Welcome to this week’s installment of The Never-ending FAQ, a constantly evolving adjunct to our Submission Guidelines. If you have a question you’d like to ask about Stupefying Stories or Rampant Loon Press, feel free to post it as a comment here or to email it to our submissions address. I can’t guarantee we’ll post a public answer, but can promise every question we receive will be read and considered.
Today’s
question comes from Kevin, who asks:
“Seriously, do you really read every submission that comes in?”
Yes.
Oh, you want a longer answer? Okay, yes, I, Bruce Bethke, award-winning author, cyberpunk legend, ex-SFWA Board of Directors, etc., etc., etc., etc., personally read every story that comes into our submissions inbox. In doing so I am greatly helped by my innate ability to read incredibly fast, provided I am not reading for long-term retention or personal pleasure. When a story arrives here, the first thing that happens—assuming it gets through our anti-virus and malware filters; we still receive infected files fairly often, so keep your anti-virus programs up to date, folks—is that I read it, to answer one question: is this story worth passing along to my first readers?
This is as far as many submissions get. I have great respect for my first readers and want to use their time wisely. If a story is clearly, instantly, and obviously something we can’t use right now, or worse, something we would never publish even if we had infinite time and resources, there’s no point in giving it any further consideration. It goes straight from the inbox to the form rejection queue.
This “something we can’t use right now” is not a euphemism but a crucial consideration. In the past we’ve been burned badly by accepting stories we really liked but had no clear idea of how or when we’d use them. These days, I’m keeping a close eye on budget and space considerations. With SHOWCASE stories in particular, I’m trying to keep us to a very lean-inventory fast-turnaround model. If I can’t see how we’ll use a story within the next 60 days, out it goes.
In a genre where Tom Godwin’s “The Cold Equations” is a revered touchstone, it’s remarkable how few writers seem to realize that there’s a cold equation that applies to them, too. At present we run five SHOWCASE stories weekly. In a slow week, we receive ten new submissions. The flow is erratic, though. In busy weeks we can receive ten new submissions daily—but still only have the space and budget to publish five stories weekly.
To cut the list down from fifty candidates to five published stories requires some brutal decision making, and doesn’t leave much time for debate or writing personal rejections, especially as my goal is to get us down to having a one-week average turnaround time. Ergo, most submissions received will get no-comment form rejections. Because math.
§
As for rejections: please understand, just as we don’t buy authors’ cover letters, bios, or lists of awards and previous publication credits, we don’t reject authors personally. We reject the particular story an author has submitted. If you receive a form rejection, it just means, “Not this one, but maybe your next one.” We have had authors submit five stories in a row that only got a form rejection—but then their sixth story turned out to be brilliant, and we couldn’t buy it and publish it fast enough.
Then again, we’ve also had a very few authors who we had to ask to stop submitting to us, because their stories not only consistently missed the mark, they weren’t even on the right target range, and they showed no evidence of being able to learn from failure. If you’ve ever questioned whether the Dunning-Kruger effect is real, a few weeks spent reading unsolicited slush pile submissions will remove all doubt.
One more thing: if you receive a form rejection, please don’t write and ask for further comments. If I have anything to say that I think might help improve your story, I’ll put it in the rejection letter. If I think the story might be publishable if you changed this or that thing and would be willing to look at a rewrite, I’ll say that. If I think your story isn’t usable now but might be at some point in the future (this usually happens when stories have a strong seasonal element), I’ll say that, too.
If you receive a form rejection from us, it means, “Not this one. Send us something else.” That’s all it means.
§
If a submission survives its initial encounter with me, it gets passed on to our first readers. (I really should come up with a better name for them, as they’re actually second readers, but the name is traditional so we’ll stick with it for now.) In the past we had a really ponderous and complicated system we called the FSPRC (“Fearless Slush Pile Reader Corps”), but in hindsight I should track down and apologize to everyone who did first reading for us back then, as the practice bordered on abuse. People who volunteer to become first readers are generally idealistic souls who love reading fiction. Exposing them to the full unbuffered force of our daily torrent of unfiltered slush was just plain cruel. Most of the original FSPRC eventually quit, either from burnout or in disgust. A few didn’t say they were quitting, they just took a pile of manuscripts and disappeared, never to be heard from again.
Our first-reader system is simpler and more streamlined now. If I think a story shows promise, I pass it on to the first readers, and ask for their comments. If they don’t fall in love with the story right away, completely and enthusiastically, it goes into the rejection queue. If they have generally positive things to say about the story but feel the need to accompany their praise with serious qualifications and reservations, it goes into the rejection queue. If one first reader absolutely loves a story but the next really hates it…
Understand, this is not a democracy. The first readers are free to lobby for stories they really like, and it is possible to change my mind, but in the end, I make the final decision. I have rejected stories the first readers were unanimous in liking; pulled from the rejection queue stories the first readers were unanimous in disliking; and in split decisions decided this reader was right and that one wrong about a given story, but in the next split decision ruled the other way.
Which means, yes: if a story makes it into the final Accept? [Yes|No] folder, I read it a third time, this time very closely and critically, before deciding whether the story is something I want to present to the Stupefying Stories readers. Because ultimately, it is my reputation that’s on the line. I am the one who by publishing a story is saying, “Hey, this is good. I think you should read it.”
Therefore, throughout this entire process, one guiding principle applies, and it’s one I’ve tried to apply throughout my entire writing, editing, and publishing career.
“Your readers are giving you something very valuable: their time. You owe it to them to make the best possible use of their time and not to waste it.”
I wish I could remember who it was who gave me this advice so very long ago, but speaking writer-to-reader, it’s an idea that’s proven its worth without fail time and again.
When you submit a story—that is, when you are speaking writer-to-editor—you might also want to keep it in mind.
Once again, thanks for asking. Any more questions?
Kind regards,
Bruce Bethke
Editor, Stupefying Stories
P.S. And buy our books, eh?
Have a Kindle? Find out what you’ve been missing!
Buy the four latest issues with just one click!
(Or buy just one, if that’s what you’d really prefer.)
2 comments:
The Cold Equations? Or as it is also known "The Day Before the Filing of the Massive Wrongful Death Lawsuit Against the Starship Company that Bankrupted the Company"
Don't get me started.
Truly spoken like a lawyer.
P.S. Thanks for giving me the topic for next week's column.
Post a Comment