gayforwowIt’s summer and toodling through various writing sites this week, I remembered that August kicks off  ”Submission Season,” the time when college literary types head back to school and brace for the mudslide of submissions coming their way.

I’ve been writing for years, but I haven’t always subbed with any consistency.  In the old days of  “No simultaneous submissions,” I’d send a piece to one venue and then wait three to six months before the postman delivered an SASE with my returned story.  Clipped at the top would be a  slip of  paper addressed to “Author”  followed by the cryptic message, “No thank you.  This piece does not suit our current needs.”  Okay.  So.  I’d rewrite the story (I can always find something to fix, change, deeper, scrap) and send it out to the next lit mag on my list.   And wait another six months. 

There were so few places to submit, it took so long to hear back, and I was so unsure of my abilities that it was tough to stick with the writing, to have the sense of progress.  While writing groups and writer friends can do a great deal to help someone come into his or her own, it is the relationship with the market that produces professional writing.

The submission process is better now.  With the advent of the internet, online literary and genre magazines, email, and submission software, there are fewer trips to Staples for envelopes, less waiting in line at the post office, and even better, a real possibility for dialogue between author and publisher, even if such a relationship consists of nothing more than several submissions and several rejections in a row.  The time between sub and NO is usually shorter than it used to be and that alone makes learning the craft much easier for new and emerging writers.

A while back, I decided my goal for the year would be to get 100 rejections. Yes. I know. That’s weird, but if I’d called my goal  “To Get Published,” each rejection would mean failure.  While I had limited power over an editor’s choices, no one could stop me from writing and submitting.  So I played a trick on myself.  I changed the language.  By making “rejection” my goal, I could not fail.  The power shifted to me.  

Quality was in my power too.  Even if my goal seemed to be negative, what would be the point of writing lousy stories?   I had to make them the best stories I could.   Then if a piece was rejected,  I’d be one story closer to my goal 100.   If it was accepted, I’d open a bottle of champagne.

The goal of 100 rejections forced me to write more often, with more commitment and awareness of what professional writing looks like.  After writing, editing , polishing, and submitting one story, I have learned to write another story and another and another.  This is a good thing.  I don’t have time to sit around to see if the first 5 or 10 places reject me. I have more rejections to apply for!  

So I write a new story and send it to 5 or 10 other magazines.   It encourages me to write with purpose and to submit to the best market for each piece.   And the more I write, the better I get. 

Maybe I won’t make my 100 rejects per year.  I haven’t yet, but that’s not my goal.  Not really.  The jig is up.  I’m onto myself. 

And while getting published is certainly a wonderful result of all that work, it ‘s not the goal either.  I’ve been published and it’s very cool.  But writing is really about–oh, dear, I’m going to sound like an American Idol contestant–the journey.  What turns out to matter is learning the craft, becoming aware of what works and what doesn’t, acquiring skills, and allowing imagination and passion to find the page, and maybe someday writing something really good. 

Here’s to Submission Season!  I hope I get to open a couple of bottles of bubbly this year too.

 

To read Gay Degani’s stories online, visit her Words In Place blog.