Have you ever received a rejection letter like this one?  Well, if you have, don’t let it get you down.  This article was written to help writers like you get past unprofessional rejection letters and become the writer you know you can be, regardless of what people like Matt would think.


 This lovely rejection letter is just one of many that I have collected over the three years that I have been actively pursuing a writing career.  Mr. H. is one of the editors of a poetry magazine that I attempted to send work to for review.  At first I sent in a couple of pieces of poetry that were truly my best (remember when sending in work you must always send your best work, as usually editors will not explain why your work has been rejected.) The first set of poems I sent to this magazine was rejected by a nice gentleman named Adam who recommended that I study his publication a little more carefully before resending work.  I did.  In fact, not only did I study the publication, but before resending more work, I had a couple of editors and English professors I know look over the magazine and my work to get their opinion on whether or not my work was a good fit.  All agreed with me and suggested that I had something similar to a couple of the poems that were published by the magazine.

 After getting the seal of approval from my superiors in the writing world, I decided to give it a second try.  Now we get to this email.  A few days after I sent in my second batch of related poetry to the magazine editors, I got this distasteful and very unprofessional email from Matt.  When I read the email at first, I knew that it was a rejection.  I guess so many attempts at sending work have automatically programmed me to assume that every letter or return email I receive concerning the work I submitted is a letter of rejection.  I am a heavy believer in positive thinking but I am also a realist.  I know that acceptance letters are few and far between whereas rejection letters are commonplace.  My heart simply sank when I read this email from Matt.  I mean whose heart wouldn’t sink?  I felt that I was worthless even though I had a substantial amount of writing credits to my name at that point.  Who was this guy and where the hell did he get his nerve from?  How dare he tell me that I hadn’t read his magazine and how dare he tell me that what I sent wasn’t poetry!  The worst of all the things he said to me was that I needed to go away.  I didn’t know what to think so for three and a half days; I just sat in my room and sulked at what I had read.  I didn’t want to write another word for the rest of my life.  Then, that’s when it hit me.  I told myself that I wasn’t bad at all.  I was a good writer and he wasn’t going to make me feel worthless any more.

 I sat down at my computer and I wrote.  I wrote for hours and then days.  I couldn’t stop writing.  His degradation of me and my writing was the slap in the face that I needed to get myself more motivated to make it in this very difficult business.  I knew what I wanted to do.  I wanted to complete something that I had given up on over a year ago.  Back in the early winter of last year (2003), I began work on a novel that I thought would be a great seller.  I worked on that novel for nine months or so and then I tossed it away.  The manuscript for the novel had been read by an editor who told me that there is no one in the world who would publish that “drivel.” I believed her.  I knew she was right just like Matt was.  So I gave up.  But three days after reading what Matt had cruelly wrote to me, gave me the incentive to continue the book.  I went through my old papers in the attic of my mother’s home and found what little of the book that had remained unscathed as I went on a depressive rampage of all my work.

 I sat down and rewrote most of the things that I felt were wrong, inconsistent, or just plain useless.  I re-researched my facts and spent countless hours trying to work what new information I had learned into a way that readers would understand and identify with.  After re-reading the book for what seemed like weeks crossing every “t” and dotting every “i,” I had finally completed the first four chapters of the book.  I was confident and content with the book, but there was a bigger task that had to be overcome.  I had to send the book in to a publisher or editor who would be willing to read more.  Within one month, I had sent the book to eleven publishers and editors who represent the kind of work my book fit into.  Out of the eleven publishers and editors, one asked for more of the book.  That was a victory for me but I was sure not to celebrate too early.  I sent in the material requested by the publisher and within six weeks, I was sent an acceptance letter.  The book will not be completed for a long while now, but the victory itself was more than enough for me to overcome the insecurities I had felt as a result of Matt.

