Submishmash seems to be leading the submission race

In an earlier post, I wrote about the various ways that writers and poets can submit their work to editors and publishers -- via email, an online portal, or snail mail -- and it remains true, but even though it's only been a few months since that post the submission landscape has changed appreciably. I completed a novel in June, after five years of working on it, and I began writing a series of short stories. As such, I've been quite active in the last few months in terms of contacting publishers (regarding the novel) and editors (regarding the stories). Based on my experience, it seems that more and more people are utilizing the submission service known as Submishmash. There are others, including Tell It Slant, but far and away Submishmash is leading the pack.

In fact, Submishmash now calls itself the number-one submission management tool, used by over 2,000 publishers and universities, according to its website. It's hardly scientific, but since the first part of July, I've contacted 84 editors, including publishers about my novel, and 25 (or nearly 30 percent) have used Submishmash. Two have used Tell It Slant (about 2 percent), and seventeen have used some other online portal system (just over 20 percent). Of course, email continues to be an option, but my sense is that the majority of editors/publishers who were already attracted to electronic submissions have moved to a service like Submishmash, if not Submishmash itself. Of that 84, only seven were email contacts, or about 8 percent. I mentioned in my post regarding writers' guidelines that perhaps email submissions required the most care in that journals/publishing houses tended to have very specific -- and idiosyncratic -- instructions about how to prepare your submission. I imagine that those e-submission enthusiasts prefer the simplicity a service like Submishmash offers.

A few journals still prefer snail-mail submissions, perhaps believing that it keeps the number of submissions manageable. And along with the rise in submission service use, like Tell It Slant and Submishmash, there's been a rise, from my perspective, in journals that require a nominal reading fee (usually $2 or $3). This may be an opportune time for me to acknowledge that the unscientific statistics that I used in the previous paragraph were undoubtedly skewed by the fact that I'm increasingly attracted to journals who use online submission managers. I cannot put a number to it, but I know in my perusals for outlets for my new novel and newly written stories that I passed up a few possible contacts because they were requiring snail-mail or email submissions, and at that moment I didn't have the patience or ambition to pursue them. By the same token, I passed up a handful that required a reading fee. Now, however, I've become comfortable using PayPal to dole out the two or three bucks, so I'm more inclined today than I was even a couple of months ago to pay the reading fee.

There is some debate in publishing circles about the ethics of charging a reading fee, and tied into that debate is whether or not a reading fee suppresses the number (and hence overall quality) of submissions. I'm sure that some editors/publishers, especially those over the age of, say, 25, are disinclined toward the fee because in the "old days" only disreputable journals charged a reading fee. Professional and serious outlets would never lower themselves to charge a fee -- which no doubt led to the creation of so many writing contests, as it was seen as more noble to charge $15 to enter a contest (which in various ways was returned to the winners and entrants) than to charge everyone a couple of dollars, almost none of which would be returned to the writers and poets, in terms of a subscription or sample copy, etc.

The journal I read for, Quiddity, has recently switched to using Submishmash (from snail mail); and I find it quite handy. I receive an email from one of the editors letting me know there are submissions for me to read. My account is the same for both my Quiddity reading and for my own submissions to journals/publishers which use Submishmash. As a  reader, I simply log in, click QUIDDITY, then click on a story (I'm only reading prose), and it pops up on the screen. I generally increase its magnification a couple of times to make it exceptionally easy to read, and when I've reached a decision I either click the thumb-up or thumb-down icon (there's a maybe option, but as a group we decided even before Submishmash that maybes are virtually useless -- it's yes or no, or get off the pot).

There's also an option of adding a comment to the submission, which I don't bother with either. If I read something wonderful and I fear that Quiddity may lose it if we don't act promptly, I'll email or text the appropriate editor and alert her or him that we have a live one we may want to act on as soon as possible.

Just a couple of side notes regarding using Submishmash: I was having trouble at first receiving email notifications from the editors that I had something to read, so I contacted Submishmash support and received a response literally within the hour (it turned out to be a minor technical glitch that was immediately cleared up) -- and this was on a Saturday morning. Even though using Submishmash as a reader is handy, I do sort of miss having to haunt the campus, where I only teach part-time, to pick up fresh or drop off read submissions, and likely running into one of the editors or interns in the Q office. And in addition to the human contact, I miss the feel of the submissions, the bulk and smell of them, and the knowledge that the actual writer who composed the piece physically handled the material and signed the cover letter. I liked looking at the signature to see what it may imply about the author.

