When I last left you in The Writing Life and Other Horrors (2008), I stated that “If you want me, I’ll be in Anza, California writing. Writing to save my life.”  Over the last decade, one thing is certain, that being that, apparently, nobody wants me. Not book publishers, not literary agents, not literary magazines, not even friends and family who quite simply refuse to read anything that I write.  In other pieces about this annoying and tedious craft I stated that, “I feel rejected when I’m not rejected.” Today, in real time, what I really feel is a deep dark despair with a dash of hopelessness and uselessness thrown in. It’s hard not to get discouraged.  Self-pity quickly simmers into self-loathing, and that isn’t good at all.

Today, May 20th, 2019, my record on “Submittable” is four acceptances out of 546 submissions, for a 0.0073260073260073 hit rate, which with any luck at all, I plan to elevate to a clean clear 1%.  Not to worry, things could change at any moment, because I have another 180 submittals that are “active”. I started using “Submittable” in July of 2015 feeling that I could garner some bylines from some respected literary magazines, and thus command some industry wide respect.  Amass enough bylines and I would prove my worth as a writer and build acceptance momentum, and everyone knows that momentum can move mountains. Prior to using this helpful website, I sent numerous snail mail book proposals out there in submissions land or the black hole of literature as I’ve come to believe it is.  I have thick file folders with well over 1,000 rejections spilling out of them, and I have one “conventionally” published book to my credit from which I’ve received no income for my efforts. Many, many times I’ve intimidated to myself that I may be going about this whole submissions thing entirely the wrong way.

But, if I want the recognition I so desperately crave, I have to submit, and take it on the chin, time and time again.  Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and although not a rocket scientist, I have learned a few things over the years which I would like to share with you here.  The first lesson is that everyone in this industry is busy, and unless they have something to gain, they are not very likely to spend much time helping you, unless of course, they see some inherent talent in you.  Of those who do see talent, most will then immediately want to personally profit from it. Silence speaks volumes, and it’s extremely difficult to receive any form of feedback. 

Waiting for feedback, any feedback, good or bad, is worse than waiting for Godot.  Unfortunately, most of what does come back to you is usually bad. All the “Get Published” books warn that a writer should never argue with editors.  It just doesn’t pay, and besides those “Get Published” books are mostly compilations by editors. The reason why most rejections never go past the “not a right fit” diatribe is because most editors are shell shocked from the harsh treatment that they have previously received from inflamed writers. 

The mortal sin of submissions is any failure to thoroughly read the publisher’s guidelines.  While most seem horribly redundant, to the writer of them, they are edicts sent down from on high.   Read them as if your publishing life depended upon them because, quite literally, it does.

Literary magazines are the worst when it comes to writing to “fit” them.  While most say that they are looking for writing that is unique, different, and/or breaks the mold, don’t believe it for one second.  Their insistence that you read past issues to get a “feel” for what they like belies that they would in actuality like anything remotely different.  But you have to read them. I never seem to get the poetry in The New Yorker, but I do get that it’s most usually something that I’m incapable of or wouldn’t dream of writing, so I don’t send them poetry.  Why frustrate us both? There’s no advantage to it.

Think of publishing houses as investment bankers; they are in it to make money pure and simple.  The projects they choose to become involved in may become a point of pride, but that’s not what drives them initially.  Most of the bigger ones won’t except anything unless it’s submitted by an agent, and know that agents are hypersensitive to dinging their reputations.

Consider agents to be like the police and always remember that they only know what you tell them.  If you self-published in the past and discovered that it just wasn’t for you, then leave it in the past.  Agents loath self-publishing because of their self-imposed sense of all around superiority, and not-too-surprisingly, because there is virtually no way that they could ever get their hands in the till.  I love it when they say that they want a personalized query as if you could become best friends within the space of a single page. One says that she will not respond to any obvious “cattle calls”, which is defeating for the submitter because, in a way, this whole degrading process is nothing but a cattle call.  A few will write something to the effect of: “Consideration given only to material offered on an exclusive basis.” Yeah sure; I’m going to wait around for three to six months without submitting to anyone else on the off chance that you may be interested.

If you’re like me and can’t get an agent no matter how hard you try (and boy, I have really tried), then your only recourse is to submit to smaller presses.  The Poet’s and Writer’s database for small presses is very helpful in finding a house that might pick you up. Here, again, the house’s guidelines are on a par with The Ten Commandments, and you will have to pay homage to them.  

The one thing that writers that just can’t seem to make it over the hump need the most is paradoxically the one thing they’re least likely to get - an editor.  And even if one were to begrudgingly take on the task, it wouldn’t be enough because woe unto any writer who doesn’t have an editor who truly believes in them. Hire a proof reader if you must, but a good editor is worth their weight in gold.  Looking to friends to act as editors is a thankless task, unless you have really good friends that you’re convinced you will never lose, because this is the surest way to drive them away.  

