But another way to tell if your writing / poetry truly fits a literary journal is by reading the rejection note carefully.
EX: If editors conclude by hoping my work "finds a home elsewhere," then I'll flag it in my work diary as "NO encouragement" & D.B.A. [don't bother again].
EX: In contrast, if editors conclude by encouraging me to submit again + even adding the date when the submission window will reopen, that is serious encouragement, imo.
EX: Compliments and any personal remarks on a certain poem are the red lipstick whose long-distance kisses reach up to the cheap seats. I'll flag this in my diary, too, as "try again here."
Many rejection notes are peppered with false praise, i.e., "Our submission queue grows and we often must turn away strong work," blah-blah-blah.
Get over yourself and see fake praise for what it is: the cold labor of NOPE buried in a cashmere glove.
Another way editors say "scat" and "git" politely is by stating numbers: "We received more than 800 submissions (or 1,000 or 2,000) and we can only offer ten spots." All but the masochists will then fold up the tent and leave promptly.
So, sure, read the journal and do the best matchmaking by offering the most suitable material in your drawer to that outlet - - - and try to make a good first impression.
But also decode each rejection so you don't confuse "professional flatulence" with the rich dark milk of serious interest.
This made me laugh. (Not Erik's advice, I mean. The other stuff.) (Though Erik's margin notes on stories, if you ever get a chance to work with him, also tend to be very funny.) (I believe he is also a big fan of parentheses.) ((Not really relevant to the original post, just an observation.))
I would add from my experience that, for non-Americans submitting to American publishers, bear in mind that some outlets believe their readers can't understand UK or Australian English and will insist on American spelling and usage. (God forbid that a reader might not know what colour means.) These outlets are also likely to insist that there be no reference to any landscape, business, food choice etc unfamiliar to Americans. Canadian and UK publishers tend to be less imperialistic on these matters.
Also note that the more arrogant and self-interested ones will insist that you buy a copy of one of their publications if you want to find out what they publish.
I’ll admit some magazines I didn’t bother to read thoroughly because they simply stated what kind of poems they look for - goth, dark, ideally thought provoking. Very clear to understand and direct.
If I see a magazine where they say “experimental” but have no actual experimental works, I don’t submit as it shows a lack in understanding and lack of professionalism. I’m of the belief editors should have expert knowledge of the genres they choose to publish, otherwise, what’s the point? It’s not flattering if I know more craft than the editor potentially publishing my work. Curious if others have ideas on that or have thought about it
Yes, I agree: always read the publication FIRST.
But another way to tell if your writing / poetry truly fits a literary journal is by reading the rejection note carefully.
EX: If editors conclude by hoping my work "finds a home elsewhere," then I'll flag it in my work diary as "NO encouragement" & D.B.A. [don't bother again].
EX: In contrast, if editors conclude by encouraging me to submit again + even adding the date when the submission window will reopen, that is serious encouragement, imo.
EX: Compliments and any personal remarks on a certain poem are the red lipstick whose long-distance kisses reach up to the cheap seats. I'll flag this in my diary, too, as "try again here."
Many rejection notes are peppered with false praise, i.e., "Our submission queue grows and we often must turn away strong work," blah-blah-blah.
Get over yourself and see fake praise for what it is: the cold labor of NOPE buried in a cashmere glove.
Another way editors say "scat" and "git" politely is by stating numbers: "We received more than 800 submissions (or 1,000 or 2,000) and we can only offer ten spots." All but the masochists will then fold up the tent and leave promptly.
So, sure, read the journal and do the best matchmaking by offering the most suitable material in your drawer to that outlet - - - and try to make a good first impression.
But also decode each rejection so you don't confuse "professional flatulence" with the rich dark milk of serious interest.
Use rejection as your map and head-lamp.
This made me laugh. (Not Erik's advice, I mean. The other stuff.) (Though Erik's margin notes on stories, if you ever get a chance to work with him, also tend to be very funny.) (I believe he is also a big fan of parentheses.) ((Not really relevant to the original post, just an observation.))
Amazing advice! Thank you so much.
Helpful advice and worth keeping in mind.
I would add from my experience that, for non-Americans submitting to American publishers, bear in mind that some outlets believe their readers can't understand UK or Australian English and will insist on American spelling and usage. (God forbid that a reader might not know what colour means.) These outlets are also likely to insist that there be no reference to any landscape, business, food choice etc unfamiliar to Americans. Canadian and UK publishers tend to be less imperialistic on these matters.
Also note that the more arrogant and self-interested ones will insist that you buy a copy of one of their publications if you want to find out what they publish.
I’ll admit some magazines I didn’t bother to read thoroughly because they simply stated what kind of poems they look for - goth, dark, ideally thought provoking. Very clear to understand and direct.
If I see a magazine where they say “experimental” but have no actual experimental works, I don’t submit as it shows a lack in understanding and lack of professionalism. I’m of the belief editors should have expert knowledge of the genres they choose to publish, otherwise, what’s the point? It’s not flattering if I know more craft than the editor potentially publishing my work. Curious if others have ideas on that or have thought about it