Reading slush is actually an incredibly educational process. Apart from the obvious “don’t be a jerk” rules that I now understand, I’ve started to realize that slushing is actually benefiting my writing. And so, in the hope that things that I’ve learned can somehow help you, I present: Things I’ve Learned from Slush.

Your first line,

while important, shouldn’t overshadow the rest of your writing. If your first line is fabulous, then the rest of the lines in your story should also be fabulous. And while first lines are great, and fun to write, and fun to read, editors aren’t just buying
your first lines. They’re buying your stories. So your first line should be representative of your story – no flashy explosions or mass murders if your story is going to be a quiet psychological study of a young woman in a small Iowan town, please.

As you write your first line, you should consider how it fits within the context of your story, but also how it fits within the context of the first paragraph – or whatever you have in the first few lines of your story. Writing isn’t just about pretty sentences, after all, it’s about putting those sentences together.

Think about your ending

as much as your beginning – it shows if you don’t. I hate writing endings, because I can never figure out how they’re supposed to work. Somehow, you have to juggle emotional resonance, plot, character development, and voice throughout your entire story, and then catch them all again at the end. Drop one and the entire story falls apart. Who knew?

It’s also very easy to tell when someone hasn’t thought about their ending. I’m so guilty of this, myself. I figure that as soon as I reach the ending, the story will take care of itself. This rarely happens, so think about your endings. Edit them. (You should be editing everything. Do not only edit your endings.) Read them over. Do they resonate? Do they relate to the beginning, middle, and end? Or does it read like a cop-out, or worse, a Big Lipped Alligator moment?

Typos

are really the absolute worst. Not only are they embarrassing when they turn up in your own work, but when I read them in a story, or in a cover letter, they completely throw me out of the story. Is this nit-picky? No, not really. I’ve definitely sent out stories with typos, and when I realize it, I’m always mortified. Typos are an amateur’s mistake that any professional can make, and being on either the giving or receiving end of a submission with typos is just the absolute worst.

I guess what I’ve realized is that reading slush is sort of like a trial by fire, just like going through the slushpile is a trial by fire. You develop Slush-o-Vision to pick out the best stories and become good at seeing problems because you have to. When you take those Slush-o-Vision eyes to your own work, you realize, “Oh. Wow. Oops.” Then you get working.

Your Turn

Do you read slush? If so, what has it taught you about writing? Leave us a comment!

I’m going to be rude in this post and just assume that you don’t write perfect first drafts. Right? Your first draft isn’t perfect. I know this because I’ve read tons of first drafts in the slush I know everything. Even this week’s lottery numbers, which is why I don’t buy Lotto tickets, since that’d be cheating.

In any case, the trivial answer to the question is that you should edit after you finish your first draft but before you submit to magazines. In an ideal world, you finish a draft, tweak it slightly, submit, and then get back a glowing response in which the editor begs you to sell them the story. And everything else on your hard drive.

In the real world, things aren’t quite so clear-cut.

While You’re Writing

This really falls under the category of “unavoidable differences in author processes.” Some authors need to have a complete draft before they can edit. Other authors will edit as they go – tweak what they wrote before, and then add another page of new material.

I’m sure you’ve heard this before: “You should never edit before the draft is complete.”

Meh. I often go back and make minor edits while I write. These edits make the plot more consistent or add in foreshadowing and character details. I find that it’s more efficient to just make the changes than it is to write myself a note for later. Such is the wonder of the word processor.

The advice against editing mid-draft is primarily to help new writers avoid falling into a black hole of always-rewriting-never-finishing. If you can avoid that loop? Great. If not, then you should either force an ending to the story and fix it later or move on to a new story.

After You’ve Got a Draft! (But before you submit.)

I don’t have to say much about this, do I? Finish the story, edit it, and then send it out to see the world.

I do recommend at least two editing passes, even if all you end up fixing is a typo or two. If you have a first reader or critique group, edit at least once before you send it to them, and at least once after you get their comments. Why edit before critiques? The cleaner the draft you give to your critique group, the easier it will be for them to see any major structural issues in the story.

That might seem like it goes without saying, but this advice is based on having seen way too many stories up for critique that still need a spell check.

After You Submit

You’ve just sent your story–and two days later you realize exactly how you should have ended it. Now what?

I strongly recommend against beginning to re-edit a story that is currently on submission.

Here’s the thing–editors read and decide on the story you send them. If you make major changes after the story is submitted and you get an offer of acceptance, there’s no guarantee that the editor will also like your changes (and they probably won’t.) Yes, anything is possible, but at that point, you’re essentially taking an acceptance and transforming it back into another submission. This just makes more work for everybody–and I feel confident in saying that no editor wants to send an acceptance and get back, “Oh, thanks, but I’d rather you bought this story.”