Sometimes you have to ask yourself, why do editors edit?  How can they stand it when they know what good writing is, and also know that what they’re gazing upon, what they’re spending their precious time examining all the while hoping for a sign, a breakthrough, a miracle doesn’t remotely approach those heights?  You would think that someone who spends as much time around the words of good to great writers would likewise become a good to great writer simply through the process of assimilation. That’s the beauty and the horror of the written work, however, because anything that isn’t real, that’s a knock off of style, or sticks out in the manuscript like a sore thumb cries out as fake, and shortly thereafter cries out for rejection.  The craft of writing can be learned, but great writers are born.

When you are your own proof reader you will quickly find that you have some fatal flaw.  Mine is interchanging two letter words with impunity. Of, it, if, at, on, an, and or all get mixed up, and even when reading the manuscript out loud, I simply gloss over the mistakes.  This drives me stark raving mad! Second on my dolt/moron/idiot list is interchanging the last letter on a word that changes its meaning entirely, such as the difference between them and then, and know that the n and the m occur side by side on the keyboard.  Pay particular attention to your fatal flaw(s), and advise others to keep a sharp eye out for them.

The story you’re writing could have structural problems.  What you say later in the work may not agree with what you said earlier.  Most embarrassing for me is when I have changed a character’s last name, such as Pepperidge going to Pepperwood, and not even noticing it until the piece was in print.  This is when you want to crawl under a rock and die. I have referred to South America (a continent) as a country, and as an offshoot of the two letter word curse, I have left them out entirely.  I actually wrote, “Bring back Jack,” when I meant to say, “Bring it back Jack.” This is self-deflating to say the least.

There are other things that you pick up along the way.  Titles cannot be copyrighted. I should know because there are at least a half-dozen other The Writing Life(s) floating around out there in book world.  Be careful when quoting the work of others, and know that the fewer words there are the more jealously and zealously they are guarded. Song lyrics represent the inner treasure locked inside the deepest darkest caves.  The reason why you only hear a few bars of a smoking hot rock song in today’s action movies is because the recording companies charge approximately $15,000 for their one time use. Don’t assume, as I once did, that the artists of older records would be thrilled that you are introducing their work to a new younger audience and thus may spur on newer sales.  They would see precious little of that money, anyway. The recording companies that hold their copyrights know that they have faded from the public consciousness for a reason (usually father time) and welcome any new opportunity to make a fast buck. You can try and write them for a release, but if they see you as small potatoes, as they do me, you won’t hear back from them at all. 

When quoting the work of different authors (anyone besides yourself) be careful how you interrupt the dictates of fair use.  A general rule of thumb would be if you quoted enough of their work so that readers would see no need to in fact buy their work, then you are infringing upon their ability to make money, and that quite simply isn’t fair.  The absolute maximum number of words anyone can quote is most usually 250 before they are skating on thin ice. Whenever I exceed the limit I have to write the publisher for a release and it takes months to get them, if I ever do.  Some charge a nominal fee, and others get their backs up in the air and refuse while usually sending down lightning bolts of condemnation because I was insolent enough to even try. They apparently feel that I have fallen off the razor’s edge between quotation and plagiarism, and they are entitled to their opinion.  Works published prior to 1923 are there for the taking, and you can quote from them as much as you like without fear of reprisal because they now belong in the public domain. Just remember that nobody, not editors, not agents, not even readers, likes a copycat.                          

Dialogue is an acquired taste, and many authors are so uncomfortable with it that they use it very sparingly.  The standard dictate, and one that I hate with a passion, is to drop a line between speakers. Because this makes the text look choppy in extended conservations, you will notice that there are not a lot of extended conversations.  Authors use short sporadic sprays of it between blocks of text in subservience to the “rule”. I feel that people frequently have extended conversations in real life, and while every reasonable effort should be made to make things easier on the reader, they should at least be alert enough to notice when the quotation marks change which is the indication that someone else is speaking. So I don’t do the dreaded drop and have paid mightily for it.  In my opinion, the layout of the text on the page just looks so much better. This is an argument that I have most frequently lost while simultaneously being told that I should stick to poetry where anything goes. So be it; when you believe in something strongly, however, sometimes you just have to stick to your guns.

