Real-Time Rejection: The Final Rejection of “Story X”

This morning I received the tenth and final rejection for “Story X,” thus ending its chances for fame and fortune. As promised, I will reveal the story in its entirety in this post, but first, here’s the letter that done for poor ol’ “Story X.”

Thank you for sending us “Story X.” We appreciated the chance to read it. Unfortunately, this piece is not a good fit for us. Best of luck with this in other markets.

A short, to-the-point form letter. At least they didn’t let “Story X” suffer.

Okay, that’s enough puling from me. A deal’s a deal, and I promised to reveal the story after its tenth rejection. So here it is, “Story X” or “The Scars You Keep.”

The Scars You Keep

By Aeryn Rudel

People have died in this room, Wyatt thought and took a long, nervous drag on his cigarette. Badly.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked the man seated across from him at a rickety card table. They were alone in a large, square room with plain gray cinderblock walls. The only exit was a steel door directly across from where Wyatt sat. Besides the table and two chairs, the room was empty . . . if you didn’t count the stains. The floors and walls were decorated in lines, streaks, and splatters of fading brown and rust red.

The man answered Wyatt’s question with one of his own. “You are some kind of healer, yes?” His captor was a screaming cliché of the Russian mobster, complete with the black track suit, slicked-back hair, and expensive sunglasses, which he still wore, even though it was the dead of night and they were indoors. He’d be funny if he wasn’t so terrifying. His accent was minimal, audible only in the way he enunciated certain words or omitted others. The Russian was a small man–Wyatt put him at about 5’6” and a buck thirty–but he looked very fast. The butt of a large automatic pistol jutted over his waistband, and his right hand rested lightly on its grip. Wyatt had no doubt his captor could pull that pistol and put two in his brain in the blink of an eye.

The Russian’s question brought Wyatt some relief; it meant the man who’d brought him here had plans other than murder–at least for now. He took another drag, exhaled slowly, and smiled, trying to appear confident and unafraid. He doubted he succeeded at either. “You work for Mr. Koslov, right? Andrei Koslov?”

The Russian frowned. “This is dangerous name to speak aloud,” he said. Wyatt thought he might have surprised the gangster by knowing what he was and who he worked for. Good.

“I make it a habit to know the dangerous people in my vicinity who might need my services,” Wyatt said.

The Russian smiled, showing straight white teeth. It made him look like a very dangerous rodent. “Your services?” He shook his head. “Your bullshit, I think.”

“Mr. Koslov is sick, right?” Wyatt said, pressing. Andrei Koslov had been in the papers a lot lately. The state was pursuing racketeering charges against him, but most didn’t think he’d live long enough for a trial. “That’s why I’m here.”

The man nodded slowly. “A dying man is desperate, desperate enough to believe some American koldun can save him.” He leaned forward. “But you will not bring false hope. You will not take his dignity. You will prove to me you can help Mr. Koslov.”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not a koldun,” Wyatt said. “I’m not a sorcerer.”

“You speak Russian?” The man asked, cocking his head.

“No, I just know the word for hoodoo man in about every language. But if you think I’m a charlatan, why did you bring me here?”

The Russian shrugged. “I am soldier. I follow orders. But first, I check on you. I find strange things. Not strange enough to bring you to Mr. Koslov, but strange enough to bring you here.”

“And if I’m not what Mr. Koslov thinks I am?” Wyatt put his hands flat on the table to keep them from shaking.

The man smiled again. “I think you know what happens then,” he said. “But it will be quick. I do this because I like you. Most men, when I come for them, they beg and cry like women or piss in their pants. Not you. For this, I have respect.”

“Thanks, I think,” Wyatt said. He was surprised at the sudden rush of pride he felt that this bona fide slayer of men respected him.

“Have another cigarette.” The Russian slid the pack of Marlboros across the table. His captor had let him keep his smokes, but not much else.

Wyatt dropped the one he was smoking and crushed it under his foot. “Tell me your name,” he said as he pulled another smoke from the pack.

“You may call me . . . Ivan,” the man said with a crooked grin.

“Okay, Ivan,” Wyatt said and lit his cigarette. Ivan had also let him keep his lighter. “So you’re gonna run some tests, and this is going to be our laboratory, huh?”

