Try, Try, Try Again for The New Yorker

This post was inspired by a Philadelphian comics man and a fellow cartoonist. It is the sad fate of many cartoonists and comics artists to use a singular accomplishment as a bar of success, and this accomplishment I am referring to would be acceptance of a cartoon into The New Yorker.  Some may argue that many of the cartoons that appear in The New Yorker are sexist, classist, and sometimes downright un-funny, and I would have to agree with them.  There is this sense, like in the classic Seinfeld episode, that there is no real rhyme or reason as to what the editors think is funny.  However, for India ink artists, there is that persistent and undeniable pull towards The New Yorker, to be among the greats like Charles Addams, Edward Gorey and James Thurber, and from more recent times, R. Crumb, Adrian Tomine, and Dan Clowes (yes, I know they do covers and not cartoons.  Shut up. Fuck you.).  But who gets into The New Yorker?  Well, nobody, or at least nobody I know.  So, we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into envy*. But do we give up?  Hell NO!  We keep trying.  So, in solidarity with my brethren ink-stained, starry-eyed romantics, I give you some of my own rejections, and the rejection letters (notes, really).

"Experimental Art Criticism"

I definitely tried to hit the major New Yorker themes like taking culture and wealth for granted, having a smug sense of superiority (watch for my use of smugly closed eyelids), and of course, always remaining absurdly ironic (or is it ironically absurd? I can never remember).  I also went with a two-toned gray scheme with black line.  I did these using Copic markers, but today I would probably do them with brush and gray ink out of bottle.  These are all from 2005, which means I was quite busy and industrious, and apparently I have been quite, quite lazy since then.

I wrote something about an ostrich lobbyist.  It seemed funny at the time.

Of course, if you look at enough New Yorker cartoons, you realize they don't necessarily have to be out-loud funny, or even make sense.

Auctioning off gas is still relevant today, right?

The one below still makes me laugh, because my caption was something like, "I only read books written from the perspective of a vampire," which is something I still say today, and what book came out in 2005?  Twilight!  I had no idea back then.  I was probably thinking of several other vampire books.

This one presages the downfall of Borders, wouldn't you agree?

I have been told that receiving a rejection letter with any kind of hand written anything is quite a compliment, but like an idiot, I have no idea which cartoon the initialed rejection letter went with.  I don't even know if it was for one of these.  I have left out several other examples from this post.

4 out of 5 rejection letters I have kept.  I think I threw out a couple.

Sadly, I also have pre-stamped envelopes to Bob Mankoff's attention at The New Yorker.  Postage has gone up since then, so if I use them I will have to add stamps.

Have any funny rejection stories from The New Yorker or elsewhere?  Share them with me!  Let's commiserate! On Twitter @inkpuddle or e-mail me @ inkpuddle@hotmail.com

*I allude to The Great Gatsby, that should totally get me into The New Yorker! :-)