So far this year, I have had two acceptances: “The Black Room” with Eerie River Publishing and “The Flood” with Hellbound Books. Release dates pending. Believe it or not, I consider that a satisfactory number.

Will there be a third? Quite possibly. But that depends on many factors, from writing and submitting consistently, to finding the right markets –– and not making embarrassing errors.

I just received a rejection letter from a prominent editor of a prominent magazine. Immediately, I noticed that it was not a form letter, which is usually a good thing. A great thing, actually.

My heart began preparing space for a welcome dose of scribbler pride and joy. An acceptance? A rejection with helpful tips, suggestions, and compliments?

This editor had given me a personal rejection before, so…

Nope. This was none of those things.

This editor was informing me that I had addressed them using the former editor’s name (yikes), and that I should have known better because this current editor has rejected me before (yyikes), and that it’s unwise to address an editor incorrectly (YIKES).

Oh, and that they were passing on my story.

Of course.

I had offended an editor, and I had to form a plan how to address it.

Did they read my entire cover letter? Did they even read my story? Probably not, and I wouldn’t have blamed them. Because I had gotten a couple letters from this editor, and I was aware of them.

Had you asked me about the two editors before this event, I might have said that both editors worked for the magazine together, or that publications and editors sometimes run together because submitting gets crazy and hazy.

But in this case, I had relied on my faulty memory of the previous editor and committed a gaffe that was altogether honest, rude, and costly.

Editors don’t care much about how hard the process is, because they know how hard it is, and they expect writers to know too, and to maintain focus despite it.

My reaction upon reading the letter? Shock. Shame. Embarrassment. I had left loose ends when submitting and failed to consider the business and its associates I had hopes of working with. I was guilty.

But, I also felt affronted. This editor seemed miffed, maybe even pissed off, over my honest, human mistake. They had been with this mag less than a year, after all.

Formulating a constructive response in a situation like this can be challenging. You may accept your blunder and the other person’s honest reaction to it.

But you may also feel indignant yourself, because life gets topsy-turvy and information overload is real. And maybe you read somewhere that editors often don’t read cover letters (WRONG).

But when it comes to advancing in any industry, it’s best to own your mistakes and accept other people’s human reactions to them.

Could the editor have responded differently? Maybe. But think of all the topsy-turvy, hazy, crazy shit they deal with daily.

Mountains of bad stories assaulting their eyes. Heaps of good stories they are forced to pass on for one reason or another. Many of them have their own writing to focus on too. I might have gotten pretty pissed off myself.

So, to all authors submitting out there, stay focused. Research your markets and make sure you’re properly addressing the human beings on the other end who are working their asses off just like you.

It could be the difference between a yes and a big, fat, embarrassing NO.