Ivan chuckled. “This room has been many things,” he said. “Never laboratory.”

“You said you found out some strange things about me,” Wyatt said. He was starting to get the feeling Ivan liked to talk, and if he was talking, he wasn’t shooting. “Tell me what you heard.”

“I hear stories about a man who heals,” Ivan said and shrugged. “A boy in New Mexico, his mother tells me he had brain tumor, now it is gone because a man came and healed him. A woman in New York tells me she has leukemia, only weeks to live, and now she is better because a man comes to see her. A soldier here in Seattle is burned on his face in Iraq. I saw pictures. Terrible burns. He is not burned any more. He says because of skin grafts, but this is not true, the burns are gone because a man came to see him. All three describe the same man. They describe you.”

“Did you hurt them?” He tried not to let it show on his face, but it was the first time since Ivan had dragged him from his apartment that he wasn’t merely afraid. He was terrified. Those people had been through so much already, and the thought of this thug hurting them further made him sick.

Ivan shook his head. “There was no need. They wanted to talk about you. ”

Relief flooded through Wyatt. “Thank you,” he said and meant it. “I don’t blame them for talking, but they didn’t tell you everything.”


“The boy in New Mexico, did you talk to his father?”

“I did not.”

“The woman in New York, did you talk to her husband?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“And the soldier here in Seattle, did you see his mother?”

“Why do you ask these questions?”

“Because I’m not a healer, like Mr. Koslov thinks. The boy’s father is dead, from a brain tumor. The woman’s husband is dead too. He died of leukemia. And the soldier’s mother doesn’t go out in public because her face looks like month-old hamburger.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you don’t know what Mr. Koslov is asking for, and neither does he.”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “Then you will show me,” he said. “Now.”

“Okay, I’ll show you . . . something, but I’ll need you to do what I ask.”

Ivan again offered him that crooked grin. “This is laboratory, like you said. We will experiment.”

“Okay then,” Wyatt said and drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to ask you to do something, something that will sound crazy, but I need you to do it if you really want to “experiment.”

The Russian waved a hand at him, urging him to continue.

“Pick up that lighter, please,” Wyatt said.

Ivan did as he was asked.

“Now burn your hand with it,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Even with the warning, he had no idea how Ivan would react to such a command.

The small Russian man chuckled. “This is why I like you. You have balls. But I understand what you ask.” He flicked the top of the lighter with his right hand, then held his left over the tiny spear of flame. He stared at Wyatt unflinching as the flame burned his palm, sending up a curl of smoke and producing a smell not unlike cooked pork.

“Okay,” Wyatt said, and Ivan let the flame die.

The Russian gangster held up his hand. There was a small circle of burnt flesh in the middle of the palm. It had to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but Ivan showed no sign of discomfort. “Enough?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said. “Okay, for this to work, I have to touch you.”

Ivan pulled the pistol from his belt and laid it on the table in front of him, resting his right hand on top of it. He held out his left arm and stared at Wyatt. “I am fast, koldun. You understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Wyatt laid his hand on the Russian’s forearm. He closed his eyes and let the power come. It rose up from his belly, from somewhere deep inside him, and flowed along his limbs like an electric current. It wasn’t painful, but it always made him feel a little sick. He could now feel Ivan, feel all the man’s wounds and sicknesses: the minor tears in his muscles from lifting weights, a mild hangover from drinking too much the night before, and the tiny tumor that had just begun to grow in Ivan’s right testicle, but he focused on the newest injury, the burn. He felt Ivan jerk, and then a sudden sharp pain in Wyatt’s palm told him it was over.

Wyatt opened his eyes and saw Ivan was pointing the gun at him, its barrel a yawning black hole aimed at his forehead. He put his hands in the air. “Your palm, Ivan,” Wyatt said, trying not to look at the gun.

Ivan turned his left hand over and looked down. His eyes went wide and he stood up, knocking the chair over behind him. The mafia enforcer spat a stream of rapid-fire Russian and took a big step away from Wyatt, still pointing the gun at him.

Wyatt lowered his left arm and showed Ivan his palm. “You get it now?”

Ivan stared at him for a moment and then lowered the gun. “What did you do?”

