I received a rejection letter yesterday from Asimov’s Science Fiction. I cried when I read it and in a moment, you will understand why.
See, this particular rejection letter was not for something I wrote, but for a piece my father wrote before he passed away in 2015. The piece is called “Ark of Atlantea”. It’s a short story. It’s one of many short stories he had.
The letter read simply:
Thank you for letting me read see your dad’s story, “Ark of Atlantea.” The tale is nicely done, but I’m afraid it’s not quite right for me.
It was those words Thank you for letting me read see your dad’s story that made me cry. These were not tears of sadness. These were tears of endearment and warmth.
There was something beautiful and touching in the editors choice of the words “letting me”. She gave this work an importance, as if it was a true honor for her to read something my dad I had written, an honor not everyone gets to receive – as if she was chosen specifically to have this privilege.
For this, I thank the editor.
I thank her for understanding the power of the words you choose.
“A well-spoken word at just the right moment
is like golden apples in settings of silver.” Proverbs 25:11 (The Voice)