
Before I had tasted the joys of publication, rejection slips were my pathetic lot. Like homing pigeons my laboriously typewritten articles always boomeranged on me within the month. The mysterious 8216;Ed8217; at the newspaper office would kick my piece back with an impersonal note of thanks. No reason was proferred for why my masterpiece was unworthy of print. Though paper clips were commonly employed to affix that abominable piece of paper to the rejected manuscript, sometimes rusty pins drove Ed8217;s point home.
However, I would argue that Asian publications are more forthcoming than their western counterparts. Squint carefully at the microscopic print and you will discern that neither US nor European publications care about unsolicited manuscripts. Most respond with a cold silence. Some give you the trite: 8220;Sorry, at this time we are unable8230;8221; The arrogant reply with an impossible: 8220;We do not care for humour, drama, fiction, nonfiction, prose, poetry or topics of general interest8221;.
With the advent of the computer, rejections have become more impersonal. I have often been deceived by a prompt message thanking me for my contribution 8212; until I figured that this was just an automated response. Recently, frustrated with a lifeless e-mail rejection from a local newspaper, I replied: 8220;Owing to the sheer volume of literary correspondence received, I am unable to respond to each message individually. However, if your e-mail merits attention, I shall respond within 90 business days.