Behind the Scenes
22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing
Re this I thought about this:
1. Early on I sent out a lot of bullshit. I mean I would send out almost anything that seemed done, whether I loved it or not. Later on I began to realize that not only did I rarely receive acceptances for things that I hadn’t put the work on in, I also realized that boy does it suck when you accidentally get something published that you don’t even like.
2. There is a mental diminishing return to publishing. The more you do it the more the feeling is diluted. Thus, there is no rush. It seems really urgent and then it seems less urgent. Being diligent to the point of nearly psycho produces results in that the practice of writing makes you get better and better, but you should never feel shitty for a rejection. It is just another chance to improve. Take that chance.
3. My major practice was once I felt a piece was done I’d send it to like 10 places. After I got over sending out just anything I would write a piece and revise it over and over from beginning to end until I could get through without wanting to change anything. Then I’d send a block of them out. When I got one back, even if it was just a form rejection I would then reread the piece to see “what was wrong with it.” Often this resulted in finding more I wanted to change, on my own terms, partly from getting older, partly from new doubt maybe. Then I’d send some more out, refilling the gap. In this way, by the time a piece would get taken (if it did), the new version would be imminently better than it had ever been. Thus rejection spawned improvement. But some writing is from a very specific mental time period and changing can make it worse. Be honest with yourself, and with your art. Maybe consider: would I be moved or interested in reading this if I wasn’t the one who wrote it? Maybe it is just for you.
4. Often editors who reject you are doing you a favor. Either the piece isn’t great and needs work (thus saving you face of looking back later like whyyyyy did I publish this) or taking a strong piece and making it stronger because of force of will. Yeah sure some editors just are pussies but so what. The work is never necessarily done.
5. Some pieces are you learning. Some never get it right. Don’t publish your homework. “Burnsong” was the first story I ever finished and was like Yes I did something really strong here. Now I know it sucks, and trying for so long to get it published and being rejected over and over was way more of an accomplishment for myself than having it in a damn magazine.
6. Deletion is holy.
7. It’s not that fun to publish places you don’t read. Early on I would send to anywhere that was open, I would look at Duotrope on those days that all the mags reopened like a holiday, with slews of places to put my stuff out in, and if eventually I placed something, I would feel happy for however long it took to read the letter and say yes, and then, ok. Now what. That’s not really the point, though. The point for publishing isn’t for the pat on the back (though it can feel nice) and not even really because people are going to see your work (some will, but let’s not pretend litmags are doors to fame). What it does is give you a space to practice and refine and have a mental sandwich every now and then. Getting your nose ground in, whether the work is truly shitty or truly awesome, is vital to growth.
8. You must keep moving. The reason I was able to send out so much work was also that I was constantly writing new stuff all the time and sending that out and firing and firing. While part of my goal might have been to get something ready to go out, the real value was that it gave me an arrow in the butt to keep writing. The subsequent frustration that is practically unavoidable also, if harnessed in the right way, can lead to you “giving less of a fuck” and maybe in the process finding out what you really want to say, or how to get in the way to say it.
9. If you really want to publish a book one day you will publish a book. The time that you spend getting there is kind of wonderful. Don’t cut it short. The emotional range is valuable.
10. Send places that might actually like you. To do this you probably need to read them or at least pay attention to something about them so you know if you even have a foot in the door aesthetically. It doesn’t hurt to send to places that you don’t really feel a fit for, or who have weird profiles anyway and you can’t tell if you’d fit there because it’s kind of vague, because why not. I’m just saying you’ll have better results when you actually pay attention.
11. Set goals. I had a list of like 5 places I really wanted to get into, and I worked at them incessantly, even if “working at it” simply meant trying to figure out what would come from me that they wanted, and letting time pass. Sometimes shorter works of writing could be seen as little keys, toward an end that extends beyond the piece. Like learning little methods that contribute to a larger vocabulary. I think I eventually ended up in 4 of the 5, though it took years. But having a substantial place you want to be and then getting there is a good bonus fire, and things begin to connect maybe.
12. Writing and submitting don’t go hand in hand. Writing is yours. Submitting is a fucking video game. Play the game hard when it’s time to play it, but don’t get eaten. I would set aside time (sometimes whole days) where I did the research and work of submission. Then when it was time to write, that was the last thing on my mind.
13. Don’t lose sight of someone you love in the midst of this.
14. The larger project is more than even being more than the sum of its parts. All these magazines, once I got in them, are just on a big black shelf next to where I brush my teeth at night.
15. Simultaneously submit. Even if the place says not to, fuck it, unless there’s a place you really want to get in, and they have goodish turn around times. I’d respect that. But otherwise, the odds of you placing a piece in two places at once, eh. Also always be sure to let places that you have simul-subbed know when it gets picked up elsewhere.
16. College journals are frequently a wild toss. Their boards change as students come and go. This results not only in a wide field of difference in their aesthetic, but a kind of group mind that is harder to get through usually than a place run independently or by an individual. I once had a story accepted and published and then after the issue came out got a rejection letter for the same piece from the new board. Play the game like the game deserves to be played.
17. It helps to know someone at the journal and there’s nothing wrong with that. Many of the places I got accepted I had emailed with someone there or even met them. Their taking your work doesn’t mean you are a circle jerker, or that your work isn’t good enough for elsewhere. This means simply that you are involved and give a shit enough to be involved, and people recognize that. You meet people at journals for a reason (and the kind of people who really are doing the circle-jerk style AWP hobnob crap? well, it’s plain as day and most editors don’t want to fuck with it). Really all that is happening is you are an active entity in something and if that gives you a slight leg up amidst the brutal onslaught of people sending work, well, you did extra. You got saw. Good for you. At the end of the day no one is publishing work they think is crappy whether it is by a friend or not.
18. Want to restate: this submission/publication thing is ephemeral. Yeah it’s nice and fun that it exists, and to get somewhere you need to go hard. But keep your head on. No one on Facebook cares. Keep it yourself most of the time, the struggle. Eat the struggle. It’s meat.
19. Be a person, not an email address with a social profile and an onslaught.
20. Give people the benefit of the doubt until they force you not to. Even then.
21. No one knows anymore than anybody else some people just are less tired for a while.
22. No matter how far you get there are always going to be more people who don’t understand you than do. There are hundreds of thousands of books and all of them are important to somebody, and most of them most people have never heard of, and there’s a reason you’re related to those people.
great post. one of the things for me was that 3 conflicts with 15 a little. i would want to revise after rejection so often and so massively that it bothered me to have so many versions out, so i got in the habit of never sim subbing and waiting for the rejection to allow me to edit again, it was like i could predict that i was probably going to want to massively revise in about a month, and i’d feel better about letting that edit go further after it got rejected because it wasnt anywhere else now, i owned the piece again, it wasn’t part of the game anymore, i could start the game again from scratch.
something i’ve realized that i do is i’ll send over and over to places and editors who I feel have taken chances on my work that ultimately helped me develop more confidence in what i was doing, and in return i tended to get a really strong sense of what they are looking for. early on in like 2004-05 it was todd zuniga at opium magazine (online & print), and then karen ashburner at dicey brown, then lee klein at eyeshot, and now its caketrain. each of these i ended up placing about four or five pieces in. but i feel like that’s been my path, to not sim sub so much, but to cherish and foster the opportunities particular editors opened up for me.
definitely yes to 6 and 18.
i should also say legendary calvin liu around that 2004-05 time also.
yeah, having multiple versions in the world can get hard to track, but even when i had an earlier version of a piece accepted somewhere, i don’t think i ever had a problem saying “hey, that’s not quite the final version, can i send you an update?”. it just saves time in the long run, especially if you are confident enough in the first place that you are sending out good work.
totally agreed on finding editors who believe in you. knowing where to go without wading through bullshit is huge, if not immediately transparent.
