Sunday, August 3, 2014


Here's a rejection-letter gag I wrote for Writer's Digest magazine's "Reject A Hit" column. Share with friends, family, potential employers, or that serial killery-looking guy on your sidewalk sniffing his fingers. It's fun!


27 October 1974

Dear Mr. King:
Thank you, I suppose, for letting us look at your manuscript, ‘Salem’s Lot. If anything, it put me off red meat and heavy tomato-based sauces. I dropped the 10 pounds I’d gained after retrieving my appetite in the wake of your previous submission. I wonder whether you’ve ever considered the health-book market. Your work, combined with Primal Scream therapy, may very well prove beneficial. 
   Additionally, does the world really need another supernatural-horror novel? Aren’t Rosemary’s Baby and The Exorcist enough? Too, I can’t see anyone finding interest in vampires. Look what they did to Bram Stoker’s career. Your manuscript, if published, would not do much for Maine tourism—I’ll wager that never snuck up and tapped your shoulder.
   Vampires concealing themselves under trailer homes? Vampire housewives? Blood-sucking children? Must everyone in your book be a victim? I ask you, Mr. King, what’s next? A haunted house? Why stop there? Indeed, a man of your ambition ought to build us a haunted hotel. In fact, I might favor that one. I will say that I found your MS frightening and original. Unfortunately, the original material wasn’t frightening and the frightening material wasn’t original. God, I’m feeling bitter. Must be some sort of iron deficiency.
   In closing, forgive me, sir, but vampires shmampires—I’m off to lunch.
Thaddeus Q. Mire
Fairhaven Press

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