Tag Archives: themed anthologies

Professional Wednesday: A Rant About Rejections and Quitting

Anthologies from Zombies Need BrainsAs many of you know, I am once again co-editing an anthology for Zombies Need Brains, Joshua Palmatier’s speculative fiction imprint. This is my fourth year as a co-editor, and each year Joshua follows pretty much the same approach to publishing his themed anthologies. Each collection has about fourteen story slots. He chooses a set of eight or so anchor authors for each volume and runs a Kickstarter to fund all the anthologies, using those anchor author names to attract support for the projects. Once the anthologies have funded (and Joshua has a remarkable success rate with his Kickstarters) he throws open the anthologies for general submissions, having reserved six story slots in each collection for non-anchor stories. He pays professional rates for the stories, and he puts out sleek, well-curated, well-edited books.

This year the three anthologies are Shattering the Glass Slipper, Brave New Worlds, and my anthology, Noir. Joshua is co-editing only one of the anthologies, a bit of a change from past years when he has nearly killed himself editing two or even all three of the books. We get literally hundreds of submissions for each anthology, making the selection of six (or five or seven) stories incredibly difficult.

As the publisher, Joshua takes it upon himself to send out acceptance letters and also rejections. Of course, he also handles the contracts and payments. His is a somewhat thankless job.

Most years, the rejection letters are met with either silence from the rejected authors, or, on occasion, with a “Thanks for considering me, maybe next time” note in return. This year was much the same. Except for one note he received:

In it the author said they had decided that if their story was rejected this time around, they would give up on submitting anywhere. And then they congratulated Joshua for killing their nascent writing career.

This is so wrong on so many levels, I hardly know where to begin.

First of all, Joshua is as nice a person as you could ever hope to meet. He doesn’t deserve this shit from anyone, much less a thin-skinned writer wannabe who doesn’t know anything about writing or the publishing business. (More on that in a moment)

I should also say that Joshua is a class act. He told his editors about the letter, but he didn’t tell us the author’s name or which anthology the story had been submitted to. I have no idea if I read the story. I do know there is a good chance Joshua had nothing to do with the story’s rejection. Even if the story in question was submitted to the anthology he’s co-editing, the rejection would have been a joint decision between Joshua and his editing partner. Mathematically speaking, it’s more likely that another pair of editors rejected the story. Joshua was simply delivering the bad news in his capacity as publisher.

But in a way, that ignores the galaxy of larger issues raised by this note. None of us editors is responsible for killing this person’s writing career. The author of the story is solely responsible for that. They are the one who chose to base their writing future on the fate of one story. They are the one who decided that one more rejection would be enough to make them give up. This was not a career murder. It was literary suicide.

A moment ago I called this person “a thin-skinned writer wannabe who doesn’t know anything about writing or the publishing business.” Maybe that sounds harsh. Too bad.

Writing is hard. Rejections are part of the business. I have been writing for more than a quarter century. I’ve published more than twenty-five novels and at least that many short stories. I have won awards, been a convention guest of honor multiple times, had fabulous reviews. And I still have my work rejected all the time. It. Is. Part. Of. The. Business. Yes, rejections suck. And upon receiving one I give myself a bit of time to be upset, angry, sad, whatever. An hour, maybe two. If it’s a big project and a publisher I really wanted to work with, I’ll give it a day. Then I pull up my big-boy panties and get back to work.

That’s what professional writers do. Chances are if you’re reading this, you’re a writer. You’ve been rejected. You’re still working. Good on you. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

Writing is not for the thin-skinned. Chances are, if a writer can’t take rejection, they can’t take criticism either. And if they can’t take criticism, they can’t work with an editor, which means they have no business being a writer in the first place.

The author of that obnoxious note has obviously not enjoyed much success as a writer. It’s pretty clear that this was the culmination of a string of rejections. I’m sorry for them. Truly. As I say, rejections suck and a bunch of them can be discouraging. And I can even see where, if these rejections have been spread over a span of several years, that could be enough to make this person give up. It’s almost enough to make me sympathetic. Almost. Because then we come back to the part where this person blames Joshua for ending their career.

Look, writing is not for everyone. Maybe you’re reading this having just been rejected yourself. Maybe you’re thinking of getting out of the business as well. I would say to you two things. First, try to remember that a rejection is not always a final judgment. Sometimes it’s a step in a creative negotiation, an indication that your story just needs a bit more work, a bit more polish, a tweak of a character or plot thread. Sometimes it has nothing to do with the quality of your story and everything to do with the other stories in the anthology and the particular slot in the collection the editors wish to fill.

And second, always remember that your reaction to rejection is a choice. You can choose to give up. You can choose to take it personally and flounce away. Or you can choose to see it as a challenge to improve your submission, or write a stronger tale next time around.

Whatever you choose, remember this: No one can make you quit but you.

Keep writing. Or don’t. But take responsibility for that choice.