My advice to others like me:

This is where I dispense a little advice for other aspiring writers in my situation.  I have been trying to make it in the writing world for a long time now.  I knew what I wanted to do and that is what I am doing.  My advice to young writers like me who often feel like giving up or finding something else to do is simply, “don’t.” You are writing because you love it, not for profit.  Sure, it is nice to sell an article to a magazine or newspaper every so often but if that dream does not materialize within weeks, months or even a couple of years, that just means that you need to dedicate yourself to studying your craft a little harder and become a more solid writer.

If your goal is to write for a specific magazine like Us Weekly, Time or People, it is wise to query the editors of those magazines first, and ask them what they are currently looking for as far as freelance writing is concerned.  It is always suggested that you know what the needs of specific publications are before sending in any material.  If you fail to do so, you can anger the very busy editor and ruin any chance you may have of ever writing for them in the future.  I suggest that first time writers as well as new and un-established writers start off with smaller presses first to build your resume, credits, and skill.  Small or “little” literary presses are more likely to accept your work as they look for new and unpublished writers to supply material for their publications.  Oftentimes they offer very little to no money, but what you want as a wannabe writer is the experience that larger publications are looking for in future writers.  Check your local bookstore or library for a copy of the Writer’s Market for a detailed list of magazines, editors, and publishers who are actively seeking material from writers like you and me.

 As writers, we face common challenges; some of the most common and toughest are staying motivated and confident, avoiding "writer's block," and meeting goals on time.  Here is some of the best useful advice I've come by for becoming and remaining productive, creative, and content while traversing the writer's path.  Try implementing these "simple writing tips" and see if they work for you.


Remember to never:

Stop writing for a time because you received a discouraging rejection letter like the letter from Matt at the opening of this article.  Whether or not you've been published yet, mark a file folder "Acceptance Letters" and expect to fill it eventually.  Your day will come.  However, save your rejection letters and categorize them if you want.  I have most of my rejection letters in a portfolio.  It is a great reminder of what you went through to get to where you are or want to be.

Stop writing and creating for a time because you've completed something or because you've had an acceptance from an editor.  Early in my still-developing career, I was guilty of this.  There is a tendency to relax, to say: "Ah, I've done it." Relish the moment, sure; but don't get overly lazy with your writing.  Move on to your next writing project quickly.  Time is precious as the demand for more feature articles are on the rise.

And Always:

Reread every sentence, line, paragraph, page, etc. after you've just written it.  Learn to separate your "editor" self until the work is finished -- you'll be much more resourceful and productive this way.

So there you have them, my simple tips to success.  Maybe you knew them already -- at least naturally.  I find, however, that it's good to be overt about how we structure and govern our writing lives.  Without rules to live by, and goals to strive for, our art suffers -- languishes from lack of discipline and drive.  So commit the tips to memory, recite them once a day if need be.  And write, write, write!

 This article was written by me, Jeffrey Lee Williams, Jr.  I am a columnist/reporter from New York City.  I am also a freelance writer with nearly two dozen publishing credits to my name.  I have authored over one two hundred short stories, articles, poems, and essays in three years.  Presently I write for the magazine Out in Jersey.  I am currently working on my first novel.

On the night of March 13th 2003, Dan Rosen, a seventeen-year-old high school junior, was online searching for someone to talk to and connect with physically.  He wanted to meet an older man he could learn from and be intimate with.  He was in a state of unparalleled depression and in desperate need for the affection of another.  This was a particularly bad time for Dan.  His father had just been on a drunken binge of scotch and whiskey and his mother had been out of town for weeks on what she called a “spiritual cleansing.”

Let’s go back in time for a moment.  Dan grew up in a lower class family in Brooklyn, NY and later relocated to Hoboken, NJ.  His mother moved from job to job trying to support her habit of spiritual awakenings and repression, and his father worked in a modern day sweatshop for just under twenty-two thousand dollars a year.  To fast forward a bit, Dan underwent a traumatic childhood of physical and mental abuse by his mom and dad while his little sister was pampered and cherished like a fine piece of imported art.

Dan recalled to me a story of one particular night when he and his sister were playing a little game of hide and seek and his father decided that Dan had to be punished for making his sister play with him, when—as he says—she clearly didn’t want to.  While playing the game, Dan recalled the explicit memory his father barging into the room like a bull after a red cape, and attacked Dan after a night of tying one on with his friends at the local pub.

