I submitted an article to Writing Magazine at the start of the year and received an email back very quickly to say they liked it and wanted to keep hold of it for when they had a suitable gap. And I've just had confirmed that it will be printed in the November edition, which is extremely gratifying.
A lot of my focus so far this year has been on editing my first novel and finishing the first draft of my second. When I completed both over the summer, I planned to take a break from writing altogether for a few weeks, to recharge and enjoy the lack of deadlines. But what actually happened was that I wrote every day for over two weeks and produced a ton of new stuff.
That intensive creativity has dropped off now, and I’ve mostly been writing reviews for the last few weeks, with only bits and pieces of fiction here and there. What I think happened was that, once released from the obligation of working primarily on huge and complex projects, my brain decided to celebrate its freedom by coming up with loads of ideas for little pieces of a kind it hadn’t been able to produce for a while.
This coincided with me discovering Black Hare Press and Fantasia Divinity, both small presses that regularly publish collections of drabbles. Given a theme and a required word count of exactly 100 words, I went to town and produced over twenty of these little gems in very short order. I’m subsequently going to be included in four upcoming anthologies.
When I’m writing short fiction, I do love a theme and a word count, and I’ve got very good and tailoring ideas to specific lengths. It turns out that crafting a story into exactly 100 words comes quite naturally to me, and it’s tremendous fun.
I do now want to start working on some slightly longer stories as well. Finding a middle ground between drabbles and novels would be good! But I’m definitely going to continue producing drabbles when opportunities arise and I’m grateful to have discovered them at the perfect time when I really needed something quick, easy and fun to do after finishing (temporarily) work on the novels.
There was an article in Writing Magazine some time ago about The Authors’ Licensing and Collecting Society, suggesting that all published authors should sign up and log their publications on the website. So I did, not really knowing what it was all about.
The ALCS collect money for ‘secondary uses’ of writers’ work – such as photocopies, cable retransmission, digital reproduction and educational recording. Now, I don’t understand what most of those things are, or why they would apply to the paltry number of publications I’ve managed to log on the site.
Whenever I get something published, one of the things I now do is log it with the ALCS. This requires providing the name of the publisher, the title of the work, the ISBN of the publication and the date it was published.
They then do whatever magic investigations they do and collect fees from people who are using that work for the purposes listed above.
The ALCS website says:
“For many members, we’re a mysterious organisation that sends them a payment every so often. Some even find us secretive. Yet for others, the reality of where the money comes from is possibly too detailed. There are even potential members who think we’re a scam — until their first payment arrives.”
As they were featured in Writing Magazine, I knew they weren’t a scam, but I had no real idea what they did and how it might benefit me as a writer. But it was only £36 for lifetime membership, which would be taken off my first payment, rather than as an up-front fee. So I figured why not?
Then, last week, based on the fifteen works I currently have registered on the site, I received my first statement. And it was over £400 - after the ALCS had taken their 9.5% cut and the one-off membership fee!
I was flabbergasted, not least because this is about four times what I was actually paid in total for the first publication rights of those stories! Even having read the statement, I have no idea where this money has come from (it was listed mostly as “reproduction of journals”). But I’m certainly not complaining.
So, if you’ve had anything published in the last few years (I think it has to be logged within a certain amount of time to be eligible), sign yourself up. You never know what might come out of it.
Mysterious they may be. But the ALCS can have their 9.5% and gladly. Keep up the good work!
I am now officially a reviewer for Fringe Guru, which reviews as many shows as possible at various fringe theatre festivals throughout the year.
My first review is here.
And I'm going to be reviewing throughout The Vaults festival at Waterloo over the next couple of months, with a stint at Edinburgh planned for the summer.
One of the most important pieces of advice for writers submitting their work for publication is - read the guidelines really carefully and follow them to the letter. It may seem petty and unfair to be penalised for using the wrong font or being a few words outside the word limit. But the quickest way to get rejected is to fail to follow the guidelines, as this gives the editor a very easy way to whittle down what might be an impractically large submission pile.
Up until this past weekend, I thought I had always been ultra careful in paying attention to the guidelines and making sure my submissions fit the bill. It’s very tedious reformatting pieces and preparing the relevant accompaniments, and it takes an inordinate amount of time, but I’ve always figured it’s the price I have to pay for my reasonably high acceptance rate.
Six months ago, I sent in one of my best pieces for an anthology that seemed like a really good fit. The response time quoted on the website went past and I’d heard nothing. I waited a few more weeks in case they were behind in letting authors know about selections, but still nothing. Eventually, I marked it off on my submission spreadsheet as a rejection and sent the piece somewhere else.
