From the aptly titled The Rejectionist blog:
Dearest MFA-getting Author-friends! We have a very special and sobering message for you today, inspired by the reams and reams of MFA-produced short stories and fictive efforts we have been reading lately, many of which are quietly pointing us toward the inevitable conclusion that whatever the hell they are teaching you up in there, it has nothing to do with Publishing. Lucky for you, little ones, you have us! to pour the ice-cold pitcher of Reality Water over your febrile and loftily-aspirationed heads!
1. Ask yourself the following questions: 1. Have I published a short story in The Paris Review? 2. Have I published a story in the New Yorker? 3. Am I Wells Tower? 4. Am I a talentless but famous white dude with lank, greasy hair? If you cannot answer “yes” to at least one of these questions, your odds of publishing a short story collection are somewhere around .001%. If you can answer “yes” to two of these questions, those odds will go up slightly (if you answer “yes” to questions #1-3, you should totally call us, we will buy you a beer at the Pencil Factory and you can tell us about being in a band with Al Burian). It doesn’t matter where you got your MFA (sorry, Iowa!), it doesn’t matter how much McSweeney’s loves you, it doesn’t matter how many awards you have gotten (unless one of them starts with Guggenheim or MacArthur) or how many times you have been in Best American Short Stories; your chances are very, very bad, and they are exponentially worse now than they have ever been.
Also, to that I would like to add: Fuck you, James Franco.