Rejection-Letter

Upon reading this, I was overcome with sadness but yknow what? I’m so proud of myself and of all the things that I have accomplished. I didn’t take high school seriously at first but made a 180 and worked toward what I wanted - a top notch education at a top notch school. And sure my “dream” school didn’t accept me but 8 OTHER SCHOOLS did and I’m waiting on three more to release their decisions. So while I may not be what Stanford is looking for, I know that I’m a strong applicant, I know that I will be happy wherever I end up and I REFUSE to let this stop me from achieving my goals. While I’m still a bit upset that I won’t be spending four years of my life in Palo Alto (I mean who wouldn’t want to wear shorts year round), I am so grateful for the acceptances that I have received. One step back, 838251729196261 steps forward. You’re gonna have to do more than just reject me to bring down my spirits rn.

As much as we wish it wasn’t, rejection is part of the process when it comes to applying for college. 

And as much as it feels like it is, the world isn’t over if you don’t get into your dream school.

Take a deep breath, remember how hard you’ve worked and what it means - not the accomplishments it gives you, but what it says about your character.

This is not the end, and you have a lot of options still.

Keep Reading

Back in the dark ages (the pre-Tumbr world), we used to receive A LOT of physical demos (CD/Cassette/LP/R2R/Cartridge/Glossy Band Photos), and this was our form rejection letter for virtually ALL of the submissions. Harsh sure, but honest and real. These days, we receive mostly SoundCloud and BandCamp submissions from the aspiring future Nirvanas, Shins, Mudhoney’s, and Bands of Horses of the world, and we just point them to this page, all of which feels much more impersonal than it used to, though much better on the natural environment in which we reside, I suppose. Anyway, as you were.

Rejection Letter by Mary Cook

Got another rejection letter today. A very kind one. But I don’t think I’ll paste these letters over my walls. It’s not that I’m too embarrassed by those “Sorry, Miss Cook, but your submission did not place"s. It’s the simple fact that I don’t want to fill my life with other people’s words. Because when I look at a blank wall, I see a blank page, and it’s mine to fill. So keep sending those rejection notices, because when I see a blank page I’ve got to write on it.

By Mary Cook

From San Antonio, TX

Middleburry College

You worthless, acid-sucking piece of illiterate shit! Don’t ever send this kind of brain-damaged swill in here again. If I had the time, I’d come out there and drive a fucking wooden stake into your forehead. Why don’t you get a job, germ? Maybe delivering advertising handouts door to door or taking tickets for a wax museum. You drab South Bend cocksuckers are all the same; like those dope-addled dingbats at the Rolling Stone office. I’d like to kill those bastards for sending me your piece… and I’d just as soon kill you too. Jam this morbid drivel up your ass where your readership will better appreciate it.

Sincerely,
Yail Bloor III, Minister of Belles-Lettre.

P.S. Keep up the good work. Have a nice day.

— 

Hunter S. Thompson’s uniform rejection letter to those who sent him pieces, thinking he could get them published in Rolling Stone.

I think it would be the pinnacle of my writing career to recieve a letter such as this.

And now to watch the followers number drop to zero… SORRY FOR THE FOUL LANGUAGE, KIDDOS

HOLY SHIT LOOK WHAT I FOUND.

Wow wow wow I thought this was gone forever.

In 2000, I submitted multiple (horrible) comic proposals to multiple publishers, some of which no longer exist. Needless to say, I got back a bunch of rejection letters (Some never even responded to my unsolicited submission, but that’s another story). The one from Slave Labor Graphics, weird as it sounds, was my favorite. It was specific. It would help me get better. IT HAD HANDWRITING ON IT. I HAD PROMISE GUYS, THEY SAID SO.

I don’t know if SLG still sends out this rejection letter. I hope they do. It was a cut above.  

I had really derpy ideas about what working for SLG really meant at the time; I thought cartoonists went into an office, punched a clock, and worked at desks 9-5 like everyone else.

Ah, memories.