Sunday, March 4, 2018

"Thanks for the rejection!"

The subject of this blog post is not ironic or rueful. We actually do receive many notes of thanks from authors who, after having their submissions rejected by Clarion, find that they are nonetheless grateful that our editors took the time to reply thoughtfully to their work. Not everyone receives a page-long note, but anyone who specifically asks for feedback on their writing or for an account for our reason of rejection, gets exactly that. We'll talk about other venues they might wish to submit to, if their work is simply out of our scope; we'll mention other authors whom their writing reminds us of, and encourage them to seek them out; and we'll share whatever several points of technical feedback felt salient enough to pass along.

Here are a few messages we've received this year, from authors who took our rejection of their work in a very positive way.
  • Message from RD: "Thanks so much for your remarks. You are one of the VERY FEW who makes this effort, and from the void of bottomless submission piles it is both useful and appreciated. Again, many thanks."
  • Message from WC: "Thanks for the feedback on my story. I look forward to using your thoughtful input in revising and, hopefully, improving it. Once again, I really appreciate your time and consideration."
  • Message from GC: "I sincerely thank you for this kind rejection letter and the very helpful encouragement. I've reread my story and believe your readers are astute. I've re-worked the piece to rein-back the complexity of the language and create more consistent syntax. Thank you again for reading and taking the time to comment so specifically on my work. I hope to submit other stories to you in the future."
  • Message from AM: "I appreciate your comments and thank you for them. At some point I'll try you again with deeper characters and language."
  • Message from AK: "As a poet who has received many rejection letters, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for your encouraging, positive, constructive response. It truly means so much to me. I will take your suggestions into account with all of my future work. Also, I'll remain hopeful that I may one day re-submit to your publication and then receive a response about publication! Again, thank you for your very thoughtful response. I know how many submissions you must receive, and your time is much appreciated."
All those sound like our rejection process is winning us new friends, not making new enemies.

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Our Clarion editors don't send out discursive, collegial rejection letters just to have something to brag about on the blog. We find that when people understand that our (unpaid) readers paid close and careful attention to their work, they feel valued. When they see that our decisions are made in a context of broad understanding of and appreciation for the contemporary field of small press publishing -- its diversity, its personalities, its opportunities and pit-falls -- they feel Clarion is a hive of knowledgeable operators. And when they see that a rejection isn't the end of their relationship with Clarion, but just the next step in an ongoing correspondence, they're so much more likely to look for our email updates, to follow us on social media, and to recommend our magazine to their fellow readers and writers.

Kindness, in short, is good business. Of course, we'd likely wish to make generosity, acumen and kindness our guidelines, even if it were NOT good business, but its fortunate for us and our goals that our temperamental inclinations happen to align with professional best practices. And we count ourselves generally fortunate that our editorial structure happens to allow for this kind of long-form feedback; not every lit mag out there can find the time to engage so deeply as we do.

Friday, February 23, 2018

All in the name of book-buying

In which our man in Nigeria reflects on the hustle of the local book-seller.
The man who sells second-hand books close to the University's gate, from whom I get most of my novels from, is in the habit of wanting to recommend books for me. 
Apparently, he has read a whole lot of them and feels he is in a better position to decide the best for me. I am often amused at this. I agree that I am quite terrible at making the right choices for commodities I need, but definitely not when it comes to books. I like to browse through and have a good look at them before I decide, and I like to make the decisions myself. 
The few times I decided to humor him so as not to hurt his feelings, and go with his recommendation, I ended up not enjoying the reads. The man is a fan of sci-fi. I hardly understand sci-fi (unless it has a touch of reality, as in Lesley's or Innocent's) and I have tried without success to make the man understand that I would rather select the books on my own. He doesn't even seem to notice I usually don't go with his recommendations, Oga would still jump up to select books for me the next time I drop by wanting to buy. And I observed that he sells far cheaper to me than to others. 
A few days ago, he asked me why I hadn't been coming to check out the books this semester. I thought of how he successfully led me to starve in Year 1 all in the name of book-buying, until I took on the form of a dehydrated okporoko.
In this season, who has that kind of money to spare? 
Chukwuebuka Ibeh is a stringer for New England Review of Books, studying in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. 

