Writers must go crazy wondering why most of their stories are rejected by the journals to which they submit. Was there a flaw in the character arc? Was the writing uninteresting? Did they not like the premise?

Trouble is, unless an editor takes the time to write a note to the writer, he or she will never know what the reader thought. That’s when the imagination takes over. Couldn’t be that the story was bad—the reader must have been having a bad day and rejected everything. Maybe my story was slated for publication and something came in from Joyce Carol Oates and they decided to bump me. Maybe the story was so good, it was beyond the comprehension of the editors. (I often imagine this when I am rejected by a student-run journal.)

Virtually every lit journal out there uses this cop-out: “The volume of submissions makes individual responses impossible.” So who’s to say whether a story is rejected for a good reason, or the decision was unsupported? Writers are, by nature, insecure about their craft, and this condition doesn’t help. Wouldn’t it be great if somehow editors could communicate just a little about what they thought about the stories they received?

Well, I believe it’s possible. In fact a group of writers here in the Southeast Michigan area believe that too, and we’ve started our own online lit journal, called Third Reader. (The name comes from something said by Greek poet and Nobel Laureate Odysseas Elytis. Visit us at http://thirdreader.com.)

Our goal and philosophy is to comment on every poem and story we receive. It’s possible because our website is technologically advanced—editors already have opinions about what they read, and our system allows them to immediately comment. Each writer has access to his or her account, and only the writer and the editors can see the comments.

So far it’s working. And the responses we’ve received back it up. Writers are telling us how much they appreciate the comments (we try always to be constructive). We’ve had several tell us that our suggestions made their stories or poems better.

Frankly, if this is successful, we’re going to change the way the literary journal business is run. No more editors in ivory towers passing judgment without accountability. Editors will offer constructive criticism. Writers will accept it and improve their craft. The entire field of creative writing will be better off for it. What a crazy idea!

I don’t know whether to jump for joy or jump off a cliff over this one.

As writers, we often spend many hours preparing a manuscript—writing, editing, rewriting, listening to critiques and rewriting again—only to send it off to a literary journal or ten, into that black hole known as “submissions.” Ninety-nine percent of the time we wait anywhere from a few weeks to several months to receive a response, which is usually a form rejection letter or e-mail, or an acceptance. A very few times, among all the rejections, is a note from an editor.

I received one of those last week, handwritten from Holly MacArthur, Managing Editor of Tin House, one of the best known and highly respected literary journals in the country. Here’s what she wrote: “Alas the editors have decided to pass. There were mixed opinions, but all agreed you have great promise.” There was also a handwritten note from the initial reader that was very nice as well.

I’m encouraged, of course, that the editors at such a prestigious publication believe I have promise, but it’s also incredibly frustrating to know my story came so close without making the cut. I can’t help imagining how ecstatic I would have been had the story been accepted at this stage of my writing career (I’ve been at it for two years and have had one other story published). I would have told everyone—my classmates in the MFA program at Whidbey, my local writing group, my family, friends, people I passed on the street . . .

But not to be. After all, it’s really just another rejection, although a nice one. I wonder if all the pinpricks the writer’s soul endures on the way to success ever heal when that success is achieved. I hope to be able to let you know.

Maybe they think we’re just not paying attention, or perhaps they believe the public has completely accepted the fallacies, but there are some things that Hollywood movies almost never get right. I’m not what I would call a movie buff, but I’ve seen enough of them over the past few decades to start a list of those movie aspects that always seem wrong:

• Thunder and lightning at the same time: Well, if that was the case, people in movies would be getting fried left and right. Since lightning travels at the speed of light, and thunder at the speed of sound, those who live to tell about it almost always experience a delay before the thunder is audible.
• Sound in outer space: Except for Kubrick’s classic “2001 - A Space Odyssey,” movies always include sound effects in the vacuum of space, which can’t conduct sound, because - duh! - it’s a vacuum!
• Crappy glass and/or building construction: Something hits an automobile windshield and it shatters like a water goblet. Has Hollywood not heard of safety glass? This one’s from “Spiderman 3″: a rogue I-beam (how do they think of this nonsense?) rips through an adjacent skyscraper as though the building were made of papier-maché. Come on! Didn’t they use an I-beam or two in the construction of the skyscraper? If they wanted to make a cartoon, why didn’t they just draw one?
• The phone hangup dial tone: Just try it yourself. Have someone call you, and when you answer, have them hang up. You get dead air, not a dial tone. Thought everyone knew this already.

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Feel free to add to this list.