Would I want to go back to snail mail? Probably not, but one does lose something of the experience by going to electronic submissions. And based on the trend I'm seeing as a writer, it's full steam ahead for e-submissions, with Submishmash in particular leading the field.

tedmorrissey.com
Men of Winter

The cover letter -- a sample and some personal preferences

When you snail mail a submission to a journal, it's standard practice to include a brief cover letter. Some journals claim they don't want one at all; others make it optional; but most at least expect it, or even encourage it. Even if you're submitting electronically -- via email or a site's submission portal -- you'll probably supply cover-letter-esque information, commonly in the body of the email, or in the comments window of the submission portal form. There's no definite right and wrong when it comes to what to include in these accompanying bits of information, but here are some suggestions, including my personal preferences.

First, though, I'm discovering that young folks are losing the hang of letter writing. They text and email and increasingly when they apply to a school or for a job or scholarship, there's an online form into which they simply input the requested information. In short, they aren't required to write letters on a regular basis. I recently invited my 18-year-old students to submit a letter expressing interest in a scholarship opportunity in order to be considered a candidate, and not one of the seven respondents actually wrote a letter; in fact, they seemed rather nonplussed as to what a letter should even look like. Therefore, briefly, here's a typical format for a business-style letter:

Ted Morrissey

1111 My Street

My City, IL 65555

11 January 2011

Samantha Jones, editor
Great Lit Journal
Great University
Great University Town, NY 11111

Dear Dr. Jones [I usually research the editor online to see if he/she holds a doctorate or not so that I can address the editor appropriately; if the information is unavailable, perhaps simply Editor Jones.]

Enclosed for your consideration is my short story "A Great Read" (2,000 words).

My fiction has appeared in a few journals, including The Cat Review, The Dog Review, and The Goldfish Review. I hold an MFA in fiction writing from East Coast University, and I teach English at Terrific Liberal Arts College.

Thank you for considering my story. This is a simultaneous submission.

Respectfully.


Ted Morrissey [leaving space above the name for my signature]

If you're including information in an email or in the comments window of an online submission portal, you may not follow the formal style of the cover letter, but the basic information will be the same. Here are some points to consider:

Writers tend to believe their work will be more attractive to an editor if they can supply some sort of credentials. These credentials usually come in the form of previous publications, but alas you may not have any meaningful publications. In lieu of meaningful publication credits (I acknowledge that "meaningful" is a nebulous term), writers may be tempted to fill in that space with, what I consider, dubious information. For example, they may mention publication credits that are, well, less than impressive (like very small circulation newsletters, or good showings in contests that only attract a few participants). I would say, though, if all you can offer is a less-than-impressive credit, don't mention it at all.

Another thing I often see from writers who are still looking for their first legitimate credit is to mention fairly well known teachers or mentors who like their work. My sense, however, is that namedropping doesn't work very well. It tends to cast you in a secondary role, as student or groupie, and therefore doesn't carry much clout with an editor.

Instead, just be honest and make it clear that you haven't been published yet. Editors love to publish somebody for the first time -- it's like discovering the next supermodel carhopping at the local Sonic. So you're more attractive as a "virgin" writer or poet who can be discovered by an insightful editor, than you are as someone who's so desperate to appear worthy that you include unimpressive credentials with your submission.

Check the writers' guidelines to see if the editors have said anything about what they want in the cover letter or accompanying information. Some want only the basics. Others want you to provide a third-person biographical statement that they can use in their contributors' notes if your piece is published. Some encourage a sort of chatty letter in which you talk about your interests beyond writing.

As an editor receiving submissions, I always preferred a cover letter that was professionally presented but also casual in tone -- from someone who takes his or her work seriously, but not him- or herself; that is, someone who sounds like it'd be fun to talk to over a cup of coffee, about books or writing or fly-fishing.

Whatever you decide to include in your cover letter (or cover-letter-like material), be sure to proofread it carefully. Many editors purposely read the accompanying material after they read the story, essay, or poem itself, as they don't want their reaction to the submission to be colored, positively or negatively, by the cover letter. But others do read the cover letter first, and therefore are influenced by it -- so a poorly written cover letter, with typos or incorrect information, could put your story or poem in a bit of a hole before the editor ever starts reading it.

