Learning from Submission Guidelines

May 2nd, 2012

jungleBeaumont Hardy is a huge fan of Duotrope and its extensive, detailed lists of print and online publications seeking author submissions. Besides acquainting authors with fine journals and magazines they might not otherwise find online or on the newsstand, Duotrope allows writers to focus their submissions on publishers that will be the best “fit” for their writing. Duotrope includes interviews with the editors of many of the publications on its lists; these interviews are extremely helpful to authors who might want to know more about a publication’s style and interests.

Here at Beaumont Hardy, we are also fascinated by the submission guidelines that accompany some of Duotrope’s listings. The guidelines are indispensable to authors who want to know whether their writing is suited to a particular publication. But the guidelines also serve as mini-lessons in writing–reminding writers what makes a story work or obliquely guiding them through a final revision. What follows are some of the many instructive guidelines we have found through Duotrope.

The submission guidelines section for Third Wednesday, a journal that publishes poetry and fiction, provides some useful tips about fiction writing in general. George Dila, the journal’s associate fiction editor, explains why stories that open with description can be problematic. He also expresses his dislike for dialogue at the start of a story. (Read Beaumont Hardy’s take on this dialogue controversy.) Mr. Dila also asks interesting questions about what drives a story’s plot, what keeps a reader’s interest and how writing style contributes to a story. He mentions stories that, to him, don’t “work,” and he mentions hackneyed ideas that editors see far too often. Even for writers who never plan to submit to Third Wednesday, these guidelines are extremely useful in conceiving or revising a story. George Dila’s suggestions are thought-provoking and very valuable.

Bourbon Penn is a journal of “the odd,” and its editors seek surreal, magical stories. But the Bourbon Penn guidelines are useful to writers of any kind of fiction. The editors want stories with honest, complex characters around which the entire story hangs. Based on these guidelines, writers can review their own stories, determining whether their characters have enough complexity and contradiction to breathe life into the story. The journal also seeks “mystery”–stories about which the reader will demand answers. Although not every story is mysterious, writers should always consider whether their stories create this same demand in their readers.

In its submission guidelines, Spilling Ink Review provides an entertaining and illuminating list of what they do not want to publish. This e-journal from Glasgow seeks well-written, original writing, and its list of “don’ts” is very instructive for writers. The editors mention plots that are less-than-successful and grammatical constructions that writers might want to rethink. Knowing what not to do can be incredibly helpful to a writer.

Even if writers never plan to submit to literary magazines with these kinds of detailed submission guidelines, we at Beaumont Hardy think there is a lot to be learned from the thoughts and suggestions of journal editors. Anyone contemplating a story or doing a final revision would be wise to listen to the opinions of the professionals at magazines like these.

Duotrope survives on user donations, so be sure to contribute when you use their listings.

The Dialogue Controversy

March 30th, 2012

jungleDialogue can be surprisingly controversial.

In fact, the submission editors of some literary journals say that they are so offended by stories that open with dialogue that they reject them outright. These submission editors argue that readers can be confused when they don’t know who is speaking or what is happening. Without the help of a “grounding” narrative sentence, the story gets off to an uncomfortable and disorienting start. Submission editors are so busy that they reject a confusing story in favor of one that neatly lays out the action for the reader.

At Beaumont Hardy, I am not so opposed to an opening line of dialogue, as I think it might draw the reader immediately into a story. However, some stories are so complex that writers may need to establish their openings more clearly than dialogue might allow.

Consider this example:

“But wasn’t Charlie supposed to bring the rope?”

Penelope held the flashlight and looked at her boss.

Two sentences into the story, the reader still has no idea what’s happening. Is Penelope speaking? Is Charlie Penelope’s boss? Are there two or three characters in this scene? A confused submission editor might not care enough to read more in order to answer these questions.

A story as complex as this one might need a few expository sentences to set the scene for the dialogue:

Penelope held the flashlight and looked at her boss. He was trying to pry the gate open with a crowbar. Once it swung open, he asked Penelope for the rope.

“But wasn’t Charlie supposed to bring the rope?” Penelope asked.

Or consider this example:

“The green ones are three for a dollar.”

Susan and her brothers shoved each other as they stood in front of the carnival barker.

