In the meantime, if you write spec fiction that includes lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and/or queer themes, characters, etc., Crossed Genres is looking for your short story submission. Here’s the link:

LGBTQ Issue guidelines and details from Crossed Genres

Go get ‘em, tiger!

In an ironic twist, I probably never would have known about this EXCEPT for a dust-up about advertising; another SFF publication turned down Crossed Genres’ ad because of the “sexual content” — on further discussion, turns out the editor wants to support traditional marriage for procreation or something, which this issue would obviously ruin for everybody. [end of sarcasm]

For the curious, here are the details of the dust-up.

such as

I love your story
Please send more soon. But only
ones without vampires.

and

liked your writing
but I didn’t get what was
with the big robot

Their levels of warm and personal to cool and impersonal (to restraining order style) rejections are fairly similar to what I’ve heard and seen other magazines do (in discussions I’ve had with a few readers/editors, and in gathering my own slips o’ doom), so I think this is useful beyond just submitting to this particular publication.

I read with some interest the discussion about Sarah Palin firing and then rehiring within a day the city librarian (among other city employees) as a “loyalty test” while Palin was mayor of Wasilla, Alaska (population: 4,600 at the time). You can read the detailed facts at the bottom of the post, but my writerly mind is much more interested in how that conversation, in which the librarian had to convince Palin that she supported her, might have gone…

SARAH PALIN VS. THE WASILLA LIBRARIAN:
A SPECULATIVE FICTION

Palin: Mary Ellen. So glad you could come.

Librarian: Well, now that I’m unemployed, I have lots of free time.

Palin: Yeah. (smirks) About that.

Librarian: What’s this deal about not supporting you? Is this about the hockey team’s bake sale?

Palin: …

Librarian: Because I told you I could only make two dozen bar cookies.

Palin (giving her an almost pitying look): This isn’t about cookies, Mary Ellen.

Librarian: Then why? I’m a librarian, for crying out loud!

Palin: I suppose you’ve already forgotten about prom.

Librarian: Sarah, we graduated fifteen years apart.

Palin: I was on the decorating committee. Ring a bell?

Librarian: What–?

Palin: We asked you to find us some photos for us. It was a Caribbean theme, remember?

Librarian: But I gave you the call numbers–

Palin: We asked for photocopies, Mary Ellen. Color photocopies. And you said–

Librarian: Sarah, really–

Palin: You said it wouldn’t be an appropriate expenditure of library funds.

Librarian: Color photocopies are expensive. We couldn’t just–

Palin: It was for the HIGH SCHOOL! It was a SANCTIONED EVENT!

Librarian: I’m sorry you’re still upset about it, but what–

Palin: I just want to know one thing, Mary Ellen.

Librarian (totally flummoxed now): What’s that?

Palin: If I come in there and ask for some photocopies for city council
meeting, or a fundraiser, or a bake sale, or my second cousin’s third
child’s baptism, what are you gonna tell me?

Librarian: Sarah is this really–

Palin: WHAT are you going to TELL me?

Librarian (defeated): I guess I’ll tell you, you’re the mayor.

Palin: And?

Librarian (cringing): And…go right ahead.

Palin: So glad we cleared this up, Mary Ellen. Now why don’t
you get back to work?

Librarian: You mean–?

Palin: Yes, you’re hired again. But don’t forget.

Librarian: I – I won’t.

Palin: And I don’t want to see any copies of Mother Jones or
The Nation lying around in the reading room either, you
understand me?

Librarian: Uh, right.

Palin: Mayor of forty-six hundred people is a big responsibility.
I don’t need some overeducated egghead undermining my authority.

Librarian (backing slowly away): No, no.

Palin: You probably took just four years to graduate from college,
didn’t you?

Librarian (really scared now): Well, I…that is…

Palin: Forget it. Now get out of here before I change my mind.

The Librarian FLEES. DICK CHENEY appears from behind the curtains
in a deer stalker and a quilted hunting jacket.

Palin: How’d I do?

Cheney: I gotta tell you, Sarah, you remind me of a young Nixon.
With tits. No offense.

Palin: None taken. Dick.

Cheney: Give you a few years to make an impression, and I can really
see you going places, kid. Now, how about we go bag us a moose?

PALIN grabs a RIFLE from the rack over her desk. They EXIT.

The End

THE FACTS

from the nonpartisan site FactCheck.org:

One accusation claims then-Mayor Palin threatened to fire Wasilla’s librarian for refusing to ban books from the town library. Some versions of the rumor come complete with a list of the books that Palin allegedly attempted to ban. Actually, Palin never asked that books be banned; no books were actually banned; and many of the books on the list that Palin supposedly wanted to censor weren’t even in print at the time, proving that the list is a fabrication. The librarian was fired, but was told only that Palin felt she didn’t support her. She was re-hired the next day. The librarian never claimed that Palin threatened outright to fire her for refusing to ban books.

