The Art of Implication: replying to emails

If there’s one thing I’ve learned over many years of replying to email as an educator and a literary magazine editor, it’s to take a deep breath before writing a reply and to imply the things I’d like to say. So you can imagine the reply I might have sent to the submitter tone our literary magazines who wrote to complain that we had returned a submission that was getting recognition elsewhere.

In my reply, I acknowledged that our review process is imperfect and subjective, and I mentioned some of the factors that can play a role, from the typos in a submission, to the length, to the themes that emerge as an issue of the journal comes together. I also encouraged him to read our journal to better understand our choices, and I defended our practice of offering a discount to all those who submit, even if their work is returned. What I didn’t say is that no one is obligated to subscribe, but I did note that we have back issues posted online with free access.

The advice I didn’t give, but I hope was implied, is that writing snarky responses to rejection notices rarely helps your chances when submitting to journals. Editors work hard and try to make the best decisions they can. We know you’ll be disappointed when we don’t take your work, but we expect you to develop a thick skin and not take it personally.

I could have said this explicitly, but I doubt the person who wrote would have taken it very well. Keeping the tone positive is more likely to get the desired result. Of course the other option would be not to reply. Sometimes no answer is the best answer.

Published by Kendall Dunkelberg

I am a poet, translator, and professor of literature and creative writing at Mississippi University for Women, where I direct the Low-Res MFA in Creative Writing, the undergraduate concentration in creative writing, and the Eudora Welty Writers' Symposium. I have published three books of poetry, Barrier Island Suite, Time Capsules, and Landscapes and Architectures, as well as a collection of translations of the Belgian poet Paul Snoek, Hercules, Richelieu, and Nostradamus. I live in Columbus with my wife, Kim Whitehead; son, Aidan; and dog, Aleida.

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