The Hag points us to this humorous but heartbreaking article about the declining fortunes of freelance journalists. Though I’m not at the moment trying to make it as a freelance journalist, I’ve always thought it something I might like to try. You know: the freedom, the romantic life of the roving freelancer, the potential for glory on glossy pages, all that. But, according to Ben Yagoda, things aren’t as they once were. Even the quality of the rejection letters has declined substantially:
A friend of mine, who never got published in The New Yorker, still treasures the bunch of hand-typed and personal rejection letters he got in the late ’70s and early ’80s from William Shawn. That’s so 20th century. These days, you’re lucky to get a form letter. The pocket veto – that is, the unreturned e-mail, letter, or phone call – has become an accepted way of turning down ideas and submissions, even from longtime contributors.