“I moved the burn from you to me. That’s what I do. I’m no healer. I can’t cure a fucking thing. I can just move pain and sickness from one person to another.”

The Russian walked back to the table and picked up the chair. He sat down, but did not put the gun back in his pants.  “The boy’s father . . .” Ivan began.

“Yes, he took the tumor for his son. The woman’s husband took her leukemia, and the soldier’s mother took his burns.”

Ivan stared at Wyatt, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you not rich man?” he said. “I have seen men on the TV who pretend to do what you do; they are wealthy, powerful. But no one knows you. Your home is small. You drive shit car. Why?”

“I’ve found the less people who know about what I can do, the better,” Wyatt said and gestured at Ivan. “Case in point.”

The Russian laughed.

“The people I help sometimes tell others, even though I ask them not to,” Wyatt said. “Usually, no one believes them.”

Ivan was quiet for a moment, and his dark eyes never left Wyatt’s. Wyatt could see he was looking for the lie, the con. “You have scar,” he said at last. “There, above your eye. Why?”

“You mean, why didn’t I give it to someone else?”

Ivan nodded.

“Well, one, I’m not a monster. I don’t inflict my pain on others if I can help it. And two, I got that scar because I let myself get in a bad situation. Some scars you have to keep, as a reminder.”

Ivan said nothing, but he seemed satisfied with Wyatt’s answer. “You can help Mr. Koslov,” It was statement not a question.

“Yes, I can help him,” Wyatt said. “But who gets his cancer. I hear it’s something really nasty. Are you going to take one for the team, Ivan?”

“I see no problem,” Ivan said and stood. He pointed the gun at Wyatt. “You took my burn; you will take Mr. Koslov’s cancer.”

“Then what?”

Ivan shrugged. “Then you give to someone else. We will bring someone.”

“And then I get to be Koslov’s pet—what was the word you used—koldun?” Wyatt said, making no attempt to hide his disgust. “You and the other leg-breakers do your jobs, and if you get a little fucked up in the process, I keep you going by hurting an innocent person. Does that about sum it up?”

Ivan shrugged “Why do you care? You will live, and you will have good life. Mr. Koslov will be very grateful. Now get up.”

Ivan was holding the gun at his side, aiming it at Wyatt in a casual, even sloppy way. Something resembling a plan formed in Wyatt’s mind. It was absurd, and terrifying, but it was something. Ivan was not a large man, and Wyatt figured he had about seventy pounds on the Russian. If he could reach him, maybe it would be enough.

Before he could really think about what he was doing, Wyatt shot to his feet and flipped the card table up into the air, obscuring him from Ivan for one crucial second, giving him enough time to charge forward. He slammed into the Russian, grabbed him in a bear hug, and bore him to the ground.

The gun went off three times in rapid succession, and Wyatt gasped as the bullets entered his body. Two tore through his liver and stomach, and the last put a gaping hole in his heart. The pain was immense and death was close.

Ivan wasn’t stupid, he knew what was happening. He stopped firing, and tried to squirm free, but there was two hundred pounds of dead weight on top of him, and Wyatt used the last of his strength to hold Ivan close, pressing his body into the Russian’s.

The power came, surging through Wyatt and into Ivan. The Russian screamed and fired the gun again and again, fired until the pistol clicked empty. The bullets ripped into Wyatt, but the gun was pressed into his abdomen, pinned there by his weight, and none of the shots were instantly lethal. They hurt like hell, but the pain was soon washed away.

Ivan’s struggles weakened, slowed, and then stopped. Wyatt held him there for a few seconds to make sure, then rolled off the Russian and sat up. Ivan lay on his back, the pistol crushed against his side, eight bullet holes in his chest and stomach. He stared up at the ceiling, but he was long past seeing anything.

Wyatt stood, wobbling a bit, and put one hand against the wall to steady himself. He felt like vomiting. He’d never used the power like that, although he’d always wondered if it was possible. He hoped he’d never have to use it that way again.

He stepped over Ivan’s body, avoiding the widening pool of scarlet, and tried the door. It was unlocked. Ivan’s car, a big black Mercedes, was parked in front of the tiny kill room Koslov had built out in the middle of nowhere, miles into the Cascade Mountains.