I don’t even open the files of stories that are actively on submission somewhere. No matter how much I like the story I sent out, there’s still a temptation to edit and that can only end in tears or vodka.

After a Rejection

Oh no! Your story has just come back with another rejection. Should you rewrite based on the rejection?

If an editor has rejected your story, you have no obligation to pay any attention to the rest of the email. Seriously. The only part that’s important is that they said “no” to your story. (Okay, okay. Exceptions: If the editor tells you something that is specific to their magazine, keep that in mind for your next submission. You know, like if they say, “FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THIS WORLD NO MORE VAMPIRE STORIES” totally send a werewolf story next. Also, if the editor says “please send me your next story” they totally mean that.)

Usually the correct option is just to send the story on to the next magazine and write a new story. How will you ever have time to write a new story if all you’re doing is rewriting?

However… it is possible to get a rejection in which the editor is willing to look at the story if you rewrite it. In that case it might be worth rewriting, depending on how badly you want to be in the magazine – but keep in mind that there’s no guarantee that the story will be purchased after rewrites. I also only recommend writing to the comments in that rejection if you find that they inspire you. Do you think these comments will make your story better? Then rewrite to your heart’s content! That way, even if the editor doesn’t want your rewritten story, you’ve at least improved what you do have.

Your Turn

Have you ever rewritten a story after a rejection? Did it help?

When a rejection comes in, if you’re like most writers, you sneer at it for a good long while. Maybe you print a copy and tack it to the corkboard, throw darts at it, and then burn the wilted remains. You circle all the ten-dollar words in red, shred the entire thing, and stuff a voodoo doll named after the editor, before sharpening your pins and…

Wait, no. That’s not what you should do at all. Here’s what you need in your first aid kit:

Item One: Something comforting

Sometimes, I will think a certain story is perfect for a certain market and when the editor tells me otherwise, it can be crushing. It’s okay to be disappointed and its okay to mourn the rejection–allow yourself a bit of comfort. Maybe you’d like to indulge in my favorite double date, Ben & Jerry’s. Beth tells me we can’t go on a week-long cocaine binge, so remember your limits, but do allow yourself some comfort before you plunge right back in.

Item Two: The next market

The first market didn’t want the story. Check it off your list, and move to the next market. The important thing is to keep the story in circulation. The story can’t sell if it’s sitting in a drawer or your hard drive. Unless it’s in an editor’s possession, it’s probably not going to sell, so make sure the story is in fighting form, and send it back out the door. Tell it not to come home until it finds work!

Item Three: The next story

If you only have one story out there, of course you’re going to be on pins and needles until you hear back from an editor. Always have more than one story out and about. It improves your odds and keeps you from going insane. Write the story, finish the story, send the story out. Repeat. Have stories in the hands of your first readers, too. That way, you can agonize over what they think of it, and wonder if they’re tearing it apart, and…

Item Four: Professionalism

That thing I said about the voodoo doll up there? Don’t do that. It’s normal to grouse about rejections and maybe even editors, but the speculative fiction community is a fairly close one, and word can spread. Act professional at all times–don’t let them see you sweat, or curse, or prick voodoo dolls. And definitely don’t kill the editor in your next story…

Item Five: Inspiration

Sometimes after a rejection, especially if it’s on a story I thought was ideal for that market, I need to fill myself back up. I read a book that’s a favorite, or a new book by a favorite author, or poetry. Sometimes, it’s okay to step away from the keyboard and get full of life before you come back and eye Item Two.

Item Six: Control

You can’t control everything. This is especially true when it comes to selling your fiction. A story you think is an ideal fit for a certain market may not be an ideal fit in the editor’s eyes. Focus on what you can control. Don’t say, “I’m going to sell twelve stories this year.” Say: “I’m going to write twelve new stories this year!” Don’t say, “I’m going to make that editor regret rejecting me!” Say: “I’m going to send that story to another market and then another if need be, and show those editors that I’m dedicated to my craft, and to improving upon it.”

Your Turn

How do you deal with rejection? Tell us in the comments!

The method of submitting manuscripts to publishers has changed–at least in some circles. While not every publication accepts electronic submissions, many do. This is becoming especially true of short story markets. Some markets even have their own online submission forms now, which makes the process easier. …Mostly.

Every point below probably points back to this essential: Always follow the publisher’s guidelines. This sounds easy, but based on what often turns up in the slush pile, it’s not.

Formatting

Typically, the publisher will specify the file format they want. They haven’t done this at random–they aren’t telling you to send an RTF (rich-text format) file because their initials are RTF. If the guidelines say DOC/RTF and no DOCX, you need to be certain that you’re not sending a DOCX file. If you send the wrong kind of file, you are giving the impression that you haven’t read the guidelines, and you’re increasing the amount of wait time on a reply, being that you usually have to submit all over again with the right kind of file. Likewise with the actual document you are sending. If the guidelines say “standard manuscript format,” be sure you’ve followed that. And if you don’t know what it is, the Internet is full of information on that front.

