I originally wrote this post in 2018 but never published it. Re-reading it over a year later, I find many of these things are still relevant. Better late than never. I left it in its original state but added footnotes where I felt there needed to be updates or corrections. – Robert Thomas Woods, February 2020
Let’s talk about short fiction markets.
Since I started this page and restarted my journey toward my writing goals, I’ve been prolific in my short fiction. Even when I should be working on my novel, I’ll get an idea for a shorter story and have a first draft done within a couple hours. I’m convinced my ADHD brain loves this semi-instant gratification. As of this post, I have 8 finished short stories seeking a home.1 This is in no way consistent with what you’ll find on my In Progress page, sometimes those stories fall to the wayside in favor of an idea that grabs me by the neck and squeezes until that sweet, sweet writer jelly seeps out. Mmm. Slap that on your toast.
My ultimate goal is to make a living off my writing2; do the one thing I love to do more than anything else in the world and be able to survive doing it. I feel short stories are actually a good way to get to this point while also working on something longer format.3 Well, alright, maybe they were a good way to get to that point once upon a time. And, sometimes, maybe they still are.
But many writers will tell you that the view from the trenches can be bleak. We write our stories like we’re loading weapons, and though we see the bodies of our fallen comrades in that 1% Acceptance Rate, we still try.
Of course, that makes it sound like the editor is your enemy, ready to mercilessly gun you down when you break through the firing line. That’s just not true. I’ve known many lovely editors and, for a short time, I even played the part myself. There’s just a lot working against anyone trying to break into the market. Nobody said it was easy.
Often, it can be a numbers game. Your story is most likely one out of hundreds, or in cases with larger publications, thousands. Thousands that might be better than yours4, more fitting to the theme, have a smaller word count, and, in some cases, a bigger list of accomplishments (though in this day and age that seems to matter less and less, and that’s wonderful).
But sometimes even getting to the point where you can submit your story is where the real frustration lies.
I’m not talking about revision. I’m talking about Submission Guidelines.
Now, before we get into this, let me preface by saying that I read and submit to many magazines that have perfectly reasonable guidelines. You know, the standards you learn when you’re just getting your feet wet. Stay within word count. Query after X amount of time. Use standard manuscript format. Include a cover letter, etc. I’m not talking about any of that here.
Over the past few months as I’ve re-familiarized myself with Duotrope and other fiction market listings, I’ve had the opportunity to review a wide range of submission guidelines5. And there are a lot that annoy the hell out of me.
Some, I feel, are only still around because they were started pre-internet, or, because us writers can be a desperate bunch when it comes to getting to tell our stories. A lot of us put up with a lot of shit.
So, because I can’t think of a better format to air my grievances6, I guess a list will do. Here’s a list of submission guidelines I’ve seen that need to change or go away.
1. Fee-Based Submissions
Look. I get it. In this day and age, running a literary magazine is tough.7 It can be thankless, and not very lucrative. Some struggle to put out issues, some have to turn down works they love because their budget won’t allow it, and many publications rise and fall within the span of months. I sympathize, because without publishers and editors and all those lovely people, we wouldn’t have gatekeeper publishing (which I feel is vital to the industry but that’s another controversial-done-to-death-post for, maybe, another day8) and it would be a lot harder for any of us to make a living doing what we love. But we’re all in the same boat.
Most people would agree that I have a good day job; I certainly live better than a lot of people, and I’m thankful for that. It’s definitely a privileged position and I recognize that. Still, every bit of money I make gets burned away by my living expenses, and I struggle too, I have been for years. Many writers have it worse than me. Submission fees, reading fees, they’re garbage.
We live in a time with platforms like Patreon, Kickstarter, GoFundMe, and IndieGoGo, so it’s ridiculous to see publishers asking for money from the people who want to contribute to them. Start up a page on one of those platforms; if people really want to read your magazine and see it continue, they will donate.9
I know that many of these magazines do this because they want to pay their writers, and that’s admirable! But paying them and gouging them in the same breath rubs me the wrong way. And, of course, it’s usually small potatoes – $3 here, $5 there – but those potatoes add up, especially for an entire generation of people who are still mostly having to live with their families while barely scraping by. And when you consider that in order to eke out any kind of living, you need to write a ton and submit constantly, it just complicates things. I know not every fee based market is out to get us but there has to be another way.
