Trying to divine meaning and validation from boilerplate rejections is a time-honored writerly tradition. Something often referred to as rejectomancy. This dark art is fraught with peril and can tempt you to ascribe meaning, and worse, judgment, to rejections that simply isn’t there.
After a decade-plus in the submission trenches and nearly 800 rejections, I’ve become quite the rejectomancer. At this point, I’m pretty good at deciphering what rejections mean and, more importantly, what they don’t. So, let’s look at some actual rejections from my vast store of form nos and not-for-us’s and see what we can learn.
The no-frills no
“We appreciate the chance to read your story, but unfortunately, this piece didn't quite work for us. We wish you the best in placing it elsewhere.”
The no-frills no is a form rejection letter you’ll see from a lot of markets. It’s to-the-point, short, and to the uninitiated, it can sound abrupt or even terse, but it’s really just efficient.
This rejection says one thing: We’re not going to publish your story. That’s it. There’s no additional information, and you should resist the urge to read into this rejection at all. What you should do is put it out of your mind, put it in your rejection folder, and send that story out again elsewhere.
The nicer no
“Thank you for selecting [publisher] as a potential home for your work. We really enjoyed [story], but unfortunately, it isn’t the right fit for us at this time. It means a great deal to us that you trusted our magazine with your writing, and we found much to admire in your work. We hope you'll send us more to consider soon.
[Publisher] wishes you the very best with your efforts to find a home for your work. We encourage you to keep writing and submitting!”
Editors are writers, too, and they understand the sting of rejection. So they might use language in a rejection to let a writer down easy. But because writers can’t help but read into every single word, these nicer nos can appear to be more than they are. For example, above, “We hope you’ll send us more to consider soon” is something you see in tiered form rejections, but the only way you’ll know that is if you have multiple rejections from the same publisher to compare (more on that in a bit).
In truth, there’s no difference between the no-frills no and the nicer no beyond presentation. But, hey, presentation matters, and when you’re starting out, the nicer no goes down a little easier.
Like the no-frills no, the only thing to do here is to move on and send that story out again.
The next-level no
“We have read your submission, and unfortunately, your story isn't quite what we're looking for right now. While we regretfully cannot provide detailed feedback due to the volume of submissions, we thank you for your interest in our magazine and hope you continue to consider us in the future.”
Often called the higher-tier rejection, the next-level no is proof positive you’re moving up the rejection food chain. It can be tough to tell if a rejection is higher tier unless you have multiple rejections from the same publisher. For example, I know this is a next-level no, because I first received the following rejection from the publisher:“We have read your submission and will have to pass, as it unfortunately does not meet our needs at this time.”
The rejection above is a no-frills no, but the next-level no contains some crucial differences, primarily that “Hope you continue to consider us in the future.” This tells me the story maybe got a little further along in the review process. It’s not foolproof, of course—markets might change their basic form rejection from a no-frills to a nicer no—but it’s usually a good indicator.
If you’re getting these rejections from a publisher, you’re on the right track. Keep doing what you’re doing.
The near-miss no
“Thank you for submitting [story] to [publisher]. We really enjoyed this story, and it came very close for us, but we're passing on it. We wish you luck with placing it elsewhere and hope you will continue to consider us in the future.”
Ah, the near-miss no, aka, the heartbreaker, aka, the close-but-no-cigar. You might be wondering how I know this is a form rejection. Easy. I’ve received it verbatim from the same publisher on three different occasions. Don’t worry. I’ll crack ‘em soon.
Obviously, the publisher came close to accepting this story, but didn’t, and that’s where you can get into trouble. The temptation is to look for a reason WHY the story got close but was ultimately rejected. The truth of the matter is, you don’t know and you never will. Good stories get rejected all the time and for reasons well beyond an author’s control. The market might have recently accepted a similar story, or the story doesn’t fit the theme of the issue, or they might just like another story a little bit more.
The real takeaway is you did get close, the story is good, and you should send it out again, right away. Every story of mine that’s received a near-miss rejection, especially from a pro market, I eventually sold. I think you will, too.
A final word
Rejections, especially form rejections, are just an unavoidable part of submitting your work. They can sting at first, but once you realize all they mean is we’re saying no to THIS story THIS time, it gets easier.
I look at selling a piece like lining up the tumblers in a lock. You need to put the right story in front of the right editor at the right time. Line all those up, and you get an acceptance. If one is off, well, see above.
So keep writing, keep submitting. Eventually, the stars will align, and you’ll open your email to a blessed acceptance.
Aeryn Rudel is a writer from Tacoma, Washington. He is the author of the baseball horror novella Effectively Wild, the Iron Kingdoms Acts of War novels, and the flash fiction collection Night Walk & Other Dark Paths. He has published over one hundred short stories in various genre magazines and anthologies, including Factor Four Magazine, On Spec, and Pseudopod. Learn more about Aeryn's work at www.rejectomancy.com or on Bluesky @aerynrudel.bsky.social.
