Diary of a Mad Editor

Archive for October, 2007

A Trip to the Wood Shed is Not Out of the Question

I guess I’m a glutton for punishment because, don’t you know dear readers, I was back lurking on The Gaz again this morning. I clicked on a random discussion and lo and behold, more editor-bashing. A bunch of poets whining about publication guidelines, response times — you know the usual garbage writers complain about. One post, in particular, caught my eye — a post entitled, “Submissions Guidelines for Editors,” by a poet named Robert Schechter. This piece of happy horseshit pretty much sized up what I automatically believe writers think about editors in general and why my own submission guidelines are so brutally explicit. But let’s see what Bobby-boy has to say, then we’ll discuss it point-by-point:

Submission Guidelines for Editors

1. Simulaneous Submissions

You may consider other poems for publication while you are considering mine, but please inform me immediately if you decide to publish another poem.

2. Best Work

You understand that not everything I write is my best work, but that, by the same token, you are not the best magazine. Accordingly, you understand that I will send you merely adequate work, from time to time, as befits the status of your publication.

3. Translations

If you accept a translation of an original poem that is not in the public domain, you will be responsible for securing permissions and paying any fees. I am not your personal secretary, paralegal, or assistant, and it is up to you to take care of all administrative matters.

4. Contributor Copies

I will not accept just one contributor copy. Since you will certainly have at least three or four hundred copies left over when you fulfill all subscriptions and special orders, the least you can do is give contributors four or five copies for their efforts.

5. Rejections

You need not offer critique along with any poems you reject, since I am not looking to you for lessons but for publication only. Under no circumstances will you put solicitations, advertising or promotional material into the envelope. I did not give you the SASE so you could send me junk mail.

6. Consideration of My Work

While considering my poems, you must agree (a) to unfold the paper so the entire text is visible, (b) to turn off the television and/or the radio, and (c) not to be engaged in conversation.

1. Simultaneous submissions. I believe I’ve said plenty about this practice in the past but I guess it always bears repeating. The reason editors do not like simultaneous submissions is simple: They lead to simultaneous acceptances. What happens to the editor who accepts something then is told he can’t use it? He has a hole to fill in his publication. This can be a minor inconvenience or it can be a major disaster depending on how much work that editor has done on an issue and how close to the publication deadline he is. It’s unfair to the editor, but more importantly it’s unfair to the other writers who are in the issue because the extra aggravation on the editor’s part causes delays. Then the other writers write an email to complain and the editor is expected to drop what he is doing to placate them. This is bad enough when a writer follows proper procedure when simultaneously submitting work, it’s all but unforgivable when the writer doesn’t bother informing the editor in the first place that it’s a simultaneous submission and the editor is blind-sided. That Bobby-boy would make a cutting joke out of the this says something about his low character. Having been burned by writers in the past, I can assure you it’s not funny.

2. This one kills me, because I’ve known from the beginning of my tenure as an editor that when an otherwise publishable writer submits substandard work it’s a form of insult. See, I read other ezines and literary journals. I’m well-versed on who they publish and the quality of the work they publish. When a writer sends something to me that’s not on par with other items I’ve read by that writer in other publications, I know he’s telling me that he doesn’t think much of my publication or my credentials as an editor. And you know what? I’ll reject that son of a bitch without reservation or hesitation, I don’t care who they are or who they think they are. And if they continue to submit work and it continues to be substandard, I’ll keep on rejecting them until they show me some goddamn respect — enough respect to send me something I’m not ashamed to have within my pages. The point isn’t what that writer thinks of my publication and the quality of his own work. The point is what I think of my own publication and the quality of his work. I figure it this way: If he doesn’t respect me, what’s my respect worth to him. And besides, isn’t part of an editor’s job to challenge writers to be better writers? Am I wrong?

3. I think the point is, I’m not your secretary, Bobby-boy. It has always been the responsibility of writers to obtain necessary permissions, licenses, whathaveyou prior to publication. It has never been and never will be the job of the editor to do this.

4. Bobby-boy, since you have absolutely no clue what it costs to run even a modest publishing enterprise, allow me to educate you: it costs a nice chunk of change. Most of us don’t make a dime from publishing nobodies like you. At the risk of sounding trite, it is a labor of love — although it’s a lot like loving the wrong kind of woman, if you catch my drift. Don’t kid yourself. Those of us who pay in contributor’s copies pay what we can afford to pay — and how many copies you get is determined by just that. We have to at least recoup our investment to live to publish another day. If we gave extra copies to every writer beyond what is economically sound we wouldn’t stay afloat very long. Ask any small press publisher who has been way too generous that way — oh wait, you can’t because none of them are still around.

5. Well, I can’t speak for other editors — I myself have never included “junk mail” in with rejection slips. And to be honest, as a writer, I can only recall a few editors over 20+ years who have done that to me. However, so what, that’s what trash cans are for. As for providing feedback, whatever you say hoss, but I’ve read some of your poems and maybe you’d benefit from a few lessons.

6. I don’t even know what I should say about this one. It’s just too fucking ignorant. The implication that we lowly editors are so cavalier about reading your submissions that we allow ourselves to be distracted by the least diversion. It’s an insult, no doubt. For the record, I don’t even answer the phone while I read submissions. It’s numerous encounters with egocentric nutsacks like you that made the “mad editor” mad to begin with.

