Originally published in Voice of Youth Advocates Magazine. Also published in Japan.

I'm sure that every author has had the urge to show the world their collection of stupid rejection letters. Ironically, those writers with often the most rejections -- the hopeful young beginners -- usually have the kindest collection: theirs are usually just the standard little forms with some variation of "Thank you for your submission, but the material does not fit our needs at this time."

I think it's safe to say that all authors, great and small, have had their material rejected more than once. However, most authors who have managed to earn some degree of renown, authors with a few published books to their credit and their names not totally unknown to the world, are the ones most likely to receive the infamous short, polite -- and often absurdly obtuse -- note from an editor explaining why it was felt that this work could not be published. This is even more likely if those authors happen to be black in the U.S.A. Every black author must feel at some time that their work was misunderstood and therefore rejected, but many must also have wondered if their work was being rejected because it went against the grain of mainstream white American values or attempted to shatter established stereotypes of how black people, especially young black people, ought to behave.

While I'm sure that many such authors have been tempted to make some of their rejection letters public in an effort to show that they might be being suppressed, there is also the chilling fact that the publishing world is a very small place, and it is almost certain literary suicide for a black writer to bite the (usually) white hand that feeds him. I'm sure that putting this page on my site has brought me more than a few rejections... though no doubt more carefully worded than the examples I'm offering here.

Anyone who has ever read the black American classic, Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, should remember the scene in Dr. Bledsoe's office when the protagonist threatens to tell of his unfair treatment, and the good Doctor just laughs and asks who he is going to tell? And, by logical extension, who is going to care if he does?

The answer to both questions is usually nobody.

Obviously, there are deeper issues involved in some rejections than just stupidly-worded rejection letters. But are some of these issues actually racial -- as many white editors will hotly deny -- or are stupid rejection letters merely written in response to stupid manuscripts?

Black writers probably produce just as much stupid material in proportion to "white writers." However, "white writers" have a much better chance of getting their stupid stuff between the covers of genuine books. This is obvious by just checking out the thousands of unsold books that end up in bargain bins every year.

But in this piece I only wish to tell of my own stupid rejection letter experiences as an author of stories for and about black kids and let the facts speak for themselves.

I began writing in 1988 for my own kids, and for the street children of West Oakland, California, who hung around a neighborhood youth center. Many of these kids wanted to read, and would read, but had little they could relate to as far as reading material. Yes, there are several noted black children's authors, but the complaints I kept getting from kids were that their stories were either not on the real and/or the author obviously didn't have a clue as to what life in the innercity was really like for kids, or -- worst of all -- that the only reason you knew the characters in a book were black was because that the author had mentioned it once or twice.

I'm sure that a lot of white suburban kids have similar complaints about their own Young Adult reading material; but they have a much wider range of books to choose from, with all kinds of heroes, heroines, and situations. On the other hand, and shocking as it may seem to some white editors, there are many black kids who haven't the slightest interest in basketball, and many more who would like to read a black ghost story, sci-fi, adventure, or fantasy... and once upon a time I had a dream to write at least one of each kind.

Anyhow, I started writing what I hoped were on the real stories about on the real black kids for real black kids to read. I got lots of criticism from my local audience, and also lots of constructive advice. I learned what few established black writers seem to know -- or at least will dare to write -- that most black kids like character descriptions that include physical attributes and the many shades of color that make them beautiful. Black kids like reading about other black kids who do things besides play basketball, or join gangs, or do drugs. And most of all I learned that black kids like reading about other black kids who are kind, gentle, intelligent, and who manage to triumph over a sometimes harsh environment despite these possible handicaps.

Many people are familiar with my most popular novel, Way Past Cool. It is still in print in the U.S., and also in eight other languages besides English. In many ways this was a raw and brutal book; for which I make no apology because it was written for a certain audience -- inner city black kids -- at a time when crack was flooding their neighborhoods during the 1980's. But, Cool was only one story about a certain group of kids in a certain situation in a certain time and place... one would not read John Steinbeck's The Grapes Of Wrath, and think the book was representative of all poor white people in the United States during the 1930's. Point being, The Grapes Of Wrath was only one story, and Steinbeck was allowed by his publishers to write many other works about many other people in different situations.