Nice, glad you wrote this, Blake.
Good post. I’ve enjoyed these last two installments immensely.
You write:
“4. Often editors who reject you are doing you a favor. Either the piece
isn’t great and needs work (thus saving you face of looking back later
like whyyyyy did I publish this) or taking a strong piece and making it
stronger because of force of will. Yeah sure some editors just are
pussies but so what. The work is never done.”
I’ll add–and this might ruffle some feathers, btw, but it’s rarely ever mentioned–some editors or readers who reject your work have questionable qualifications. They are, to be blunt, SOMETIMES not as knowledgeable or well-read as you.
There’s this odd assumption in literary circles that anyone who inhabits the title of “editor” is well-qualified, but is this really true, when almost anyone these days can start an online journal? Or when anyone admitted to an MFA program can find him or herself “editor” of a national journal, a year or two out of undergrad? It’s annoying that we, as writers, are told to assume our place in the power-dynamic and never question the qualifications of the people deciding to accept or reject our work. Like, I could get a buddy today who is good with web-design, proclaim myself “editor,” and suddenly I would inherit a position of power by the title alone, regardless of my background. The title alone would suggest some sort of authority or expertise to judge literary quality that *might* belie my actual background and experience. And, some of the readers for college mags are often early 20-somethings who aren’t as well read as many of their submitters, submitters who are often already published and yet being read by people who were in HS in 2005. Many of these positions are often voluntary and will take on almost anyone who signs up and hand them a stack of stories before ink on the application dries.
Now, I’m not suggesting that this is the norm, but it is fair to point out that “qualification” is rather loosely-defined when it comes to the editorial make-up of many journals. A complete and utter mixed-bag.
I can tell the difference between effective criticism of my work–criticism that’s actually engaged with what I wrote– and criticism that just doesn’t make any sense, as in, a blatant misreading of the work and its context, usually because the person lacks range and experience as a reader. So, I think it should be mentioned that a) the qualifications and expertise of some editors and readers are questionable and that you might find yourself more qualified to judge quality than the people who are supposed to be the arbiters and b) getting past the readers/ screeners is often the biggest obstacle.
the straight dope
This is a good, useful post that might have saved me some time and heartbreak had I read it say four years ago.
At this point I’m feeling maybe done with submitting to magazines for the foreseeable future, apart from one or two little pieces, and I’m focusing on submitting my books, and that is a very different process I feel, and an exhausting one. Everyone who tries to tell you how to do it ends up telling a very specific narrative of how their one book got picked up that one time. Trying to figure out agents is especially frustrating. I just sort of treat it like a job where I work for myself and there is no pay or reward, which is to say like a very dispiriting job.
Good stuff Blake. The points about not being a rush are especially good for starting writers. I know it seems like you just have to get published in the beginning, but, especially with everything online these days, it can really backfire. Most likely if you publish stuff really early on, you will regret it at least a little. And if that work is online, it stays forever.
Which is why I think it’s important to think carefully about any criticism or feedback before assuming that there’s something “wrong” with the story, esp. if you don’t even know the editor and/or his/her qualifications, other than the placard that reads, “editor.”
Thanks for this list, Blake. I wish I’d had it to reference several years ago.
That ties in with submitting to magazines you actually like. In the beginning, it is thrilling to publish anywhere, but a few years later you are probably going to wonder why you were frantically submitting to the New Goblin Haiku Review.
Excellent piece, Blake. I’ll be promoting this when I get home, Twit and FB blocked at work. You really touch on so many important aspects of submitting. Ignoring the NSS first of all is essential. The odds of two <1% acceptance magazines taking your work? Astronomical. So go for it. And DO hit up places more than once. I was just thinking about that today, having had a few pieces up at ChiZine (Chiaroscuro). I hesitated thinking, "Oh, I've had two stories there, maybe I should spread the wealth, yeah?" But I realized that I like them a lot, and would be happy to be there again, and they dig my work. Submitted. This is gold, Blake, gold I tell you. Thanks for posting up.
googled “new goblin haiku review”
disappointed
there’s always something wrong with every story. publication only happens when there is enough right with a piece to hide what’s wrong.
this made my head feel better today. thank you blake.
I’m becoming wary of this idea that “there is always something wrong with a story” [that can be fixed].
Anyway, that’s beside the point, since I was discussing who decides if “there is enough right with a piece to hide what’s wrong.”
I paid $32.67 for a XBOX 360 and my mom got a 17 inch Toshiba laptop for $94.83 being delivered to our house tomorrow by FedEX. I will never again pay expensive retail prices at stores. I even sold a 46 inch HDTV to my boss for $650 and it only cost me $52.78 to get. Here is the website we using to get all this stuff, LiveCent.com
There’s a lot of really great advice here and I love it. I think this is probably common experience as writers get a better sense of themselves as writers, but this really captures that experience and touches on many of the little milestones.
You’ve consistently been a champion of the smaller ego, and it’s a genuine and really great quality to your person that probably has a lot to do with why you are so well-loved. If more writers and artists stayed true to that, we’d all be a lot more fun to be around.
Posts like this WERE super helpful for me for just that reason, especially this one of Mike Young’s which went up, like, the week I added htmlgiant to my google reader: http://htmlgiant.com/mean/magazine-databases-magazine-debasers/
It’s a good supplement to Blake’s list, I think.
i dont believe you, you need more people
impatience is holy, take the chance not to improve, don’t lose sight of someone you love
This is excellent.
I wonder a little bit abt number 18, though, I think there are ways of sharing struggle in community without becoming that unpleasant person everybody blocks on facebook, for instance by sharing struggle in a sort-of matter-of-fact, destigmatizing way that reduces isolation. But this is a very individual negotiation, it probably works far better for some folks to eat it all in silence.
Thanks for posting this as well as the 2006-2008 submissions, Blake. It may sound ridiculous, but this has completely transformed my sense of taking rejection personally. Eat the struggle, exactly.
“Right” and “wrong” don’t really resonate w/ me, feels more like there is a continuum of choices and there is the sharpening of judgment.
