Hi. My name is Brian McClellan. Some people call me Bob. Some people call me Not Frank. Only one person is allowed to call me pet names. Only my mom and big sister are allowed to call me Briany. I write something we in the industry call "commercial" fiction. "Commercial" means that it makes money, and I won't spend the rest of my life as an angry, embittered professor. I hope.
My grandpa on my mother's side called me Tank. I don't remember ever meeting Grandpa, but my earliest memory of my childhood is the family gathered in Dad's den to talk to Grandma and Grandpa, and I was perhaps two years old, and Grandpa said, "How are ya, Tank?" I was a, lets say.... solid... child.
There's nothing else to fill in that memory of Grandpa. The remnants of his ham radio shack up in the mountians of Colorado where I played as a kid after he died, perhaps, or the flags next to his grave, but little else. He's a disembodied idea, though I'm sure I loved him in my toddler way.
How do you write a "nice" rejection letter? No rejection letter is "nice." All you can do is try to be mean softly, ie, tell them in no uncertain terms that they are a good person and sure do try hard, but they suck, because even a student journal won't publish them.