Finally, there’s the markets that charge a fee but don’t offer payment, and I don’t think I have to tell you to avoid those guys. Always use your better judgement.10
2. No Simultaneous Submissions
There’s some preface here: If you’re a fiction market, and the average response time of your Yea or Nay is reasonable (A couple days to a couple weeks) then I can absolutely understand asking writers to refrain from simultaneous submissions.
But, if you’re like a market I recently almost submitted to, which shall go unnamed, and you inform writers that you take around, oh, six months to reply, while also screaming your displeasure over simultaneous submissions? Well, just turn in your badge and your gun at that point, you’re off the force.11
It boggles the mind trying to wrap my head around this logic. I get it, you find a story you love, you plan it out for publication, and then suddenly it’s being withdrawn. Yeah, that’s annoying. But if you’re taking upward of six months or more to respond to someone, I think you also have plenty of time to tweak a layout or send out a new acceptance letter to someone who can place their work in your magazine. It’s unrealistic.
As I’ve said again and again, we’re trying to earn a living too. Just like these markets, writers also work hard, putting their – to borrow a cliche – blood, sweat, and tears into what they produce.
I’ll say it plainly: as a writer you deserve to be paid – not to have your work sit in limbo to most likely be dashed against the rocks months later (remember, ~1% acceptance rates). If you’re not submitting you’re dying. Let us submit.
What’s always funny is how many of these “No Simultaneous Submission” markets (who take forever to respond) are also the ones who pay criminally below the professional rate or don’t pay at all. Sure I can understand the reason to a point – if you’re paying small change or not at all, then your market is a labor of love. That’s respectable. But you need writing in order to stay afloat. And we need to not have to wait years just to sell one story for five bucks.
3. No Pay/Token Pay
Alright, so this is a topic I’ve avoided even thinking about for years. Those dirty, filthy words. Money. Payment.
Obviously, when you create art you must create it for the sake of itself, for the sake of creation. Don’t sully such a divine endeavor with something as banal as money! That’s what Young Robert thought, of course.
But the truth is: if you’re creating anything, and people want to enjoy it, then you should be getting paid for it. That’s the society and economy we live in. We no longer have Art Patrons who would discover young talent and throw money at them so they can sit around all day writing poetry. If only! But I feel that not wanting to be compensated for your work (if not a conscious decision because perhaps you don’t need it or want it) is akin to saying your time, and what you’ve poured into that creation, is worth nothing. And that’s just not true. No self-deprecation allowed.
Now, of course, my biggest issue is with non-paying markets. When I was first trying to submit to markets (about 10 years ago now) I submitted to non-paying markets almost exclusively. I think it may have been a self-esteem thing, I just didn’t think I had the chops to even contend with those markets paying X cents per word, or even the token markets only paying $10 per story.
Thankfully, years later, I’ve learned something: Just try it. Throw your stories into the void until something eldritch and terrible comes out and pays your cable bill.
Hopefully it happens, and in the meantime, you keep trying and you keep improving your craft, and hopefully things turn out okay. But non-paying markets only pay in something intangible often referred to as exposure. And as any outdoorsy person can tell you, exposure can kill you.
Now, I’m not saying getting your name out there is useless. No way! We should be trying to get our name and work out there every chance we can. But here’s my issue with non-paying market exposure: most non-paying markets are those flash-in-the-pan magazines that come along month in and month out, last for several issues, then disappear. I should know, I ran one of those markets (years ago when I had no business doing so) and I’ve had my stories published in two. They’re all gone now, and while you can still find old issues of my former digital magazine online, you can’t find copies of the magazines that published my stories. So what exposure are we really talking about here?
Yeah, there are a few markets out there who don’t pay and have stood the test of time, but not a ton. The point is, if our work is quality, we should be getting paid and exposed. Some people will think I’m greedy or being entitled when I say that. No. I’m just trying to pay my rent and do a job I actually enjoy where it doesn’t feel like I’m wasting away the precious hours of my life – isn’t that what everyone wants? What many deserve?
Which brings me to token payments.
If you thought I sounded entitled before, now you’re going to hate me.
But first, again, let me make one thing clear (because many words on the internet become twisted and misconstrued and over-analyzed, so let me cover my ass): I don’t have a beef with all token payment.
Sometimes magazines give what they can, and that is wonderful. But this type of payment needs to be tempered with realistic expectations. What do I mean? Well, let’s look at one example.