Blake, how did you go about getting a novel placed? How much fan-base needs to be developed for a publisher to be interested in you? I worked mostly on a couple novels the past few years, and am trying to publish/write smaller-internet type stuff, to build a fan-base. Most modern novels I read are from publishers that don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts, and I read generally things pre-1990, though I do read recent things also. I like 19., but after writing and 11 full edits, and many years of writing, the publishing of a novel seems like a completely different language. Could you say more on getting a novel published, if there is anything more to say. I know “no one knows more than anyone else.” You may not even see this.
Yes. Some readers are not even necessarily “readers” in the sense of reading contemporary fiction (I was fiction editor for a university lit mag and some of our first readers were MA students who did the work for a CV line so they’d look more rounded when applying to PhD lit programs (or law school) to become Victorianists (lawyers).)
Last week I got a rejection for a story that said something like, “[The premise of this story] is so great but we wish you would change [different wording that still refers to the premise of the story].”
The author of the note didn’t realize they were both praising and condemning the same thing in one breath, albeit with a slight change in wording. Also, the handwriting looked like it belonged to a fourteen year old (minus hearts over the “i”s).
[…] of submitting his work to literary journals. Well worth the 10 minutes it will take to read. Link here. The major takeaway: Love conquers all. Only submit what you really love to journals you really […]
This-22. No matter how far you get there are always going to be more people who don’t understand you than do.-
Is so relevant to me at the moment. What a fantastic piece thank you for sharing it.
HE SPEAKS THE TRUTH.
<3
And then you have the youngish grad students who are too set in their ways, the ones who have always been in school and/or workshops, the ones with the rigid workshop aesthetic who are more likely to opt for the safe stories in the slush pile that follow all of the rules that good little workshop story follow.
*good little workshop stories follow
This was excellent. I’m in my living room, raising the roof. (Do people still do that??)
They don’t resonate w/ me either.
I read #13 and wanted to cry.
Blake, thanks, this felt good to read. It’s weird managing the drive to be pub’d in places I care about w/ insecurity based submission fever. I’ve submitted stuff in that shotgun blast style before and I’m really glad didn’t work out (for the pieces and the places both). There’s also “you got X things published, now if you don’t keep up regular publications you will sink” which seems like a similar bs.
[…] By Blake Butler from HTMLGIANT today. […]
it’s like getting medical treatment at a teaching hospital.
Yeah. I sometimes think publishing is a bit like dating in that regard, except if everyone was able to see your ex naked.
Or, sort of like being the student of a 21 year old TA.
I don’t think the model should necessarily be changed, and it’s one that I benefited from myself–it’s not like there’s much of a choice, but I do think it’s something for writers to keep in mind as they experience rejection.
Great, great job here, Blake. This is another one of those things that’ll stick with me for a while.
The editor in me really likes 17. I think it’s sort of important, too, to mention that if you’re had an in-person conversation with an editor that ends up rejecting you, it’s doesn’t necessarily mean that your relationship with that journal is over. Take their words to heart–even if those words are obviously a form rejection–and keep submitting.
what are you judging/what judgment are you sharpening, if not what’s “right” or “wrong” with a piece in your own estimation?
I’m in very much the same place, Mike, and I agree: it’s a lot harder, I think. I honestly never minded a single rejection for a magazine, but the book rejections are HARD. Because that’s me, you know? Work that’s finished, my best. It’s hard as hell. But I suspect it will be a million times more satisfying as well when someone finally says YES.
Blake, thanks. For this and your post a few days ago. Came at just the right time and made me feel a million times better.
And I totally agree about the revisions/rejections thing. My favorite pieces got rejected a million times and were revised, revised, revised. And it made them so much better.
I am okay w/ echoing this, but I really liked this. Thanks for posting it.
I hate that every one keeps referring to individual items as number so and so because then I have to keep going up to see what number so and so is.
numbers 13 and 21 give me hope!
This is so generous and fire making. Thank you. All of this, but especially #22, is one of the best things of your output on this site.
it is a tricky self-jujutsu, listening ‘through’ other people’s values, priorities, agendas
a) use rejection as a spur to improvement
b) use rejection to give less of a fuck about gatekeepers
(like getting into school, job, romance)
how is gaming editorial gatekeepers different from having one’s artistic decision-making converted by gatekeepers’ exercise of norms
sometimes, a gatekeeping hive mind is transformed by the concrete fact of a voice, but, as well as much talent/genius, that is a lot of stubborn neglect of silencing to ask of a voice
Ah! Thank you is all I have to say. Extremely insightful and down to earth approach to publishing. This honestly was a joy and comfort to read. I learned from every single one! Thanks, thanks, thanks!
Blake – Awesome, plus posting your states the other day. The struggle is an mf-er, but raw meat is tough. When I was younger, I made many of those errors, and there were tough lessons.
Every writing teacher should be handing something like this out to their students.
Might just have to say this is one of my favorite things I have read on the site
this is the first piece of writing giving advice about writing i have ever actually cared about. it is touching and heartwarming. thank you, blake. i wish i had read this two years ago.
this rules. this is positive and encouraging and helpful and awesome.
“It helps to know someone at the journal and there’s nothing wrong with that. Many of the places I got accepted I had emailed with someone there or even met them. Their taking your work doesn’t mean you are a circle jerker, or that your work isn’t good enough for elsewhere. This means simply that you are involved and give a shit enough to be involved, and people recognize that.”
That last sentence seems like a little willful self-deception. They’re looking at their work because they know you. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with that, but this extra gussying up works against that conviction.
the continuum of choices is constituted by points that partake of both poles
and
each point is a packet of judgements, many of which are at cross-purposes and each of which is context-bound
(for example: “brevity” is sometimes right and sometimes wrong and sometimes right in one way and wrong in another)
I think Tim is being a pragmatist rather than a metaphysician
I seriously almost just bought that domain to make you feel better.
Blake:
I couldn’t have imagined a more sincere and beautiful way to answer my question. Thanks.And as for your persistence and success: we are all better off for it.
And as for your persistence and success: we are all better off for it.
WTF? Did Blake write this? Labile! But OK. OK. There are two to three Blakes and that seems perfectly human.
And I want to cry, Blake. (I hope that was implied. Blake.)
Great, great stuff, Blake.
Dear Blake Butler,
I am sitting here weeping over this sage advice. My life will never be the same again. You are such an inspiration. [breaks out tissue boxes; commences further sobbing]
You have changed my life forever with this post.
[cues Whitney Houston]
I enjoy what you have to say a lot of the time but my god, do you hate Christmas?
Do you not read my initial post on the thread where I gave him serious props?
I’m not allowed to have a sense of humor?
Blake is sort of self-deprecating anyway.
*did you not
Of course you are. I was just curious. Also, you don’t have to reply to your posts to correct them. You can just edit your response by clicking on edit.
Yes, I hate Christmas.
Where’s the edit button? I don’t see it.