Wyatt returned to Ivan’s body and dug through his pockets. He found the car keys and hurried through the door and out into the night. He’d have to leave Seattle–Koslov’s men would be looking for him–but he was used to moving around a lot and at a moment’s notice. He didn’t mind leaving his few meager possessions behind.

He got into the car and slid behind the wheel. The Mercedes started up immediately, the rumble of its big engine reassuring. Wyatt looked down at the palm of his left hand, at the burn that had again started to throb painfully as the adrenaline rush faded. He closed his fist around it and nodded.

Some scars you had to keep.


Real-Time Rejection: The 9th Rejection of “Story X”

Well, folks, the end is nigh . . . or nine . . . or something. What I’m trying to say is that “Story X” has received its ninth rejection., and here it is:

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to read your story. Unfortunately, it isn’t quite what we’re looking for. We do hope you will try again.

This is a pretty straightforward form rejection. You might be tempted to read something into the “try again” line, but I think it’s just part of their standard rejection, a nicety to soothe the blow. This was my first submission to this particular publication, and, man, do they have a fast turnaround. I received this rejection in three days. I love a magazine that turns and burns, so I will definitely send them something else.

Okay, so where does that leave poor “Story X?” One more shot, and then I must either admit defeat or rejoice in victory at the zero hour. I’ve been holding one ace in the hole, a publication I feel I have a pretty good chance with, so that’ll be my last submission. They can take a while to get back to an author, around 45 days, so this’ll likely be the last update on “Story X” for a while.

The next update on “Story X” will either be an announcement of an acceptance or the tenth and final rejection along with the debut of the story itself right here on the blog.

Previous Real-Time Rejection Posts

Intro: Real-Time Rejection: The Journey of “Story X”

Part 1: Real-Time Rejection: The 1st Rejection of “Story X”

Part 2: Real-Time Rejection: The 2nd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 3: Real-Time Rejection: The 3rd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 4: Real-Time Rejection: The 4th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 5: Real-Time Rejection: The 5th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 6: Real-Time Rejection: The 6th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 7: Real-Time Rejection: The 7th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 8: Real-Time Rejection: The 8th Rejection of “Story X”


Real-Time Rejection: The 8th Rejection of “Story X”

Hey, folks, it’s that time again. “Story X” has returned to the roost with its eighth rejection. Have a look.

Thanks for letting us see “Story X.” I regret to say that it’s just not right for [XXX].

It’s a solid piece, with some good characters and good tension. Unfortunately, by the end, I’m afraid it just didn’t “grab” me the way it might have. I’ve been sitting here thinking why not, and it occurs to me that I never really connected with [the protagonist]. Maybe if it had been first-person instead of third-person. That’s not a request for a rewrite (I don’t make too many of those). It’s just a thought.

In any event, I’m sorry. Best of luck with this one in other markets.

Well, what we have here is a nice example of the informative personal rejection. I always appreciate it when an editor takes the time to tell me why he or she did not accept the story. The editor says some encouraging things about “Story X.” He liked the characters and tension, which is good, because I really focused on those two things, but the protagonist just didn’t connect for him. Thus, the story didn’t either.

This is one of those rejection letters that can get you started down one of two roads. The first is to trust your writerly instincts, accept the fact that not every story is going to work for every reader, and that one man’s opinion is just that, an opinion. The next editor may love the protagonist, for example. The second road is to start thinking rewrite based on the feedback you’re getting, especially if you keep getting the same feedback. At this point, I’m staying with the story as it currently sits, though I do really like the editor’s suggestion of making the story first-person. I can see how it might make the protagonist more relatable if I were to do that at some point in the future.

Right, two more chances for fame and fortune. I’ve already sent the story out again and to a market with a quick turnaround, so stay tuned for another update soon.

Previous Real-Time Rejection Posts

Intro: Real-Time Rejection: The Journey of “Story X”

Part 1: Real-Time Rejection: The 1st Rejection of “Story X”

Part 2: Real-Time Rejection: The 2nd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 3: Real-Time Rejection: The 3rd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 4: Real-Time Rejection: The 4th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 5: Real-Time Rejection: The 5th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 6: Real-Time Rejection: The 6th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 7: Real-Time Rejection: The 7th Rejection of “Story X”

Real-Time Rejection: The 7th Rejection of “Story X”

Well, damn, I thought sevens were supposed to be lucky. Yep, “Story X” has received its seventh rejection, and it looks a little something like this.

