"As per the submission guidelines, you still get bigger boobs just for showing us your work.”
—The above line is from a rejection letter I received from an UnnamedButHighlyPraised
I didn’t make this up. Should I have known better than to submit to a site that sends rejection letters like this? Yes, of course. Line 1 of the submission guidelines stated the column to which I was submitting was going to, “alter the landscape of comedy, enhance cup size, and cure frigidity.” Oh, come on, a lit. mag will cure my frigidity? Please. I’ve got JD and Tinder for that, but I digress.
In my defense, once I got past the first line I kind of got drawn in. I was encouraged, “not to follow the familiar scripts. We’re starting a revolution after all…” Did someone say, revolution as in: “a forcible overthrow of a government or social order in favor of a new system” revolution? Revolution as in The-British-Are-Coming Revolution? Because I had no idea breast size was synonymous with human sacrifice. I seriously didn’t know.
And what a coincidence because ever since the The Occupy Movement petered out I’ve been itching, no dying! (in the colloquial sense of the word) to be part of something *revolutionary* (horn toot please). You know, an organization/meetup/club-type thing, if you will, only one that didn’t require camping out or any of that life/death stuff (or Twitter since I am for naught when it comes to twitting). Imagine my surprise to find all this on the submission guidelines page of a revered online lit mag. It’s like I always say, you have to keep searching, remain open, bang your head/gong/whatever because you just never know where the beating heart of basic human rights and freedom (or comedy!, for that matter) lies.
But then I got to the site’s Payments graph and my tune changed a bit not because they don’t pay, but because well, I’ll let you read:
“The compensation is extravagant: pride in knowing you contributed to the diverse canon
of women’s writing and changing the world’s mind about who’s funny.”
(oh, my mind’s changed all right)
“Your heart will swell with accomplishment and all cellulite: gone.”
Wait, what?! Bigger boobs and ALL cellulite: gone? This is starting to sound like a Dr. Oz show. Oh, but wait a minute. Wait one gosh darn hilarious minute! I’m not supposed to take any of this seriously because—ha, ha, right, I forgot, my bad—this is supposed to be funny! My non-existent cat just said, “I Can Has Cheezburger Dot Com,” and went upstairs.
What’s world-changing about judging women based on their physicality? I think that honor goes to Ancient Greece, Larry Flynt, Hugh Hefner, Dennis Hof and Mudflap Girl (apologies to whoever I left out). And women judging women? I thought that was why shopping was invented. If this editor is the leader of The Next Funny Women’s Revolution I’m cracking my cyanide pill right now.
And then I got to thinking (some more) and wondered if this editor’s male counterpart was sending larger-penis rejection letters because that’s something I’d like to see (the rejection letter, that is):
“As per the submission guidelines, you still get a giant dick just for showing us your work.”
Has a nice ring… (the line not the, you know)
Full disclosure: I’m a 34A. Don’t cry for me NAR blog readers. I like my small twins. I’m athletic. I swim a lot. I like it that people look me in the eye. All that and a very eloquent poet guy in college once told me, anything more than a handful’s a waste, although he said it in iambic pentameter.
P.S. The piece I submitted to UnnamedButHighlyPraisedLiterary&HumorWebsite.net? Well, it was picked up by another site if you want to give it a read: Comediva.