Young Writers
Published December 1st, 2009 | 
During the NanoWriMo, there was an almost unending stream of solicitations for donations to support that organization’s young writing program. You’d think that funding this program was mission critical as if was the most important achievement in the world.
You know what I just realized? There are literally thousands of these programs out there directed at teen writers. Thousands.
And they all act like the writers of the future won’t become the writers of the future if they don’t start out in one of these programs. What a fucking racket!
If you’re going to be a writing guru scam artist, the aspiring teen writer is really where the money’s at. All you’ve got to be a some random shitbird with a few dubious publication credits to your name. You go buy some rundown farmhouse or cabin at a sheriff’s sale, slap a coat of paint on the barn and call it a youth writing retreat or something. Personally, I think your average teen writer is better off taking a seminar in how to get rid of blackheads than waste a dime on one of these programs. Thing is, I don’t remember there being any of this garbage when I was in high school. When I started writing, it was just me, a notebook, a Smith-Corona manual typewriter and a library card. Oh, there were creative writing contests here and there that were for teens, but I don’t ever remember all these retreats, workshops and the like. When did this sort of thing become so popular? And Seeing as how, there is more arts funding at the state level for projects centered around teens and less for individual writers of genuine merit, I have to ask:what have these programs really accomplished? Are we really churning-out future Hemingways? Are these programs even turning out more teens who can pass the writing part of their statewide high school assessment tests?
Where is J. Jonah Jameson When You Need Him?
Published October 8th, 2009 | I know you must’ve been frustrated, but to me it would seem the more classless thing to do is to eviscerate the young guy on your blog, John!!! — John Boughn
Recently, on this blog, a somewhat controversial post elicited a comment that suggested that I have no class. Not the first-time, and I suppose I should feel insulted by this but, in truth, I’m strangely flattered. I’m certainly not the type of guy who feels comfortable in a tuxedo vest, if you know what I mean, but I’ll leave it to people who actually know me to decide whether I’m fit for polite society.
Part of the appeal of this blog — especially among that special group of readers who are themselves editors of literary magazines, is that I often say things about about my experiences as an editor that some of my readers would like to say themselves if they cared a little less about what others thought of them. I know lots of editors who will say things privately about writers that they’d never have the guts to say in public. If my willingness to do so makes me seem like a black hat to some readers, so be it.
It’s not as if the public perception of editors is inherently positive to begin with. Look at how editors are depicted in popular culture! In novels, films and even in comic books, editors are portrayed badly. They’re self-absorbed, petty, crass, bombastic, overly-critical, megalomaniacal and, usually, irredeemably classless. They’re never the heroes of the story. They’re usually portrayed as foils or buffoons. Most writers think editors are, at best, a necessary evil and at worst, the devil incarnate, plotting sinister schemes to thwart their creative pursuits.
The way I see it, it’s not my job to be a poster boy for the profession, um-kay. This blog’s main function is less about promoting that negative stereotype of editors than it is about demystifying what literary editors and publishers do from a certain point-of-view. If in accomplishing that task, I sometimes reinforce the negative stereotype . . . well . . . as I said, so be it. You’ll get no apologies from me.
As I’ve stated on a number of occasions over the years, if a writer doesn’t like my ways, they don’t have to submit their writing to me. If they choose to do so, they have to accept the consequences, which may well include a metaphorical roasting on a spit.
So far, after many years of doing this, the submissions keep coming, things get published and certainly people keep reading this blog despite the fact that I’ve never gone too far out of my way to encourage them to do so. All things considered,I figure I must be doing something right.
Damning With Faint Praise
Published October 1st, 2009 | Editing a literary magazine is not always very much fun. What fun there is usually comes with that all-too-brief warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction and pride the moment an issue is published. The rest of the time you are reading submissions from all kinds of writers from all points on the globe — everyone from distracted housewives and sexually-frustrated teenagers to college professors of arcane subjects and toothless, inbred motherfuckers who live in parts where they have to worry about motorhome insurance who wouldn’t know what a dictionary looked like if the sky cracked thunder and it started raining dictionaries. Submissions of varying qualities and styles, all in an effort to fill open slots in future issues. Most of the time that is a grind. Most of the time, what you have to read is mediocre, uninspired, garbage. Sometimes it’s even worse than that. And then, occasionally, if you are willing to sift through the refuse, something hard and shiny appears in the darkness — a story by a very young writer who you think, "Yeah, this is what I’m looking for." And in that moment, that fleeting, but familiar feeling returns.
Case in point: One Morgan von Ancken, a promising young writer who, just last week submitted a story that I’d decided to publish:
Dear John C. Erianne,
Enclosed, please find my story, "A Study of the Circular Velocity of a
Shooting Star," for your review. It’s an optimistic story about the subtle
way that life repeats, regardless of death, time, or page limits. I’ve
pasted it below, and attached it as a .doc to this email.I’m a 23-year-old writer and musician who lives in New York City. I studied
English at Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, NY, and while I have had numerous
pieces published in various student publications and blogs, this is the
first piece of fiction I have ever submitted to a literary magazine. I wrote
most of it in the back of my band’s van driving up to play a festival in
Maine, looking out the window at the stars, amazed at how bright they were
compared to the city.