One Story At a Time

Unless the guidelines state that multiple submissions are accepted, only attach one file to your email. (Online submission forms often only allow you to attach one file, which is helpful!) Unless the guidelines state that they accept multiple submissions, only send one email and no other until you hear back on that submission. (Unless you find yourself needing to query, or you forgot to attach your file.) If the market allows simultaneous submissions (one story at more than one market at the same time) and your story is such, make sure you mention this to the editor up front. If another market buys the story while it’s still in submission elsewhere, be sure to send a follow up email explaining this to the other editor.

Body of Email?

Sometimes, the guidelines will say to include the story in the actual body of the email–meaning you cut and paste straight into the email, and you don’t attach a file. If that’s the case, don’t attach a file! Some publishers don’t download anything, for concern over a virus. However, if the guidelines say NOT to put the story in the body of the email…for heaven’s sake, don’t do it. You are only doing yourself another disservice. Shimmer doesn’t want the story in the body of the email.

Spam, spam, spaaaaam

If you are submitting to a market and don’t have their email address on your “approved bust through the spam wall” filter…you are screwed. Your submission should be seen as the opening of a dialogue between you and the editor you are approaching. If you put up walls or flaming hoops dangling above shark tanks for the editor to make their way through in order to reply to you…what’s the point of opening the dialogue? You know you want to hear back from them, so be certain they can reply without the circus act.

Link vs. File?

If you use Hotmail, be sure you aren’t sending a simple link to a file somewhere on the Internet. Be sure you are sending the actual file to the editor.

New Threads

Gmail has an often-wonderful tool where they will thread your email messages, thus keeping everything in one nice, neat stream. Sometimes this is good, sometimes this is bad. If you are making a submission to a gmail address, be certain you start a fresh email, and don’t reply to an old one. The old one will carry the old subject line, and the editor you are sending to will likely never find the new story attached.

Who Are You?

Editors like to know what your name is! They like to know what to call you (especially if they’re about to send you a check for a story!). Be sure it’s clear. We often receive emails with three or more names on it. Email may read janedoe@gmail.com, while the name at the top of the manuscript says Sally Fawn, while the name under the story title says Elizabeth Deer. Who are you, really? If you’re writing under a pseudonym, it’s easy. Your legal name goes at the top of page one; your pseudonym goes under the story title.

When in Doubt

Read the guidelines. We’re all human, and we make mistakes (like forgetting to attach the file and having to send a second email). But the closer you come to making your submissions perfect, the closer you come to presenting yourself as a professional, and making professional sales.

Your turn

What’s the most boneheaded thing you’ve done with an esub? Like ’em? Hate ’em? Tell us in the comments.

So your little story that your nurtured and wrote and edited turned out to be a lot bigger than you expected, oops!  You had your heart set on sending it to a certain magazine, because you just KNEW it would be a perfect match.

The only problem is, the magazine doesn’t take stories over 5,000 words, and your story is closer to 6,000.  What do you do?

First Step, Read The Guidelines

I cannot stress the importance of this piece of advice enough.  Most magazines will have some version of submission guidelines posted.  Read them!  In Shimmer‘s guidelines, we ask that if your story is more that 5,000 words, you query us.

Why?  Why Must We Make Things So Complicated?

Here at Shimmer, our sweet spot is a short story usually below 5,000 words.  However, we don’t want to miss a fantastic story that might happen to be 5,250 words, but we have to have some kind of limit.  The most efficient way to accomplish this is to allow queries, which we can process a lot more quickly than a whole story.  It saves time and energy for the magazine staff AND the author.

Picture this.  Say there is a magazine that only publishes a certain niche in the genre, and they have a word count limit of 5,000 words, but an author wants to submit a story to them.  The slush wrangler gets a query and sees that the story is a 13,000 word epic fantasy.

Nothing wrong with that!  Except, it really isn’t a good fit for the magazine.  Why waste the author’s time, and the slush reader’s time with a story that is clearly not a good fit for the magazine?  And yes, an editor really can tell from a query whether or not it will be a good fit for the magazine.  Check out Associate Editor Sophie’s post about slush for a more in-depth discussion about this slushy side of publishing.

That Sounds Like Me!  I Want To Query For Length.  Er, How Do I Do That?

As always, not all magazines want the same type of query from you.  So read the guidelines to find out how to query for a particular magazine.  For Shimmer, we’d like you to send a brief paragraph describing the story and the first page.  Here’s what that means.  Send us just a few sentences telling us the main points of your story.  Then paste the first page into the body of the email.

I’ve seen a lot of people panic about what does “first page” mean.  I will make it simple for you.  Send us the first 250 words of your story.  That’s it.  That’s all we need.