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

A petition to convert Old Corner Bookstore into a Boston literary history museum

Boston's Old Corner Bookstore is arguably among the most important sites in American literary history. It turns 300 years old in 2018. And, at present, its first floor is operated as a fast-food restaurant. 

The Bookstore building is owned by Historic Boston Incorporated (HBI). Recently, HBI was asked to consider converting the Bookstore into a museum of the history of literary Boston. So far, HBI has been unwilling to approve a feasibility study that could produce a practical, long-term plan for this repurposing.

A group of editors, writers and scholars has created a petition to seek support for a change. Pen & Anvil supports this effort, and we're inviting you to show your support as well, by adding your name:

The petition, authored and coordinated by Paul Lewis, President of the Poe Studies Association, is supported as well by the presidents and executive directors of five other literary associations: the American Literature Association, the Ralph Waldo Emerson Society, the Nathaniel Hawthorne Society, the Thoreau Society, and the Ticknor Society. The petition urges HBI to approve the feasibility study as a first step. We ask you to read the petition, and consider adding your name to the list of supporters if you think a museum of Boston's literary heritage should become a program priority for HBI.

Learn more about the Bookstore at Wikipedia, the website of The Freedom Trail, and this 2017 article from The Boston GlobeFor more information about the campaign, or to ask how you can be more directly involved, contact Paul Lewis at

Important: HBI does a lot of good work for our cultural heritage here in Boston. They saved the Bookstore building from demolition in 1960, and have been leasing out the space for commercial use since 2011 to raise money for other preservation work. Saving the structure was heroic, but it’s time now to put the building to a more appropriate use. The best way we can persuade them that the Bookstore conversion is a strong idea is by presenting ourselves as supporters, collaborators, and good neighbors. Find and follow them on Twitter @HistoricBoston.

If you're so inclined, please share the petition with others who might want to sign, by sharing this URL via email or social media:

Monday, November 27, 2017

The rhymes of terror

The editors of one of our Pen & Anvil journals recently received a submission which came prefaced with an unusual submission letter. Rather than speaking of the author's reason for submitting to this particular journal, or their experiences in writing and publishing, or the work itself, the author's note railed against free-verse, NEA-funded editorial debauchery, and the ascendancy of the MFA as a poetic credential.

The seven rhymed quatrains of the note made frequent allusion to the depredations of the French Revolution, with a high point of pique in this stanza:
Once marginalized, like frail Marat,
the marginalized now make the law
and journals like your magazine
send my work to the guillotine. 
This is not an author our journal had rejected, mind you; rather, this author was hoping to be published in our journal. Are we, unbeknownst to ourselves, more decapitating than captivating?

This method of introduction is not a way of putting one's best foot forward. Instead, it's rather like sitting down on a blind first date, and being harangued by our suitor for rejecting him before we begin any other conversation.

One supposes that this kind of irritated eruption originates in a history of rejection by other editors. Or has this been the author's modus operandi from the start of their career? Put some balm on that rash, buddy. We aren't the murderous tyrants you pretend us to be.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

On Friedmanese and brandnames in print

We love a good, sharp repudiation of Thomas Friedman's trademark style. From a review in Rolling Stone of his latest, Thank You for Being Late:
Friedman's great anti-gift is his ability to use many words when only a few are neccessary. He became famous as a newspaper columnist for taking simple one-sentence observations like, "Wow, everyone has a cell phone these days," and blowing them out into furious 850-word trash-fires of mismatched imagery and circular argument.
Phew! Few things in reviewing are as satisfying as a swift and deserved coup de grace. This review brings to mind another one by Taibbi, written back in 2005, for In it, he takes down Friedman's book The World Is Flat; we featured it on the NERObooks homepage on 08/22/17. Taibbi writes:
Friedman is such a genius of literary incompetence that even his most innocent passages invite feature-length essays. I'll give you an example drawn at random [...] On page 174, Friedman is describing a flight he took on Southwest Airlines from Baltimore to Hartford, Connecticut. (Friendman never forgets to name the company or the brand name; if he had written The Metamorphosis, Gregory Samsa would have awoken from uneasy sleep in a Sealy Posturepedic.)
Emphasis ours, to draw attention to another hobbyhorse of our: capital-letter Brand Names. Up with them we do not put.

