Rejection Lore runs strong and deep in the poetry writing crowd. Everything about a rejection slip has carefully shaded meaning, from the size of the paper to the editor’s handwritten note (or lack thereof) at the bottom. Writers band together on the web to share their most memorable rejections. One I got this week, though, is the best ever. It is clear to me that the poet and Publisher/Editor of Tupelo Press, Jeff Levine –back when he was sending out thick envelopes of poems and receiving in reply ragged Triscuit-sized slips of colored paper bearing one sentence (We are unable to use your work at this time. –The Editors)– vowed that if and when he was on the receiving end of fat envelopes of poems, he’d do things differently.
Now, this particular submission was to an anonymous contest, so I know his words are not meant to encourage me specifically. But you got to appreciate a full single-spaced page of this type of encouragement:
“I know it’s hard to be philosophical about not winning, but I fervently hope you wil take consolation in knowing that you participate in something significant. … Recognition is a wonderful thing, of course, but ephemeral rewards pale in comparison to the importance — and joy — of creating poems… You must, of course, continue to believe fervently in your own work, and I hope that you will shrug off every disappointment knowing that the eventual rewards will be so much sweeter for the patient waiting.”
Thank you, Jeff Levine! There are some editors in the nation who will groan if they read your letter, because it means they will be bombarded with even more fat envelopes filled with mediocre poetry by poets emboldened by your words. But I think it’s sweet of you to say so.