Can You Show Me A Sample Query Letter?

Of course.  Here is a query letter that would go over very well at Shimmer:

Dear Ms. Wodzinski,

Would you be interested in reading my 8,000 word story, “Attack of the Evil Robot Monkeys”? In this near-future apocalyptic science fiction story, my intrepid heroine, using only her wits and a stolen laser rifle, must find a way to survive the monkey apocalypse. I’ve attached the first page for you to review.

May I send you the full story?

(If applicable, this is where you would put the information about where your fiction has previously been published.  If not, don’t worry, just leave this part blank).

Thanks for your consideration,

Your Name

That’s it!  Just send the query, paste the first page of your story into the body of the email, and wait for a response.

That Sounds Scary What If Something Goes Wrong?

Relax, it’s not frightening at all.  Either the slush wrangler will say “sure, that sounds like it might be a fit.  Please send the whole manuscript,” and so you do.  Or the slush wrangler might say “sorry, this doesn’t seem like a good fit for our magazine.”  Don’t be discouraged, it doesn’t mean the story was bad, just that it wasn’t the right home for it.

Your Turn!

How about you?  What has your experience been with querying zines?  Leave a comment or question below.

There’s a lot of talk of how you, as a writer, can increase your web presence and somehow, as a direct result of that web presence, get connections that will help you get published. Well, this may, in a roundabout way, be somewhat true. But maybe not in the way that people expect.

I actually attended a panel on publicity and marketing about two weeks ago, courtesy of my university. What struck me most was what one of the panelists said about how advertising is changing. I’m paraphrasing here, but it was something along the lines of, “Today’s consumer wants to feel like they have a personal connection with whatever is being advertised.”

Generally speaking, what you, as an unpublished author, are advertising, is yourself. How can you advertise yourself in such a way that people will feel like they have a personal connection with you?

Just make friends.

This can seem really overwhelming at first, so I’ve broken down some key steps into easily digestible pieces.

Forums

Get an account on some forums. AbsoluteWrite is where I started, and it’s a fantastic resource for writers of all levels of experience. There are a variety of other writers’ forums out there. A quick search should give you a variety of options. I suggest that you spend a few minutes–maybe ten or twenty–browsing the website before you make an account. You want to make sure that the atmosphere and resources of the community (opportunities for critiques, beta readers, etc), line up with your expectations for what should essentially be an online writers’ group.

Blog

There are so many different blogging platforms out there that it can get a little overwhelming. Blogspot, WordPress, and LiveJournal seem to be the big ones, but there are more and more cropping up every day. A blog can function almost like a personal website, providing information about you and your work. I find that blogs are most effective when readers can get to know the person who’s blogging. Write about you – your work, your day, things that interest you, your writing.

Twitter

Twitter is a nice way of getting news about people and events that you’re interested in. If you want to get more followers, which is the only way to meet new people, I suggest taking part in lots of Twitter chats, using tons of hashtags, and getting a program like TweetDeck that will let you access your Twitter account away from the webpage (as the webpage really isn’t conducive to following conversations). I recommend Twitter as a last step for those of you who are just beginning, because it helps to start off with some internet buddies who will be willing to “follow” you. That way you look like less of a spammer, and you have people to tweet at.

Facebook

This seems to me to be either the first or last step. That is, either you have a Facebook already, or you’re not going to get a Facebook no matter what I say, no siree. Either way, I’m totally down. I got you. But for those of you who have no strong feelings on the matter, or who have a Facebook but haven’t used it for writing-related things, let me address this section to you.

The goal of all “networking” is to make connections. I want you to think about creating friendships. Friendships that you are happy to have in your “real life”, not just your internet life. Because you want to be a writer in “real life”, yes?

Facebook provides an opportunity for you to have a more personal connection with your internet writer compatriots. I’m FB friends with a lot of my internet writer friends. We wish each other happy birthday and talk on each other’s walls. I’ve even found that some of my friends live in my area, thanks to Facebook.

I’m not saying that everyone should run out and get a Facebook page, or that you need to start friending writers left and right. I’m saying that the quality of the friendships that you form when you’re “networking” should be somewhat similar to the ones that you already have on a site like Facebook – they should be “real life” friends who you talk to on the internet.

Finally: The thing is, today people are savvy about marketing. They know when you’re trying to sell yourself, and no one wants to feel like the only reason people are talking to them is because you want to “sell yourself.” If you start on your journey to increase your web presence with the object of making friends, on the other hand, you’ll create real relationships that won’t set off everyone’s marketing alarms.

So what should you do? Go out and talk. Talk to people. Post on forums. Blog. Use Twitter. Use Facebook. Or only do some of these things. Or do all of them but not in that order. I just want you to start talking to people who interest you about things that interest you. Talk about writing. Talk about anything. Just talk. And listen. And remember that networking and marketing sound difficult, but they can be fun, too.