A reader might wonder who is talking and what that person is talking about. What are the green ones? Is Susan telling her brothers the price of them? Or is the carnival barker the one who is speaking?

Of course, one assumes that the author of the story will explain everything at some point. However, a busy submissions editor might not have time for that explanation, and she or he might toss the story onto the rejection pile after reading the two confusing sentences. Once again, some expository explanation might help:

Susan and her brothers shoved each other as they stood in front of the carnival barker. They had waited all week to buy the marbles he kept in the locked glass case. When Susan asked how much the marbles cost, the barker smiled and unlocked the case. “The green ones are three for a dollar.”

Despite what some submissions editors might say, however, I still think a clear opening line of dialogue can be an effective beginning to a story. If the dialogue conveys enough meaning to explain the action and to suggest the relationship between the characters, it can be a refreshing start to a story.

Consider this example:

“Give me your money.”

The gun felt slippery in Gavin’s hands, but he kept it pointed at the man with the briefcase.

Or:

“I never knew I could bake a pie in a hubcap.”

Susan carried the dessert into the dining room and wondered why her guests looked so startled.

Let us know what you think about dialogue in an opening sentence.

Writers can find the editorial guidelines of various journals at Duotrope, a website that provides an invaluable service to those who might not otherwise know where to submit their stories. The website keeps exhaustive and updated lists of online and print publications that are actively seeking submissions.

A More Compelling Cover Letter

August 5th, 2011

lionCover letters are often the most challenging part of a job application. Job hunters find it difficult to quantify their skills and abilities in a way that sounds humble yet assertive, compelling and worthy of response. At Beaumont Hardy, I have helped many job applicants craft succinct and well-written cover letters.

What follows are two versions of the same cover letter. The first is the original, unedited one:

Dear Ms. ——-:

I would like to apply to the Administrative Assistant position that you advertised. I am a well-organized person who appreciates order and organization. I think I would be a good addition to your staff in the Administrative Assistant position.

I graduated from ——- College with a degree in Accounting, and I had a 3.9 GPA throughout college. I was always well-organized, and I led many campus organizations at the time: The Tri-Tones (an a capella trio), the campus debate team and the wrestling team.

You mentioned that the Administrative Assistant would need to be able to file and keep track of orders that come in. You also said that the Administrative Assistant should answer phones and answer questions that clients ask. I would be good at all of these tasks, as well as being a self-starter and able to work with minimal guidance.

Thank you very much.

The second version is the letter after editing:

Dear Ms. ——-:

Please consider my application for the Administrative Assistant position at your company. I understand that the position requires strong organizational skills and a keen appreciation for order. I have excellent organizational abilities and believe I am an ideal candidate for the Administrative Assistant position.

I have a Bachelor’s degree in Accounting from ——- College, where I maintained a 3.9 GPA throughout my four years. Because of my leadership abilities and sense of organization, I became the head of three campus organizations: the ——- College debate team, the varsity wrestling team and an a capella trio.

I can effectively transfer the skills I developed in these leadership roles to the Administrative Assistant position. I am a self-starter and am able to complete tasks with minimal guidance. I enjoy interacting with coworkers and clients and can answer telephones and client questions cheerfully and professionally. I am also an efficient filer and can responsibly keep track of incoming orders. I am a strong candidate for a position that requires motivation and organization.

Thank you for considering my application. I look forward to hearing from you.

The second version of the letter highlights the applicant’s skills in a well-organized and interesting way. It expresses an understanding of the requirements for the job and closes with an indication of the applicant’s continuing interest.

Please let me know what you think of these two versions and which you think works better.

The “Less is More” Exercise

October 15th, 2010

FictionEditors and other writing professionals constantly advocate “showing,” not “telling.” The idea is that readers ought to draw their own conclusions about the characters and action in a story, without the author having to provide explanatory narrative. As trite as “Show. Don’t Tell.” might sound among writing connoisseurs, the advice is still valid. Writers who can effectively convey personality, tone and meaning without relying on overt narrative usually produce the most satisfying and believable fiction.