Thank you for sending us “Story X”. Unfortunately, this piece is not for us. We wish you the best of luck finding a home for it.

If you have other work which you feel we may be interested in, please do not hesitate to submit it to us.

This is one of those common form rejections that kind of feels like an improved form rejection, but I don’t think it is. Remember, my criteria for an improved form rejection is a request to send more work. The last line of this letter kind of looks like that, but if you read closely, there really isn’t a request in there. I’ve seen this slightly ambiguous phrasing on a number of rejection letters, and I believe it’s just another of the myriad ways editors employ to soften the blow of rejection.

Well, folks, we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty. “Story X” has three more shots at publication before I hang it up and post the story on the blog. I’ve identified the last three publication I’m going to submit to, and one of them has published me before, so there’s hope yet.

Got a rejection you’d like to share with the class? Put it in the comments, and we’ll overanalyze it together.

Previous Real-Time Rejection Posts

Intro: Real-Time Rejection: The Journey of “Story X”

Part 1: Real-Time Rejection: The 1st Rejection of “Story X”

Part 2: Real-Time Rejection: The 2nd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 3: Real-Time Rejection: The 3rd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 4: Real-Time Rejection: The 4th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 5: Real-Time Rejection: The 5th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 6: Real-Time Rejection: The 6th Rejection of “Story X”

Real-Time Rejection: The 6th Rejection of “Story X”

Rejection number six has arrived, kicking off the second half of the journey of “Story X.” Let’s have a look.

Dear Aeryn,

Thank you for showing us your fiction, but we’re going to pass on this particular submission. As writers, we know rejection can feel like a punch in the nose, but try not to be discouraged. This kind of decision is naturally arbitrary, and we’d be happy to see more of your work.

This rejection actually came in November 30th, but it somehow got caught up in my spam filter, and I didn’t discover it until last night. So this update isn’t as “real time” as the others.  Anyway, this is a form rejection, and I’m tempted to call it an improved form rejection because I’ve received personal feedback from this publisher in the past. I’ll let you decide. It’s a nice letter, regardless, and I appreciate the effort the editor has taken to soften the blow. I don’t often see this kind of encouragement in a form letter, so good on ya, publisher.

At this point,  I’ve sent “Story X” to most of my usual suspects, and it’s time to branch out a bit. I’ve already sent the story out to another publisher, one I haven’t tried before, and from the sample stories I’ve read, it might be a good fit for “Story X.”  This market does not accept sim-subs, so it’ll be another two months or so until the next update.

As far as my general feelings toward the story’s progress, I think there’s a decent chance it’ll sell before I hit ten rejections if I can get it in front of the right editor. (Easy, right?) That said, if “Story X” does get rejected ten times, ending the experiment, it’ll still be fun to share it on the blog and hear all your opinions, criticisms, mockery, and so on.

How have your submission adventures been going? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Previous Real-Time Rejection Posts

Intro: Real-Time Rejection: The Journey of “Story X”

Part 1: Real-Time Rejection: The 1st Rejection of “Story X”

Part 2: Real-Time Rejection: The 2nd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 3: Real-Time Rejection: The 3rd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 4: Real-Time Rejection: The 4th Rejection of “Story X”

Part 5: Real-Time Rejection: The 5th Rejection of “Story X”

Real-Time Rejection: The 5th Rejection of “Story X”

Halfway there, folks! “Story X” has received its fifth rejection. Have a look.

Thank you for submitting your story to XXX.  Unfortunately, your story does not meet our needs at this time.  Yours is one of many high-quality submissions we received, and we encourage you to try us again if you have another story that you think would be a good fit.

This is a form rejection, no doubt, but is it a common form rejection or an improved form rejection? Remember, the usual criteria for an improved form rejection is an invite to send more work. That said, In this case, it’s hard to know if this is a sincere request or something this publisher just adds to their general form letter—an (appreciated) nicety to soften the blow. There’s no way to know, of course, but my gut says common form rejection, so I’m going with that.

