Rejection Slips (now in 3D!!!!!)
Back in 2001-2002 I quit my day job to pursue writing full-time. Poetry hadn't really gotten off the ground for me at that point, and I was still just the new kid from Ohio. Fortunately, I had other types of writing to fall back on...but these rejection letters from back then don't show it!
Screenplays, comic book ideas, short stories...I had them all rejected. Not a single real bite the whole time. I chalk these failures up to my lack of skill back then. I always had good ideas, but the execution, eh, not so much.
I pulled out my old box of rejection letters from back then and brought it to work to show Megan, who is an aspiring writer. I don't know what I hoped she might glean from it except some laughs. I love pulling it out and showing them to people.
Here are some of the highlights:
#1 - Please die.
This one was one of the early ones I got back and its tone almost crushed me. It essentially says, "No matter what you write - ever - do not send it here. We think you're so bad that we don't even want to see an envelope from Ohio ever again. Please die."
#2 - Recycling, Part 1
This one is notable because they don't even have a form letter; they just stamp what you sent them and give it back to you. Talk about recycling!
#3 - Recycling II: Going Green's Revenge
This one is a form letter, but they want to give you that personal touch, so they cross out "Writer" and write your name on it...like you might think you're special.
#4 - I'm so tired
You can just imagine this agent (or rather, their unpaid intern) falling asleep while they're typing this.
#5 - For only $19.95...
Ah, the old "scratch my back and I'll run off with your money" play. For the record, I didn't. I wasn't THAT green.
#6 - Recycling III: The Return of the Borrowed Signature
This one cracks me up because this one takes an artist's eye to make happen. They didn't even want to write my name, so they used my typed signature as the lead-in to a comment. I guess two more handwritten words - "Scott Woods" - would have killed them. This one really kind of means "Dear Signature Line". I also like how they give you a peek into The Game: "...it's almost impossible to sell fiction unless a big star is attached..." If I was able to snag a big star, I wouldn't be sending this to an agent; I'd be sending it to a producer who gets stuff done.
There you go: six bona fide street cred tickets that I've played The Game. Looking at these rejection letters and the numerous ones left in the box that were just common (but meant the same thing: "No"), I laugh and wonder and generally feel good about them. I didn't feel good about them then, but it does feel good to be able to look back at something concrete, some proof that you at least TRIED. Millions of people dream of being published or selling a script. Only a severe fraction of them put in any work to see a single piece to completion. An even more severe minority bother to send out their stuff to be blasted like this (and worse), and that number is still in the thousands every year. There are a lot of dreamers out there, but not many people bother to buy a glove to play ball with. I ran my bases, even hit some home runs now.
How about you?
Screenplays, comic book ideas, short stories...I had them all rejected. Not a single real bite the whole time. I chalk these failures up to my lack of skill back then. I always had good ideas, but the execution, eh, not so much.
I pulled out my old box of rejection letters from back then and brought it to work to show Megan, who is an aspiring writer. I don't know what I hoped she might glean from it except some laughs. I love pulling it out and showing them to people.
Here are some of the highlights:
#1 - Please die.
This one was one of the early ones I got back and its tone almost crushed me. It essentially says, "No matter what you write - ever - do not send it here. We think you're so bad that we don't even want to see an envelope from Ohio ever again. Please die."
#2 - Recycling, Part 1
This one is notable because they don't even have a form letter; they just stamp what you sent them and give it back to you. Talk about recycling!
#3 - Recycling II: Going Green's Revenge
This one is a form letter, but they want to give you that personal touch, so they cross out "Writer" and write your name on it...like you might think you're special.
#4 - I'm so tired
You can just imagine this agent (or rather, their unpaid intern) falling asleep while they're typing this.
#5 - For only $19.95...
Ah, the old "scratch my back and I'll run off with your money" play. For the record, I didn't. I wasn't THAT green.
#6 - Recycling III: The Return of the Borrowed Signature
This one cracks me up because this one takes an artist's eye to make happen. They didn't even want to write my name, so they used my typed signature as the lead-in to a comment. I guess two more handwritten words - "Scott Woods" - would have killed them. This one really kind of means "Dear Signature Line". I also like how they give you a peek into The Game: "...it's almost impossible to sell fiction unless a big star is attached..." If I was able to snag a big star, I wouldn't be sending this to an agent; I'd be sending it to a producer who gets stuff done.
There you go: six bona fide street cred tickets that I've played The Game. Looking at these rejection letters and the numerous ones left in the box that were just common (but meant the same thing: "No"), I laugh and wonder and generally feel good about them. I didn't feel good about them then, but it does feel good to be able to look back at something concrete, some proof that you at least TRIED. Millions of people dream of being published or selling a script. Only a severe fraction of them put in any work to see a single piece to completion. An even more severe minority bother to send out their stuff to be blasted like this (and worse), and that number is still in the thousands every year. There are a lot of dreamers out there, but not many people bother to buy a glove to play ball with. I ran my bases, even hit some home runs now.
How about you?