A few weeks ago I sent out my semi-annual mass email to announce the fall’s newsletter (available as a free PDF download here, if I haven’t mentioned it).  As always happens when you email 20,000 people, hundreds of them write back — most to say thanks, some to change an address, but then a fragrant few just to spread their craziness.

I was about to say that I don’t understand how people can get upset at a lowly little poetry magazine that runs at a loss for the love of the game — but I guess I do understand.  200 rejection letters a week is a lot of negativity to release in the atmosphere without expecting a little bit of blowback.  That poetry editors don’t die from bad karma is probably proof there’s no such thing as karma.

Moreover, the volume of angry emails was exacerbated this fall because in the newsletter I actually asked for letters to the editor, so I could include the most interesting in a new section next spring.  (If you have a question or comment about Rattle, write me a coherent email, and I’ll probably post it in e.8.)  So not only do I deserve it, but I’m also asking for it.  I figured the least I could do is share some of them.

I’m going in reverse-chronological order, because that’s how inboxes are arranged, and this one came in today.  I might put it in the newsletter, because there’s a serious question I’d like to respond to underneath the crazy (Ignore the typos in all of these, I’m not going to bother writing “[sic]” every time, I’m just cutting and pasting.):

Editor Type:

Let’s see. You have a circ of 4000. What does that translate too? Oh, Wow, two niggardly contributor’s copies! Gee, I can buy the world with that. Yeah, like that’s gonna put food in my mouth. Hey everyone, look at my two copies, all shiny and new. I feel soo… special. I’m in the Big Times now! I’m a famous author now. I can go on the talk show circuit – Oprah here I come!

Soon to be famous,

Chris Roberts

Every time I field a complaint like this, I’m tempted to write back saying, “Good point — we should start profit-sharing with everyone we publish.”  And then I’d send a bill for $500.  But, of course, no one we’ve actually published ever makes this complaint — for some reason it’s only the people that get rejected over and over again, and would never seen any money even if we did start paying contributors.  Funny, that.  Or maybe noble, the selfless few who stand up for the 200 poets we exploit every year, out of the goodness in their hearts?

If you Google “Chris Roberts, poet,” the first thing that comes up is an essay attacking The New Yorker on hackwriters.com.  A papertrail of patriotism.  The essay is actually well-written and the arguments are valid.  Maybe it just feels different when the criticism is aimed at you.  Or maybe the difference is between a magazine with a circulation of a million selling ad space from a high rise in Times Square, and a magazine with a circulation of 4,000 that won’t even do ad swaps with other journals from a little cubicle.  Or maybe there is no difference at all.

For the sake of balance, here’s a day-old email from one of those sad souls Chris Roberts feels the need to defend:

Dear Tim,
Forgive me as this note has been much delayed.  Thank you so very much for including my poems in RATTLE.  It’s an amazing magazine and I am so honored to be among such company.  And it’s a gorgeous production (design, paper quality–wow!).  Thanks over & over again.
Best,
Christine

For the record, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier than sending checks to contributors. If only…

Moving on:

Thanks for your e-mail announcements, but I think I’ve been rejected enough times from your journal to desist from submitting my work in general and in specific to Rattle. Your slips of paper for rejection forms are humiliating. I’m sure you get hundreds, maybe thousands of submissions, but really, you send the same form every time with nothing to offer really. Seems that is the way of poetry journals in our day and time, editors take no time to respond unless they feel it is in their best interest to reply, and they are so short-staffed that all the so many people that allegedly read the poems at Rattle, not one says anything worthwhile about the submission. In short, people that take the time to submit to your journal don’t get the benefit of a response, but that is the poetry and literary journal industry in our day. Maybe one day I will write something that would be worthwhile to publish in a journal, but I think that I don’t really care as most of the stuff I read is drivel anyways, even from the well-known journals like Poetry.

Thanks, but you probably can take me off your e-mail list at this point, as I don’t care to be informed in the future about your journal.

Yours sincerely,
Xxx Xxxxx xx Xxxxx

I redacted the name this time, because unlike Chris’s missive, this one seemed less like a comment he wanted published than a disheartened flailing of emotion.  I tried to explain to him the nature of our transaction — that we’re trading opportunity, that I’m offering him the possibility of an audience, he’s offering me the possibility of poetry that an audience might want to read.  My title may be editor, for some arcane reason, but when it comes to poetry, all I really am is a filter.  I pick out gold from the garbage so our subscribers don’t have to.  If you want editing, start a writers’ group.  I do what I can, but I can’t do much, and as much as I want to help, I don’t “owe” you anything.

Next!

This is my favorite insult yet, set in a comedic structure, almost like a knock-knock joke.  Such a casual delivery, too — it took two weeks to hear the punch line:

“Gail”: who funds your magazine?

Me: Why do you ask?

“Gail” (two weeks later): your subject matter. the pharm industry might throw you some money if you approached them.

Oh snap.  This made me laugh out loud, and I don’t even know what she was trying to say.  That we publish too many poems about illness?  Do prescription drugs appear in any poems we’ve published recently?  Maybe she just means that poets are crazy?  I can certainly vouch for that.  If you have any other ideas, let me know.

Well, there were many more where that came from, but I didn’t think to save them, and this is probably a good place to stop anyway.  But tune in next time for more adventures from the poetry mailbag!

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