WEG Memoirs: Rejection Letters

 “Correction does much, but encouragement does more.”

— Goethe

West End Games headquarters, a warehouse
in the middle of nowhere, around 1993.

These days I’m thinking more about my time as the Star Wars Adventure Journal editor at West End Games back in the mid 1990s, before the company went bankrupt in the summer of 1998. Right now I’m still stumbling through a job search in various fields, rather unsuccessfully, and managing the discouragement one feels in today’s impersonal job market dominated by algorithms and artificial intelligence reviewing applicant qualifications. Maybe I’m too sensitive, having applied a more personal touch in my former editorial duties and having focused on customer service in various part-time, face-to-face office support jobs since. I’m sure many folks seeking jobs could have benefited from having an actual human offering guidance, advice, and encouragement. Personal interaction seems secondary to displacing whatever tasks we can onto computers...a trajectory I don’t see improving as we careen carelessly further into the 21st century. But I take some small solace remembering some of the care I took back at West End Games, working with potential authors, reviewing and critiquing their work, all with the ultimate goal of publishing good Star Wars Roleplaying Game source material.

In the past I’ve written about my West End editorial exploits, notably in “Publication Consistency & Style Sheets” and “The Editor as Everyone’s Advocate.” We established a fairly comprehensive and rigid — some might say it’s now-infamous — style guide for those submitting stories to the Star Wars Adventure Journal and, ultimately, other publications for that game line. It covered the contract, draft, and approvals process; thematic concerns; and a host of example game stat formats for the various rules information included with Star Wars Roleplaying Game products. The style guide formed the cornerstone of our editorial standards, though individual editors worked endlessly with authors and manuscripts to produce the best possible game resources.

Way back in the mid 1990s submissions still arrived by U.S. Postal Service, printed on paper, though often including a 3.5-inch floppy disk if we decided to proceed along the path to publication. When I first started in the summer of 1993 to establish the Journal I already had a substantial “slush pile” to review. I got to work, red pen in hand, and took time to make notes on proposals and manuscripts: grammar and style errors, story elements that needed fine-tuning, things that just didn’t quite fit Star Wars, and a host of other bits. (For instance, I was constantly correcting the spelling of “Wookiee,” which many authors misspelled with only one E. To this day I still have an urge to spell “cookie” with an extra E.) Authors revised and corrected rough drafts so subsequent manuscripts became more polished and aligned with what we wanted for the Star Wars Adventure Journal. I was infamous for sending authors extensive letters with substantive improvements, corrections, and guidance to help their work fit within the sometimes-rigid Star Wars continuity. Often my meticulous comments referenced articles line-by-line. I viewed part of my job as finding and training potential authors, both for the Journal and the Star Wars game line. Much of my effort focused on molding them into better Star Wars authors so I, and maybe future editors, wouldn’t have to spend so much time on what we considered the basics. Some who published pieces in the Journal went on to contribute to other Star Wars game sourcebooks.

Many thought it was a waste, but I even took the time and effort to offer guidance to authors with proposals and first drafts I rejected. Having received several rejection form letters myself (many simply post cards with the applicable boxes checked off), I knew the sting and uselessness of an impersonal rejection. So I took the time to write a detailed critique letter for most submissions I rejected. Obviously the rejection letters were not terribly long — usually a few pages — but I focused on how a proposal or manuscript could be improved with an eye to helping the author hone their craft and hopefully encourage them to continue. Some persisted and eventually wrote material West End published. Others moved on to pursue other writing and publishing opportunities. I’m sure some felt bitter and disappointed, emotions I as a writer understand. A few contacted me thankful for the time I took to guide them. Among the few positive letters I’ve saved from that time, I keep one that opens with a paragraph that still reminds me how my personal efforts might have inspired others:

A few months ago I submitted a short story to you…. Upon rejecting my story, you wrote me a three and a half page letter explaining why it was not up to the standards of the Star Wars Adventure Journal. I thank you for that. You see, it would have been just as easy for you to have sent me a form letter, but instead you paid close attention to what needed improving in my story and in my writing in general.

During my time later on Google Plus I frequently encountered people who’d submitted material for the Star Wars Adventure Journal who remembered me sending along detailed rejection letters offering feedback on improving their work. Some later published other roleplaying game material, others pursued different writing endeavors, and others found success in life beyond games and Star Wars. While I’d like to think my detailed rejection letters helped them along, they deserve the credit for overcoming momentary failure, learning from their experience, and continuing to follow their aspirations.

One of the most painful effects of West End’s bankruptcy, aside from losing a job I loved working with Star Wars, was losing the opportunity to guide and encourage others in their creative ambitions. I doubt I will ever attain that position again in my professional career as it stands; its loss left a void in my life perhaps more than other things I lost with West End’s demise.

Now I find myself at the other end of the acceptance/rejection game, though not as a writer submitting manuscripts but as an older American with a dubious set of skills and experiences seeking employment in an unstable job market ruled by a chaotic economy. Like anyone in this situation I’ve experienced my own setbacks...and tried to rally and move forward regardless. I’ve received my share of impersonal rejection e-mails; at times I’ve wished someone reached out with some suggestions and encouragement, but I fear that’s too much to ask of potential employers in our 21st century Internet Age dominated by algorithms and artificial intelligence.

My past editorial experiences writing rejection letters and my current job-search situation remind me we should take more time and effort to support each other in whatever ways we can. Offering genuine positive feedback remains one easy way we can encourage others, especially those facing discouraging circumstances. I fear American society has lost sight of the benefits of lifting each other up and retreated into our own competitive sense of self-preservation. One doesn’t need a position of authority or influence — as I felt I had as Star Wars Adventure Journal editor at West End — we simply need a bit of compassion and an interest in others: family members, neighbors, our favorite creators, our community, strangers in need...even when offering a constructive critique.

 “I can live for two months on a good compliment.”

– Mark Twain