Your Turn

What social networking have you explored? What works? What doesn’t? Tell us in the comments.

Amal El-Mohtar stops by the Shimmer blog to share “something inspirational-ish” with us, and you. No ish about it, your writing journey will be better for having read it.

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So, I’m sprawled out on my couch, laptop on my lap’s top, staring at the reality of needing to answer not one, not two, but three sets of interviews for tomorrow, and shaking my head in bewilderment at the fact that anyone anywhere wants to know what I think about anything. I am about to log on to Twitter to whine about how Interviews Are Hard and I Feel Like a Fraud, when I remember that I am supposed to be writing a guest blog for Beth.

I pause.

“Something inspirational-ish,” she’d said. “Something about how you went from ‘The Crow’s Caw’ to a story in a Year’s Best anthology.” And just as my brain starts to put Beth’s request into the same box as the interviews, consigning it to fuel for further intarwebby whinging, I think, hang on a minute. Beth Wodzinski is a woman of extremely discerning taste. She and her team made Shimmer into a ‘zine I adored and devoured long before I was ever published there. Beth Wodzinski knows what she’s talking about, and I will not disparage Beth Wodzinski’s opinions just because they happen to apply to me.

It’s so easy to focus on the things we haven’t done. It’s so easy to forget that a few months ago, perhaps a year ago, the list of things we haven’t done was much, much longer, because it is a flaw in the nature of lists that we don’t enshrine the items we’ve struck off, but narrow our eyes against what still needs to be done.

Often this is admirable. Just as often, I think it’s damaging and limiting.

I dwell on the fact that I haven’t written that novel, haven’t broken into that market, haven’t won that award, haven’t even been nominated for that award, haven’t written more short fiction, haven’t sold more short fiction. I dwell on the things I need to work on, the things I need to improve – but here, by Beth, I’ve been asked to dwell on the things I’ve achieved, the things of which I should be justly proud. And it’s hard. But hard things need doing, so here goes.

I used to dwell on how I wasn’t selling any poetry. In March of 2005, I made my first poetry sale to Marge Simon at Star*Line, and have since sold over twenty poems to individual markets, not counting a collection which I’ll get to later.

I used to dwell on how I wasn’t selling any short fiction. I was writing loads of it, as my dear friend Jess and I would encourage each other with weekly prompts, but nothing was going anywhere (with good reason, I now see, wincing as I peruse early efforts). In April of 2006 – over a year after my first poetry sale, and the same month I launched Goblin Fruit with that same friend – I made my first ever fiction sale. Shimmer bought my story about storytellers discussing how the crow got its caw.

I used to dwell on how no one outside my family and friends read or liked my poetry. In 2009, three years after joining the Science Fiction Poetry Association, two poems of mine were nominated for the Rhysling award: one of them won first place in the Short category, and the other took third in the Long category.

I used to dwell on how I couldn’t write every day even though I thought I should, and if I did it wasn’t any good. For every day in February of 2009, I wrote a complete piece of fiction or poetry inspired by the colour, scent, and taste of a different kind of honey. A year later those pieces were published as a collection, called The Honey Month, by Papaveria Press. A few months after that one of my author-heroes said beautiful things about it on the internet and invited me to contribute to one of his anthologies purely on the strength of what I’d produced there. A few weeks ago another one of my author-heroes asked me to sign a copy of The Honey Month for a friend of his, who happens to be the wife of an artist-hero of mine. Both of these heroes are people whose autographs I have asked for in the past.

I’m not even going to say I dwelt on the absence of this next thing, because I didn’t, because I don’t think I ever seriously thought it could happen: I have received letters, hand-written and electronic, from people I do not know, telling me they love my work, and asking me what I will write next.

And in spite of all these things, these beautiful, magical things – in spite of the fact that I’ve got a story forthcoming in a Year’s Best collection, in spite of the fact that people of whom I’ve been a fan I now count among my dearest friends, in spite of the fact that editors I was too shy to query now solicit material from me, in spite of the fact that I’m sharing Tables of Contents with the cherished names I’ve had on my bookshelves for years and years – I can’t bring myself to believe that someone might be interested enough in what I have to say to ask me some questions, because I haven’t written a novel.

More bizarre than that? Those people who have written novels, whose work I’ve loved my whole life? They feel this way too, or close enough for folk music. The goal post is always moving, and those tantalizing grapes are always just out of a reach that always exceeds one’s grasp, else what’s a heaven for, the whole bit. But I’m here to tell you – even as I remind myself – that so long as you work, you’re always getting better, whether you feel it or not. So long as you work, even as you sigh, and frown, and count your rejections, and despair of ever doing any one of a list of a dozen things that would mean you’d Made It – you’re getting better, and you’re Making It.