Right next to the Reply button at the bottom right hand corner of any comment you’ve left while signed in to Disqus.
Sean:
I think I remember another epic post like this that was similar in tone that was posted a year or two ago.
Two of my favorite things ever posted on the site. Oh, and Fog Gorgeous Stag looks great, man. Congrats!
Roxanne:
Literally, minute-to-minute, how prove how amazing you are.
now I can edit that to tell you how sexy you are
Oh Corey Zeller, I really do like you.
Well, I don’t see it–it’s not there. I also don’t have an account, according to Disqus. I’ll work on it later.
and I you…and more than you know.
Just in case there’s any confusion. Here’s the opening line of my first post, hours ago:
“Good post. I’ve enjoyed these last two installments immensely.”
Brilliant. Off to tweet this.
[…] 9. If you really want to publish a book one day you will publish a book. The time that you spend get… […]
This makes another case for self-publishing work of original merit that nobody would ever see otherwise. Due mostly to the deluge of submissions, what is selected will often come down to some kind of exclusionary politics, which has been discussed elsewhere. Anybody looking at maybe 50 perfectly worthwhile pieces that needs to trim half will make other assessments that likely trend away from the most challenging work, the propensity is still to play it safe.
kind of makes us mags seem like playgrounds for
writers, for their learning, if i may take that stance (but not really, cos i am one, learning). if that’s
the case then, i find that freakin’ awesome and really hope mine is the seesaw
on the playground, because that means we threw the skinny bastard off
when the fat one sat on us.
“Anybody looking at maybe 50 perfectly worthwhile pieces that needs to
trim half will make other assessments that likely trend away from the
most challenging work, the propensity is still to play it safe”
___________
Unfortunately, this is often the case, though there are still enough good readers out there to not give up hope entirely. But yes, the goal for some readers is to find any excuse to reject a story and the riskier stories are often the first to go.
You just have to submit widely. There is a market out there for every good story. Many submitters give up or stop believing in a story after 10-15, 20, even 30+ rejections. Believe in your vision. Sometimes, it is them and not you, even though we’re trained to believe that editors are always right. Vision is the single most important aspect of a writer’s DNA.
One thing I’ll never understand is why some editors consciously try to mold a particular aesthetic–doesn’t make any sense to me and demonstrates a lack of range and perspective. If I ever start a journal, I’m going to include the following in my guidelines:
“Read our most current issue because you want to read our most current issue. Do not read our most current issue to see if you ‘fit in.’ We are actually seeking writers who are uncomfortable with the idea of ‘fitting in’ anywhere. We think you should read as much good stuff as possible, whether its this journal or the classics, to see what’s been done before and to shape your own unique voice and vision. We will publish anything, as long as it aspires to be art, and we will actively seek to put together issues that reflect a range of writing, rather than issues that attempt to confirm or validate a particular aesthetic or category.”
That loop knot is solid, Blake, especially for smaller river fish, if fishing for flathead, etc., you may have more confidence in your
gear if the loop to the hook is made about 12.5cm long, thus taking the fish on
a doubled trace.
Did your tears not refract rainbow bridges for unicorns??
You must hate pep talks on Xmas.
I prefer a uni-knot with 6 or 7 twists for all fish, in any waters.
Long-term growth is how really stunning things form. This has taken me forever to realize.
Also I really love this:
” No one knows anymore than anybody else some people just are less tired for a while.”
Pep talks? How saccharine. I’m usually too busy coal-stuffing stockings.
Great, great article! I posted something on my new blog asking about other’s systems for submissions if you have any thoughts: http://donnalewiscowan.wordpress.com/
Great point, MFB on the number of rejections you may get. Don’t get discouraged by 10, 20, 30 rejections. If you believe in the story keep sending it out. If you send a great story to 100 magazines and they all have a 1% acceptance rate, it’s going to be just as hard to break in. You aren’t owed that 100th spot. This is roulette, people, it’s always long odds, always against you. That’s why it’s so much sweeter when you finally do break through to that 5% acceptance market, or 3%, or 1%. Or the wicked less than 1%. Or the dreaded Duotrope 0.0%. Fuck them all. Send it in. Why NOT you.
Great post, Blake. This post is going to be a regular read for me as I finish pieces and consider sending them out.
I’m going to apply much of your thought to contest entries also. Years ago, I started a private blog to compile contests I was planning to enter. I did this because no single contest listing provided quick info on all the things I thought were important when reading about a contest. After a few years, I decided to share the list with a few friends, then ended up making it public when I still couldn’t find a comprehensive list that I thought was of any value to writers. I know there is the newpages list and the poets & writers calendar and a slew of other listings, but, again, the individual contest info on each of these is scant.
So I started fictioncontests.info. Though not a plug (I get zero dollars out of this) it has provided writers I know with a good resource. Your post made me think anew of some of these contests I enter.
Most (I believe all but one or two) of these contests require an entry fee. If a contest gets 20 bucks per and it has 600 entrants, it gets 12 grand in fees. I’ve gotten to the point where I think that contests are perhaps even less egalitarian than standard submissions to a magazine. (I mean, what could have more expectation of equal treatment than a story submitted to a contest where everyone shelled out equal money for?) I have spent many thousands of dollars over the last ten years submitting to contests and often, though not every time, see contest winners in supposedly blind contests emerging as somehow affiliated with the magazine. It’s not so hard anymore to discover these common tendrils with just ten minutes of online searching.
This certainly seems to be the case with Narrative, the magazine which has rewarded close confidantes with first-place wins, second-place finishes and tons o’ cash (if you submit to their contests I think you’re tossing your money right into the pocket of one of their friends. For anyone interested, just google narrative+burroway+bullshit and read the arts and palaver and wet asphalt entries).
So, as a serial contest enterer, your post makes even more sense. I think much of what you suggest are things we all know, but seeing something in print is seductive, especially if one has claimed to be a writer for decades and one’s cohorts or family members think one who claims to be a writer and remains un- or underpublished must have as much facility with language as an infant.
Thanks, Blake. Great advice.
Yes. Be ruthless. Be savage. Swagger boisterously. Be a pirate. Raid and pillage:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nSKIJvVQI0&feature=related
Fuck ’em.
Not all stories need to be “fixed.”
Not all editors need to be pleased. Aim for “acceptance” via displeasure.
This isn’t JR High.
Grab an editor by the proverbial throat–make him or her uncomfortable.
Be arrogant
Stop being so damn nice and polite in your work.
