Post by rorschalk on Aug 30, 2021 17:08:39 GMT
Dear Mr. VC,
100 Days did not make it off the Floor. Here's Rockefeller's reasoning for that happenstance:
johnVC's recent submission got me wondering whether anywhere in our excellent and unique Guidelines we ask that VCs submit documents in William Shunn's oft insisted upon "Standard Manuscript" format. So I checked. We don't. Didn't think so. It's a pain in the ass not just for writers, but (unless maybe printed out, which I'm pretty sure almost no one does anymore) for readers too. No one (especially ezines) publish in this stupid format. No one wants to see the author's name along with the title atop every fucking page. As a slush reader, I'll probably get arthritis in my middle finger someday from having tapped down through all that double line-spacing, and be unable to extend or retract it as necessary when driving. Also, it doesn't suit certain forms, like this 100 Days piece, which is a journal of one man's quest for sobriety. But OK. I get it. johnVC probably had to coerce it into this ridiculous format in order to garner other rejections from other magazines who, for want of imagination and a penchant for conformity, do insist on it. So no points deducted for this decision.
I read the piece last week, and remember it as fairly engaging, with authentic characters. Some of the political discourse, while perhaps cutting edge at the time of writing, struck me as a little tired now, probably because I spend too much time on Facebook (which is really any amount of time at all) and Zerohedge. It also seemed like it incorporated too much verbatim speech, usually italicized, for what were essentially diary entries, epistolary notes to self. I can't recall how the narrator's quitting drinking mattered, except as a ready source of entry headings. I remember the "parler" pronouncement (parlay vs. parlor) motif as feeling overworked.
So, while overall intelligent and articulate, because it lacked forward momentum and struck me as more of a memoir excerpt than a story, I am, albeit with a modicum of uncertainty and guilt, returning it through the Porthole into the deluge from whence it sprang.
Happily, it's already formatted per popular guidelines and will likely find a happier home a decade or two down the road when (in the unlikely event we survive) we're nostalgic for what idiots we were and for yesteryear's littler, simpler problems.
100 Days did not make it off the Floor. Here's Rockefeller's reasoning for that happenstance:
johnVC's recent submission got me wondering whether anywhere in our excellent and unique Guidelines we ask that VCs submit documents in William Shunn's oft insisted upon "Standard Manuscript" format. So I checked. We don't. Didn't think so. It's a pain in the ass not just for writers, but (unless maybe printed out, which I'm pretty sure almost no one does anymore) for readers too. No one (especially ezines) publish in this stupid format. No one wants to see the author's name along with the title atop every fucking page. As a slush reader, I'll probably get arthritis in my middle finger someday from having tapped down through all that double line-spacing, and be unable to extend or retract it as necessary when driving. Also, it doesn't suit certain forms, like this 100 Days piece, which is a journal of one man's quest for sobriety. But OK. I get it. johnVC probably had to coerce it into this ridiculous format in order to garner other rejections from other magazines who, for want of imagination and a penchant for conformity, do insist on it. So no points deducted for this decision.
I read the piece last week, and remember it as fairly engaging, with authentic characters. Some of the political discourse, while perhaps cutting edge at the time of writing, struck me as a little tired now, probably because I spend too much time on Facebook (which is really any amount of time at all) and Zerohedge. It also seemed like it incorporated too much verbatim speech, usually italicized, for what were essentially diary entries, epistolary notes to self. I can't recall how the narrator's quitting drinking mattered, except as a ready source of entry headings. I remember the "parler" pronouncement (parlay vs. parlor) motif as feeling overworked.
So, while overall intelligent and articulate, because it lacked forward momentum and struck me as more of a memoir excerpt than a story, I am, albeit with a modicum of uncertainty and guilt, returning it through the Porthole into the deluge from whence it sprang.
Happily, it's already formatted per popular guidelines and will likely find a happier home a decade or two down the road when (in the unlikely event we survive) we're nostalgic for what idiots we were and for yesteryear's littler, simpler problems.
