The Art of Submissions

This week I turned once again to what may be a dreadfully intimidating part of the writer’s life – submission strategy.

For the writer of novels, the goal of the hunt is to secure an agent, or even better, a direct contract with a publishing company. The work is intense and often bears only disappointing fruit. Rejection letters, or at best invitations to submit something else than what you just sent, are commonplace. All the while you slave among a teetering pile of manuscripts printed on white bond paper with exactly one inch margins and waste dozens of postage stamps on self-addressed envelopes.

For the writer of short prose, the hunt is a little different, the field more narrow, and the prey far scarcer. These days, most literary journals want submissions to be sent in by email or through an online form. The query letter has been rendered useless by many, the synopsis pointless from the beginning – since your story is meant to be short, you often send the work to the editor in its entirety. Turn-around times can be as quick as a couple of business days to as long as seven months. Open submission calls can be turned on and off at the editor’s will based on how much slush they have piling up in their inboxes. And, unfortunately, there are limited pages that can be claimed in all but the exclusively online journals. The competition is truly fierce.

Things only get harder when your genre squeezes your possible targets to a few dozen. For me, I am seeking publication in Science Fiction and Fantasy, a fairly tight-knit community with a long history of unrelentingly high-standards. Never let anyone convince you that SFF isn't a welcoming genre. Most journals state outright in their guidelines that they are always looking for new writers to submit the latest and greatest concepts. But if you want proof that the ranks of SFF demand a certain level of quality, just ask Larry Niven about the first reactions to Ringworld.

So how do we break in? The pressure can be terrifying. How do we produce that next latest and greatest concept that deserves to stand beside the works of Isaac Asimov, Ursula K. LeGuin, and other giants of the genre?

It’s one thing to write a story – it’s another thing entirely to sell it. And conventional knowledge would have us believe that it’s the selling that does more good for a hopeful author than the writing itself. We have to break past the barrier of the slush pile before an editor will even give our work a fighting chance, and to do that, we have to use all our prowess and practical experience to make our submission package THE BOMB (without sending a real bomb of course).

Strangely enough, in an almost illogical way, for short fiction the key to getting past the slush pile is actually “less is more.”

This post is for those of us attempting to scratch fame out of the world five thousand words at a time. And for those of us hunting down a coveted spot in a literary journal, thankfully we have nothing to fear when it comes to the dreaded submission packet.

How can that be? The answer is simple. Most literary journals don’t want your cover letters, your queries, your author biographies and synopses. They just want the work. If the writing stands on its own, you will find someone, somewhere who has a spot for you.

And the journals that do want your cover letter are going to spend no more than a few seconds glancing at it. They receive hundreds of submissions every day. Unless you’re a best-selling author or have been published before in a respectable journal, they won’t really care much about your cover letter. The only use it might have is to give them some reason to not read the story.

In “normal” professional life, the cover letter is an integral way of getting someone to know the important parts about you. They are meant to impress, at times even inflate, and above all they are meant to catch the attention of the person reading them.

In the short story industry, the exact opposite is true. A cover letter is the editor’s chance to make a decision ahead of time. When faced with a slush pile that is already two months (or more!) behind schedule, the number one goal will be to cut out the chaff and save the wheat. That means the sickle must be used unrelentingly for any excuse. They just don’t have the time to read everything.

So do yourself a favor and make sure that your cover letter follows the journal guidelines, if they have any, and above all gives the editor no reason whatsoever to not read your story.

For an inside perspective on editorial slush pile burning and cover letters, read this excellent article from Inkpunks on the subject, complete with a sample letter to use for your own submission strategy.

After you iron out this truly minor detail, the only thing left is to make sure the manuscript is in tip-top shape, that you adhere to all the journal guidelines, and that you hit the “send” button.

And best of luck to you!