The thing is Bobby-boy, all any editor owes you is a fair read of what you submit. Nothing more. Nothing less. Unless that editor specifically asked you to submit in the first place because he really really likes your poems, you are just another member of the slush pile, deserving of no more than any other member of the slush pile. You are not special. You are not a shooting star. And if you don’t like the way things are done — start your own damn literary journal and let’s see how long you last among the sharks. Because it’s a whole different view from this side of the desk.

I Gonna Beat This Dead Horse Until I Make Me Some Sausage

As I’ve stated in a previous blog entry, I like to occasionally lurk on discussion forums “eavesdropping” on idiots. So, yesterday, after returning from my daily walk, I was lurking on The Gazebo, reading through some old posts and I came across this conversation between a group of poets about a particular editor (not me, my dears) who had reacted negatively to a poet who withdrew a poem that had already been accepted. I gathered the reason she withdrew the poem was because she’d sent it elsewhere (several elsewheres) and had it accepted by another publication she deemed more worthy than the publication that first accepted it. She tried to salvage the situation by pulling a “bait and switch” — submitting lesser poems to replace the one she’d withdrawn. Since the editor was close to deadline and was not terribly pleased to release a poem she’d accepted in good faith, she more or less declined to play footsie with the poet. The poet thought the editor was being unfair. Of course this lead to the discussion — more like a witch burning — in which several poets consoled the poor poet for being so ill-treated. One poet even had the nerve to rant: “Where do editors get off thinking they’re doing us a BIG favor by accepting our work?” Or something to that effect. I’ve discussed this topic on this blog on several occasions — both the etiquette involved in simultaneous submissions/acceptances and the attitude among writers that they are doing us greedy editors a favor submitting their work. I guess I’m not done discussing these matters, because obviously no one’s getting the message.

It doesn’t really help that the poet who spurred this discussion, the one who had the problem with the editor is someone I’ve published in the past. And even though she wasn’t talking about me, I took the matter personally. As I recall, she was a royal pain in the ass when I dealt with her, so I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that she’d have problems with another editor and be on The Gaz badmouthing her.

My dear poets and writers, you are not doing us editors a favor by submitting your work. In the best of circumstances, it is a symbiotic relationship. We, hopefully, have good material to fill an issue and you have, if not monetary gain, at least some good exposure and a legitimate publication credit to pad your precious C. V. with. In the worst of circumstances, we ARE doing you writers a favor. Take it from a guy who is battling cancer, folks: your writing ain’t gonna cure cancer. We editors aren’t getting rich, fat and happy publishing largely unknown writers who routinely whine and crybaby on discussion forums about what ogres we editors are. And, just for the record, it’s not my job to wipe your rear-end and bake you cookies. So get over it already.

And as for withdrawing a poem after it’s been accepted — especially so close to a publication deadline is just not right. There is a protocol for simultaneous submissions. You must inform the publications you submit work to that it is a simultaneous submission and once it is accepted, you must inform every other publication that the work is no longer available. What you don’t do is wait and see if the really, really important literary journal accepts it, then inform the poor ezine editor that she can’t use it after all. An acceptance is a contract. It’s a matter of honor — yours, dear writer. Me, I don’t have to publish you. I don’t have to read your submissions. But you have to write and you want to be published. If you keep making a horse’s ass of yourself, sooner or later, you will become persona non grata among those you send your work to. And guess what, dear writers, we editors talk about you guys too.

I’d Sell Out in a Heartbeat If Anyone Was Buying

There are basically two distinct groups of small press writers: those who believe that writing for purely commercial gain is beneath their divine calling to the writing arts and those who are all about the money, who even believe that bestsellerdom and international fame are just a chapbook away.

The second group may have unrealistic expectations, but at least they are honest about what they want. The first group is being dishonest — lying to themselves and lying to others about their true desires. While it’s true that no real artist does what they do purely for mercenary reasons, it’s also true that no sane person would turn-down a nice fat monetary reward if it was in their reach.

Yet, the small press has largely become a warehouse for both groups of writers. There are hundreds of the delusional “I’m going to be the next big thing” writers. Self-important, self-absorbed pipe-dreamers who act as if their literary molehills of failure are mountains of success.

And there are hundreds of the whiny, equally delusional “commercial success is beneath my art, but the reason why I’m misunderstood and unknown is because the big publishing houses publish crap and are conspiring against me” writers.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. Sure, big media is more interested in the almighty dollar and synergy and all that crap. And sure, they publish more mediocre garbage than literature of genuine merit. Gone forever are the days when editors at the big publishing houses took young writers under their wing and cultivated their talent and helped them build a career. But those whiny bitch writers who spend their days shaking their fists at big media will never find a sizable audience for their art in the small press that a big publishing house could provide them. It ain’t going to happen. And that’s not because of some secret conspiracy perpetrated by Random House or HarperCollins. It’s because the small press is small and the writing for the most part is not mainstream — at least not to the point where it would appeal to most readers. Another thing: how many small press writers actively support the small press? How many of them have a personal library made up solely of small press books. Most of those writers only support their own little clique so the small press never really grows or changes much and the writers never reach out beyond their own circle. The small press and its devotees are just as narrow in their view as the big press is, albeit for different reasons. And that’s kind of sad because there are some good writers and good quality publishing outfits within the small press community.

The bottomline is that none of us, regardless of what we say to the contrary, would pass up real tangible success if we could achieve it. So, as small press writers let’s be honest, shall we? Be happy with your lowly status or do something real to change it. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.