My suggestion is that writers experiment by paring down their prose from the very start–deliberately saying less, rather than more, in their exposition. There always exists a moment when a writer might want to explain something to the reader–to clarify a character’s emotion or emphasize the tone of a particular scene. I recommend not taking that explanatory route, holding back on the explanation and allowing the reader’s own thoughts to fill the resulting textual “silence.” Hold off on the impulse to tell, and I believe you will show readers more.

The following passage indicates the “telling” moments (underlined) a writer might be tempted to add. Read the passage with and without these underlined parts, and see which version you think works more effectively.

more telling:

“Would you like some more tea?” Susannah hovered over Peter with the dripping teapot, even though she knew he wouldn’t want more tea. He hadn’t touched the tea she had already served him. Peter probably thought he was too good to drink tea out of her chipped and mismatched cups. “Bourgeous cups,” she thought he had called them, even though she hadn’t really been able to hear from the kitchen.

“No,” Peter said, moving his hand as though to cover his teacup.

Susannah was so angry that she wanted to dump the tea on his head. Who was Peter to suggest that her tea was second-rate? That her life was second-rate?

“How about a scone?” Susannah rattled the scones on the little blue plate, knowing the sound would probably annoy Peter. It did.

“I don’t eat scones,” he said.

“Well, isn’t this nice? The tea is sweet and hot.” Mr. Partridge sounded flustered, as though he wished Susannah and Peter would just get along. But she couldn’t get along with anyone as arrogant and egotistical as Peter. Susannah wanted to scream.

“More tea, Mr. Partridge?” she said instead.

Peter sighed outrageously and looked out the window. His tea was getting cold.

less telling:

“Would you like some more tea?” Susannah hovered over Peter with the dripping teapot, even though he hadn’t touched the tea she had already served him in the chipped cup. “Bourgeous cups,” she thought he had said, even though she hadn’t really been able to hear from the kitchen.

“No,” Peter said, moving his hand as though to cover his teacup.

“How about a scone?” Susannah rattled the scones on the little blue plate.

“I don’t eat scones,” he said.

“Well, isn’t this nice? The tea is sweet and hot.” Mr. Partridge sounded flustered.

“More tea, Mr. Partridge?” Susannah said.

Peter sighed outrageously and looked out the window. His tea was getting cold.

Which version do you think works better? Feel free to let me know. I would love to hear from you.

The Abraham Lincoln Method

May 26th, 2010

At Beaumont Hardy, I meet many writers struggling with writer’s block. Although no amount of editorial coaching can pull a writer through a “dry spell,” I argue that any writing is better than no writing. Even a terrible rough draft can yield positive writing results. The point is just to write. I now propose the Abraham Lincoln Method for putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and writing that rough draft.

Our 16th President famously studied by candlelight, refusing to allow less-than-ideal conditions to deter him from his reading and writing. We all know how far Abraham Lincoln’s candlelit writing sessions took him. I advocate writing under the same conditions Abraham Lincoln once did, as a stimulant for creativity

On a night when you can guarantee an hour or two of solitude, I recommend clearing a table of everything but a note pad or computer; turning off every light, radio, television or electronic gadget in the room; lighting several candles; and settling in to write a rough draft. This is the Abraham Lincoln Method.

Not only is this method energy-efficient, it can also be highly productive. Writing in a new environment–even just a new lighting environment–can stimulate creativity in surprising ways. Many writers work with constant noise distractions, and the silence of an electronics-free room can be mentally freeing. The flickering of the candlelight is also oddly conducive to reflection and introspection, gently stimulating the imagination. And turning off all the lights and every electronic gadget makes for absolutely no visual distractions–no sudden impulses to dust or to rearrange tchotchkes before writing the next sentence. Staring off into a room’s darkness is simultaneously frightening and thrilling, and I argue that this combination of emotions, tinged as it is with the primeval elements of darkness and fire, can inspire even the most uninspired of writers.

The Abraham Lincoln Method honors one of our most diligent and scholarly of Presidents, and it carries with it the flickering light of hope that we might achieve some of his greatness.

Submissions: No Reason to Fear

May 17th, 2010

Many as-yet-unpublished authors long to see their work in print but might never do so. Their problem is not a lack of writing ability, a lack of ideas or even a lack of a finished piece of writing. Instead, what stops them is a fear of the submission process itself. Writers list various reasons for their submissions fears, but at Beaumont Hardy, we want to reassure them that submission should be the least of their worries.

