My New Yorker Rejection Letters

Dear Mr. Corey:

Thank you for your recent submission to The New Yorker, although I regret to inform you that we’ve chosen to pass on your article at this time.

Dear Mr. Corey:

Thank you once again for your recent submission to The New Yorker, although, as I stated in my previous correspondence to you, we’ve chosen to pass on your article. Please take the time to re-read the guidelines that were sent to you. Best of Luck.

Dear Mr. Corey:

I apologize for not being clearer in my previous note to you. Your writing does not rise to the level of our editorial standards, and I suggest you look elsewhere in you effort to get it published. Also, The New Yorker does not currently publish a “People I Hate” column, nor will we at any time in the foreseeable future. I suspect that you’ve mistaken us for another magazine, and you should re-check your information.

Dear Mr. Corey:

Re-submitting the same article with a new “catchy” title does not constitute a re-write, nor does inserting more commas to—as you put it—“create more tension.” Also, in regards to your query and submission for the “Talk of the Town” section, I don’t see how a minute-by-minute description of a recent dinner with your mom cuts the mustard. “Talk of the Town” contains vignettes about celebrities, politics and local scenes, not sad tales of a thrice-divorced security guard and a shriveled, half-mad matriarch shut-in named Flo. Admittedly, I did find the moment when you rifled through her pocketbook both disturbing and strangely riveting, but I don’t think our readership would relate to your current lifestyle. Please do not send any further submissions.

Dear Mr. Corey:

We have already passed on this article multiple times, so please do not submit it again. I disagree with your assessment that this piece would be “way perfect” for our “Shouts & Murmurs” column. Your submission is nothing but a detailed description of an elderly woman trying to eat oatmeal with a butter knife. While you say you giggled uncontrollably while you were writing the article, I find nothing funny—no matter what the context. Please do not write again.

Dear Mr. Corey:

I’m a busy, busy man. But in answer to your question: Yes, I think it would disturb any editor to start receiving submissions at his home address. But I don’t find that half as unsettling as your uncanny description of the contents of my medicine cabinet in your latest submission “I Know Where You Live.” Please do not try to reach me at home again, as I will be out of town indefinitely.

Dear Mr. Corey:

I have asked my assistant to forward all calls from you directly to our legal department. Also, your most recent so-called query letter has been turned over to an FBI profiler for review. My legal counsel has advised me that I have no recourse since you didn’t threaten me directly. Still he believes we may be able to take legal action on behalf of the corporation, and suggests that The New Yorker itself may be able to obtain a restraining order against you. Surely, Mr. Corey, you wouldn’t want to be ensnared in such precedent-setting litigation. My suggestion to you at this time is to cease and desist. Also, I’m sorry to say that your most recent submission, “Mother’s Closet”—although well structured and researched—is not up to our high standards.

Dear Mr. Corey:

Congratulations! After careful consideration by our editorial board, your photo essay “I have your dog!” has been chosen for publication in the July issue of The New Yorker. I will be contacting you in the near future to discuss payment, as well as to negotiate the release of my pet boxer Mr. Tuggles. Please be gentle with him, as he is old and has intestinal troubles. Judging by the photos you sent, he does look remarkably like your mother. In retrospect, your descriptions of her were uncanny. Does her left eye look in that direction naturally? I look forward to receiving future submissions.