I RARELY enter contests, and hate to pay if I do enter. The only time I do enter a contest, and PAY for the honor is:
1. If I’m familiar with the magazine, journal, website, or press.
2. If I really dig what they’re doing.
3. If I get a subscription or issue out of it. Always good to stay current.
4. If I really want to publish with the aforementioned entity.
5. If I feel good about my $2, $5, $20 going to a worthy organization.
Otherwise, forget it. You’d be better off using those thousands of dollars, Mark, to paying for postage to mail stories off to those really cool, but still stuck in the past journals and magazines that only take submissions by mail (F&SF, The Atlantic, Missouri Review, Paris Review, Zoetrope, etc.). Some DO allow you to pay $2-3 to submit via email too. Or spend that dough on subscriptions to those a bunch of cool rags (Juked, Hobart, Annalemma, Barrelhouse, Monkeybicycle, Cake Train, Weird Tales, GUD, etc.). Hell, take an online class at The Cult or Zoetrope or Dzanc. Lots of better ways to spend that money, I think.
As someone not yet published in any lit jnls, but still trying, I appreciate this post immensely. It will, I’m sure, be of continued inspiration as I continue “pissing in the wind.” Thanks! – James Mayor (www.jamesmayor.com)
[…] At HTML Giant: Blake Butler’s essay “22 Things I Learned From Submitting Writing.” […]
I agree w/ most of your points here, but I do think it’s worthwhile to enter a few contests per year. The trick is to enter your story right at the deadline when the editors/readers are about to embark on a massive reading binge (little is to be gained by submitting to a contest as soon as it opens, because no one is going to read it until the deadline passes). If you do this, you can often get a quick response and, if you’re lucky, a finalist nod.
Contests are also notorious for attracting lots of writers who are mostly interested in being “published authors” (and winning money), so if your work is good, it will stand out (I’ve read for a few major journal contests–the disparity between “bad” and “good” is interesting to say the least).
I think all this goes back to Blake’s point though about writing your ass off. I recently got to the point–now that I’m done with workshops (thank God)–where I’ve stopped obsessing over one story (workshops do this to you), and should have 4-5 stories loaded and ready to fire for the foreseeable future, mainly because I’m writing toward a book, not trying to write the perfect story that-everyone-will like-in-workshop. It’s finally easier for me to spread subs around and take chances on a contest here and there because I’m pumping out 2-4 new stories per month.
interesting views. i’ve stopped submitting short texts unless an editor asks me to contribute. this feels just right for me. previous submissions on several continents, have made me blithely aware of how different publishing and submission culture across the globe and across the net is—hence truly global, universal rules are hard to come by. especially now that the publishing game itself is in turmoil and turning into a game that doesn’t know its own rules any more.
This is great. It’s interesting to see how other people do these things.
I think I like #6 the best. Deletion is holy. #19 is swell too.
Sure, enter a few, like I said, at places that you like, where you’d be happy to be published. Nothing wrong with paying $10 to enter a BOMB contest, and getting a subscription in return. Also, if it motivates you to write, what’s $5, or $10 or even $20? That’s a fast food lunch, a cheap bottle of wine, and a movie out, respectively. Good to see you pumping out the work, MFB. Keep reading, watching great films, soaking up music and all of that, and push yourself to write, and get it out there.
A poet friend of mine was hesitant to send out work. She saw my story go online up at PANK and I encouraged her to submit to them, thought her style would go over well there. And, wow, she got into the print issue. I was very proud of her, and happy to see her get her first poem out there. These are exciting times, yeah?
It’s obvious to me these two documents (the careful list of submissions and this list of reflections) are high testaments to Blake’s success. Great stuff to see.
[…] Elizabeth Jenkins and Blake Butler say it way better than me. You should drink their […]
Richard,
I’ve pretty much gone the route of just submitting standardly, avoiding the whole contest gig, but I do update and keep the site available because once in a while a contest comes up that I do think is at least worthwhile to consider.
After more and more stories about friends and confidantes and ex-students and current lovers and recent office fluffers getting a grand or three as a winner of one of these contests, I do get more wary, but still. Some of these contests could lead to a writer at least getting some deserved notice if he or she is the shit but just hasn’t been noticed as the shit yet. Or, staying scat, some contest could give the prize to a shit story and then a writer would know that this journal really is truly shit and then never submit again.
And I believe that, regardless of contests or no contest, Michael is right. Just write your ass off. I’m on a jig of writing at least one short piece a day for the whole year. It could be fifty words or three hundred, but that is how I start my day. That’s in addition to my regular, longer pieces I am always in the middle of. That morning writing calisthenic has done for my work than any contest win or acceptance could ever do. My friend Ron Carlson, once my teacher, has it down stone cold – “Keep your ass in the chair.”
my favorite rule: No means no. Nothing after an editor says no means anything. That’s just the editor talking to himself.
“And I believe that, regardless of contests or no contest, Michael is
right. Just write your ass off. I’m on a jig of writing at least one
short piece a day for the whole year. It could be fifty words or three
hundred, but that is how I start my day.”
^This
I write one page a day now. Dan Chaon does the same.
A writer can accumulate a ton of good, solid material if he or she just writes one page a day.
I used to be a “vacation writer.” Meaning, because I’m in grad school and on an academic schedule, I would put writing off until the summer, or when I was done with everything else. This is a dangerous habit.
Summers now mean nothing to me as a writer–the temps are warmer, that’s about it. I’m going to write my one page a day whether I’m at the beach on vacation or in the dead of winter after a long day of Christmas shopping. If I write my one page, feel good about it, and spend the rest of the day fucking off, I won’t feel guilty–treat yourself well, people. Get your page done and take a walk or talk junk on HTMLGiant. Let material gestate and swim inside your bones–one page a day keeps you immersed in the story but leaves a little mystery at the end of the day to dream on:
23) Don’t be a vacation writer.
The one page a day model is also conducive for sentence-by-sentence writing. I’ve never been able to tear through 20 pages a day like some writers. Plot, character, premise/concept, etc. mean nothing to me my if sentences don’t sing, and yet= one page a day=365 pages. -65 vacation days=300 pages.
Wish I’d realized this all much sooner.
I too wish I’d realized it sooner. It is perhaps the lesson I’d teach anyone who told me they wanted to write. It is in that daily habit where whatever craft you have will flourish. “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” Could google author, don’t remember, think it’s Anne Lamott. Regardless, good advice.
So familiar, all of it, and so well said. Would have saved me some hair pulling, but some things just have to be learned the hard way. I guess it’s part of the meat, as you say.
“Then when it was time to write, that was the last thing on my mind.
13. Don’t lose sight of someone you love in the midst of this.”
Very true!
We don’t write because we want praise. Writers are pretty negative people anyway. Praise would be nice, but we’re so self-deprecating and hard on ourselves, why would we think other people would be any different? Rejection isn’t personal because the ones doing the rejecting don’t know us well enough to dislike us.
Wow. So depressingly true. Orwell did say writers are vain, selfish and lazy…I’ve come to believe each of those sentiments is true and, somewhat sadly, necessary to producing at least one worthwhile heretofore unuttered or unwritten string of words. Just for the record, most people I know consider my words as unintelligible as the grunt of an infant.
First time visitor to your blog and I can’t keep my eyes off the screen. I always wondered what goes on out there when people begin to submit their work. Someday, that will be me, but for now I’m thrilled-to-pieces to find you and the writers who post here. Thank you!