If your sole motivation for writing is to settle scores and embark on vendettas you may want to rethink your choice of media because, and I’m paraphrasing Faulkner here, if they are still alive and able to afford very good lawyers, they will come after you.  Political figures are fair game because they choose to step into the public arena. You can say almost anything you want about a member of Congress, or even the President and rest assured that someone else has probably said even worse with no negative ramifications.  That’s just how the game is played on the public stage, but private individuals who wish to remain private are another matter entirely. There are such things as liable and defamation of character, and if your derogatory words wind you up in court, know that anything could happen, and none of it will be good.  As my grandfather Krieg used to say, “If you can’t say anything good about a person, it’s better not to say anything at all.” These are words to live by. Lambast your despicable fictional characters to get things off your chest, but steer clear of the living breathing ones.

Once you have rewritten, revised, and polished your story manuscript to a bright shiny object you can now send it out there for the publishing world to either embrace or stab to death.  What do you need to know about the mechanics of submitting? Just one thing really, that being that there’s nothing to it but to do it.

You will need to know the difference between a cover letter, and a synopsis.  These represent the subtle nuances that make the experienced reviewer know whether you’re a seasoned pro or a rank amateur.  The cover letter acts as your introduction. And always remember that you will never get a second chance to make a good first impression.  Typos and misspellings are the absolute kiss of death here. Publishers are not given to handing out second chances, and the way they look at it, why should they?  For every book that makes it into print, there were hundreds, oftentimes thousands that were rejected. The competition to get published is insanely stiff. The staff at these houses become numb to it and they almost instinctively look for a way to thin the herd before it tramples over them.  Yes, you could be rejected solely on the basis of a weak, illogical, or sloppy constructed cover letter. Now for the bad news, that being that any cover letter over one page in length is taboo across the industry. Consider it as akin to a dance audition. The way the reader looks at it, you either have an acceptable level of talent or you quite simply don’t make the cut.

A synopsis, or summary, should likewise be no longer than one page in length.  If you are ever going to let it all hang out, now is the time. Synopsis’s are frequently equivalent to the come-on that appears on the back of a book cover, and it should accomplish the same purpose of closing the sale.  In one paragraph you must convey what the story is about, and in the case of fiction, not drop the spoiler alert of how everything ends.  

Next is the author bio, and lose all hope ye who enter here, because what do you do if you have no publishing credits and can’t prove that you’re qualified to write the piece in the case of nonfiction?  Under this kind of pressure you might be tempted to lie, but that would be a very big mistake. Take solace in the fact that most houses only want a 50 to 100 word bio, and embellish yours’ with even the smallest details.  If all you have is that you were the editor of your high school newspaper, then that’s what you go with. I’m frequently reminded of the Les Nessman bit on WKRP in Cincinnati where he is the perennial winner of the “Buckeye News Award”.  The big fish in a small pond routine worked for him – you go with what you got. Most publishing advice books advise only giving the names of five publishing credits. This is why I subject myself to the vagaries of literary magazines, just so I have them, although I must admit that I’ve worked so hard to get them that I list all nine.  Of course, publication in the New Yorker trumps publication in the campus rag of a party school in the Sunbelt states. Use your best judgment, and keep the more well known print journals on your list and let the online zines slip off it when the need arises.  

Houses and literary agents are enamored with author platforms which are built on establishing a following on social media, and/or by establishing a vast network of important contacts.  I am the least technically proficient person on the planet. I finally gave up my flip phone just last year. Luckily for me, there are some very generous authors out there in publishing land that will give me a “blurb” and that does seem to count for something.  Make no mistake about it however, at age 68, this is the last gasp of a boomer dinosaur. It’s the same old sales axiom: the more people you know the more likely you are to succeed. I know this comment has generational undertones, but younger writers, embrace what I find to be the celluloid nemesis and build your platform before you actually need it.  The days of the mid-list author going on a promotional book tour to newspapers and radio stations are over because the internet covers the same ground at far less expense. Welcome the convenience of the internet because print media has bowed to it, and that’s just the way it is. The only saving grace of book publishing is that many readers still enjoy physically holding one in their hands. It’s still a tactile experience, not a logical one – thank God.

In the nonfiction arena, houses and agents want you to submit a book proposal which contains all of the above (cover letter, synopsis, bio, platform) and to add a marketing plan.  A marketing plan, they say? If I truly knew just what that meant, I wouldn’t be struggling so. In truth, most authors are horrible at marketing, for if they weren’t they would go into self-publishing and reap all the financial rewards, rather than getting 10% to 15% royalties from a standard publishing contract.  The publishers and agents know this, of course, but what they really want to know is: is your head in the clouds or are your feet firmly planted on the ground? Solider on with it saying that you’ll go anywhere and do anything to sell the book. Regurgitate elements of your platform by stating that you will impose on anyone remotely significant or blessed with even the slightest bit of celebrity for referrals.  If you belong to any groups or associations that will support you be sure to mention that too. They will see through these efforts, like a shark smelling blood in the water, because it’s their job to; they just want to be reassured that you are willing to make these efforts.