Be professional; be respectful; be appreciative.

tedmorrissey.com
Men of Winter

It's an ugly subject but let's talk about rejection

If you're just starting to send out your work, or just starting to think about it, you'll want to steel yourself for rejection. It's going to happen, and it almost certainly is going to happen a lot (I've heard rumors about writers who find immediate acceptance, but I've never met one and tend to believe it's an urban myth, only slightly more believable than Bigfoot or that whole Roswell, New Mexico, fiasco). And no matter how successful and grounded you are in the rest of your life, having your stories, essays, and poems -- which have sprung from your soul and from your enigmatic need to write them -- rejected (and generally with the tact and sterility of a surgeon's scalpel) is going to hurt.

This hurt is often amplified by the fact that most writers, I'd say, were probably pretty good students and have grown up with adults, from their preschool teacher to the chair of their thesis committee, praising their creativity and their ability to use language -- to the point where thinking of themselves as gifted writers is a loadbearing wall in the psychological framework of their self-concept. Then some anonymous stranger, on whom they've pinned (or penned) their hopes of publication and validation, says with neither fanfare nor apology "no thanks." The rejection notice, whether delivered in an old-fashioned envelope or via email, can cast a shadow over what had been a pretty good day, or it can be the crushing proverbial last straw in a day that was forged in hell and delivered to you personally by the devil himself.

I know this is easy to write and much, much harder to do -- but you just have to shake it off. It's perfectly all right to tell that anonymous editor, who probably is friendless in this world anyway, you suspect at the moment, "___________________" (fill in the blank with whatever makes you feel better) -- as long as you don't actually tell him, because, even though he rejected you, the fact remains he (or she of course) is doing something that I believe (and you must too) is vitally important, and almost certainly for very little, if any, pay and even less, if any, appreciation.

Besides, writers who burn their bridges, no matter how gratifying it may feel at the time, are ones who are doing precisely the opposite of what they need to be doing, which is developing a network of contacts in the writing/editing/publishing community. And besides further, a more productive response is to become even more determined to place that piece of writing (in hopes that the rejecting editor happens upon it someday and regrets his decision -- though, given the volume of work editors have to deal with, the odds of his remembering it ... the next day, leave be months or years later, is, let's say, slim).

So when the rejections come, tell yourself that all those people who've praised your ability to write (those parents and teachers and best friends and siblings and boyfriends who were trying to get past first-base) were dead-on right about you and your work: it is darn good. So, then, why was it rejected (again and again and again, in many cases)? There are a plethora of possible reasons, and once in a very great while, an editor may let you know the reason; otherwise, you just have to accept that it's one or more of the following:

Limited space and an overwhelming volume of submissions: Even the most obscure journals or magazines get thousands of submitted pieces for every issue; and even journals that have managed to establish only a minimal presence in the publishing world will receive tens of thousands; while better known outlets can easily receive in excess of 100,000 stories, poems, and creative essays from which to select only a few dozen at most. Statistically, journals tend to publish less than one percent of the submissions they receive.

Specific needs: Often times editors will be looking for some highly specialized sort of work, due to a theme for an issue, for example, and your piece -- though well liked by the editor -- has to be declined because it doesn't fit the magazine's current agenda. In this case, you may get a note telling you as much and encouraging you to try them again -- this kind of rejection is disappointing but doesn't hurt nearly as much. Alas, however, this scenario may match your submission's rejection exactly, and you'll never know.

Plain old subjectivity: There's no getting around the fact that selecting pieces for publication is a highly subjective process. Let me repeat and italicize that phrase: highly subjective. What one editor loves and would retrieve from the lip of a roiling volcano, another editor might joyfully kick into the teeth of that seething lava if given the opportunity. Moreover, the next day, with the same story or poem, these two hypothetical editors could exchange roles -- why do we want sushi for dinner one day, and a juicy cheeseburger for dinner the next? We humans are fickle, and for editors that fickleness definitely comes into play when deciding what to publish and what to reject. (I have a good story that illustrates this fickleness, but I'll save it for another time -- that's what we call "a teaser.")

Well, I've already written more than I intended to on the subject of rejection. So let's leave it at this: rejection is the yin to the yang of publication success. It's absolutely necessary and inseparable, hence unavoidable. And given what I've said about the odds against publication, you might be feeling discouraged and wondering "Why bother trying?" Here's why: Good writing will find publication -- it may (in fact, probably will) require patience and persistence, but it will find publication. As a writer who wants to publish, you must have faith in this statement, and at this point you'll just have to trust me that it's true.

tedmorrissey.com