I do about six cartoons a week, and on Tuesday afternoon, I email them to my editor at The New Yorker, Bob Mankoff. He takes a selection of our submissions–and we don’t know what he takes or if he takes anything of ours–to a meeting with head honcho David Remnick, where they select the cartoons that are to be bought that week. By Thursday, we get an email from Bob’s assistant saying either, “Cartoon sold” or “The cartoons for this week have been selected and you are a total loser.” No, her email doesn’t say that, but something to that effect. It’s always a difficult moment. You try not to go back in your mind and think about the WONDERFUL cartoons you created that were rejected.
The above cartoon was just rejected. Give it a hug.
When Do They Serve The Wine? 
((((((((hug))))))))))
poor, little, cartoon. it will find another home.
it made laugh. more so, because a friend did the exact thing at a uni graduation.
hughughughughughughughughughughugh
I very much enjoyed this cartoon and the chance to see it, even if it’s not in the New Yorker.
You mean everyone isn’t naked under the robe? HUGS!
From the many who’ve been rejected at one time or another (((( ))))
A big hug to all the rejected cartoons in the world ! We love you all !
😉
Now I understand. The next time I’m in Starbucks and see a cartoon staring vacantly
into its coffee, morose and dejected, I will know its been rejected by the New Yorker.
I will offer it a hug. Or another latte.
Hahaha. What a nice guy!