirements. Oops. (And I call myself a reader.) At least I was speeding ahead at two rejections.

3. I wasn’t sure if the second opportunity I discovered (see what I did there?) was really spot-on for my bakery ad. Or should I say, my bakery ad maybe wasn’t quite what these literary folks were seeking? But, I shrugged, the editors maybe hadn’t ever conceived of a bakery advertising transformational cakes, right?
   
   About five days later, I received a lovely rejection that said my submission “warranted quite some deliberation” and encouraged me to “submit to us again.” Now that’s a great rejection because (a) I envision editors talking about what I wrote, and (b) they’re wanting to see more of my writing. Beep-beep! Zooming to three rejections after only a week.
   

4. This last one is weird. Cati counted the predicament as a rejection. At which point I resubmitted the piece to two of the four places where I’d previously withdrawn it. Confused? Read on…
   
   One lit journal has already published the issue I originally submitted to and is open for submissions for the next issue, to which I submitted. I’ve received an automated confirmation of receipt.
   
   The second lit journal is a special issue that has yet to be published. Here’s how I explained things in my email (embedded in the original thread):  

Dear [names of editors],

I hope this email finds you well.

Let me share my odd situation. Last October, I submitted [title] toward your anticipated folio [theme]. [Journal name] was my first choice for the piece, but I recognized I needed to simultaneously submit to other journals. When the piece was accepted elsewhere (after just 4 days — quite surprising!) for print publication, I notified you promptly. Now I've just received word that the other journal has canceled its winter 2023 print issue, and all authors may submit their pieces elsewhere as previously unpublished. Honestly? I'm a bit befuddled. So here I am, reaching out to you.

Do you have interest in considering [title] once again?

With gratitude,
Erin

I haven’t heard back from the second place. But the editors took nearly a month to acknowledge my initial withdrawal. So, who knows?

Playing in the lit journal sandbox is kinda like airline travel, a lot of hurry up and wait.

Next time: Maybe cutting down those weeds? (I know, I know, that’s what I promised last time.)