An interesting tidbit is that “Story X” was under consideration quite a while with this publication, well beyond their estimated response date for submissions. Most publications are slower to respond with acceptances and tend to be right around their stated response times with rejections (according to the stats on Duotrope, anyway). It can be tough not to get your hopes up if a magazine holds on to your story longer than usual because, sure, a slower response could mean they’re really considering it. Of rouse, it could also mean they’ve got a mountain of slush to get through, and the editors are just behind schedule. I tend to think it’s the latter unless they tell me otherwise.

One more update: “Story X” was under consideration with one other publication, but I withdrew it. This publication recently announced on their website they had stopped accepting submissions and encouraged authors who had a story with them (and hadn’t heard back yet) to send their stories elsewhere. That’s seemed like a clear indication I wasn’t going to hear anything for a long time (maybe ever), so I fired off a polite withdrawal letter.

So, five rejection and five more shots at publication before I must admit defeat. On the next round of submissions, I’ll likely adjust my targeting a bit and submit the story as dark urban fantasy rather than straight horror, as one editor suggested (wisely, I think).

Stay tuned!

Previous Real-Time Rejection Posts

Intro: Real-Time Rejection: The Journey of “Story X”

Part 1: Real-Time Rejection: The 1st Rejection of “Story X”

Part 2: Real-Time Rejection: The 2nd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 3: Real-Time Rejection: The 3rd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 4: Real-Time Rejection: The 4th Rejection of “Story X”

Real-Time Rejection: The 4th Rejection of “Story X”

At long last, the journey of “Story X” continues. The story’s fourth rejection arrived today, and the relevant bits are below.

Thank you very much for submitting “Story X” to XXX. While we enjoyed reading it, it’s not quite what we’re looking for right now, so we have decided to pass on this one.

This is a bit more dark urban fantasy than horror. The tension is solidly developed, but we’re missing the concurrent dread. I found this sentence awkward, so you might give it another look: [Clunky sentence I’ll revise before the next submission.]

While this story wasn’t a fit for us, please consider us for future submissions. We wish you the best luck finding the right home for this one, and we look forward to reading more of your work in the future.

Well, kids, what we have here is an informative personal rejection. Let’s break it down.

Couple of good things right off the bat. One, I think it’s fair to say they liked some elements of the story, but as the editor said, it wasn’t a fit for them. Two, they want to see more of my work, and that’s always an encouraging sign. I’m definitely going to send them another story.

Of course, it’s easier to speculate why a story was rejected when you get a letter like this as opposed to a form rejection. Let’s kick it off with the first line of the second paragraph: “This is a bit more urban fantasy than horror.” He’s right, and my submission targeting was probably a little off–this publisher is exclusively horror. Sure, the line between horror and dark urban fantasy might be a fine one, but I think he nails the difference in the next sentence: “…missing the concurrent sense of dread.” The story certainly is dark, but, yeah, that feeling of dread isn’t there. Now, I won’t address that issue by trying to make the story more horrific—I think it works as urban fantasy—but it will affect where I send “Story X” from here on out. Good info to have, in other words.

The editor then (rightly) calls out an awkward sentence, which I’ve removed from the post because my alpha readers follow the blog, and I don’t want to give away the story. I’ll just say he was right, and the sentence was awkward. Worse, it’s in the first paragraph of the story (bleh). Do I think this contributed to the story getting rejected? It’s possible. Clunky sentences certainly don’t endear you to an editor. Either way, I absolutely appreciate that he called it to my attention so I can revise it for future submissions.

In summation, there’s some good, encouraging stuff here. Sure, I’m engaging in a bit of true rejectomancy here with my analysis (Crazy, right?), but I don’t think it’s too off base to take this rejection as a sign that “Story X” might have legs if I get it in front of the right publisher. We’re gonna find out. The story is still under consideration with two publishers, and I expect I’ll see responses in the next week or so. Be on the lookout for more updates soon.

Do you have any thoughts on this rejection? Something I missed? Tell me about it in the comments.

Previous Real-Time Rejection Posts

Intro: Real-Time Rejection: The Journey of “Story X”

Part 1: Real-Time Rejection: The 1st Rejection of “Story X”

Part 2: Real-Time Rejection: The 2nd Rejection of “Story X”

Part 3: Real-Time Rejection: The 3rd Rejection of “Story X”