Yesterday, I woke up to the following email regarding the original submission:
“This is a beautiful piece. I dearly loved it. I was re-reading it and preparing to send you a rejection. However, I just can’t. So if you are up for it, I think this is a strong story.
That said, due to length, I’ll offer you the option of 2 cents a word and a share in the anthology or an outright $25. Your call. Beautiful work.”
I experienced several emotions upon reading this. Joy and excitement at the prospect of seeing my story in print. Annoyance and guilt that I would have to contact the other publisher to remove the piece from consideration. Confusion and bewilderment at the reference to potential rejection, the length of the story and what was presumably a reduction in the offered pay.
I checked my submission spreadsheet and saw that the requested word count for this submission was “300-5,000 words”. At 650 words, my story is certainly short, but I was confused as to why it wouldn’t get the same pay as any other submission, because it was still within the word count window.
I was telling a friend about this over breakfast and he suggested that perhaps I had made a typo when adding the submission opportunity to my spreadsheet, and that it was likely the required word count was actually “3,000-5,000 words”. And then it all made sense!
The agonising of the editor over a piece he professedly loved. The mention of the length. The offer of a lot less remuneration than had been advertised. It’s no wonder the poor guy was torn, since I had sent in a story that was a good 1500 words too short, based on those all-important guidelines! What an idiot!
But, in this instance, I’ve really lucked out because of my mistake. Because I dearly love this story too, and it suits the anthology it’s going to be printed in so well.
So, the moral of this story is - don’t follow the submission guidelines and it may work out in your favour? I’m not sure I can endorse that message, as editors all over the world would hate me for it, and I’m pretty sure that 999 times out of 1000, it’ll land you straight in the rejection pile regardless of how good your writing is.
But, maybe an honest mistake occasionally deserves to have good consequences. I can certainly live with that.
And besides, as Captain Barbossa says, the code is more what you’d call ‘guidelines’ than actual rules. Right?
This month, I’ve had a very good reminder of the value of submitting work for publication.
There was an anthology I was very interested in subitting for, and I came up with what I thought was a good idea for a short story, which might fit what they were looking for. I brainstormed the story early in July, then wrote the whole thing while on retreat at the start of August.
Then I posted it for critiques and received my requisite three responses. As usual when I request critiques, the reaction to my story was varied.
One reviewer loved it but had a few suggestions for tightening up the language and making the plot a bit clearer. I took these suggestions with gratitude and make the required changes to the story.
One reviewer didn’t understand the story at all. They asked a lot of questions about what was going on, and suggested it needed a lot more clarity in terms of what all the characters looked like, where exactly they were and how the various aspects of the story connected together. In this particular story, I was being deliberately vague in certain respects, wanting the reader to put their own interpretation on events. When I do that, I often get critiques where that approach doesn’t work for a review, and that’s fine. Not everyone is going to appreciate my style.
The third reviewer caused me to think I might have to do a complete rewrite. They liked the idea and praised the writing in general, but said they thought it needed a lot of work, because there were no real obstacles for the protagonist and it all worked out way too easily.
Now, I have to admit I had thought that might be a problem myself when I wrote the first draft. The arc of the story was very clear in my head, but the details were not and when I wrote it, I did feel it was perhaps a bit too light on conflict. But I persuaded myself that the lack of obstacles actually served the message. I decided the story was about a situation where the only barriers to finding out the truth were in the protagonist’s mind. So, once he started asking questions about his situation, all doors were open to him.
I don’t know if my subconscious planned that to be the case, or if my brain just took the easy way out when I was writing. But that was the story I had, and there wasn’t time before the anthology deadline for me to rewrite it completely.
I decided to submit anyway - because, why not?
I didn’t have anything else to submit for the anthology, and I could always add the story to my revision folder and rewrite it for a different submission at a later date, if it was unsuccessful.
Then, last week, I got an email from the anthology editor, saying:
“We are delighted to inform you that your piece has been chosen for inclusion in the book….
We are so excited about the material we've collected for this book, not the least being your piece, and we can't wait for you to read it and share it!”
Regardless of whether or not my intentions for the message of the story were conscious or not, the editor of this anthology clearly thinks it works and is worth publishing. And I can’t wait for that story to see the light of day, because I really like it and I’m pleased it has found a home with people who appreciate it.
So, today’s lesson is: if you have a deadline looming and you would be happy for your submission piece to be published in the state it’s in, even if it might be improved by more work at a later date - submit it! There’s no harm in sending it in, and it might even be accepted.