…

Palin initially requested Emmons’ resignation, along with those of Wasilla’s other department heads, in October 1996. Palin described the requests as a loyalty test and allowed all of them (except one, whose department she was eliminating) to retain their positions. But in January 1997, Palin fired Emmons, along with the police chief. According to the Chicago Tribune, Palin did not list censorship as a reason for Emmons’ firing, but said she didn’t feel she had Emmons’ support. The decision caused “a stir” in the small town, according to a newspaper account at the time.

From the “newspaper account at the time” (Anchorage Daily News, originally run 2/1/97):

[In the termination letters] the mayor told them she appreciated their service but felt it was time for a change. ”I do not feel I have your full support in my efforts to govern the city of Wasilla. Therefore I intend to terminate your employment …” the letter said.

Palin said Friday she now feels Emmons supports her but does not feel the same about Stambaugh. As to what prompted the change, Palin said she now has Emmons’ assurance that she is behind her. She refused to give details about how Stambaugh has not supported her, saying only that ”You know in your heart when someone is supportive of you.”

…

The actions have caused a stir in Wasilla, a town of about 4,600. City Councilman Nick Carney, who has been an outspoken critic of Palin, said he received several calls at his home Thursday night and Friday from outraged citizens.

The sudden personnel shift is part of bigger problem of mismanagement in the city, he said, and may prompt a recall petition.

…

Emmons, who has been the city’s library director for seven years, would not comment about the affair.

I know of one job seeker who has a Ph.D. in English, publications including a scholarly monograph, many years of college teaching experience, a recent MLIS, and substantial preprofessional library experience. She sent out nearly 200 applications over an 18-month period before being offered a professional job as a reference and instruction librarian. (my emphasis)

That’s an average of 3 applications a week for a year and a half, folks. Having gone through the process of applying for several jobs in academia, I can tell you that doing that many applications in that period of time actually decreases the likelihood that you will be called for an interview and get the job.

Why? Because to be successful, you need to tailor your materials to the job you are applying for. Each job will require a slightly different CV, and probably a fairly different cover letter, different teaching materials, etc. If you don’t do that preparatory work, you will not get the job; you will probably not even get an interview.

This is an interesting phenomenon with carryover to the writing submissions process. Submitting work is partly, but not only, a numbers game. Writers need to send out work, probably to many places, in order to find a home for it, but we also need to do our best to find the venues where that work fits. In other words, it’s also a matchmaking game – and it’s very difficult to be a matchmaker for your own work. (This is why literary agents exist; unfortunately, you have to do your own matchmaking to find an agent, and to get your work published in magazines and journals.

So who will be more successful:

• a writer who sends out 200 submissions to journals all over the country (some of which she may even have read),
• a writer who sends out 20 submissions to magazines that seem like they’d be a good match based on what’s on their web sites, or
• a writer who sends out six submissions to journals she has read (all the way through, multiple issues)?

I know where I’m betting my time and energy.

This is from her book, The Freelancer’s Rulebook: A Guide to Understanding, Working With, and Winning Over Editors, which is a great for those writing magazine articles on a freelance basis, but also helpful for insight into the minds and attitudes of editors.

Anyway, the Rule of Twelve is basically that, generally speaking, if you are writing high quality work and sending to places that are appropriate, you’ll get one “yes” for every twelve (or eight, or fifteen, or whatever) queries you send out. Magazine freelancers typically send queries rather than the whole article, and if the editor likes the idea, they’ll ask for the completed story. Poets, fiction writers and essayists send out the completed work for a yes or no, but the principle still holds. Even for literary geniuses.

What this means to you: Set your Expectations Appropriately. If you are only sending out three or four submissions a year, you will get published in…a couple of years. (I know, there are exceptions, but chances are, even if your first submission is a “yes,” you’ll then have a long dry spell waiting for the next yes.)

For poets, fiction writers and essayists, this also means: look for magazines and journals that accept (grudgingly or not) simultaneous submissions. With six-month response times, you could be old and gray (or older and grayer) waiting to hear back to send out that particular story or batch of poems to the next place.

Question for you: If you are actively submitting work and are willing to confess, does the “Rule of Twelve” seem correct (and helpful) to you? How do you deal with the “numbers game” part of getting your work published? (The fact that even with good, polished work, not every editor says yes, and sometimes they say no for reasons that do not have to do with the quality of the work you’ve sent.)