I have recently written a couple novelettes. They come in at around 10,000 to 15,000 words. We’re talking stories that, while the first draft may have come in a day or two, otherwise required weeks of work on my part to edit, rewrite, get feedback, and generally polish up. Browsing markets to sell these tales to, I was surprised to see token paying markets accepting these longer format works. I checked a few out of curiosity. One in particular offered $10 for work over 10,000 words. That’s like me putting in a week at my day job and HR saying “We don’t have your paycheck, but how about we take you to lunch?”
Now, that sounds like I’m being petty. But think about it like this: You just wrote a beautiful story at 13,000 words, it’s actually very good (not talking about myself here, I barely get published, I might just suck). Publishing 13,000 words is hard. Not many places will accept novelette/novella formats. But you find one that does, a tiny market offering you $10 should they like it. You send it in, they buy it. Great!
And now you’ve sold first rights to your story for $10. Those precious rights that the majority of markets are seeking out. Weeks of work for a quarter tank of gas. And that may be it for that particular story unless you anthologize at some point, because not many places buy reprints, and when they do, the pay tends to be minuscule (understandably so).
Even typing this I feel petty. We’re raised to not bite the hand that feeds us, after all. Even if you’re being fed meager scraps, it’s something, so why ruin that? But I’m learning over time that, in the end, you have to do what you love, and if other people love it too, you should be getting compensated for your effort.
If it’s worthwhile.
What I mean to say is, I don’t expect a gallery to pay the guy who sends them finger paintings. But if you’re working hard and producing good work, damn right you should be getting paid, and paid fairly. Right now, “fairly” is set by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America as being 6 cents per word. I think that’s a brilliant number. You take, let’s say, an average length short story – about 3,000 words – and manage to sell it to a bare-minimum SFWA recognized market? You’re looking at a cool $180. For me, personally, that’s enough money to pay my car insurance, get some gas, and even take my girlfriend out to dinner to celebrate said sold story.
The point is: writers deserve to be paid for their effort. They deserve to be paid fairly and timely. If you love a story so much that you want to take that story and feature it in your lovely magazine, then bless you. But please give credit where credit is due. Help those writers keep roofs over their heads, keep the computer running and the lights on, keep food in their bellies, so they can keep writing great stories.
You’ll note I haven’t mentioned anything bad about semi-pro rates. Honestly, I don’t mind semi-pro rates. Most semi-pro magazines I come across are really trying, and many of them actively work towards being SFWA recognized, publish long works of fiction, and are pretty reasonable as far as guidelines. Sometimes they’re even bigger magazines that can’t quite make the cut in their budget to achieve those SFWA rates, you know, magazines that pay 3-5 cents per word, like Cemetery Dance or Black Static. But they’re legendary in their genres, and honestly, I may complain about the token, but there’s no way I’m going to get uppity about being paid a few cents below standard.
We as writers have to be realistic too, after all. We can’t all be Stephen Kings and JK Rowlings, rolling in money.12
4. Response Times
Not much else to say here that I haven’t already covered above, but it bears repeating. Making someone wait several months to hear back on your decision is ridiculous.
If you can’t handle the workload of the submissions you get, ask for volunteer slush readers, hire interns, start a Kickstarter, a Patreon, something. Too many magazines nowadays just take the rigid traditions of the industry and staple on or twist aspects to fit their own strange view of how things should be run. Recently I even came across one magazine that cited 6 months to respond, no simultaneous submissions, AND if you submit something you have to wait nearly a year before submitting again. What? That was especially jarring for me, given I’m so used to the genre magazines who loudly declare, “Send us your stories! And if one doesn’t work, keep trying!” (And yes, general lit magazines are usually the worst offenders of the unrealistic guidelines, I’ve found).
Maybe it’s time to start thinking outside the box, because in this digital age, where we no longer mail in our manuscripts, current trends just ain’t working, hoss. And speaking of mailing in manuscripts…
5. Mail-In Submissions
I won’t spend a lot of time here, because this isn’t a big one I’ve seen but I have seen it. There are still magazines out there, with online presences, where it’s still mandatory to mail in your submission. Like I said earlier (though it was not originally said by me, and I cannot remember who said it. I’ll update any attribution should I remember): We submit or we die.