Mr. Rosen screamed at his daughter to leave the room because it was time for Dan to have his punishment, for what he deemed as child endangerment.  Yes, that was his excuse.  Anyway, Mr. Rosen pulled off his genuine leather belt and began to whip Dan while simultaneously reciting religious scriptures to him about why he was being beaten, and explained that God made him do this to “whip the Satan out of him.” After the belt whipping, Dan was physically lifted into the air about eight to ten feet and thrown onto the bed where his schoolbooks, pens, pencils and a pair of sewing scissors were.

As a result of Dan’s fall onto the bed, he sustained multiple bruises (not counting the ones already present from the savage beating) and the sewing scissors that were on the bed had been planted in his left buttock about a quarter of an inch, leaving a thick gash that bled for hours.  Dan was never taken to the hospital; he was just left to suffer the pains of an uncontrollable father.  His mom had been—once again—out of town, finding herself and Jesus.

That is just the abridged history of Dan and his very unstable family and childhood.  As anyone with a brain could see, he hadn’t had the best of childhoods and his father was never a father to him at all.  So it stood to reason that on that night in March, Dan was in search of an older man for that father figure he had never really had.

While searching the AOL chat rooms for several hours, Dan met a man named Darryl.  Darryl claimed to be just twenty-four and he said that he worked in Manhattan at a café and bookstore.  Dan and Darryl chatted for about three hours over the net and then Darryl suggested that they talk over the phone.  At first, Dan was not too keen on the idea, as the only two phone lines in the house were located in his parents’ bedroom and in the kitchen.  Darryl coaxed him into calling him and within minutes, Dan was sitting on the dark kitchen floor talking about his entire life to this total stranger.

When Dan began to reveal a little too much about himself to Darryl, Darryl realized that he might know Dan.  Before moving to Hoboken, Dan lived in the Brooklyn Heights section of Brooklyn.  Darryl lived there for about a year and a half in the mid 90’s as well.  The thought of Darryl knowing him made Dan really nervous and wanting to hang up and head back online in search of another, but Darryl once again talked Dan into doing what he wanted him to do and he eventually earned the trust of Dan.

Around four in the morning, after talking for two hours and fifteen minutes, Darryl arranged a meeting with Dan on the following Saturday afternoon and suggested to him that he needed to get out more and asked him to attend a party back in Brooklyn.  That Saturday, Dan met Darryl at his job.  They talked for a few minutes before his shift was over, then headed to Brooklyn in Darryl’s rented truck.  Dan was at first taken aback when he saw the license plate on the truck.  His immediate thought was that Darryl had wrecked his car or perhaps didn’t have one, but then, living in NYC, why would he need an automobile at all?  His doubts weren’t strong enough to stop him from traveling to Brooklyn with Darryl.  Within an hour, Darryl and Dan were at the party where there must have been several hundred people and endless amounts of drinks and drugs available for anyone to take.  There was a punch bowl spiked with dissolved Extasy pills and a candy dish filled to the rim with acid, poppers and special K; to mention a few.

About three hours after they arrived at the party, Dan and Darryl began to use drugs and dance with the seduction of wild animals during mating season.  At Darryl’s consistent requests, Dan began to consume vast amounts of alcohol and drugs, all in a saddened attempt to gain his acceptance.  Dizziness and fatigue fell over Dan just twenty minutes after his binge of drugs and alcohol.  Darryl noticed that Dan was not in the best of shape and suggested that he take a few sips of his Pepsi and go up into the bedroom for a little rest.  He promised Dan that if he didn’t feel better after he awoke, he would take him back home to Hoboken.