Professional Wednesday: Submitting To Our Newest Anthologies

Thanksgiving is upon us, and the year is winding down. But for those of you who write and who are looking for publication opportunities, I want to point out that the open call for short story submissions for this year’s Zombie Need Brains anthologies — Brave New Worlds, Shattering the Glass Slipper, and, Noir (which I am co-editing with John Zakour) doesn’t end until December 31st. You still have plenty of time to submit stories to us.

As I have done in the past, I wanted to offer a post on things to do and consider when submitting short stories to any market, but ours in particular.

Let me start with the most obvious thing. ALL fiction markets — publishers, agencies, journals and magazines, as well as anthologies — have submission guidelines, known in the business as GLs. The guidelines for Zombies Need Brains anthologies can be found here.

GLs are called guidelines for a reason. They are not suggestions. They are not there for you to follow or ignore at your whim. They are requirements. If you ignore the guidelines — ANY of them — chances are your story will be rejected out of hand, without having been read. Why? you ask. Because editors are mean and arbitrary. Ha ha. Just a little editing humor for you there. Well, not really. We ARE mean and arbitrary. But we have good reasons for establishing GLs and wanting to see them followed.

Each anthology ZNB publishes begins with a set of anchor authors, writers you know, people with readerships, who have already agreed to write stories for the collection. Anchor stories usually account for seven or eight of the fourteen stories generally found in each anthology. The remaining stories, six or seven of them, are reserved for stories submitted through the open call.

DERELICT, edited by David B. Coe and Joshua PalmatierLast year, I co-edited Derelict. We received more than four hundred stories. The year before, I co-edited Galactic Stew. We received more than four hundred stories. The year before that, I co-edited Temporally Deactivated. We received more than two-hundred and fifty stories. Again, these are submissions for a total of six or seven slots.

We have guidelines because reading all those stories, and looking for the ones that are of the highest quality AND that will fit the anthology, is hard work. And one thing that makes it easier is having all the stories look the same, with clear fonts, standard margins and spacing, and professional presentation. If the stories come in looking the same, if the stories are all easy to read, we can judge them strictly on the basis of their quality. And this is exactly what YOU want us to do. The last thing you want is for us to reject your story without ever reading it. Think about those odds I just gave you. Even with Temporally Deactivated, which received the fewest submissions of the three I have co-edited, we only accepted 2.5% of the stories we received. With the more recent volumes, the acceptance rate was under 2%. With all those submissions coming in, we are, of course, looking for great stories (more on that later), but we’re also looking for reasons to weed out submissions, to help us get through the piles of stories we have to read. You don’t want us to toss your story because you sent it in a difficult-to-read font, or because you single-spaced when you should have double-spaced. You want your presentation to be professional and correct. You want us to judge the story on its merits, on the great characters you’ve written, on your gorgeous prose, on your scintillating narrative.

GALACTIC STEW, edited by David B. Coe and Joshua PalmatierAlong similar lines, ZNB anthologies are themed, which means that all the stories are about something in particular. Galactic Stew was about food. Derelict was about abandoned or lost ships. Noir is about detectives, in SF, fantasy, horror, or paranormal settings, investigating mysteries. As with the GLs, anthology themes are not suggestions. We’re not saying “If you feel like writing about detectives, feel free, but we’ll take any story about anything.” We’re saying, “For this anthology, we want detective stories with a speculative fiction element.” I can’t tell you how many stories we get that have nothing at all to do with our theme. I CAN tell you that we reject every last one of them. If you send to a themed anthology open-call a story that is off theme, it will not be accepted. Ever. Full stop.

Okay, so what are we looking for? How do you write a story for us that has a chance of being accepted. First, let me say this: If your story is on theme, and if you followed the GLs, we might still reject your story, even if it’s good. Hell, even if it’s great. We always have stories we love that don’t make it in. Think about those numbers again: four hundred submissions; six or seven slots. There’s no way to avoid this sort of disappointment. So do not take a rejection as an indication that your story is bad. It may be that we had a similar story that was simply a shade better. Or it may be that your great story was too similar to an anchor author’s story. Or it may be that we had too many fantasy stories and needed an SF (or vice versa).

But to give yourself the best chance, you want to be creative, different, attention-catching. We’re looking for detective stories in a noir-voice, so we expect a certain number of tropes. But we want to see those tropes turned on their heads. We want unusual mysteries, populated with intriguing, non-traditional characters. We want beautiful, clean prose. We want stories that make us think, that grab our attention on page one and don’t let go until the final passage. We want stories with suspense, or with laugh-out-loud humor, or with emotional power, or, best of all, with all of these things.

This is vague, I realize. The things I’ve told you NOT to do, are much clearer and more concrete than the things I’m telling you TO do. Because the best stories are the ones we can’t possibly anticipate. Often, we don’t know specifically what we want until we see it. We want to be surprised, just as we want the readers who will eventually buy the anthology to be surprised. And so I can’t tell you exactly what to write. But if you’re passionate about the story, if in some way the twists and turns of your story surprised you while you were writing it, if you’ve got something that you believe is different from anything you’ve read before, chances are you’re on the right track.

Best of luck. Remember, the submission deadline is December 31.