The LA Times’ Jacket Copy blog has a list of 21 Dos and Don’ts for an AWP Newbie. It’s a pretty good list! But please, may I direct your attention to #14:

14. DON’T: Ask the people at a lit-journal table about a submission you haven’t heard back about yet. They probably have no idea if it’s been accepted — or it hasn’t been, and then things will just be awkward. If there is good news about a story or poem you’ve submitted, the last way a journal is going to tell you that news is when you stop by its booth at AWP.

This is good advice! Not everyone on every journal staff reads every submission, and chances are the person you’re talking to hasn’t ever come across yours. But, waiting is tough, people get impatient, and I generally understand why people ask.

But what I don’t understand is guilt-bombing, aka the “You rejected me” table visit. It’s the same scene every time. A conference attendee will wander by, cooly refusing any eye contact with tablesitters. Any tablesitter-greetings are met with a disinterested nod or head shake. That’s when you know it’s coming.

“You rejected me.”

I’ve spent a good amount of time at all my past AWPs manning the Gulf Coast table, and I can’t even begin to tell you how many writers approach a journal’s table to inform them You rejected me. A writer who’s received a rejection? Get out of town. If I went around to every table of every journal who’d turned down a piece I sent them, I wouldn’t have time to do anything else at the conference!

Writers, I beg you: don’t do this. It’s not personal. Journals receive hundreds, if not thousands, of submissions per year, and just don’t have space for all the strong pieces that are submitted. Besides, what’s the desired outcome of saying “You rejected me”? Is the tablesitter meant to burst into tears of regret? Is she supposed to pre-accept whatever the writer sends next, with her deepest apologies? Let’s put it this way: would you go to the home of an ex-lover, knock on their door, and announce You rejected me? Of course not (or maybe of course yes, in which case, we should talk), so there’s no reason to do the same to a journal staffer you’ve likely never met. If you’re looking for a hug and a pat on the back, seek it from a friend instead.

I know rejection sucks, but it’s something every writer has to face. Take solace in the fact that your favorite authors have each suffered a ton of rejection. If it hurts because you absolutely love the journal and wanted desperately to be included, then stop by and buy a subscription. Perhaps even say, “Hey, I really like this journal.”

Happy AWP in DC, all.