I’ve had stories rejected 100+ times that ended up in venues like The Iowa Review, Boulevard, Black Clock, PEN America, TriQuarterly, etc. 30’s nothin’…..I’m not sure I’ve ever had less tan thirty for anything. I’ve had pieces rejected 50+ times that ended up in million circulation venues. To say nothing of the 200 pitches that go out to net one assignment. You can go zero for 199 with an idea, and then the Atlantic snags it. Publishing is odd.
I think your post bears repeating and it sort of baffles me that writers and editors often assume that double-digit rejections mean something’s “wrong” with the story, as if somehow a perfect story would get snapped up by the New Yorker or Paris Review within a week.
No, it wouldn’t.
It would probably be rejected, and then 20-30 more places would reject it.
If you’re aiming for the 0-3% Doutrope markets, it doesn’t matter how good your story is–it’s going to be rejected numerous times (I’m sure there are exceptions and lucky bounces that don’t quality as the norm, btw).
I think your post bears repeating and it sort of baffles me that writers and editors often assume that double-digit rejections mean something’s “wrong” with the story, as if somehow a perfect story would get snapped up by the New Yorker or Paris Review within a week.
No, it wouldn’t.
It would probably be rejected, and then 20-30 more places would reject it.
If you’re aiming for the 0-3% Doutrope markets, it doesn’t matter how good your story is–it’s going to be rejected numerous times (I’m sure there are exceptions and lucky bounces that don’t quality as the norm, btw).
Well, I think you need to know. Rejection doesn’t mean something is bad, necessarily; just like acceptance doesn’t necessarily mean anything either. There are certain predilections that prevail right now. There’s an emphasis on safety, on the workshopped story that probably appeals to workshop people, but maybe not to the person out there on the street, who actually represents the bulk of the world’s readers. But what’s going to happen is that that person is going to learn about the work that wins the plaudits, gets the citations, from the people who come from within this system. That’s how he’s going to make his book club choice. And the people in that book club–if the reports I hear have any validity to them–are often bored, or disappointed, because what they want is a narrative, and something to move them, emotionally, maybe at the core of who they are. They don’t want distance, irony, archness. They want life. And they’ll blame themselves with something like, “Oh well, I wasn’t an English major, if this what the experts think is best, it must be. The blame lies with me, for not being able to rise up and get it, or care, or not want to read some potboiler instead.” A friend of mine–who quit the NYC publishing racket–calls this the “vicious cycle.” But overall, in this system, rejection is no kind of absolute, and acceptance isn’t either. It’s a numbers game, it’s connections–a little google research will explain, often, why a given story is in an editor’s top-tier literary journal–and it’s your ability to get off the mat. Having said that, it’s always easier to get off the mat when you know, truly, what you’ve written, and the level of that given work. Then it’s like you don’t have a choice but to get off that mat. If you know the level of the work, it shouldn’t affect you one way or the other if 100 people get down on their knees to fellate you, or 100 people call you a moron. You need to know. But I guess that is the tricky bit. I stopped with the online places, for the most part, because it was very clear that it was a piece of piss to publish with them. You could get like ten things accepted a week, if you played the volume game. But what does that do for a career, if you’re career-oriented? And like tends to attract like. So, the reader, who is often a writer, is often on the lookout for stories that gibe with what they’ve learned in the classroom, or maybe stories that share a sensibility with their own works–works they’ll likely swear off later. Not that they’re likely to end up in publishing at all, later. It comes down to: do you really want to most appeal to reader-writers, or, simply, full-on, none lit biz readers. If you’re after the latter, it can be a bitch getting to them, because of those aforementioned citations, plaudits, etc., and how they’re given out. I’ve probably picked up a clump of rejections since I started writing this. Doesn’t matter. (And let’s not forget how protected and insecure writers tend to be, which freak out other writers, because they assume, because that other guy hasn’t revealed anything, that things aren’t going nearly so bad for him.) I think you can get to a point where you believe in your work to such a degree that you know that a rejection–or 150 of them–only means that a piece is going to go to a place as good or better than any of them. And fuck everyone else. But be polite with all of them.
Good stuff. I’m at the point where I laugh (to myself) at places that reject my work. This might sound arrogant, but I think a writer needs to have that kind of internal arrogance, esp. when he’s not sending out work that he doesn’t believe in.
Everything I send out has blood on the page. Suffering. Real risk. I can hardly leave the house after I’ve finished a final draft. I’m depressed. There’s no way I’ll ever write anything that good again, and I dare you (re: editors) to reject it.
And, of course, they do.
But you’re right: it’ll end up somewhere better anyway.
You also make good points about connections and the buddy system. I don’t blame writers for taking advantage of such advantages, but what I see a lot of these days is a sort of cliquishness amongst writers that annoys me to no end. I have lots of writer friends and don’t mind talking shop with them or and patting their back from time to time, but goddamn, it’s like people never leave their bubble of writer buddies now. All their friends are writers, all their friends know that they wrote 5,000 words today and had a story accepted by The Horny Toad Review and would you please pre-order their book. Half or more of the discussions are also PR-related and not about writing and literature. I don’t know–something about the whole scene today really annoys me and makes me want to disconnect the internet forever and work on a fishing trawler.
Good stuff. I’m at the point where I laugh (to myself) at places that reject my work. This might sound arrogant, but I think a writer needs to have that kind of internal arrogance, esp. when he’s not sending out work that he doesn’t believe in.
Everything I send out has blood on the page. Suffering. Real risk. I can hardly leave the house after I’ve finished a final draft. I’m depressed. There’s no way I’ll ever write anything that good again, and I dare you (re: editors) to reject it.
And, of course, they do.
But you’re right: it’ll end up somewhere better anyway.
You also make good points about connections and the buddy system. I don’t blame writers for taking advantage of such advantages, but what I see a lot of these days is a sort of cliquishness amongst writers that annoys me to no end. I have lots of writer friends and don’t mind talking shop with them or and patting their back from time to time, but goddamn, it’s like people never leave their bubble of writer buddies now. All their friends are writers, all their friends know that they wrote 5,000 words today and had a story accepted by The Horny Toad Review and would you please pre-order their book. Half or more of the discussions are also PR-related and not about writing and literature. I don’t know–something about the whole scene today really annoys me and makes me want to disconnect the internet forever and work on a fishing trawler.
21 is beautiful man!
[…] I read Blake Butler’s ‘22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing‘ and what he says about submissions rings true — although it’s exciting to […]
Eco would be proud, and even if I’m wrong somehow, I am. great work, well done mate. Thank you.
[…] Blake Butler on the 22 Things he learned from submitting. All really true and all really helpful if you’re thinking about […]
Thanks for the tips. I’m expanding my manuscript before sending out my third book proposal. The first publisher said they were “too small” and the second publisher said it didn’t fit their “current list.” I’m getting ready to self-publish if necessary, because the publishing game is brutal.