 The last thing Dan remembered before he went to sleep was looking at the clock on the wall just above the television of the guest room.  The time was 11:09 p.m. and Dan was well on his way to dreamland.  When Dan awoke just a short forty minutes after his sleep, he noticed that he wasn’t alone.  His vision was blurred and his hearing was jumbled, but he could recognize the face of one of the three men that was in the room with him.  It was Darryl and two of his football buddies.  They were naked from the waist down and tying Darryl to the bedpost while trying to keep him calm, explaining to him that he was going to enjoy what was about to happen to him.  Dan was tied face down to the bed and his mouth was gagged with a pair of socks and some masking tape.

While Dan was trying to fight the restraints and his severe state of delusion due to the vast amounts of drugs in his system, he felt intense pressure in his anus.  One of the guys began raping him.  Dan tried to scream but couldn’t.  All he could do was lay there until it was over, and that would not be easy.  While the first guy was raping Dan, Darryl and the second guy began to confer with each other on who would go next, what position they wanted him in and what they wanted to do with him.

After the first guy raped Dan to completion, there was a quick two out of three game of rock, paper, scissor; Darryl won the right to go at Dan next.  When it was his turn, Darryl untied Dan and said to him that trying to fight would be useless because they were stronger and the door had been barricaded with a dresser, and locked.  When Dan was untied, he was ordered to wrap his arms around Darryl as he started to have sex with him.  Darryl was not of average size and although, because of the drugs Dan had been comfortably numb, he did feel the pain of Darryl’s massive size as it was forced inside him and repeatedly pounded.  While raping Dan, Darryl also began to show his sadistic side as he began to whip and punch Dan on his thighs, chest, and stomach.  The abuse was enough to get Darryl off and he climaxed inside of Dan, as did the first guy.

The third guy wasn’t as vicious as Darryl and the other, but he was just as sick as Darryl.  During the sex, the third guy, a Latino from Harlem, ripped off the mouth gag and wanted Dan to call him racist names and berate him as he was being raped.  Dan had no other choice but to adhere to his commands and began to throw racist jargon to the boy.  The words seemed to get the final rapist off very quickly because within three to four minutes, he was finished.  While Dan lay in bed bleeding and beet-red from the rape, the three boys warned him that if he breathed a word to anyone about what happened; they would go after him and his family.  When the boys were dressed, all except Darryl decided to add just one more hint of humiliation to the emotionally distressed Dan.  The two boys threw him to the floor so hard that his head thumped and bounced off the floor twice, then they pulled out their penises and urinated on Dan stating that he was a bitch, and nothing more than that.

While Dan dressed himself and tried to find his way back to Hoboken, the thought of sexually transmitted diseases ran through his mind.  He was sure that he had contracted something since these boys were not protected and were bare-backing.  Three days after the rape, Dan saw a gay counselor and was tested for all possible illnesses.  Frightened of the outcome, Dan decided not to go back for the results, and also decided against further mandatory testing, and he also refused to turn these guys in, out of severe fear of repercussions.

Currently, Dan is a virtual prisoner in his own home.  He is scared to leave his room or the very small town of Hoboken out of fear that something will happen to him.  He cannot hold down a job and is failing his senior year of school.  His parents are not any help to him.  In fact, his parents said that if he was to flunk out of school because of what they perceive to be “attention grabbing stunts,” they would take him to a remote town in the suburbs and drop him off, citing that since he is now eighteen, they were not responsible for him or his welfare.  His now sixteen-year-old sister looked on and smiled as her brother sulked at the thought of being abandoned in his weakened state.  A therapist and queer counselor from Parsippany, NJ said that a person in his extreme state of emotional distress is not unlikely to consider suicide.  When confronted about these thoughts, Dan simply said: “That’s not a bad idea.”  My last conversation with Dan was on December 3rd, just one day before he committed suicide.  He had stolen money from his mother and father’s drawer and took a bus to Maine where he had briefly stayed with his aunt Dolly.  In a letter sent to my home address, Dan asked that I not reveal the way he killed himself and suggested that if I wanted proof that he was dead, I call a number and give the information he sent to me.  My fears were confirmed, and Dan was deceased.  My only wish was for him to help himself, now that he is gone, my only wish is that his spirit lives on to bring his abusers to justice.