One submission fear that writers seem to share is that their work will face mockery and criticism from editors. This fear sometimes spreads to the writing process, and writers become self-conscious in the very act of creation. They imagine the sneering editors who will ultimately read their work, and they begin to write defensively, protecting themselves from the criticism they imagine editors might make.

Having worked at a literary agency, I always reassure writers that the professionals at the other end of the submission process have little time to criticize or make fun of the work they receive. The smallest literary agency can receive hundreds of unsolicited queries a week, the entire staff working constantly to keep the office from being inundated with manuscripts and letters. An agent or editor who must plow through dozens–or even hundreds–of author submissions per day has very little time to engage in mocking or criticism. In fact, individual authors often make very little impression on the harried editorial staff. While this fact is of concern to writers hoping to be noticed for publication, it should be reassuring to the authors who fear ridicule. Editors and agents have too little time and very little inclination for mockery.

Another related submission fear stems from the writers’ knowledge that complete strangers will be judging their work. Writers wonder if they should cater their work to these gatekeeping readers or whether these strangers will completely misunderstand their creative impulses. Some of my clients tell me that they are unable to submit their work when they know nothing about the person who will be reading it.

I argue that writing is universal and that its beauty lies in the fact that complete strangers can understand and appreciate the work of someone they have never met. Professional editors and agents can understand innovative and unusual writing and will recognize the creative impulses of writers they do not know. Writers, I believe, should write whatever moves them and trust that the most unknown of readers, editors and agents will be able to relate to what they have written.

Still other writers fear the rejection involved in submission. For most—perhaps, all—writers, some amount of rejection is practically guaranteed, but that should be no reason to avoid submission. In fact, the more a writer experiences rejection, the less painful it becomes and the more rewarding is an ultimate acceptance. And of course, the only rejection-free submission is no submission at all—the worst possible path to publication.

For better or worse, I tell writers that they can find safety in numbers when submitting their work. The sheer number of submissions makes it more difficult to get published. However, this sheer number guarantees a certain anonymity and safety to the process. Editors and agents read so many, many submissions that they are virtually unable to single any one out for mockery and derision. They rarely remember a particular author after reviewing his or her submission and hardly ever know when that author submits a new piece of writing after an initial rejection. Editors and agents read so many submissions that they have a deep understanding of good writing and good creative impulses and can be trusted to recognize solid work when they see it.

At Beaumont Hardy, I am happy to help any writer prepare his or her work for ultimate submission. The submission process is absolutely nothing to fear.

Epistolary Novels–Some Drawbacks

April 1st, 2010

San José, by Denis SalasNovelists constantly strive to present well-rounded characters and believable plots, and this struggle often begins with the selection of a narrative style. Should the author tell the story from the point of view of one character or of several? Should the story begin in the present and reveal important details in flashback? Should the reader learn of events as they happen or only hear about them through a character’s retelling?

One particular narrative choice, the epistolary form, has been popular for centuries–in novels like Pamela and Dracula–and seems to make a resurgence periodically–in books like Griffin and Sabine and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Writers like the fact that the epistolary form allows letters or other kinds of text to drive both plot and character development. When properly executed, an exchange of letters between characters–or a dramatic series of newspaper articles or diary entries–can create a compelling plot and sufficient characterization to keep the reader interested in the story. However, I argue that the epistolary form presents its own problems, both in terms of realism and in terms of immediacy.

The problem of realism lies in the fact that the epistolary form often requires letter-writing characters to reveal information for the sake of the reader, rather than for the sake of their own correspondence, creating unrealistic content in the letters. For example, in writing to her beloved sister, a character might say, “Thank you for the birthday present you sent me! How did you know that a hand-sewn tablecloth with red and green embroidery and yellow lace trim was exactly what I wanted for my forty-eighth birthday?” The details about the tablecloth and the letter-writer’s age exist solely for the benefit of the reader, since one assumes that the beloved sister knows exactly what she sent and exactly how old her sister is. Epistolary novels lend themselves to these sorts of problems with realism when the correspondents know more about each other than the reader knows about them. In an effort to convey information to the reader, the author of the novel puts far more information into a letter than it would otherwise have: “Dear Husband, As a nurse, I am deeply disturbed by the outbreak of cholera. Love, your wife.” One assumes that the husband knows his wife’s occupation, and in a “real” letter, his wife would never need to mention her line of work.

