Last night, I was talking with a friend about boundaries. How to set them, how to maintain them. If you feel taken advantage of (your time or your attention) often the response is an increasing sense of being TRAPPED – as opposed to a natural and intuitive re-setting of boundaries. It’s hard to say “No” to someone. It’s hard to realize, “I have reached my limit. Got no more to give at this present time. Need to re-boot. Handle your own damn problems.” What can also be difficult is to say “No” to some request (for time, a listening ear) without letting that feeling of being TRAPPED enter into your tone, and making the whole thing a negative brou-haha. We were sharing stories about this from our lives, talking, listening, helping each other.
So I was so pleased, so happy, this morning to see this particular piece by Richard Oram on “The Decline Postcard.” And here is a piece on “the best decline letter of all time“. It really is awesome. I would love to see the Decline Postcard have a Renaissance. I suppose it’s similar to automated email responses, like: “I’m out of the office. I’ll get back to you at my earliest convenience.” Or screening your calls. But the Decline Postcard has something else going on with it: It’s an elegant and yet very firm way of saying, “You know what? NO.” I love the Decline Postcards that are openly cranky, due to the fact that the writer has been bombarded with requests the entire time he has been successful. He has experienced all of the requests, and already knows, beforehand, what he will and will not do. And he is already annoyed. Not because he is naturally cranky (although sometimes he was that too), but because he has experienced all of these things time without number, and he feels harassed by them.
A comparison could be made with my Comment Policy here (and most other Comment Policy pages I’ve seen on personal sites – at least the ones that have a readership outside of close personal friends): Every single item on that list is something I have had to contend with repeatedly since I started the blog (or: since I switched from a political theme to an arts theme in 2004.) These were not just drive-by annoyances from random commenters: these were regular power-struggles that went on between me and my regular readers at the time, many of whom came from links I received from big political blogs and then stuck around. As I switched the focus, I already knew what the comments would be for many of my posts (I would write about Oscar night, and talk about J. Lo’s dress and etc., and the majority of comments would be sneers about Hollywood liberals and how stupid and vain all actors are – and I realized – wow, I’m hanging out with the wrong crowd, they are no fun at all, and don’t “get” what I’m doing here at all) – so I created that comment policy to nip things in the bud. I hadn’t started out with a Comment Policy. I figured early on the kind of TONE I liked to have in the comments – light, respectful, intelligent – but I hadn’t realized how obnoxious so many people are, and how consistently THE SAME all the comments would be. It was repetitive, those types of comments, and that was the worst part. The hostility towards the things I wanted to write about seemed to chase away the folks I wanted to be reading here: movie-lovers, people who love the arts, curious, intelligent, open, all that. People still come to my site and immediately violate my entire comment policy in their first comment – it’s hysterical – so all I need to do is to provide a link to said policy, and say, “Here are my ground rules.” It’s a TIME SAVER, above all else. I don’t need to even get into it. It’s boundary-setting from the get-go. It is deciding to not be dominated by those who are strangely irritated by the main topic of a personal website, but it’s also flat out refusing to give up your precious time to arguing the merits of things you hold dear. Not so much because I want to squelch anyone’s self-expression (I mean: you can set up a blog for FREE, so you are free to go and rant about stupid Hollywood actors and stupid Oscar night and Hollywood liberals to your heart’s content – although I certainly won’t be reading your blog if that’s your topic) – but because there are not enough hours in the day to deal with all of those fights, and frankly it no longer interests me. I’d rather talk about James Joyce than try to convince someone with a chip on his shoulder that James Joyce is worth talking about. My classic example (true story) is when I wrote some post back then about a book I had read or a movie I had seen, and someone commented, “Just wondering when you are going to weigh in on Abu Gharib.” “Weigh in”? What am I, CNN? It was so weird. Would you go to a blog focused on crafts, or making your own jewelry, or cooking, and demand that the blogger “weigh in” on the situation in Darfur? Very strange. If you would like to hear my opinions on Abu Gharib, then I would certainly welcome a check from you for $100, and I’ll go to town on the topic. Otherwise, I beg to be excused accordingly.
I was bored with all of this about a month in to the change-of-topic on my blog with those fights, and knew I wanted new readers. I want to protect myself from boredom most of all.
The Decline Postcard, cranky or otherwise, recognizes that one of the most precious thing on the planet is TIME. And it is up to YOU to police your own time. People will come to you with requests. Friends, or (if you’re famous) strangers. To have to repeatedly say, “I don’t work for free”, or “No, sorry, I won’t read your unpublished poetry chapbook” is tiresome and takes up too much TIME.
Hence: the Decline Postcard.
George Bernard Shaw’s are the best. They are very angry. He is already angry.
Oram has collected Decline Postcards from many authors, wanting it to be its own genre, and he has some awesome examples. I liked this, because it does make the point that these Decline Postcards, unlike regular rejection letters, or form rejection letters, suggest a level of personal involvement from the author, showing that they have experienced ALL of these things in the past, and want to set their boundaries against such intrusions BEFOREhand. Some of them would edit their Decline Postcards, as new requests came in for things they hadn’t even thought of. (Check out Shaw’s emendations to one of his Decline Postcards, because he obviously realized that there were boundaries he hadn’t even realized he had – and once they were trespassed he needed to re-draw the lines immediately.)
Oram writes:
Even more mild-mannered authors, such as Marianne Moore, could be driven to the use of decline postcards. Mooreâs list* includes ârecommend editors favorable to verse by children or work bequeathed for publication,â suggesting that she had received more than a few requests along this line.
Donât believe Iâd ever heard of âdecline postcardsâ â but what a great idea for all those special occasions.