I’m not telling you to rest on your laurels, or to lack ambition, or to be content with what you’ve achieved. I’m telling you to have a passing acquaintance with what you’ve achieved, because chances are it’s more than you thought you would at some point, before you got good enough to expect more from yourself. Just acknowledge it. Be kinda proud of it. And every now and then, when you’re feeling smothered and stymied by all the things you’ve yet to do? Make a list of the things you have done, no matter how small they may seem in hindsight, and let them stand, un-struck-through, as a testament to all the things you will do. Because they’re the proof that you can.

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Amal El-Mohtar is a Canadian-born child of the Mediterranean, currently pursuing a PhD at the Cornwall campus of the University of Exeter. She is the author of The Honey Month, a collection of poetry and prose written to the taste of 28 different honeys, and co-editor of Goblin Fruit, an online quarterly dedicated to fantastical poetry, along with Jessica P. Wick. Her work has appeared in several venues online and in print, including Apex, Strange Horizons, Weird Tales, Shimmer, and Cabinet des Fées, and is forthcoming in Welcome to Bordertown, edited by Ellen Kushner and Holly Black, and The Thackeray T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities, edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer. A complete bibliography is available at her Writertopia page. She also keeps a blog somewhat tidy at Voices on the Midnight Air.

Everyone sets them. Everyone breaks them. As January of a new year arrives, have you made a list of goals? If you’re reading this blog, I would venture that some of them are writing related. But goals can also be a black pit of despair–can you set a goal too high and always find yourself falling short? You bet you can.

What You Can Control

Don’t say: “I’m going to sell twelve stories in 2011.”

Say: “I’m going to write twelve stories in 2011.”

You can’t control how many stories you sell, but you can control how many you write. In 2010, I set the goal for myself of twelve new short stories. At the year’s end, I didn’t end up with twelve. I ended up with five new shorts, one novella, and half of a novel.  I didn’t plan on doing Nanowrimo at all. At all. And yet, there it was. You can’t control how much money you’ll make as a writer, but you can control the projects you pitch, the writing you do, the number of submissions you make. You can control the amount of time you spend on the internet (doing anything other than research or networking), the conventions you attend, the workshops you partake in.

Words Every Day

Write something every day. Even if you only write for twenty minutes, write. In the piece I wrote about Nanowrimo I talked about making the Play-Doh from which stars could be extruded. Getting words on the page is so important–it’s the first step. The words don’t have to be perfect. Just write. If you find them in the wrong order later, you can rearrange. That’s part of the fun in being a writer–the story doesn’t have to be linear for you. You can flit back and forth and back again.

I didn’t reach my goal of twelve stories in 2010, and that’s totally my own fault. Nothing else kept me from doing it; I just didn’t write every day. The Nano novel didn’t even keep me from making short story words.

Make your Play-Doh, and then turn it into stars.

Finish the Story

I know a few writers who skip from project to project and they never finish any of them. Worse yet, they moan about not finishing, how they have no focus, how they can’t get started. Well no, they get started just fine, but they have no staying power. Learning to how finish the story is an awesome goal.

Beginnings are easy–they’re shiny, they beckon. When you get into the guts of a story, it’s harder to stick it out. It’s easy to set a story aside and not figure out how it really works. Put an ending on every story you write. Let the story sit for at least a week, then go back and look at it. Does it work? If it doesn’t, maybe you can see where it falls apart now, and know the proper ending.

Read

Read whatever you can get your hands on.

I usually set a goal of 52 books a year–sometimes I make it, sometimes not! (In 2010, I read 46 and didn’t finish 4 others.) Most of them will likely fall into the genre in which I write, but I also read outside of my genre because books call to me. They know my name too well. If you don’t read in the genre you want to write in, how can you excel in it?

You should know what your fellow writers are doing. You also never know when something you read might inspire a story of your own. One of my stories was written in a fit after I read a brilliant short story by Patricia Anthony, and later went on to sell. If I hadn’t been reading, I don’t think that story would have presented itself to me.

Your Turn

What are your goals for 2011? Share them with us in the comments!

Once, I operated under the idiotic impression that I could do almost anything on my own without needing help, and guessed that probably went double for writing. I’d heard writing was the lonely profession, and there was some appeal to the Lone Writer silhouette—my six-guns holstered, a full canteen, a brimming flask, and my trusty horse, Beaulah cantering into the southwest sunset. After a while, I found myself bogged down, discouraged, and lonely, and no amount of nipping at that flask did any good. Maybe you’ve tried going it alone too. Maybe you’ve wondered, as I did: do I need other writers?

Yes, you absolutely do. Other writers can give you the three Cs, which cannot be acquired alone: the three Cs of Companionship, Connections, and Critiques. People don’t thrive in a vacuum; we thrive in fellowship. So, the three Cs; what can they do for you?

