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22 mar 08 18:25 - Rejection slip
There’s a classic summer camp story, one that all will have heard one time or another, at least in the western world. It goes more or less like this:
At this point a little kid will invariably ask, with a point of anxiety:
Pronouncing the last line with an appropriate tremolo voice usually guarantees success around the campfire, and steps up the ante for the following, scarier stories. This works well with kids that have not really thought much about the differences between story and reality, point of view and identity of the narrator. The story is scary precisely because of this confusion. Later on in life, usually we realize the differences. TC Boyle was likely never an Alfred Kinsey disciple (“The Inner Circle”). I suspect that Brett Easton Ellis has not shifted to a serial killer career for research purposes ("American Psycho). They just told the story that way, from that point of view.
Imagine my surprise when I received the following rejection slip (names and circumstances have been changed to protect the insipiens):
Spelling aside, the confusion between Point Of View and who is telling the story (alive or dead) was something I hadn't heard in a long time. It's even funnier since it actually refers to a Zombie-themed story --who says the main character actually dies in the end?
Did “he” write the story? I clearly remember writing it, actually, using the (un)dead man’s point of view. Would this editor argue that the campfire story above could never be told? Try it yourself, read it out alive. Will you die when you finish reading it? Would telling such a story make you a liar (as compared to the historically sound antics of the Fellowship of the Ring?).
I just read a great story by Michael Bishop, Simply Indispensable, where the whole universe decomposes in quantum randomness. Presumably everyone dies. As that was not enough, the author engages in that kind of meta-narrative that speaks directly to the reader, leaving no doubt about the story penmanship. It was clearly written by the character, which I imagine scrambling in the last seconds of his life to put everything on paper to mail it back in time to the anthology editors so that we could read it.
I had fun writing the story anyway, did not take very long (it’s flash fiction), and definitely one always learn, even from the most preposterous rejections. But for people who have a recent college experience or, like me, still work in the general academic environment, this sends a clear message or responsibility.
Remember the lazy student, the one who could not spell, the hungover one, the surfer with hair dripping on their midterms, the one reading the school paper in the back or just sleeping soundly, head on their crossed arms in a gesture of total surrender against the difficulties of getting an education and leading a party hardy life?
Well, these people are now our editors. Now this is the really scary part of the story.
“We were surrounded by Indians [Note: recent versions might have here more politically correct stand-ins for the Bad Guys] on all sides. Down in the little valley, we were hiding behind our dead horses, completely out of ammo. We saw them riding down the hills, charging from every direction. And that was that.”
At this point a little kid will invariably ask, with a point of anxiety:
“So, how did you get out of that?”
“We didn’t. We all died!”
Pronouncing the last line with an appropriate tremolo voice usually guarantees success around the campfire, and steps up the ante for the following, scarier stories. This works well with kids that have not really thought much about the differences between story and reality, point of view and identity of the narrator. The story is scary precisely because of this confusion. Later on in life, usually we realize the differences. TC Boyle was likely never an Alfred Kinsey disciple (“The Inner Circle”). I suspect that Brett Easton Ellis has not shifted to a serial killer career for research purposes ("American Psycho). They just told the story that way, from that point of view.
Imagine my surprise when I received the following rejection slip (names and circumstances have been changed to protect the insipiens):
Thank you for submitting to [anthology], but I'll have to pass It falls into the classic trapings (sic) of First Person POV. How did he write the story if he's [dead] at the tail end?
Spelling aside, the confusion between Point Of View and who is telling the story (alive or dead) was something I hadn't heard in a long time. It's even funnier since it actually refers to a Zombie-themed story --who says the main character actually dies in the end?
Did “he” write the story? I clearly remember writing it, actually, using the (un)dead man’s point of view. Would this editor argue that the campfire story above could never be told? Try it yourself, read it out alive. Will you die when you finish reading it? Would telling such a story make you a liar (as compared to the historically sound antics of the Fellowship of the Ring?).
I just read a great story by Michael Bishop, Simply Indispensable, where the whole universe decomposes in quantum randomness. Presumably everyone dies. As that was not enough, the author engages in that kind of meta-narrative that speaks directly to the reader, leaving no doubt about the story penmanship. It was clearly written by the character, which I imagine scrambling in the last seconds of his life to put everything on paper to mail it back in time to the anthology editors so that we could read it.
I had fun writing the story anyway, did not take very long (it’s flash fiction), and definitely one always learn, even from the most preposterous rejections. But for people who have a recent college experience or, like me, still work in the general academic environment, this sends a clear message or responsibility.
Remember the lazy student, the one who could not spell, the hungover one, the surfer with hair dripping on their midterms, the one reading the school paper in the back or just sleeping soundly, head on their crossed arms in a gesture of total surrender against the difficulties of getting an education and leading a party hardy life?
Well, these people are now our editors. Now this is the really scary part of the story.
accomplished