Irritating Rejection from TLR

I almost never take rejections personally, no matter how much an editor ignores/praises me. Either way, it's a subjective business. The one thing that does piss me off, is when a journal makes me wait a year for nothing. You can send me a form rejection after a week + I'll laugh out loud. You can send me a form rejection after three months + I'll nod. You can send me a form rejection after six months + I won't flinch. You can also send me a personalized rejection at any point between one week + one year + obviously, I won't get angry either. Disappointed + probably mopey, but never angry. But when you make me wait a year for absolutely nothing--The Literary Journal, I'm talking to you--that pisses me off for a bunch of reasons:

1. The New Yorker + Esquire now only make unknown writers wait for 3-6 months before they find out they still need an agent (+ those journals get at least 24,000 fiction submissions a year, probably more)

2. The Paris Review will send you something usually in the same time-frame with fewer submissions + fewer readers

3. If you're a small, non-glossy, non-glitzy, university or MFA-affiliated literary journal + it's taking you a year to send people form rejections, then you're not dealing with your slushpile effectively at all. Either you don't have enough readers or the managing editor isn't doing her/his job of splitting up the manuscripts or the journal has moved locations (in all three cases, just keep the submission manager offline until you're ready to actually read shit).

I've been a fiction reader for literary journals before + I know this. If your editor in chief misplaces manuscripts, oh, say, in an attic for a year, that's another story. But with online submission managers, stories don't become refugees the way they used to.

Okay, in summary:

The glossies are getting to manuscripts faster than a lot of these small literary journals + they have 20 times as many submissions each month + often not that many more readers. Of course they also have unpaid internships + $$. On the flipside, most MFA students have no desire to read from the slushpile after the buzz has worn off + they start to realize that they have stories to workshop in two weeks + a pile of short stories to (not) read. In any case, I don't give a shit: it's still obnoxious to send responses a year after a submission was sent unless that manuscript made the final round but then was rejected, in which case, it's still kinda obnoxious but the good rejection makes the obnoxiousness kinda go away even though it's also really heart-breaking + feels oh so fucking close.

For all the above reasons, even though I've admired a few of the stories in TLR (specifically, Heidi Durrow's piece), I'm gonna peace out of all future TLR submissions. I just don't have another year of my life to waste + I'm not convinced the wait is worth it. At least when the New Yorker makes you wait a long time--it happens--the rejection hurts less because with your next submission, you still get a smaller-than-life chance to do the impossible + publish one of your stories in the motherfucking New Yorker, which would change your writing career forever.

Love Affairs of Silverware

I wanna live in san francisco. i wanna live in japan too, maybe date a fabulous urban 日本人 who wears platform sneakers, boas and sparkles on her face.

workshop is too long and i think we should be allowed to take naps in our seats, or go to a vacant classroom and write poems about our life on the chalkboard. we should slip meth to william's coffee so we can get out of class at 1:00pm.

i miss the west coast hardcore. it's mad beautiful there, the cafes are outside, the ocean breathes down your neck, and the sun is always close to you. and the honies there. . . joder.

there are certain days where i feel like everyday i'm not with someone i love, or making love to her, is somehow a wasted day.

also, i have mixed feelings about staying in the US next year. part of me wants to so i can write, fine tune my novel, begin my writing career, and another part of me wants to live abroad, kick it in an expat community, explore new worlds and new cities, and write as consolation.

sometimes i like it when i feel like i can cry, it makes me feel like i'm open, unzipped, exposed to the air, a storm waiting to happen, an unlocked chakra.

today is quiet but beautiful.

::

rejections:

prairie schooner
verbsap ( a nice rejection though, as always)

submissions to:

soma lit journal
the literary review
chelsea
the colorado review

peace and love to youz,

--j2b