When a journal recently accepted a piece, I was elated.
The trail to get to that publication, however, was long and messy, full of rejections, revisions, submissions, time, frustration, and fees. Why don’t they like my story? What’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with them?
But when the dark days happen, my experience reading for journals, co-founding one, and judging for a couple, gives me perspective.
Frustration over the time it takes to get a response is understandable, but when you look behind the scenes, it makes more sense. Many editors are getting more submissions than ever and are often running on smaller budgets. That means working with teams of volunteers, people like you and me, who are writers, and really want to write. These volunteers are as busy as you and me, maybe more so. But they carve out time because they want to give back, to be good literary citizens.
I can’t speak about other people’s motivations, but here is why I have been a reader for a literary journal:
- Sometimes reading submissions is inspiring. There are so many changes to the structure of the short story and nonfiction. The intensity, the subject matter, and the form are so dynamic and compelling. I love how creative the writing and forms are getting, while I also appreciate traditional stories.
- Sometimes reading submissions is soul crushing. I left the journal I co-founded because I could no longer read the massive volume of submissions that got in the way of my work, my writing, and my personal life. Imagine spending ten to fifteen hours a week on submissions, on top of heavy grading, class prep, and meetings? When I did my own writing, I looked at words on the page or computer for 60 hours a week. And that’s a good week. This might be why journals are limiting submission windows and numbers of submissions. When the load gets overwhelming, sanity is a good option. I will always have respect for editors at journals because I saw it from the inside.
- Working for the journal helps you see the shocking increase in submissions. It’s a good sign for the journal (people are paying attention), but they have to manage more readers or personally take on more manuscripts. That is not easy.
- Some journals are trying to stay afloat. They need to focus on models that will help sustain them through the hard times in the hopes of better times ahead. When you are inside that system, you see how much creativity is going into adding ways to draw readers and hold to standards. You also notice how many new journals are starting up, offering a whole new dynamic and voice.
- Reading for a journal made me a better writer through osmosis. I saw how many people took their work seriously. I saw how they formatted the story. I saw some powerful submission letters. The investment people made in their own work helped me become a more dedicated writer simply by reading their work.
- Readers want to find the gems. I hated rejecting stories. When I was a judge for a recent contest, I wrote a note to every author. I had the final set of stories, and I loved all of the work, so I offered some help to get them either to keep submitting, or ideas for revision. Readers might want to write you notes, but they don’t have time. If you get a note on a rejection, that is gold. Someone cared enough about your work to help. When reading for a journal, finding the story that makes it to publication is thrilling. I helped a great one get through!
- Most people who work for literary journals are smart, incisive, helpful, and often kind. Here is your tribe. If I was feeling down or isolated from the writing community, here was my literary home. I checked in regularly, talked about stories and chatted with people who loved writing as much as I did.
If you are frustrated with publishing, I’m not saying you must work for a journal to understand. I’m suggesting that it provides insight about the process. Every time the rejection arrives, it helps to remember the days I was reading for journals, and how much I wanted a story to work from start to finish.
If you are feeling powerless, here are some ideas: start an online journal, read for an existing one, champion a journal you love by quoting from its content online, interview a writer, evaluate the best story of a latest issue. I always like the idea of making your own thing, something that will empower you. Just do something. It will make you feel better. And we need more of that right now.
[For information on upcoming writing workshops or one-on-one help with submission prep, contact me at Maureen (at) tachyon (dot) me. or use the contact page on this web page home.]
