One of the inevitable, unavoidable truths of writing is rejection. Not every story or book that you write will successfully find its way to print, so whenever you send out those those query letters, you have to be mentally prepared for editors to tell you “no.” Fortunately, I’d read Stephen King’s guidance “On Writing” early on in my career, so I’ve embraced his advice keep driving on in spite of any rejections.
To be fully honest, a rejection letter usually serves a valid purpose. It’s a simple, business-like way for editors to let writers know that their story just isn’t a good fit right now. And sometimes, these rejections are actually a polite way of telling an author that their stuff jusst needs a little more work. I remember this one time, after channeling my inner Tony Horwitz and penning a 30,000-word novella about a teenage Confederate re-enactor, the rejection letters kept coming in. I had to put that book up on the shelf for a few years and come back to it later— turns out, buried underneath thousands of extra words was a pretty good short story, still breathing but gasping for air. Once I’d got in with a literary hatchet and chopped the thing up, the new, tighter version sold within a few hours.
It’s a happy day whenever one of my stories finds a home, but like any other writer, I’ve got my share of orphans tucked away on my laptop. And even though I’ve been able to revise or repurpose a number of stories, there’s still a few which seemed doomed to suffer in isolation forever. Most of these were written for one-off contests, or oddly unique calls for submission, like this letter I put together for the old “Reject-A-Hit” section of Writer’s Digest magazine.
If literary magazines can be seen as tools in a writer’s toolbox, Writer’s Digest magazine is more like a Home Depot. Between 2010 and 2016, the magazine’s back page featured a fun section called “Reject-A Hit” where authors were invited to poke fun at overly-picky editors by drafting fictional rejection letters for well-known books. The results were always hilarious, as nearsighted “editors” not only turned down hits like Moby Dick, Dracula and even Harry Potter, but then went on to skewer each story, mercilessly picking apart the “flaws” in each one.
When WD stopped running “Reject-A-Hit” in 2016, it was like saying goodbye to an old friend. To make the mourning worse, I’d just sent in my own submission mocking Arthur Conan Doyle’s first breakthrough Sherlock Holmes story. This 400-word letter had been an absolute blast for me to write… but thanks to the whims of the publishing industry, it was condemned to languish away in solitude on my share drive.
I’d actually forgotten about this story entirely until recently, when I had the privilege to visit London for a few weeks. There, on the walls of the Baker Street tube stop, I came face to face with my old protagonist…
…and realized that the good consulting detective deserved another shot. And since the great part of having a blog is that you can pretty much publish whatever you feel like, I’ve decided to knock the dust off this effort and publish it here. Why? Because even though WD might have retired the “Reject-A-Hit” feature long ago, this writing life rolls on.
And that means, Watson, that the game is still afoot!
Reject A Hit: A Study in Scarlet
January the 6th, 1887
My Dear Mr. Doyle,
Having received and reviewed your manuscript, “A Study in Scarlet,” I must now regretfully reject the same.
Our journal strives to be a champion of literature, good sir, and a dreary treatise on the weighty subjects of chemistry and logic (albeit a poorly fictionalized one) simply has no place here. Following your main character, this Mr. Holmes, as he blunders his way through the simplest investigation, was as tedious as solving a quadratic equation. Not even your introduction of a gratuitously bloody crime scene could resurrect this corpse of a mystery.
Further, we feel that the recent public interest in criminal forensics will prove to be nothing more than a passing fad, much like phrenology, or the bicycle. Referring to the quackery of criminalistics as a “science” is laughable, at best. We, sir, endeavor to publish pieces of classic literature which will retain their relevance even a hundred years forward. In the pacifist utopian societies that the next century is certain to offer, crime scene investigations will no doubt be rendered unnecessary and irrelevant.
Last, I am concerned that the subtle romantic subplot of your novel would prove too explicit for public readership. Although we live in a Victorian age of enlightenment, the implied immorality of two bachelors sharing a bohemian flat is simply too prurient for publication. It is painfully apparent that Holmes’ relationship with his “companion” far exceeds the strict professional boundaries required by Dr. Watson’s medical practice.
In closing, sir, your short-sighted work was simply too elementary for the sophisticated readers of this fine journal, but please do resubmit.
Respectfully yours,
Professor James Moriarty
Guest Editor, Beeton’s Christmas Annual