The problem of immediacy is one that presents itself frequently in epistolary novels. The beauty of the epistolary novel is that its characters can exchange profound, personality-defining thoughts while hinting at the action happening around them as they communicate. However, when the action needs to be more immediate–a battle scene or a violently explosive confrontation, for example–a letter describing the action might create too much distance from the reader. Compare, for example, a character’s personal account of a mugging with a letter about that same mugging. (”Charles stepped into the dark alley and knew immediately he shouldn’t have taken the shortcut. A man emerged from the darkness. He held a knife.” or “Dear Susan, I was mugged last night. I decided to take a shortcut home, but the minute I stepped in the alley, I knew I had made the wrong decision.”) The epistolary form keeps the reader at arm’s length, a distance that might not be suitable for describing fast-paced action.

I suggest that an author consider the shortcomings of the epistolary form before choosing it for his or her own novel. If the letter-writing characters know a great deal about one another, does it make sense for them to write each other exhaustively detailed letters that serve mostly to convey information to the reader? If the novel is to have immediate and jarring action, would it be more exciting for the characters to experience the action right before the very eyes of the reader, so to speak, or will the reader be satisfied to read about the action, secondhand, in a letter or newspaper article?

As always, Beaumont Hardy is a writer’s friend in times of narrative indecision. Send me your written work, your writing thoughts and your narrative concerns, and I will be happy to provide editorial guidance.

Precise But Distracting

March 18th, 2010

I’ve recently noticed an odd trend in mass-market fiction–a tendency toward distractingly precise description. Believing that lively words will necessarily enliven their prose, some authors are liberally sprinkling their writing with words that are, admittedly, precise but that are also misleading to the reader. These words sometimes have the wrong connotations, or they simply offer far too much distracting detail.

At Beaumont Hardy, I fully support authors’ efforts to create vivid descriptions for their readers. However, description cannot exist for its own sake. It must serve the larger purpose of enhancing both plot and character. When description becomes so specific that it pulls the reader from the story, it may be time for an edit.

The following sentences illustrate the kind of precision I believe distracts a reader, instead of enlivening the story.

1. Fear scraped at her insides.

I see variations of this sentence in many current thrillers. “Scraped” is a wonderfully descriptive word, but it doesn’t seem particularly relevant to fear or to its effects. Does fear really scrape? I argue that a reader will stop to wonder what internal scraping feels like and whether this scraping is more characteristic of something other than fear–like a corrosive acid. This kind of reader distraction can destroy any plot suspense the author hopes to create.

2. His gaze collided with hers.

The notion of a collision is effective, in certain narrative situations, but it seems unrelated to the actual process of making eye contact. Readers all recognize the power of eye contact and the shock of an unexpected gaze. However, readers might have trouble imagining one look colliding with another one. Once again, readers are pulled from the story into irrelevant thoughts about ricocheting lines of sight and violently clashing eye contact–not what the writer wants at a moment of interpersonal tension.

3. The little girl launched herself into her mother’s arms.

“Launch” is an excellent descriptive verb, and it can clearly describe various actions. However, in this particular sentence, it conveys an action the writer might not have intended. Instead of suggesting a warm maternal moment, the word “launch” suggests the sudden movement of a projectile or the violent motion of a lion encountering an injured gazelle. It also connotes a long-distance leap more characteristic of a cheetah or an Olympic athlete than a little girl. Because of its violently athletic connotations, the precision of the term leads, I think, to more distraction than it does description.

4. The maiden gnawed at her muffin nervously.

Like launching, gnawing has very precise connotations, many of them rodent-related. Using the word “gnaw” to describe the relatively pleasant actions of a nice young woman seems incongruous and confusing. The reader may struggle with images of vermin, momentarily forgetting the trajectory of the story or the personality of the character.

5. “Get in the car,” the gentleman snarled.