Similarly, Way Past Cool was only one story: it depicted a certain amount of violence, and some might even say it perpetuated certain stereotypes about black inner city kids. Yet I felt it was story that needed to be told , and it was certainly never my intention to keep rewriting Way Past Cool for the rest of my life (guns, gangs, drugs, and violence: the ever-ready equation for books about black innercity kids) any more than it was Steinbeck's intent to keep on rewriting The Grapes Of Wrath about a poor white American sub-culture.

Another of my books about inner city kids was Babylon Boyz, first released by Simon & Schuster in 1997. The reviews have been excellent -- especially by youthful readers -- and my publisher was "delighted" with the book. It has since gone through three hardcover printings, and is now in trade-paperback as well as a book-club edition, and still selling.) I'm proud of Boyz. It, too, told a story that I felt needed to be told. However, it also contains three murders, a beating, and a rape, as well as guns, gangs, drugs, and (obviously) violence.

Remember that this is a book Simon & Schuster was "delighted" to publish...

My next submission to Simon & Schuster (at their request) was a novel called Skeleton Key, which is currently in print by Windstorm Creative. Skeleton Key deals with drug-addiction, child-abuse and homelessness, and is also a ghost story. But, while the main character (a thirteen-year-old boy) is beaten by a drug dealer in the beginning, he manages to get through the story, sign his mother into a rehab project, find a friend, meet a girl, and put his life back on track with hope for a future without packing a gun, joining a gang or killing anybody. Nor does he play basketball. Here's a quote from Simon & Schuster's rejection letter:

"... we feel... that the readers we would reach with this book would be white kids for whom this book would feed their stereotypes of black inner city kids. We think they wouldn't see themselves in this book, and those kids who would wouldn't have access to the book."

Do you see anything wrong with this picture?

Apparently, a book with three murders, a beating, a rape, guns, gangs, drugs, and violence (Babylon Boyz) wasn't at risk of doing all of the above, while Skeleton Key, with little graphic violence and a young black male working out his problems peacefully, might "feed stereotypes!"

Here are some other rejection comments from other publishers about Skeleton Key.

"...we didn't feel it lived up to Mowry's talent as demonstrated in Way Past Cool and Six Out Seven." (Six Out Seven was a novel I published after Way Past Cool.)

I feel that the actual writing is much better in Skeleton Key, and Cool and Six were my most violent books. I suppose that's one form of talent!

"I felt that the story was motivated primarily by a desire to frighten or scare."

Well, Skeleton Key is a ghost story. Maybe black ghosts are more frightening than white ones... at least to white people? Does this mean that ghostly books aimed at white kids, such as the Goosebumps series, aren't "motivated primarily by a desire to frighten or scare"? Recently I found a young children's picture book at a bookstore. The book's title was Midnight In The Cemetery, and the pictures would have scared the shit out of me at age five or six... this book's intended audience. Hmmm.

"Mowry's prior novels were well-recieved because they had a 'Lord of the Flies'- type sensibility: adults are absent, and the children turn to violence because of their urge (URGE!?!) to survive... while Robby and Timon (characters in Skeleton Key) are tender, they are not terribly compelling characters... such a departure from Mowry's territory that I doubt his audience would be interested in reading it."

I happen to know that this editor is middle-class and white, yet she feels confident that my "audience"... inner city black kids... would not want to read about "tender characters." Upon what experience is her judgment based? ...Maybe American TV?

Last, here's one that will take its place in my collection as the stupidest rejection letter of all time.

"I'm afraid I can't get excited about this book because I have a natural aversion to happy father-son relationships; not having had one myself, I can't read about it or effectively promote it."

I didn't make that up! Could it be that "happy father-son relationships" are not what black kids are supposed to have?

If this all sounds a bit familiar, consider that it's also the predicament that many black American recording-artists and filmmakers find themselves in... if they try to promote the positive or go against the stereotypes, their music is not recorded and their films are not produced by the white-controlled music and movie industries. So, in the case of perpetuating stereotypes and promoting racism among American children -- children of all colors -- who is to blame?

Rejections of black books for black kids based upon these criteria and editorial tastes seem only to perpetuate the notion that, as far as the white world is concerned, black kids are supposed to stay in the ghetto and never have any dreams, interests or aspirations outside of it. Where are the books about black airplane pilots, ship captains, or even truck drivers? Not on the shelves for black kids to read... or white kids, either. And for that you can thank (mostly) white editors.

One of my former agents told me, "You have a lot of fans in the publishing business, but you're not giving them what they want." Apparently what they want is guns, gangs, drugs, and violence.

Jess Mowry