Look. River Styx, isn't that the name of some sort of hippy pop band from the eighties? And what's with that little image? Is that their boat on the river?

Look at that guy, floating so peacefully on the sweet river of authorhood, breathing in the sweet smells of royalties...on an adventurous voyage to the fair kingdom of readership... What you don't see, though, is that when people drowning in the water come along and try to get on his floating book, he whacks them over the head with that big staff!! Only people who've proven that they have other rafts in which they have floated are allowed on this raft! Unknown rafters, get away! Of course, he's really sincere about it. He thanks you for trying as you float away, arms waving, sinking once, twice, three times...

Hmmmm, that's a neat image. Maybe I can write after all. Of course, these thoughts don't matter much as the last bubbles of life freefall from my cold blue lips, rippling to the surface and popping, releasing one last defiant, inaudible gasp. No, our swell book-rafting hero doesn't hear this. He's picked up his lute and is now strumming away about how good the life of the author is. Sigh. River Styx! More like...River...Stinks!...or something...stupid...like that.

My Rebuttal: Actually, this is one of the nicer rejections I've ever received. They even took care to be encouraging and understanding. Most amazingly of all, they even handwrote a personal note! Of course, their comments have nothing to do with my story, but considering all the other work other publishers put into their rejection letters, this one is like a miracle of feedback, care and authenticity! At least they took the time to get an assistant to find a pen and write an impersonal message of encouragement on the letter. Seriously, though, as little as it is, I appreciate the effort River Styx put out to try and make the letter authentic and enthusiastic. They raised an already low bar, just a little higher today.