Getting rejection letters in the mail is a pretty cool thing.  OK, I admit not as cool as getting a publisher love letter with promises of fame and fortune, but cool none the less.

Oh, I know what your thinking:  “Now George is going  to give us that tired old number about each rejection being one step closer to being published.”

While there is a kernel of truth in that little ditty, it’s cliche and not very helpful.

On the wall of my office there is a red file folder I’ve opened up and tacked with the words HALL OF SHAME.  To this very special spot on my wall I attach all of the “thanks but no thanks” letters that I receive.  I’ve not had enough manuscripts sent out yet for this shame spot to be very full, but I know that one day I’ll get there.

I love rejection letters because:

• They mean that I am writing.  Not just any writing either.  No-sir-ree-bob-a-rooskie!  A rejection letter signifies that I wrote something that in my mind was good enough to send out to a publisher.
• A rejection letter tells me that while the writing did not get accepted this time, I did a lot of things right.  I completed the writing project, formatted it correctly and included a SASE.  Already, I am miles ahead of the competition.
• As time marches forward, I know the letters will start to include little personal notes of advice and encouragement letting me know that I am getting a little closer to my goal of being published.

It’s really important to thoroughly read each letter to gain possible insight into why a particular work was rejected (remember it’s the work being rejected, not you!).

Here are some common rejection letter phrases and what they are really saying:

• Sorry, not for us. – This means I am an idiot.  If I see this phrase, it means that I did not do my homework.  I did not read enough of their publication to get a feel for their audience or market.  I didn’t research back issues nor did I thoroughly read the publisher’s guidelines.
• Not now, try again – Awesome!  This is great.  It means they didn’t take out a restraining order or direct the mailroom to send all of my future correspondence to the incinerator.  They are words of encouragement letting me know that what I sent them isn’t right for them right now, but there must be something in the style or content that showed promise.
• Not fresh enough – Uh-oh.  This usually means that I sent some kind of semi-recycled, overdone tripe.  Maybe I got an idea after seeing an article or two on the web and decided I’d try and put MY spin on it.  Sometimes that’s not a bad strategy, but before sending, I really need to get feedback from some fellow writers and make sure it is an out of the park home run – otherwise, no sale.
• Are you kidding?! Lose our address, bub. – Ok, ok.  chances are you’ll never get a rejection slip worded like this.  If you do, then please forward the rejected item to george@tumblemoose.com because this I’ve gotta see.  You may feel like this is what the publication is saying when they send a standard pink slip, but they’re not.  Really.

In addition to these main phrases, there are probably dozens of similar words to let you know your work has been rejected.  The most important lesson here is to not give up after a few of these letters.  I mean unless you lay awake at night going over death plot revenge scenarios in your head.  If that’s the case you are way too thin skinned to be a real writer and you should probably move on to a get rich quick internet scheme.

I think it would be interesting to read the funniest, saddest, most insulting, or most encouraging rejection letter you’ve ever received.  How about leaving an excerpt in the comments?