Even when you try your hardest, stand on your head, crawl on bleeding elbows and knees; even then, you will suffer rejection.  The worst of it comes when the snootiness and snobbishness of some of reviewers pushes you to the boiling point. Never argue with mean-spirited editors.  Not only because there’s no advantage in it, but because if you do, they have gotten to you and have dumped whatever it is that has gotten to them directly onto you.  Don’t accept the curse and you’ll be happier and live longer. You can, however, present clear logical points when necessary, and for the sake of your sanity and self-respect, sometimes it is necessary.  Even at that, I have only struck back on three occasions in 31 years, and there is only one time that I didn’t and later wished that maybe I had. One young lady at a publishing house that will remain nameless wrote this concerning my proposal for Marijuana Tales: “First the Zombie Apocalypse, and now this?!”  It was obvious that she neither liked nor knew anything about marijuana, and just as obvious that she was goading me for a fight. So why didn’t I give it to her? Out of respect mostly. Her choice of words left me flummoxed to the point of speechlessness, and very few people have ever done that. She must have put some thought into it which I took as a backhanded compliment.  Yes, I could have politely written, “Was this really necessary, when a simple no would have sufficed?” But it wouldn’t have been nearly as good, and above all else I revere good word choice.  

Political correctness is infiltrating at the flanks of the industry.  One piece I wrote about the local Cahuilla Indians, inflamed a minority editor because he felt that I had no right writing about Native Americans unless I was in fact a Native American, even if the piece was complimentary.  Bill Maher, and even Hannity, for that matter call them “snowflakes”, but I feel that is unfair. I framed my argument around asking this editor: should Lincoln not have freed the slaves because he had no idea what it was like to be black?  Should FDR not have created Social Security just because he had no idea what it was like to be poor? The editor didn’t budge, but he didn’t turn it into a nasty pissing contest either. What had really gotten to me was not the separation along color lines but the fact that he had questioned my research effort as “suspect”, which it most certainly was not.  I stated that if he was to make such an accusation like that, he had better be able to prove it, or I would fight tooth and tong over the point until eternity. Sometimes you have to take up for yourself because no one else in this industry will. I accepted the rejection and moved on but not without sending along a piece about what it’s like to be old and white and completely dismissed as unimportant and irrelevant in a society obsessed with youth.   I sincerely hope he publishes the piece, but will harbor no hard feelings if he doesn’t because I made my point. Sometimes you have to meet passion with passion and he certainly has that in abundance which is good for the authors he is willing to publish. I’m hopeful that the work contained in his magazine will be better, and that’s all that really matters.

Suppose just for the moment that you have done it, you have gotten published. Now what? If you want to get published again you will have to take as a given that you have to improve.  Improve or parish is the mantra of the publishing business.

Once you finally get a book in print, if you really want to see how your work stacks up, employ the band theory.  Find a long table and lay out your book and what you believe to be similar books lineally side by side (in a band).  Open each book to any given page trying to be completely random, and then read only one paragraph on each page. Rank the writing in order of how it appeals to you from best to worst.  Even this extremely small sample size is very revealing. Some writers just have a better or more attention grapping vocabulary, string sentences together in a more pleasing way, and present thoughts in a more coherent manner.  It’s simply inherent in how they express themselves. Given the same subject matter, some writers are more entertaining to read than others. This isn’t really so surprising. Think of athletes where individuals may weigh exactly the same, be exactly the same height, and possess exactly the same strength, yet some are clearly better than others, sometimes significantly better than others.  Why? You’re asking me, the guy who always falls in the middle or lower on the band? It’s just the way it is, and if you were honest with yourself and fell lower than you wanted to on the band, you have the same choice that the poorer athletes have; you can quit or you can increase your practice time in order to get better. Only you can force you to stop writing.

Writing is hard work, and getting published is even harder, so why do we do it?  Because that nagging voice inside our heads won’t leave us alone. It screams at us to write.  To kill it would be to kill ourselves, so all we can really do is quite it. It’s in this quieting of the monster where those vanishing moments of serenity or occasionally sheer joy occur.   We live for the expertly crafted turn of a phrase, the sly play on words, the hypnotic rhythm and cadence that keeps the sentences merrily skipping along. Only we know of the pleasure we feel when we’ve hit our stride, that we’re in the zone if just for brief fleeting moments.  The only problem is that we want everyone else to know it too. Bask in my brilliance you fools, and if you don’t I’ll send along another piece, and then another ad infinitum until you do.

By John Krieg

From: United States