I sent out a 4100-word (14 page) story yesterday to ten different literary markets. Paper and toner aside, postage and SASEs came to almost $20 on the nose, or $2 a sub. For some reason, I feel better about paying the USPS to deliver my deathless prose than paying a magazine a submission fee for the honor of rejecting me. Here, in no particular order, are a list of mild grievances and other observations about the antiquated system of submitting to magazines:
> At this point in my writing career, I almost always get some kind of personalized rejection from the fantasy/ science fiction/ horror markets I submit to, and I appreciate that. Although I’ve only started submitting to higher end literary mags in the past year or so, I have received nothing but form rejections, a few of which have had “try us again” or “sorry” penned on the top. This has nothing to do with electronic submissions, but I would be far more likely to be okay paying to submit if I could be reasonably guaranteed a fast response time (most lit mags are far worse than the genre markets) or at least a short statement—I’m talking 2-3 sentences—acknowledging my story was received, read, and rejected. I mean, “A bit boring,” “Not to our tastes,” or “Ending didn’t work” would all be interesting bits to hear, given that I like to think that my sentence-level writing is up to professional standards.
> None of the biggest fantasy/ science fiction/ horror markets, and a huge number of lit mags, accept online submissions. Again, given that the vast majority of subs can be rejected almost immediately, I don’t understand how the electronic system creates a bigger burden on the magazine. And for people who don’t like to read on a computer screen, I would suggest having people submit in a fashion that allows for conversion to something easier on the eyes than Word. And again, how many subs are being read from beginning to end?
> Electronic subs not only save paper but they’re easier to manage on both sides of the equation. Printing out 140 pages, 10 properly addressed cover letters and envelopes, 10 corresponding SASEs, and getting the postage right on all accounts was a pain in the ass. As a slush reader for the UWM magazine, I find the most annoying part porting around a submission packet waiting for the magical moment I have time to rip through them. Fumbling with SASEs and rejection slips is likewise a pain in the ass, as is passing work I liked up the editorial chain. If they’re stored electronically, you could do this from any device that connects to the Internet.
> Electronic subs would also make “black listing” frequent guideline offenders easy. Ban their email addresses and set up filters on their address, for instance. Sure, people could switch email accounts, but would they really use a pseudonym and fake street address too? It would also be simple to ban people for a period of time, say 90 days, and then see if they got the hint.
> While many lit mags have moved to using the CLMP system, I think their business model is backwards. They charge lit mags a fee to use their service. What they should do is charge writers and provide a Duotrope-type service for market searching and submission tracking. I mean, I would be far more likely to part with $2 if I had an account with $50 in it and all I needed to do was click to subtract a couple bucks. Also, what I find the most stupid about the CLMP system is that I need to create a separate account for each literary magazine I submit to. Surely this is missing the point of database-driven websites? Why not create a database with tables for markets, tables for writers, and then have a many-to-many relationship? Then I could log in to my CLMP account and easily submit to all the mags I want, happily parting with $1 per shot. See, this would be providing some tangible service.
While I may be pointing the finger at magazines (where I am trying to sell my work, I might add) I understand that writers are a huge part of the problem. Editors have the unenviable job of trying to publish a decent product, retain and attract readers, compensate contributors, and stay in business. That’s a lot of balls to keep in the air. On the other hand, any jackass with access to paper, a writing instrument, and a conveyance method for their work (be it electronic or postal) can call themselves a writer. While the paranoid delusionals and criminally insane can’t run a literary magazine, they can send out one hundred awful stories each month. And those overworked, underappreciated editors have to wade through what’s sent to them.
In fact, as I write this, I realize that it would probably be far more lucrative to set up an online company that specializes in designing literary magazines and provided the benefits to writers and markets as described above. Of course, I won’t do that, choosing to instead to forge ahead with the insanity that is trying to make money from my fiction. Ha.
Current Mood: Fine | 