Decoding Form Rejections (From Someone Who’s Been on Both Sides of the Inbox)

Before I was an agent, I was a querying author.

I’ve stared at a one-line rejection, reread it seven times, and asked myself, What does this actually mean? I’ve sent a query, immediately convinced myself it was garbage, and then panicked when I didn’t get a response in 24 hours. I’ve hit refresh on my inbox like it was a Vegas slot machine.

Now, I sit on the other side of the screen, reading queries and sending rejections—and every time I hit “send,” I remember how it felt to be in the author’s shoes. Form rejections sting. Even the kind ones. Especially the kind ones.

So today, I want to walk you through some of the most common form rejection phrases and decode what they really mean. Not the vague, professional translation—but the real stuff, from someone who’s lived both sides of the trenches.

Photo by Anastasiia Nelen on Unsplash

“Thank you for your query. Unfortunately, this isn’t the right fit for my list.”

Translation: This could mean a lot of things. Maybe your story isn’t in a category I represent. Maybe I already have something similar. Maybe I didn’t connect with the writing. It’s a catch-all phrase we use because every “no” is different—but we still want to be kind and respectful with your time. Essentially, it’s a polite way to say “no thank you” and doesn’t indicate anything specific about your writing, concept, or what could be improved.

What I’ve learned: This one doesn’t mean your book is “bad.” It just means it’s not right for me, which is not the same thing. I promise.

“I didn’t quite connect with the voice.”

Translation: Voice is incredibly subjective—and it’s one of the most important things agents look for. Voice is like…personality in writing form.

Sometimes a voice feels too didactic or overly weighed down with exposition, like the story’s being explained at me instead of unfolding naturally. Other times it’s too mellow and gets lost in the noise. And sometimes… it’s just not my kind of voice. It might be beautiful, but not the flavor I’m drawn to. (Which is important because if I’m not drawn to it, I won’t know how to sell it). You don’t want an agent who feels “meh” about it. You want someone who lights up.

“I don’t have the editorial vision to move forward.”

Translation: This one doesn’t mean your book isn’t good. In fact, it probably means there’s a ton of potential—but I can’t quite see how to help it get to the next level. Some manuscripts need revision, and I’m usually game for that—but if I can’t clearly see the path from here to “ready to pitch,” then I’m not the right advocate for you.

This one used to confuse me. But now I know: it’s a sign that the book may be close, but needs something more—structure, pace, clarity, stakes—that the agent just can’t pinpoint. You want an agent who sees that path clearly. Not someone guessing.

“This feels too similar to something I already represent.”

Translation: This is never a knock on your originality. What it usually means is that I already represent a book in this space—same themes, similar concept, tone, or hook—and I can’t represent two clients whose books would be in direct competition with each other. Agents only get to submit one project per editor at a time (with few exceptions), so if I took on your manuscript, I’d be forced to choose between you and my current client. That’s not fair to either of you.

What I wish more authors knew: You’re not being rejected because you’re not “unique enough.” It’s about professional boundaries and strategy. If you wrote something compelling and marketable, you will find someone who hasn’t filled that space yet.

“I didn’t fall in love.”

Translation: I might like it. I might even admire it. But this business requires passion and stamina. If I’m not head-over-heels about your project, I won’t be able to do right by you when the going gets hard—which it always does at some point.

This is the equivalent of “It’s not you, it’s me”—and I know how frustrating that can be. But from an agent perspective? It’s the truest thing I can say. You want someone who’s all in. Not someone who’s halfway convinced.

What it comes down to…

Form rejections feel cold. But behind every one of them is a person who’s probably reread a few of their own rejection emails, too. I’ve been in your shoes. I am still in your shoes—writing, hoping, doubting, refreshing the inbox like it owes me money.

Now, as an agent, I send rejections knowing they’re not the whole story. But I send them with care. I don’t take your submission lightly. And I never forget what it’s like to be on your side of the screen, waiting.

But here’s something writers don’t always get to see:
Rejection doesn’t stop once you’re agented.

Agented authors still face rejection—this time from editors. And let me tell you: a lot of the rejection letters I receive on behalf of my clients sound very similar to the ones you’re getting from agents.

“We didn’t quite connect with the voice.”
“We already have something similar on our list.”
“We didn’t fall in love enough to take it forward.”
It’s the same heartbreak, just in a different inbox.

And it’s not just our authors who get passed on. Agents get rejected, too. We offer rep, and sometimes, after a flurry of full requests and hopeful Zoom calls, the author chooses someone else. (Yes, we do what you do—we smile, say we’re happy for them, then close the laptop and eat a cookie about it.)

This business? It’s built on passion and rejection. And none of us are immune.

But the rejection isn’t the point.
The point is that you keep going anyway.
You get the “not quite,” the “almost,” the “close but not for us”—and you still show up for your stories. You try again. You revise. You query one more agent. You send out one more pitch. You hold your breath and hit “send.”

That is grit. That is courage. That is the kind of person who makes it in publishing—not because it was easy, but because they didn’t let the no’s define their story.

So if you’re in the trenches right now: I see you. I believe in you.
And your “yes”? It’s still out there. Maybe just a few form rejections away.

With you always,
Vicky 💌