Posted by Lizzie on 08/18/06
And after Meghan has dodged reading your piece, sent you an absent-minded rejection letter that gives her entire show away, she will, in a week’s time or so, have her assistant Blake Wilson send a second rejection letter in which he announces that the piece you’ve submitted “isn’t write for Slate.” That’s w-r-i-t-e when he means r-i-g-h-t.
We’re not going to even get into how wrong this rant is about Slate‘s movie coverage, which actually, unlike the occasionally yawny books coverage, is really good lately. We’re also not going to respond to the bold but generally unsuccessful strategem of releasing a bilious condemnation of all of a magazine’s current writers in an attempt to join them. BUT. We are going to use it as an opportunity to confess that, for two years, while SENIOR EDITOR, we had the identical, sadly Freudian slip-y error on our OWN PERSONAL REJECTION LETTER that we sent out to approximately 76,943 writers. We still wonder at the immense restraint of those rejectees.
Unless, of course, they just couldn’t spell.
Filed under: Lit-ish |