I wrote a flash fiction piece for the online journal, Joe + Gigs.
Joe + Gigs is an ekphrastic site: all stories are in some way about paintings. For no reason at all (other than I’d given myself about an hour or so to write the piece), “This Country” was inspired by that famous dogs playing poker painting series . . .
Tickets: $20/$15 PEN/Museum Members and students with a valid ID | Buy tickets »
Going to AWP, the massive conference for writers? I’ll be there with Guernica at Table P12, Plaza Level Exhibition Hall B.
How AWP describes itself:
Each year, AWP holds its Annual Conference & Bookfair in a different city to celebrate the authors, teachers, writing programs, literary centers, and independent publishers of that region. The conference typically features 550 readings, lectures, panel discussions, and forums, as well as hundreds of book signings, receptions, dances, and informal gatherings. More than 10,000 writers and readers attended our 2012 conference, and 600 exhibitors were represented at our bookfair. AWP’s is now the largest literary conference in North America. We hope you’ll join us in 2013.
Look for the Guernica banner, hopefully towering over all. It’s our logo:
Alix Ohlin’s Guernica short story, “Casino” has won a Best of the Net award. An annual award given to the authors for the best ficiton to appear on the Internet, this is another honor for Guernica. Read the story. Then buy the book, The Best of the Net, 2012.
If you’re in New York City, stop by our”Salon,” at Solas on the 17th.
The Facebook invitation is here:
https://www.facebook.com/events/148576175292010/?ref=22
I wrote this brief memoir piece called “Most of This is True” about my life in Charleston, South Carolina during the 1980s: nightly parties, filth and despair, people having orgies on my living room floor, a roommate who stabbed me in the hand, and this:
“I noticed that Craig was hogtied to the chair and had peed in his pants. The chainsaw that had been painted flat black was at his feet.”
We try to have at least 30% unsolicited fiction in Guernica, meaning we get a lot of our fiction stuff from the slush pile.
In fact, we’re about to publish our FOURTH publishing debut this year.
I believe in doing this because my own writing has been published from the slush. And someone once took a chance on me.
And I think many published writers are no better than the unpublished. It’s just that once a writer has been published (and lauded by someone) their fiction is given a great benefit of the doubt. I wrote about all of that that before, here and here.
But the trouble with slush from an editor’s point of view: we don’t know you.
If you have typos in your cover letter or if you don’t follow the submissions guidelines, we don’t trust you. We think you’re not a careful writer—that means you’re not a committed one; you’re an amateur. That means we will bail on you.
More on that at Gabrielle Edits. That means:
1.) Read the guidelines.
2.) Re-read the guidelines.
3.) Follow the guidelines.
4.) Read the magazine to see if you’d fit in. If you don’t—don’t submit your story. Editors remember names. We remember the fools and the rude people most of all.
5.) Don’t assume you know the magazine. (Example: Guernica is NOT looking for political fiction: did you know that? You did if you read the guidelines. And you could have also figured that out, if you actually read the magazine.)
6.) Shorter stories are easier to place than long ones. It’s less of a commitment for an editor. Just a tip.
7.) But if you read the Guernica’s guidelines, you know that we’re not looking for flash fiction (not because we have anything against it—in fact, I write it myself). Flash just isn’t our mission. We publish INTERNATIONAL FICTION.
8.) Pay attention to your cover letter. Don’t be rude. Don’t treat me like I’m your servant. If I’m in a bad mood because of your sloppy, condescending note and your story isn’t the best I’ve ever read, I’ll reject. Why? Because in my slush, there are maybe 50 stories as good as yours. It’s likely that you’re a better writer than I am, sure. But it’s also likely other writers are better than you.
9.) Don’t try to go over my head. Jerks often try that. And jerks are more likely to be rejected.
10.) Understand the marketplace as best you can: it’s tough; that’s the short answer.
11.) And again: FOLLOW THE GUIDELINES. FOLLOW THE GUIDELINES. We love unpublished writers. We dislike amateurs. That means: FOLLOW THE GUIDELINES.
I just finished a guest-edit of a magazine and it’s got some of my best nonfiction writing in it. And the people I got to also write?
Wow.
The magazine comes out in December. Hint: the magazine is concerned with art and culture. My bailiwick, in other words.
I can’t wait.
No one who was in New York on 9/11 will ever forget that day. I still well up when I think of the firefighters a few doors down from me and how they lost half of their crew.
Even now, images from that day come back unannounced. All I can do is allow it all to wash over me.
I wrote about some of what I saw and felt 11 years ago in a blog post for Guernica during the “Ground Zero Mosque” controversy, two years ago.
The piece was a bit controversial. I was vilified on Twitter. But there you go: the price of doing business.
For years, I made sure that Guernica ran at least one story, every two weeks.
Doing that worked well (very well in fact, we won many awards and published many top writers). But—and this was important—there were so many other stories we couldn’t publish because just didn’t have the space.
But now that’s changed: now we publish at least two stories, every two weeks, for a minimum of four stories a month.
This issue: fiction from Jamie Quatro; a story from evangelical America. A man suffering from depression gets an “anointing” of sacred oil.
And “Debriefing” from E.C. Osondu (who we’ve published before when he won the Caine Prize for African Writing). E.C.’s story is wonderful: it’s advice for illegal immigrants from Nigeria on how to make it here.