Dear Sir or Madam:
Your request for my:
Time
Advice
Money
Succor
Opinion
Concern
Support
Assistance
Association
Appearance
Contribution
Participation
Commitment
Collaboration
Hand To Hold
Fall on deaf ears, a cold heart, and an overall acute apathy.
Cordially,
Mr./Ms./Mrs. XXX
PS: Sheila, Iâve got this great idea for a serial historical drama. Can I run it by you some time for your opinion and input?
George – serial historical drama!!! hahahahaha
Uhm, no, don’t have time to give you “input”.
Your Decline Postcard is awesome. I might have to steal it.
Oh this is just scrumptious. I can see several good uses for Decline Postcards, even in today’s hyper-connected world.
It reminds me of all the rejection letters we writers collect. My friend said to me about an editor, “Wow, she must read 100 manuscripts per year!”
I had to correct my friend, and said, “No, she reads about 250 per month.”
With that kind of volume, the form letter seems absolutely justified. I suppose if you’re personally getting as many requests from your personal life (invitations, requests) a form letter is a perfectly efficient way to say NO right up front.
When you get requests via email, it seems more polite (and yet conversely more confrontational?) to send a form letter response than no response at all. If you’re a fan and you write to your favorite writer, the no response lets hope linger. But if you receive a note that says, “Thanks for your correspondence. I do not respond to requests for XYZ,” you know that person prizes her own time and boundaries.
I like the idea of taking ownership of your time. Of simply saying “this is mine”. These cards seem an elegant way to do that.
Is it Steve Martin who hands out printed business cards certifying “This Person Has Met Me” (or something similar) when asked for an autograph? I always thought that was an ingenious compromise, avoiding the hassle yet still leaving the fan with a personal curio.
Not being a Shavian (?), I googled the addresses, curious which of his postcards came first. Amusingly in this context, the first direct hit leads to a letter from the Balkan Committee offering to send speakers to organized meetings on the subject. (PDF, by the way.)
And Ayot St. Lawrence is now open for tourists, free to receive visitors regardless of their intimacy. History grinds down even the pithiest resistance.
Cara – it certainly is a struggle sometimes and I am in awe of the people who just know their own boundaries and can police them without being douchebags about it.
The form letters certainly save time – for the editor AND for the writer – and I really liked your comment about writing to a big writer. Recently, I reached out to a famous writer – someone who had actually helped me in the past, in a big and important way – read an essay I wrote, and told me to submit it to this and this place, and he told me to use his name. Phenomenal. That’s how I got in the door at Sewanee Review and first got published. Amazing generosity! So a couple months ago I wrote to him again – fearfully – and asked if he would read my manuscript – I knew he was busy, I didn’t know if he remembered me, blah blah – He emailed me back immediately. Within a day. He said “Of course I remember you – that piece you wrote was a home run … ” (tears!) Then said: “Unfortunately I have had to make it a rule that I cannot read manuscripts from anyone, even good friends, because I get so many requests and I feel I must stick to my rule. But best of luck to you and let me know when your book is published.”
It was a bit of a disappointment but I really respected first of all his forthrightness – he totally EXPECTED that writers should be ambitious for themselves – he wasn’t like, “who is this chick to presume on my attention??” – but he also had to protect his time. I also respected that he responded immediately – he respects his own time, but he also respected MINE. Let this woman move on.
It was a real classy thing to do, I thought.
Oh that is wonderful. A very polite, wonderful rejection. Class act.
I remember a few years ago when I wrote to Joyce Carol Oates and to my astonishment, she wrote back. I was like…whoa. That was totally unexpected.
I also used to have a pretty regular conversation going with Tom Clancy.
So it’s really hit and miss.
Also, when you’re trying to get published and you send agents your query letters, you get a lot of rejections. But if you get something beyond a form letter, you know you’re on the right track. You can look at it like: this agent actually thought I was worth 5 minutes of her time to write a personalized rejection.
I have been going through an evolution of taking control of all aspects of my life. My time included. So this was a great essay, sort of fortifying my thoughts.
Speaking of Darfur…
This isn’t just you and Cara trying to tell me to stop emailing, is it?
On a serious note, LOVE the Decline Postcard concept. My wife needs a whole set for every occasion. She has only a small grasp of the “Sorry. I can’t do this” idea.
Hahaha! No, I like to hear from you!
Your wife is a social butterfly. : )
I am in awe of the people who just know their own boundaries and can police them without being douchebags about it.
Having to police one’s boundaries so often probably helps one to do well at it! Then again, some people are just socially graceful by nature. I think the response you got, Sheila, is a natural gift honed to a perfect finish.
Others with similar expertise merely hone their claws on the unsuspecting…
Am I missing another link to drill down into? The two GB Shaw’s, one Edmund Wilson, and assorted mentions is a bit of a tease. You had me wanting more of these gems.
Scotter – Yeah, that’s all there is in those two links.
“The way I see it he said, you just can’t win it
Everybody’s in it for their own gain, you can’t please ’em all
There’s always somebody calling you down
I do my best and I do good business
There’s a lot of people asking for my time
They’re tryin’ to get ahead
They’re tryin’ to be a good friend of mine”
I was just listening to that song and it seemed relevant. Saying no is so hard, truly. When you have to be a little selfish, to get your own things done.
I love Evelyn Waugh’s card in particular. So obstensibly polite but you know he meant it in a totally grouchy way.
Catherine – I know about Waugh – I love the grouchiness.
So I’m imagining a small book filled with these. The kind where you leave it nonchalantly on the coffee table and visitors pick it up out of restlessness because you don’t know why your main course is taking an hour longer then the recipe says.
Hello. And Bye.
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