You’ve sent your manuscript to two publishers and you’re declaring defeat already? That’s just not how it works. It really, really isn’t.
Love the article and its generosity and practicality, especially the notions that the payoff of art is not its publication, but something much more ephemeral and internal.
In my 20s, I used to send out like crazy and had a decent amount of luck with journals, but alas, five years of almosts and nos on the book manuscript–and ruining it with numerous revisions–I took two years away from writing completely. It was the best move I had ever made. When I came back to writing, I sent the book to a small, small press and they said yes. But after all that time, the payoff was one where I felt like I could put that period of my life and writing behind me. The book came, the book went. But the drive to write and try different crap remained.Now in my mid 30s, I find that I’m fussy about where I publish; I want to be in conversation with poetry that challenges me or refocuses what’s possible in the art. I guess my drive to write and send out has to less to do w/ prestige but about developing a a cohesive vision–trust in what I do. And it made the writing and acceptance of the 2nd manuscript come easier but also feel not so grandiose. The book or a journal pub is just an external point on a highly intuitive process.
Finally, I guess the only thing I’d say in reference to the comment field is that rest and time away pays huge dividends. I have a daughter now and I like being an instructor where I’m employed, and so those things feed my imagination. I like to think that hiking or biking or traveling is as vital to the development of artistic vision as the writing itself.
Anyhow, great piece. Well worth teaching in an CW classroom.
Love the article and its generosity and practicality, especially the notions that the payoff of art is not its publication, but something much more ephemeral and internal.
In my 20s, I used to send out like crazy and had a decent amount of luck with journals, but alas, five years of almosts and nos on the book manuscript–and ruining it with numerous revisions–I took two years away from writing completely. It was the best move I had ever made. When I came back to writing, I sent the book to a small, small press and they said yes. But after all that time, the payoff was one where I felt like I could put that period of my life and writing behind me. The book came, the book went. But the drive to write and try different crap remained.Now in my mid 30s, I find that I’m fussy about where I publish; I want to be in conversation with poetry that challenges me or refocuses what’s possible in the art. I guess my drive to write and send out has to less to do w/ prestige but about developing a a cohesive vision–trust in what I do. And it made the writing and acceptance of the 2nd manuscript come easier but also feel not so grandiose. The book or a journal pub is just an external point on a highly intuitive process.
Finally, I guess the only thing I’d say in reference to the comment field is that rest and time away pays huge dividends. I have a daughter now and I like being an instructor where I’m employed, and so those things feed my imagination. I like to think that hiking or biking or traveling is as vital to the development of artistic vision as the writing itself.
Anyhow, great piece. Well worth teaching in an CW classroom.
[…] late to the game on the appreciation of this article, but man, I think this post by Blake Butler on HTMLGiant hits the nail on the head. In short, it’s about patience and […]
[…] late to the game on the appreciation of this article, but man, I think this post by Blake Butler on HTMLGiant hits the nail on the head. In short, it’s about patience and […]
As for #2… say it ain’t so?
As for the rest of it, this makes me feel like I know blake butler as a person a little, and I’m totally down with that.
Love this, epecially numbers 13 & 18. So true.
It’s not defeat at all, just getting the book ready, no matter where it is published. It’s the only item on my bucket list, I’m not stopping.
It’s not defeat at all, just getting the book ready, no matter where it is published. It’s the only item on my bucket list, I’m not stopping.
#21.
Jay Z quote of the day? Hell yeah.
I tell my friends this all the time.
“Takeover, the breaks over, nigga/ god mc/ me/ jay hova” (from memory bitch)
[…] a book one day you will publish a book. The time that you spend getting there is kind of wonderful. Don’t cut it short. The emotional range is […]
I like this! I can reduce the 22 points to this one: submit. It’s all a crapshoot. Litmus are filled with word-salad, they make a living tossing it. You’ll get rejected because you either stink, the poems stink,or you are a marshmallow in a cube, unlike the editor people who read OPP every single day.I don’t know anything about my work, what it is, what it will be. I’m fact, I’m not specifically qualified to do anything. So I send things to places anyway, because you know, fuck it.
[…] found the particularly interesting piece on the excruciating the process of submitting your work at http://htmlgiant.com/behind-the-scenes/22-things-i-learned-from-submitting-writing/ […]
One thing I’ve learned from submitting writing: don’t. Just keep working. The only opinion that really matters is your own.
The one thing I’ve learned about submitting writing: don’t. Just keep working. The only opinion that matters is your own.
I think this is the best and truest piece I’ve read about submitting ever. No one ever really writes about how ephemeral the rush from getting that YES is.
Rebecca Loudon
Essential post. Thank you Blake.
Essential post. Thank you Blake.
[…] 22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing – Practical and handy list that boosts the ego of an unpublished writer. […]
I absolutely agree that there are editors — especially of college magazines — that may not be qualified. These are people who lack interest, desire the title over the actual work, and sometimes just get off on being negative about other writers’ works.
However, as a former editor of a college magazine, I’m a offended that quite a few people seem to be suggesting that youth indicates inadequacy. My age might not stack up to yours, but I’ve been inhaling quality fiction, short stories, poetry, and any type of creative writing class I can take for as long as I can remember.
I don’t doubt that with age comes more knowledge and more experience. But that doesn’t mean a youngish writer or readier is lacking it now, does it?
It is no more or less true that every older person has more experience than that having more experience always makes you a better [whatever]. You don’t seem to have a problem with the latter error (perhaps because you consider yourself plenty experienced, so you’re not among those slighted by it).
I don’t believe I’ve met an editor who actually “just get[s] off on being negative about other writers’ works”. I am surprised to hear this from someone who has been an editor–I associate it more with new (or “forever new”) writers who cannot understand what a 5-10% acceptance rate looks like translated into reality.
I agree that experience doesn’t necessarily make a person better — I just assumed (perhaps wrongfully) that this was the premise the older-equals-better argument is based on.
As for the negativity — the magazine had a slightly different editorial structure than most. When I saw I was editor, I mean I was in charge of layout, all business/management/organization items, editing, and made some executive decisions about the pieces being published in our magazine.
The process of deciding when goes into the magazine is democratic, for better or worse. It means that my fondness for fiction doesn’t slight any poetry, but it also means that if one very vocal member goes on a funny tangent about a misplaced comma, the piece might be rejected even if it was, on the whole, quite good. And worse, it means that some “forever new” writers (I’m falling in love with your terminology here) let their negativity taint the whole’s opinion.(All that being said, I do love our magazine, and I think it turns out quite well all things considered.)
“However, as a former editor of a college magazine, I’m a offended that quite a few people seem to be suggesting that youth indicates inadequacy. My age might not stack up to yours, but I’ve been inhaling quality fiction, short stories, poetry, and any type of creative writing class I can take for as long as I can remember.”
I pointed out in my post that this isn’t always the case; sorry if that wasn’t clear enough. I’m not exactly old myself–I’m in my early 30’s.
