Readers often ask if there’s a sure-fire way to get their letters published, and the answer is yes, of course.
All you have to do is, first, conceive a point of view that has the logic of Aristotle, the imagination of Steven Spielberg, and the historical sensibility of Winston Churchill, and then write it with the artistry of John Updike, the wit of Robert Benchley, and the crispness of E.B. White.
Second, you need luck, and lots of it, because the odds are against you. Letters editor Glenda Buell receives 500 a week, more than half by e-mail, and only one in 10 makes it to print.
Within that 6-by-15-inch letters box on the editorial page, space is coveted because it’s one of the more favored features, better read even than some Page One stories. A Globe survey found that letters were perused by 52 percent of readers, which means they have a larger audience than do most columnists and they are far more popular than your harried ombudsman.
For many readers, the selection is a mystery.
“Frequently I read letters to the editor,” wrote Fred Churchill of Carlisle, “that make me wonder how the Globe selects letters for publication.”
It’s a process that drives some readers nuts.
A retired social worker with strong opinions about school reform, Rohna A. Shoul of Newton gave up trying to get her letter published and turned instead to the Learning section.
The letters section is unique. Readers may concede the rest of the newspaper to editors and to writers, and they may forgive a fuzzy editorial or shrug off a nutty columnist, but they guard the letters section as if it were their own, which it is.
That is why Laurie Letourneau of Shrewsbury wondered if her letter had been rejected because it opposed the Globe’s editorial position. “I would think that we loyal subscribers deserve to have our voices heard.”
At a time when newspapers are judged aloof and inaccessible, and when the popularity of reporters has sunk to the level of lawyers, horse-thieves and television anchors, newspapers are searching for ways to be more open. The Globe publishes a full page of letters every other Monday. The Spokesman-Review of Washington turned much of its opinion pages over to reader submissions, and it publishes a full page of letters daily.
At the Globe, letters that arrive by post are divided among the Globe’s six editorial writers, who weed out the weakest. Those that survive are reviewed for publication by Buell.
“When I took this job, I was told we had good letter writers, and I said, yeah, yeah,” says Buell, “but I’ve been amazed at the quality, the writing, and the thought.
“My favorite letters right now, and it changes month to month, are letters from what I call the preachers and philosophers, the people who comment about society or the lack of civility or who talk about trends in neighborhoods and who reflect upon what’s going on in our lives.
“One difficult aspect is the public relations. People lead busy lives and for someone to take time to compose a letter to an anonymous institution, they have to be fired up. When they don’t see their letter, they call me, agitated, and I have to explain why. But I do so fully aware that they think their letter about the sewer board or whatever is important, and it is. I respect their passion.”
How do letters survive the weeding?
“Letters that disagree with Globe policy go to the top of the stack,” says Buell. “We don’t want to run lots of letters that give us a pat on the back. I glance at the length. Some readers send us what I call their disertations and, yes, you can edit them down, but we can’t afford to spend half a day on it.
“Second is topicality, something in the news, or an original idea that would promote public discourse. I know that sounds lofty, but that’s what we’re trying to do.
“Lastly, we look for anything that makes a letter leap out — a turn of phrase or clever use of a word, or evidence the writer has put effort into it. Maybe it compares a current event to something historical, something that happened to them in life.”
Every editor recalls favorite letters. Peter Accardi, who held the post for three years, once opened a particularly vicious letter from a nun who complained about Globe advertising and included clippings of women in bras and panties. “Being letters editor,” says Accardi, “is no highway to popularity.”
Sometimes editors develop relationships. Karen Dobkin was invited on a date by a writer from Revere. “I”m not a young man,” he conceded, “but I could offer you nice conversation.”
Buell recalls a letter full of pain.
“It was from a man who’s been on my mind for years. He was a young doctor in tough shape and he mentioned, in his letter, that he had thought about suicide. I called to verify that he wanted this published because it could affect his career. He talked it over with his therapist and decided against it. I still think about that man. He’s still in my prayers.”