I know it’s a leap of faith to seriously consider work from someone who
hasn’t been already published, so thanks in advance for reading. I hope you
enjoy the story.Cheers,
Morgan von Ancken
Admittedly, I didn’t decide to publish it upon my first reading of it. My first reading of it, I thought it more cubic zirconium than actual diamond, but found enough good stuff in the story that it merited another reading. The story grew on me and I read it a third time and decided I really did like the story and I liked the idea of publishing a story by a young writer no one had ever heard of before. So, I immediately fired-off an email accepting the story. von Ancken’s subsequent reply was unexpected to say the least:
Hi John,
That’s great to hear! I’m glad you enjoyed the story. If I publish it with
you, you get first rights and Internet archival rights, correct? I’m very
new at this, and I also sent the story out to a few other places. When do
you need my final decision by?Again, I’m very excited, and thanks for reading. I’m going to go buy some
new red shoes in celebration.Cheers,
Morgan
Final decision? What the fuck? There was a time, five or ten years ago, when I would have become so angry over such a response, I would’ve thrown a chair across the room and told this young writer to immediately go fuck himself. First of all, he’s telling me that his story is a simultaneous submissions — something he didn’t see fit to mention in his initial cover letter. Second of all, while he may be young, he expects me to believe that he’s so new to the process he really doesn’t understand when a publisher agrees to publish a writer’s work, that writer is expected to license certain copyrights to that publisher for that purpose? No, when a writer pulls this kind of crap, it’s a power-play. I read this, I’m thinking, this guy wants to have his cake and eat it too. He doesn’t want to grant me any exclusive rights to publish his story because he’s hoping for the bigger, better deal. He wants one of those other publishers to grab-up his story, but he doesn’t want to let go of a sure thing until he’s sure the other magazines have rejected it. I’ve been down this road before — usually the writer doesn’t even tell you it’s a simultaneous submission. Usually, they tell you right before the issue is to be published and they withdraw the story at the last minute.
This dude wants me to give him time. Time . . . well, as I said, there was a time when . . . . But I’ve mellowed somewhat in the past few years. Still, I’d have to be a half-wit not to see his power-play for what it was, so I gave him 48 hours to make up his mind — after which, he’d automatically lose his spot in the issue. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting blindsided a second time, have him pull the story at the last minute. I figured, he’d consider that the smart thing to do is agree to allow me to publish his story as a bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush. But, no, this was his reply:
Hi John,
Well, I thought about this [translation: I made up my mind the moment you accepted my story, but didn't quite know how to express myself], and I think that I need to see how the piece fares in the world at large [translation: I sent my story to more prestigious literary magazines than yours and I'd rather make my literary debut in one of them]. This may be dumb [translation: I know it's dumb and a bit of a gamble, but I'm a rather ambitious and calculating individual and I believe in order to win big, you have to gamble big], and it’s almost certainly a little arrogant,[translation: I think I'm a really talented guy and being as you seem to agree, I think I can do better for myself] but the truth is that I expected to hear from you months after I submitted, and your quick response caught me unaware[translation: in other words, you were my last choice and I thought I'd get accepted elsewhere before I'd have to deal with you]. I literally just mailed the thing off to a myriad of other print mags and online pubs.[translation: see previous translation.]
Once I start getting rejection letters, I’m sure I’ll be kicking myself.[translation: I don't really expect to get any rejection letters.]
Anyways, I’m obviously grateful for your consideration, and it’s incredibly encouraging to me that someone with such literary acumen enjoyed my writing. [translation: if you liked my story, I have to believe an editor with even more literary acumen than you will see my genius.] I also plan on submitting my future work to you (although whether you choose to read it or not is up to you). [translation: I don't really anticipate communicating with you again unless I actually do meet with lots and lots of rejection and have to lower my expectations accordingly and I do not expect that you will want to read my future stories . . . although, if I do submit again, I probably won't make the mistake of sending you a really, really good story since I might have to withdraw it, so I'd only send you stuff others have rejected, figuring you probably won't know the difference and would hope you can forget about the time I made a horse's ass out of myself at your expense.]
Hope you understand![translation: If you don't, I don't really give a fuck] Best of luck with the next issue. [translation: although it probably won't be as good an issue without my story in it.]
Cheers,
Morgan von Ancken
So, because I obviously wasn’t his first choice and because I was a little too timely in my response, I get penalized? He’s basically telling me to go fuck myself, but he’s just so cheery about it, it kind of makes my skin crawl. Talk about damning with faint praise! My "literary acumen"? Damn skippy! But that doesn’t mean you can use me as a litmus test just so you can peddle your story elsewhere. The fact that Mr. von Ancken seems to understand that he did something wrong makes his decision all the more disappointing. I have my doubts about him ever submitting another story to me as I have my doubts about ever reading another story written by him. It’s actually my policy not to read future submissions by writers who pull this kind of crap. If they’d do it once, you can’t trust them not to do it again and I really, really don’t like having my time wasted. Besides, if I wasn’t good enough to publish his story this time around — and him with no other offers on the table, then I’m not good enough to publish any future stories he might send me. For my part, I’ve already replaced his story with another one so on one level . . . no harm, no foul. But, on a deeper level I still feel like throwing a chair across the room.
Posted in Assholes, Authors, Happy Horseshit, Publishing, The Last Word, Wannabes, fiction, short stories