Few of us have time to mail a manuscript anymore, not when we could be revising or writing other material, or sending out even more stories for a chance at acceptance. There are some magazine that have year-round Mail-Ins, but with periods where they open online submissions. This is okay for the most part, such as with the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. But guess what? F&SF has also been around since 1949, and they pay upward of 12 cents per word. I would gladly mail something in to such a prestigious publication. But the others I’ve seen who require it, always? Pass.
6. Manuscript Formatting
Guys, we all need to agree on something. One universally accepted manuscript format that every publisher abides by. Yes, yes, we have Standard Manuscript, but I’m tired of having to go in and tweak my manuscripts a different way for every market.
One editor doesn’t want my personal info. One doesn’t want my contact info. One wants an approximate word count (standard) but another wants an EXACT word count. This guy doesn’t like Courier, please only use Times New Roman! This lady wants your cover letter in the back of the manuscript. This editor doesn’t like Courier OR Times New Roman, can you please use Arial? Sometimes they don’t want you to indent your paragraphs. Sometimes you get shamed if you even dare put in line breaks. You get the idea, I’m sure.
Most of these changes are cosmetic things, little peeves. In reality, I think a lot of times they’re sprinkled on as a kind of test, “Oh ho ho, let’s see if this so-called writer even bothered to read our guidelines!” It’s bullshit.
Here’s my manuscript. It’s in standard format. It has 1-inch margins. It’s paragraph indented. It has my title and byline on the first page, and above that it has my contact info on the left and my word count on the right. Every page thereafter has my last name, shorthand story title, and page number on the right hand side. And guess what? It’s all written in Courier. Because I like Courier, deal with it. Read it. It’s the words on the page that matter.
The one time I saw a manuscript quirk I agreed with was when a magazine asked you send it in a specific font because the editor had some sort of accessibility issue, and I suppose this font was easier for them to read. Absolutely understandable!
But if you just don’t like how a particular, industry standard, font looks? Come on. Most of the time it’s a word doc, so just hit CTRL+A, select the font of your choice, and read at your leisure. Stop nitpicking.
7. Condescending Attitudes
This is an odd one. Let me try to explain.
Recently I submitted a story to a market. But, I almost didn’t.
In their guidelines, there were a few red flags that I’ve mentioned above. But one thing in particular I found to be… obnoxious. That’s the best word I can use for it. It was a link the editor had placed to their own personal blog – a blog dedicated to pages of rants about things an editor has to deal with day-to-day, and just being in the publishing game in general. Hey, that’s cool. I mean, what am I doing here but ranting about the things a writer has to deal with day to day, or I personally have to deal with, and so on?
But this needs to be tempered with realistic expectations, and, just maybe, a bit of god damn tact and respect.
I only read several articles on this blog, the one linked from the guidelines and one linked from that article, and then a few more I found by hopping around. The first one was just straight up insulting, addressed at writers wanting to submit to the editor’s market, and written in a way suggesting the tone an incensed parent may take with an unruly child, full of ultimatums and dismissive hand-waving rhetoric, while completely omitting obvious counterpoints.
There was even some name calling thrown in there just for kicks (I recall the term “noob” being venomously bandied about in that post, a lot. What is this, 2007?)13 It’s that my-way-or-the-highway attitude. Yes, you’re the king or queen of your castle. You edit this publication. But do you have to be such a petulant ass about it?
I read on as this editor made statements decrying certain industry standards they found antiquated (but which don’t really matter – like concerning a particular font, which also showed me how much they didn’t even understand why those were standards to begin with), and then in the same breath tried to defend other industry standards that are being seen as more and more unrealistic and truly antiquated, from an era where, as I’ve mentioned, folks had to mail in their work.
But that was just one example, and the worst I’ve seen so far. I’ve seen other guidelines come off as haughty and holier-than-thou, though. It’s a real turn off.
Maybe I’m just nitpicking now, yes, but hell, doing this can already be unforgiving. Do we really have to talk down to each other on top of that?
I ended up submitting my story to that publication. I don’t know why, but they’ve published authors I enjoy, and they paid an amount I felt was fair despite everything else. Sometimes both sides need to suck it up, me included.14
8. Vague/Missing Critical Information
Recently, while browsing horror markets to submit to, I came across one market I was very excited about after reading their blurb on Duotrope. I went to their website and discovered that, unfortunately, they were currently closed to submissions. Ah well! I’ll just check to see when their next reading period is, right? That information wasn’t listed anywhere on the site. Thanks.