Companionship

You already have heaps of friends, you say? Lucky bastard. Even so, I’ll bet those very friends roll their eyes and bust your balls just for the way you think and express yourself. “There goes Suzanne and her crazy imagination again!” This won’t happen with your writer friends, because your writer friends will understand you and your crazy monkey moon language. Writers speak the language of What If; extra imagination just gets bonus points. Okay, acceptance and understanding is nice, you say, but it’s not like writers are just hanging out at the local 7-11 guzzling Slurpees. True, but finding writers in the wild isn’t all that difficult. You can try signing up for a local convention in a genre of interest or sign up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and you’ll practically be wading through writers. You’re an introvert? So are at least half the writers I know, yet that is not what defines them, rather they are defined by qualities of acceptance, wit, and intelligence. Not shabby companions, right?

I wrote in solitude for years before venturing out for companionship myself. My first attempt was to attend the 2006 NaNoWriMo kickoff event in Salt Lake City. How exciting to meet others who were as passionate about writing as I was; finally, other people who actually spoke my language! By November’s end, I had accomplished my 50,000 word goal, but more importantly, I had found some real kindred spirits, one of whom happens to be Shimmer’s very own editor-in-chief. I’d begun to find my people.

Connections

Connections, networks, community; they’re not very sexy words and sound exhausting to boot. Do you really need to build a connective network in the writing community? Having support from a network of friends and industry professionals is priceless. If you don’t like being too connected, it’s okay, there’s no contract to sign. Ultimately, you control of the level of commitment you’re comfortable with making. But putting in some time and effort here pays off big and helps you stay abreast of new information and opportunities.

Writer’s conventions (or cons) are wonderful places to meet other writers, editors and publishers, plus it’s some of the most fun you can have with your clothes on. You don’t have to know a secret handshake; you just need to save a little money, figure out your transportation and roommate situation, and bone up on vitamins, because cons whir past like a cicada in heat, and then they’re gone. The best reason to attend a convention is to meet and get to know people, and maybe acquire a card or two from interesting editors and agents to query later. Twitter, LiveJournal and Facebook can help you keep in touch with the friends and connections you’ve made, as can Goodreads and a plethora of other social networks that keep springing up overnight. Just don’t stay so connected that you forget to muck out your horse’s stall and give her some oats from time to time.

Critiques

But I’m not a cowpoke; I’m delicate flower, you say. What if getting critiqued stomps and kills my fragile soul? Anyway, I’ve never really critiqued anyone else, and wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to find a good critique group.

There are many levels of critique, from light to intense, most of them useful for learning to become better at the craft of writing and developing a thicker skin. Online writing groups can be a non-threatening place to begin for wary writers. There, you can learn to take criticism and give your best constructive feedback to others, all without leaving the comfort of home. If you’re a delicate swamp orchid and fear some jerk will stomp your dreams, join some groups, but lurk around for a while to see if the vibes are amenable. Most groups work on a system of cooperation, support, and feedback. There’s a chance trolls may exist in the mix, but one can learn a lot from watching how others handle a troll. If a troll controls that group, however, it might be a good idea to pack up your soil and find greener pastures.

There is a metric shit ton of writer’s groups out there. If you’re willing to do some research, chances are you’ll find one that fits your needs. Here’re some great places to start online:  Critters Workshop, Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror, and Hatrack River Writer’s Workshop

(Other invaluable online resources worth your while are Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA), and the Romance Writers of America (RWA).

For something more intense and one-on-one, there are many writing workshops that can help hone and refine your talents (Clarion, Viable Paradise, and Odyssey to name but three). Critique is about getting better, but it’s true that it’s not always easy to take. The best advice I’ve heard is to thank your critiquer without trying to defend your choices. Give their advice a day or two to settle. (Yell disparagements about their mother in private later all you want.) From there, you’ll figure out whether it was useful feedback or just grist for the mill.

It’s never too early or too late to begin seeking out your three Cs. The friendships and sense of community built today can benefit your entire career and lifetime. There are few things in life better than knowing there’s a well-armed, smooth-talking posse at your back, especially when Bad Bart rolls into town. Writing might be a lonely profession, in that we alone are responsible for getting the words onto the paper—but it doesn’t have to be lonesome.

Your Turn

How have you gone about trying to find your fellow writers? Do you belong to an online crit group, or maybe an in-person writing group? Tell us in the comments!

When I started reading slush, I don’t think I was entirely prepared for what I was going to find. I was filled with preconceived notions about how slush reading had to be (“It can’t be that hard to read my story in a week! What are they talking about?”), and even as I familiarized myself with the industry, a lot of those preconceived notions never went away.

Until I started reading slush. The more I read, the more I had these moments of realization.

Everything they told me was not a lie.