Snarling is a very precise activity and one usually attributed to beasts of prey. When an author uses a word like “snarled,” instead of a more ordinary word like “said,” he or she must acknowledge the connotations of the word and consider whether these connotations are appropriate. In the case of the snarling gentleman, the author risks the temporary distraction of a reader who envisions werewolves or lions, instead of the fully human hero.

Accurate description is an art that I wholeheartedly support at Beaumont Hardy Editing. However, I recommend whittling away the kind of description that makes the wrong connotations and only serves to distract the reader.

If you have any concerns about your own descriptive passages and would like an expert opinion about them, please send them to me. I look forward to hearing from you.

Starting Over

January 18th, 2010

Writing can be burdensome, especially when you find yourself halfway through penning a novel with meandering subplots and indistinguishable secondary characters or a piece of non-fiction that has lost all direction. The text seems to have gotten away from you, and you suspect that your work might be deeply and irremediably flawed. Working day after day on a writing project whose very essence feels unstable can be both unproductive and disheartening.

Writers whose work has become oppressive and unmanageable have two options. As I discussed in an earlier post, the first option is to plow ahead valiantly, writing what I call the “terrible rough draft–a manuscript notable mostly for its completeness but, perhaps, harboring several kernels of pure genius. The second option is almost exactly the opposite–to set the partial first draft aside and to start over. the second option, drastic though it may seem, can be remarkably liberating an can often prompt a burst of productivity.

Starting over doesn’t necessarily mean taking a match to an unwieldy first draft. Instead, it means slowly following the trajectory of that partial draft to find the moments when it goes astray–and the moments that actually work. The beauty of this starting-over process is that it allows you to begin with a somewhat clean slate but gives you the reassurance of a “safety net”–your partial first draft.

Most people now write their novels on computers, but a hard copy of your imperfect first draft is very useful in the starting-over process. Not only does a hard copy allow for efficient side-by-side comparisons of your first and subsequent drafts, but it can also give you great psychological comfort. Thumbing through the pages of an imperfect first draft and crossing out mediocre passages can feel very productive and satisfying. Working from a hard copy also reminds you that your original first draft still exists. Knowing that you could always return to the original draft might make you feel more uninhibited about making drastic changes to it. (Of course, you can always refer to the electronic version of your first draft when starting over on it. Flipping back and forth between electronic versions of a manuscript can have its own emotional rewards.)

The starting-over process is straightforward. The opening of the manuscript is often fairly adequate and can usually remain unchanged. (The perceived problems usually start later in the piece.) You can feel fairly confident of the first sentence. Leave it in place, and continue through the opening paragraphs. Because you have written part of the manuscript already, you will have a good idea of the overall trajectory. In the starting-over phase, you can make sure that the opening paragraph truly moves the piece in the direction you want it to go. You can often head off many of the problems that manifest themselves in the first draft by reconsidering the opening of the piece.

As you proceed through the early parts of the manuscript, take none of your writing for granted. Just because a character of subplot exists in the first draft, it need not remain in any subsequent versions. Similarly, internal divisions and sub-arguments in a non-fiction piece need not remain in a new draft. Consider all aspects of your manuscript expendable, and honestly determine whether they contribute to the overall effect you hope to achieve.

You will often find a clear moment when your piece diverges from the ideal and begins to lose momentum or direction. At that point, you might very clearly see the “fork in the road” that pulls your work away from its true trajectory. Feel free to excise those directional missteps.

You will sometimes encounter first-draft passages that you like but that you suspect might create problems later in the manuscript. Bracket those portions of the manuscript (either electronically or in hard copy), and leave them out of your starting-over draft. You might later find that they fit perfectly into another part of the piece or that they lead in a profitable new direction that the original first draft might not have elucidated. The starting-over process provides your first draft with the “breathing room” that allows for these kinds of textual reconfigurations.

Starting over on a manuscript will often give you the satisfying feeling of cobbling together only the best parts of your first draft while simultaneously allowing you to clarify and rethink your original ideas. The process is the complete opposite of forging ahead until you write a terrible first draft, but it’s a refreshing option if you feel that your writing has begun to stagnate. Starting over can reinvigorate your writing and help you rediscover your authorly purpose.