But I’m not really worried about offending some folks. I’ve worked on both sides and editors talk shit about writers all the time, in public and amongst themselves. I’ve done it and most other editors have done it and if they say otherwise they’re lying and full of crap, from the snarky, mean comments in submission manager boxes–sort of like talking shit about someone behind his or her back– rants on twitter and Facebook about what submitters are submitting, to passive aggressive credos in guidelines that insult past and future submissions and overstate the journal’s importance as some sort of gatekeeper or culture-making mechanism.
There are definitely youngish editors and writers who are insecure with their own work or are still searching for their own voices who use the job to hate, to convince themselves that 99.999999% of fiction is crap, unlike their own unpublished work. I’ve seen it everywhere I’ve worked.
[…] Butler has got an amazing post, “22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing,” over at HTML Giant. I highly recommend everyone read it! Again, the reminder to put this […]
Didn’t mean to “like” my own post. Sorry about that.
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[…] I cannot say it any better. Aspiring writers should start with this – http://htmlgiant.com/behind-the-scenes/22-things-i-learned-from-submitting-writing/ […]
[…] wonderful HTML Giant article by Blake Butler about lessons he’s learned over years of submitting work (and like most of […]
[…] 17. What You Can Learn from the Submissions Process […]
[…] submitting your work to journals? Blake Butler, author of There Is No Year (Harper Perennial, 2010) has some insight for you. | Tags: Beauty Was the Case that They Gave Me, Ben Lerner Aaron Kunin, Blake Butler, Caroline […]
[…] Romeo posted a link to this post the other day and curiosity got the best of me. I’m glad it did. Otherwise I might have […]
[…] 22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing – Practical and handy list that boosts the ego of an unpublished writer. […]
[…] for issue one), but even he has work rejected. He’s written an illuminating post on what he’s learnt from submitting writing to magazines – if you haven’t read it yet, we strongly recommend you do so […]
[…] 22 things one writer learned from submitting his work […]
[…] Blake Butler’s latest blog posting is wonderful. I found this yesterday courtesy of a post from Tidal Basin Review. Eco World […]
[…] He posts his views on literature and publishing (like his recent posts on the submission process http://htmlgiant.com/behind-the-scenes/22-things-i-learned-from-submitting-writing/ and his own list of “Everything I submitted between 2006-2008 and what happened to it” […]
[…] an article that was featured recently at The Writerly Life. It’s called 22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing. There are some good nuggets of wisdom in there. But WARNING, there is some objectionable language, […]
[…] Blake Butler has recently posted a lot of stuff on htmlgiant about rejection, and the “video game” that is the submission process, which I’ve enjoyed reading a lot. He has a lot of valuable things to say on the subject, and it’s nice to feel sometimes that rejection is a brutal force we must rise up against together to stare down, kind of like Minnesotans and winter. Except that for the most part, rejection is a necessary and (dare I say it?) good part of writing and the publishing process. Blake certainly has earned a top spot to punch in his initials in the video game of submitting. I don’t know if I wasn’t looking for it before, but I have noticed recently a lot of talk about the game of submitting in a lot of blogs and journals I read. Anyway, this was a project that I think deserves to be tried by anyone who is actively submitting. […]
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[…] 22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing […]
[…] and think what he has to say is valuable. Wish I’d had this to read about five years ago: 22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing. This entry was posted in Uncategorized by Rachel Yoder. Bookmark the […]
[…] Blake Butler over at htmlgiant has some marvelous advice on how you should approach rejection as a writer. There’s a lot of advice about rejection, and a lot of it strikes me as macho BS about powering through and whatnot, which is helpful to some degree, but also makes those of us who are hurt by rejection feel like we are doing something wrong. Yeah, shake it off is the right advice, but you do need to think about what it is you are shaking off. […]
[…] at HTMLGiant, Blake Butler’s 22 Things I Learned From Submitting Writing […]
[…] 22 Things Blake Butler Learned from Submitting Writing […]
[…] And lastly, we’re putting together a reading series that will kick off Saturday, Jan. 19, 2013. Stay tuned for more details. Until then: happy writing and read this article by Blake Butler about submitting writing. […]
[…] And lastly, we’re putting together a reading series that will kick off Saturday, Jan. 19, 2013. Stay tuned for more details. Until then: happy writing and read this article by Blake Butler about submitting writing. […]
[…] 25 things Blake Butler learned from submitting. Also, here’s his submission chart. […]
[…] citizenship class, our topic was submitting stories to magazines. We read and talked about the pitfalls and ways to better your chances of […]
Amen, Blake. Amen.
Good advice, and well played.
Great thoughts here. I think a lot of beginning writers fall into the submit-everything-you-write-right-away trap. Getting those acceptances definitely loses its appeal after awhile. I used to submit everything to any place I could find. Now I’m more selective and wait longer to submit (unless there’s a deadline). There are always going to be thrilling acceptances (especially anything with money involved). Unfortunately, sometimes we give up too easily on the more challenging markets.
Thank you for your accessible thoughts on this video game. Is it wrong, though, to post to a link to a story on FB, tweeter, etc. when your piece is published? I have some friends, family and readers that click those links and read my work.
[…] wanting something from the world. Butler also has a similarly interested post over at HTMLGIANT: “22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing,” my favorite being #19: “Be a person, not an email address with a social profile and an […]
[…] 22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing – Practical and handy list that boosts the ego of an unpublished writer. […]
[…] And lastly, we’re putting together a reading series that will kick off Saturday, Jan. 19, 2013. Stay tuned for more details. Until then: happy writing and read this article by Blake Butler about submitting writing. […]
Really enjoyed this post! I slowed down in submitting so many pieces. Life interferes and sometimes that’s not a bad thing. Gave me time to get back to the basics and my bigger WIP.
[…] I thought this was insightful and valuable: 22 Things I Learned from Submitting My Writing […]
Phew. Man, this is a good one. Thanks for posting. Words like these, evidence we’re all struggling through this thing similarly and together, are really energizing.
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22 Things I Learned from Submitting Writing | HTMLGIANT
[…] friends and via general solicitation—is something that I’m fine with also. As Blake Butler wrote in the distant past of 2011, “It helps to know someone at the journal and there’s nothing wrong […]
[…] Blake Butler has recently posted a lot of stuff on htmlgiant about rejection, and the “video game” that is the submission process, which I’ve enjoyed reading a lot. He has a lot of valuable things to say on the subject, and it’s nice to feel sometimes that rejection is a brutal force we must rise up against together to stare down, kind of like Minnesotans and winter. Except that for the most part, rejection is a necessary and (dare I say it?) good part of writing and the publishing process. Blake certainly has earned a top spot to punch in his initials in the video game of submitting. I don’t know if I wasn’t looking for it before, but I have noticed recently a lot of talk about the game of submitting in a lot of blogs and journals I read. Anyway, this was a project that I think deserves to be tried by anyone who is actively submitting. […]