Full disclaimer: Everything I’m saying here is anecdotal. This is not the end all be all of slush truth, and I definitely don’t want to pass this off as fact, or as true for all slush readers. Okay? Okay.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

Cover Letters Really Do Matter

Yes, cover letters matter. But not in the way you might think. I really don’t care what you say in your letter, as long as it isn’t profane or creepy. Your letter can be a sentence long for all I care. Feel free to say, “Attached is my short story, TITLE, for your consideration. Thanks, So and So” and be done with it.

What I really, really care about is your salutation. I want it to say, “Dear Ms. Wodzinski”, or “Dear Ms. Wodzinski et al”, or, if you feel like mixing it up, feel free to address it to anyone who reads slush. Don’t say, “To whom it may concern” or “Dear Editor.”

The reason isn’t that it’s polite, or that I want some kind of validation that I am a real human being and not a slushbot, but that, overall, the stories that have a cover letter that begins with a personalized salutation are better than the stories without. That salutation makes me sit up a bit straighter in my chair, take another sip of coffee, and get excited about your story before I even open the document.

That doesn’t mean that I’m going to penalize you if you don’t personalize your salutation, but let’s be honest here: In such a competitive industry, can you really turn down anything that gives you an edge?

But that said…

Publishing Credits Don’t Matter as Much as You Think

When I started this writing thing four or five years ago, I thought that once I had a publishing credit under my belt, I would have it made. Editors all around the world would clamor for my stories. I’d get shifted into the “short-list” slush pile. Golden laurels would form on my head, and I’d ride a white stallion into the sunset while penning deathless prose, all of which would be gobbled up by waiting zines almost immediately.

Truth is, if a story isn’t right for the magazine, I’m not going to suggest it to the other editors even if the author has tons of published stories to her name. Do I take that credit into consideration? Sure. I might even be guilty of thinking, “I don’t like this, but this author was published in such and such a magazine. Maybe I should read it again…”

However, after that reread, it’s rare that I’ll send a story forward.

Usually, seeing publishing credits will make me react about the same as seeing a personalized salutation. I get excited, but those credits alone aren’t going to make or break a story.

So, the moral here is, those authors with publishing credits do have a slight edge over those without, but that edge isn’t enough to make me prefer the story from an author with credits over the story from the author without.

“This Just Isn’t Right for Me” is a Totally Valid Response

Before anyone jumps on me, let me just say that I hate this line in a rejection letter. I hate it when I’m on the giving and the receiving end. I generally do try to be a little more helpful than this, I promise.

But sometimes, that’s all you can say.

The writing was solid. The characters were well rounded, complex, and subtlety portrayed. The plot was intriguing, and that twist at the end probably suits someone’s taste. So, it’s a good story. But I don’t like it.

This is generally when I enter panic mode. There has to be something wrong with this story, I think. What is it?

And, in totally anecdotal advice, usually it’s the ending. There’s something wrong with the ending, and either I don’t like it, or I don’t think Beth will like it. But someone else might like it. Some other editor out there probably will like it, in fact, but I can’t imagine this story in Shimmer.

Sometimes, I’ll punt the story upstairs anyway, to see if it’s just me. So far though, it hasn’t ever been just me. Sometimes, the story just doesn’t fit.

Every Slush Horror Story is Probably True

A while ago, Keffy wrote a blog post about how you should not write Editors Getting Their Comeuppance stories. For the purposes of this bullet point, I want you to go on a journey with me.

I want you all to imagine a little baby associate editor, reading stories happily for her new favorite magazine, Shimmer. She opens a story and starts to read.

A few minutes later she’s trying to put her brain back together while glancing over her shoulder to see if someone’s creeping around in the bushes outside.

A few minutes after that, she’s staring at her screen and thinking, “This has to be a joke.”

I’ve only seen one or two scary things in my short time as a slush reader, and only one of those was at Shimmer. Still, those few times are enough for me, thanks. So please, the next time an editor or slush reader tells you a slush horror story, don’t roll your eyes. It’s probably true.

That Said, Most Slush is Not That Bad

I think that on a lot of writers’ forums, people tend to throw around statistics like, “If you check your grammar and spelling, your story will be better than 90% of what editors see.” Maybe this is just my experience, but I think these numbers are exaggerated.

It’s true, a lot of slush can be bad. But it’s not THAT bad. It’s not like we’re getting incomprehensible stories written in a foreign language, with extra commas tossed in like bacon bits on a salad. For the most part, stories are more or less grammatical. It’s more like a collection of stories that are written by people who haven’t fully polished their craft, with a sprinkling of grammatical depravity, and a handful of stuff I like mixed in. The key to standing out isn’t so much writing expertly, it’s about writing well.

There you have it! I hope this was somewhat helpful, and that it formed a better, clearer picture of what slush reading entails.

Your Turn

What slush myths have you heard? Maybe we can dispel (or confirm) them! Tell us in the comments.