It doesn’t happen often but it happens. Most markets are pretty clear in their guidelines – they have to be or else the fanfiction probably starts pouring in. And I’ve seen markets here and there that don’t put certain information in their guidelines which ends up being of little consequence. But I feel like not informing contributors of when they can, well, contribute, is counter-intuitive.
Another example I can think of is a market that wanted something other than a cover letter in the field on Submittable where the cover letter would usually go. It wasn’t like they were testing you or something, but what annoyed me is that they decided to break tradition (fine) without offering up any warning in their guidelines or an explanation of what they wanted within the Submittable form (not fine).
This may seem trivial to some, but put yourself in the shoes of someone just starting out and not as well versed in this crazy mixed up world we call small press publishing. It can be intimidating. I’m not saying we should coddle aspiring writers. We all have to learn the pain of the rejection notice and steel ourselves against the slings and arrows of the industry. But does that mean we can’t be transparent, too?
Anyway, that’s it for now. My goal here was not to offend, detract, or point fingers, but to offer one active writer’s view on the state of things. I hope it helps other writers and editors alike.
- Most of these stories ended up in my own slush pile. One was published – “The Centipede’s Dilemma”
- My fiction writing. I make a living off my writing now but it’s not the same.
- This relates to financial gain, but writing short stories is also a good way to at least get your name out there. Just beware the pitfall of “exposure,” which I go over further into the article.
- Here’s some advice for anyone who feels like their work sucks compared to other writers: Go to Barnes & Noble or any local bookshop where they carry print copies of small press publishers. There’s something more visceral about reading print than reading web, so I suggest print so you can really drive this next point home for yourself. If you can, pick up a few different magazines. Preferably ones you actually read and enjoy. Many writers have come across a story at one point or another where they read it and tell themselves, “Shit, I can do better than that.” If you can say this to yourself about a story in a print copy of a well known magazine, it can be a very cathartic, liberating thing, where you realize the subjectivity of art and that everyone is going to have their own taste. For me, it made the idea of getting published more accessible. A while back I had this moment after picking up copies of my Big 3: Asimov’s Science Fiction, Analog Science Fact & Fiction, and The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction (yeah I have a type). These all happen to be magazines I dream of being printed in. The very first story I read out of one of them had me saying, “Really? You rejected my stories but you published this?” Now, please know this is not an exercise in making literary rivals (the author of that particular story is actually wonderful and I love their other work I’ve read, but this story was far from their best in my opinion). The point is to trick your brain into a confidence boost and, at the same time, to be reading the work that your goal markets publish.
- However, the goal of this post is not to be petty, so I will offer no names. Find them yourself. Maybe some have changed their ways since I wrote this. One can hope.
- And, I mean, lists are just easily digested. We all got writing to do anyway.
- Okay, running a literary magazine has always been tough.
- I’ve recently been seeing a lot of articles that state many self-published authors are not selling and going broke. Perhaps the self-publishing bubble is going to burst, who knows. There are many self-published authors out there who are amazingly talented, and there are many who are not.
- Yes, I understand that sometimes this is to mitigate the downside of a small readership. But then we have to ask ourselves: at that point are you contributing to the discussion or saturating the market?
- For this reason I highly recommend regularly taking a look at SFWA’s “Writer’s Beware” section; an invaluable reference where members regularly report individuals and organizations guilty of unsavory and unethical publishing practices.
- As a young man I was always very careful to obey the rules of simultaneous submissions. Even if they seemed as ridiculous as described here. I just wanted to fit in to this world I was entering. But, time is poison. I’ve grown more impatient and perhaps even more rebellious, and, yeah, sometimes I submit a story in a few places even if one says that’s not allowed. I too like to live dangerously.
- I’m reminded of a particular market I encountered around the time I wrote this post (I think I meant to include the story but did not get around to it). I was checking out the guidelines of this market and right off the bat it says they cannot pay writers because “running a magazine is immensely difficult financially.” Fair enough, I get it! And then I read on to discover they also charge for their issues, have a subscription fee, are a print publication, ask for donations, and charge hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for manuscript editing services. I can’t even recall the name of this publication now. I hope they’ve changed their tune or have graciously left the building.
- Just to clarify, I wasn’t offended by the term itself, just its use in a pejorative context. But also it’s not even clever, come on. If you’re going to insult us, try harder!
Tales from the Outer Night 