Every week or so, it seems a blogger or columnist returns to the low-stakes question of how and whether writers should respect commercial brand names. "Use 'Kleenex' or the phrase 'facial tissue', not 'kleenex'", that sort of thing. "This easy-to-remember keystroke combination will allow you to effortlessly insert the essential symbols indicating copyright, trademark and registered trademark."

Officially, Pen & Anvil rejects this kind of etiquette. To our writers we say: Use Kleenex, kleenex, tissues or boogie-catchers, as the textual context calls for. As editors and publishers, we decline the invitation to serve as volunteer branding police. If a corporation wants our help in enforcing their preferred brand identity, they can make an offer! We'd be required to flag any such purchased copy as #sponcon, of course. Not that most marketing budgets would be able to afford our asking price...

* * *

NB: NERObooks homepaged another Taibbi take-down of Friedman, featuring his review of Thank You for Being Late for Rolling Stone on 12/05/16.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

An honest reply to an unpleasant author

A real letter we sent to a real(ly despicable) submitter. Edited slightly for concision and to remove identifying information.
I'm writing to you as a follow-up to the message ("Thank you for your non-form letter response...") you emailed yesterday to one of our staff members. I wish to advise you that if by adopting an antagonistic and wanton manner, your intention is to attract attention to your writing, you should not hope for much success. 
In my experience such baiting will tend to work against you. (Happily, at the same time it works for the benefit of readers at large, for by such behavior editors are able to identify and ignore personalities who aren't likely to enter into constructive publishing relationships). 
I encounter many different sorts of folks in this line of work, and I instruct the editors and readers under my supervision to expect to encounter the same. We take people as they come, and are as glad to advocate for the writing of an abject asshole as that of the nicest kid on the block, if the work in our view deserves the attention. I explain this so that when I tell you that your submissions and correspondence are no longer welcome at Clarion or any Pen & Anvil affiliate, you won't misunderstand our reason. 
Your venomous message was abuse and vanity of so depraved a species that I find myself entirely uninterested in your experiments in literature. 
Though your email is entirely disagreeable, I will admit to finding a scrap of pleasure in it: I look forward to sharing your message with my colleagues elsewhere in the writing world. They're going to get a kick out of you, vile racist misogynistic enfant risible that you are. (Though, I don't believe you will have much to teach them, however much you think you "know more about writing than they have forgotten." I daresay they know the words "kike" and "cunt" already.) 
Should you require any clarification as to my message and meaning, feel free to look us up in Boston sometime. It'd be an additional pleasure to put a boot square on the flat of your ass. 
With sincere prejudice, and on behalf of the whole pissed-off Clarion family, 
Mr. Zachary Bos, Publisher

Edited to add a post-script:
People have asked, so here we offer one of the messages sent by this contributor to our staff member:
It's funny how starkly you can be reminded that society continues not to validate a woman. You don't have a right to professionalism... if you turn down a piece, you're a cunt.
Edited to add another post-script:

We shared this author's submission with one of Clarion's contributing editors. He writes:
Understandably rejected. I also make my works shitty on purpose and then, instead of spending time to make them better, come up with uncreative insults. I gather from the email address that he is a student. Hopefully he isn't studying creative writing.

Friday, October 6, 2017

On writing after tragedies

On the morning after the latest mass shooting, one of the largest in US history, a writer and an editor met up in a chat channel to talk through their feelings of disbelief, frustration, and wanting to do something constructive. The following exchange, edited for clarity, is a record of that conversation.

WRITER: I can’t believe this has happened again.
EDITOR: What has happened? You fell in love with an Englishman, but you play the fiddle in an Irish band?
WRITER: “At least 50 dead, more than 400 hurt in concert attack.”
EDITOR: Oh yes.
Our inheritance as a society, for being tolerant of our gun-nut uncles at Thanksgiving.
. . .
A senior citizen did this
WRITER: It’s not funny.
EDITOR: It isn’t. Nor was I making fun.