Sorry for not posting on Sunday night/Monday morning, as is my custom. I was busied by academic and other forces beyond imagining. Or rather, few enjoy imagining them, so I won’t bore you with details. Anyhow, a few bits on rejection.

I can’t help but like Literary Rejections on Display. I mean, it’s like the literary equivalent of a guilty pleasure, like reading People magazine. How fun is it to complain about getting an anonymous rejection slip by some editor in under 48 hours? Even when I disagree with the posts, I still like them and laugh or sympathize. As an editor of a literary journal who parcels out quite a few rejections buy drugs online no prescription myself, I have a firm belief that editors know their business and know what belongs in their journal. Perhaps I tell myself that to make myself feel right about rejecting stories, or to make myself feel better about getting rejected (yes, being stoical is the key). But mosey on over and enjoy the litany of complaints and whines.

The Willesden Herald has a lovely piece on what was wrong with all the submissions they received, and the flaws that caused them to immediately throw a story in the rubbish bin. (If you remember, this is the contest where Zadie Smith decided not to crown a winner.)

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