At Beaumont Hardy, I’m happy to help any author with a terrible rough draft, a starting-over draft or any other piece of writing.

Complain! We’ll Help.

December 1st, 2009

Beaumont Hardy is a fan of the well-written complaint letter and a friend to the complaining consumer. Recently, we have all had much to complain about–businesses with terrible customer service, unfair company policies, unfriendly and difficult store employees and misguided government officials. At Beaumont Hardy, I help clients write complaint letters for all of these occasions. I proofread and revise client complaint letters, making them more precise and effective. I also write complaint letters for clients who send me the details of their particular issue or misfortune.

Now that consumers and voters are increasingly left to fend for themselves in a hostile business and political world, the complaint letter has become one of the only tools to effect change and to allow people to voice their opinions. Send me the details of your complaint–or the rough draft of a complaint letter you have already written–and I’ll help you hone your argument and achieve the maximum results from your complaint.

The following is an unedited complaint letter. For the sake of confidentiality, I eliminated the name of the store in question and replaced it with “Store X.” Below the unedited version is my edit of the same text. My editorial comments are at the bottom of this post.

Dear Store X:

Please stop having your employees push store credit cards so aggressively. I enjoy shopping at Store X and go there at least twice a month to buy something. I’m a faithful customer, but I might stop being so faithful if you keep up your credit card campaign.

Last week, I went to your store to buy some home accessories. I was pleased to note that each one had a 50% off sticker on it, although I liked them so much that I would have been willing to pay full price for them.

I took my items to the checkout line, where I waited patiently at the end of the line. When it was my turn to check out, the cashier asked if I would like a store credit card. I told her I would not. Then, as if I hadn’t even spoken, she proceeded to tell me all of the benefits of store credit, one of which being a further 10% off my current purchases. I told her that I still did not want a store credit card. Then, as if I still hadn’t spoken, she told me that Store X’s credit card will actually improve the economy, because it will make more people shop at Store X and put money into the economy. I told the cashier that I did not want to take on the burden of another credit card.

Then, she became angry and said, “Well, here’s someone who doesn’t want an additional 10% off. She must be rich. The rest of us would like 10% off.”

I told her I would always like 10% off, but not if it meant acquiring a new credit card.

She responded by calling out again, saying, “Well, I guess this woman doesn’t want to help the economy. I thought we all wanted to improve the economy, but she doesn’t.” She pointed at me and pretended to smile playfully.

At that point, I considered leaving my items on the counter and leaving the store completely. But I liked my selection and still wanted to buy what I had found–10% off or not.

The cashier continued to roll her eyes as she checked out my items. She didn’t speak to me again and never said a word to me as I left.

I love Store X but am seriously giving second thoughts to ever shopping there again. Store credit should be optional and voluntary, and I should not be scolded by an employee for exerting my right not to sign up for store credit. I also think I have the right to shop at Store X without receiving a lecture about how to improve the economy from its employees. (Besides, isn’t excessive credit part of our current economic problem now, and wouldn’t I contribute more to the economy by paying the additional 10% that is deducted from store credit users?) Please reconsider your aggressive policy in promoting Store X credit cards. I believe your current policy will create a great deal of animosity.

Sincerely,

After editing, the complaint letter reads as follows:

Dear Store X:

I enjoy shopping at your store, and I buy something from there at least twice a month. However, I’ve begun to rethink my faithfulness to your store, now that you have implemented an aggressive Store X credit card campaign.

Last week, I went to your store to buy some home accessories. I was pleased to note that each one had a 50%-off sticker attached to it, although I liked the accessories so much that I would have been willing to pay full price for them.

When I reached the checkout line, the cashier asked if I would like a store credit card. I told her I would not. Then, as if I hadn’t even spoken, she proceeded to list the benefits of store credit, one of which was a further 10% off my current purchases. I told her that I still did not want a store credit card. Ignoring me once again, the cashier told me that Store X’s credit card would actually improve the economy, because it would encourage more people to shop at Store X and put money into the economy. I told the cashier that I did not want to take on the burden of another credit card.

Then, the cashier became angry and said, “Well, here’s someone who doesn’t want an additional 10% off. She must be rich. The rest of us would like 10% off.” I was offended by her comment, but I remained polite. I told the cashier that I would always like 10% off, but not if I had to acquire a new credit card to get it.

She responded by calling out to the other people in line. She said, “Well, I guess this woman doesn’t want to help the economy. I thought we all wanted to improve the economy, but she doesn’t.” She pointed at me and pretended to smile playfully.

At that point, I considered forgoing my purchase and leaving the store completely. But I liked my selection and still wanted to buy what I had found–10% off or not. I decided to ignore the cashier and her aggressive offers. The cashier continued to roll her eyes as she checked out my items, but she didn’t speak to me again.  She never said a word to me as I left.

I love Store X but am seriously considering never shopping there again. Store credit should be optional and voluntary, and I should not be scolded by an employee for exerting my right not to sign up for it. I also believe I have the right to shop at Store X without receiving an economics lecture from its employees. (Besides, I argue that I can contribute more to the economy by paying the additional 10% that is deducted from purchases using store credit.)

Please reconsider your aggressive policy in promoting Store X credit cards. I believe your current policy will create a great deal of customer animosity and destroy the goodwill so many of us feel toward your store.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Below is the piece with my editing marks. My comments to the author are in brackets and italicized. The portions I cut appear with a strike-through, and the portions I added are underlined. (In a normal Word document with “Track Changes,” my editing marks are in red, and my comments are in their own separate section, not inserted into the text.)

Dear Store X:

Please stop having your employees push store credit cards so aggressively. I enjoy shopping at your store, Store X and I buy something from go there at least twice a month to buy something. However, I’ve begun to rethink my faithfulness to your store, now that you have implemented an aggressive Store X credit card campaign. I’m a faithful customer, but I might stop being so faithful if you keep up your credit card campaign.

Last week, I went to your store to buy some home accessories. I was pleased to note that each one had a 50%-off sticker on attached to it, although I liked them the accessories [I changed "them to "the accessories" to maintain the clarity of the sentence.] so much that I would have been willing to pay full price for them.

I took my items to the checkout line, where I waited patiently at the end of the line. [Although this first sentence helps to set the scene, I cut it, because it does not further the argument.] When I reached the checkout line it was my turn to check out, the cashier asked if I would like a store credit card. I told her I would not. Then, as if I hadn’t even spoken, she proceeded to list tell me all of the benefits of store credit, one of which being was a further 10% off my current purchases. I told her that I still did not want a store credit card. Then, as if I still hadn’t spoken Ignoring me once again, she the cashier told me that Store X’s credit card will would actually improve the economy, because it will make would encourage more people to shop at Store X and put money into the economy. I told the cashier that I did not want to take on the burden of another credit card.

Then, she the cashier became angry and said, “Well, here’s someone who doesn’t want an additional 10% off. She must be rich. The rest of us would like 10% off.” I was offended by her comment, but I remained polite. I told her the cashier that I would always like 10% off, but not if I had to it meant acquiringe a new credit card to get it.

She responded by calling out again, saying to the other people in line. She said, “Well, I guess this woman doesn’t want to help the economy. I thought we all wanted to improve the economy, but she doesn’t.” She pointed at me and pretended to smile playfully.

At that point, I considered leaving my items on the counter forgoing my purchase [I'm trying to avoid using "leaving" twice in one sentence.] and leaving the store completely. But I liked my selection and still wanted to buy what I had found–10% off or not. I decided to ignore the cashier and her aggressive offers. The cashier continued to roll her eyes as she checked out my items., but sShe didn’t speak to me again. and She never said a word to me as I left.

I love Store X but am seriously giving second thoughts to considering never shopping there again. Store credit should be optional and voluntary, and I should not be scolded by an employee for exerting my right not to sign up for store credit it. I also think believe I have the right to shop at Store X without receiving an economics lecture about how to improve the economy from its employees. (Besides, I argue that I can isn’t excessive credit part of our current economic problem now, and wouldn’t I contribute more to the economy by paying the additional 10% that is deducted from purchases using store credit users?.)

Please reconsider your aggressive policy in promoting Store X credit cards. I believe your current policy will create a great deal of customer animosity and destroy the goodwill so many of us feel toward your store.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Please send me your thoughts or comments about this post. I look forward to hearing from you.