Q: How do you decide where to submit your writing?

"...with any submission strategy, it’s good to define for yourself what your goals are."

Welcome to our weekend conversation!

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In a recent open discussion thread, there was a request for me to describe my experience submitting and eventually publishing a personal essay. The essay is called “My Father Calls Me, Wondering About His Car. It was published in BULL Magazine in Fall 2024.

I’m happy to talk about my process.

First, I think that with any submission strategy, it’s good to define what your goals are. This came up in a recent Lit Mag Chat session. A writer asked the most simple (and perhaps important) question of all: How should I decide where to send my work?

The answer to that is, it depends. What is your goal in publishing your work? Is it validation? Are you hoping a literary agent will encounter your writing and take an interest? Are you in the career-growing phase, where it’s important to have prestigious publications on your resume? Do you just want a place that will showcase your work beautifully, so you can share it with others? Something else? All of the above?

Your goals might change with each piece you write. They also might change throughout the submission process. You might have no clear goals at all, other than getting your work published in great places. Or, you might have one specific goal all along.

The first place I submitted my essay to was The New York Times Modern Love column. My goals were wide readership, a nice presentation for the work, and having the work in a venue that is well-respected. I thought the piece could be a good fit here because a) it’s about love, b) it’s about my grappling with a moral/existential problem, c) it’s a true story, d) it is within their word limit.

I also thought it might be a longshot for this column. I thought this because a) they get 8,000 submissions per year, and b) while my experience is important to me and unique to me, I have a feeling that dementia and caring for aging loved ones (the subjects of this essay) are oft-covered topics, ones which these editors have likely seen a lot of.

Nonetheless, I hoped. I did not submit anywhere else right away. This was my top choice. Publication in this column is competitive, prestigious, and provides a huge readership. The New York Times has 6.5 million subscribers. Agents read it. Books have been launched from Modern Love columns. Readers all over the world read this column.

Crucially, for me, the audience for this column extends beyond the literary world. With this piece in particular, I fantasized about the essay touching several people who were important to me and my father, particularly at the end of his life. I imagined his friends, caretakers, distant family finding the piece as they had their Sunday morning coffee.

Alas, it was not to be. The New York Times rejected the piece about two weeks later.

So, where next?

I browsed other mainstream outlets as possible markets. But many of these are so slathered in advertisements that the work can be hard to read and too often feels beside the point. I decided against this route.

I set my sights on lit mags. When deciding where to submit, here are some criteria I use:

• Is it currently open for submissions? (Duh.)

• Is the word limit right for my piece? (Also, duh.)

• Will the piece be published online? (I, personally, do not submit to print-only magazines. There are many that I admire. But I’ve had too much work drown within a journal’s print archives, never to be seen or heard from again.)

• Is the magazine prestigious? (I typically start with journals on Clifford Garstang’s list and Erika Krouse’s list. I also look at Chill Subs’ database, which can be filtered according to lit mag tier.)

• Is there a theme, either in a specific issue or in the magazine overall, that my work can tie to?

• Will my work be presented in a way that looks good? (I’ve avoided submissions to prestigious online lit mags upon seeing light gray font on a white background or other features that make the work difficult to read. This is surprisingly common.)

Other criteria might matter to you. In recent months I’ve heard from writers who ask additional questions.

• What is the journal’s response time? For some, waiting longer than three months is a show-stopper. (Duotrope lists average response times for magazines.)

• Does the magazine nominate for awards (Pushcart Prize, Best Of series, etc.)? Typically this information can be found on the magazine’s site.

• Do I agree with the magazine’s ethos? As it is increasingly common for lit mags to make political statements of one form or another, writers appear increasingly inclined to make submission decisions based on a magazine’s stated views or lack thereof.

With my own criteria in mind, on March 28th, I submitted to eleven lit mags: Brick, The Sun, MQR, Prairie Schooner, The Georgia Review, swamp pink, Missouri Review, Blackbird, Ninth Letter, New England Review and Ninth Letter.

On May 9th, both Ninth Letter and New England Review declined the piece with standard form rejections.

These particular rejections were interesting. You might have noticed that five weeks is very fast to hear back from two prestigious lit mags. This could be standard. Both these magazines do appear to have relatively swift response times, according to Duotrope.

However, what also happened is that on May 9th, I posted a piece here about my father’s passing, “Let Me Tell You About My Dad.” This piece was read widely, and the beautiful comments from all of you were ones I cherish to this day.

A few hours after that piece went live, I received the rejections from Ninth Letter and New England Review.

This could be just a coincidence. If not, it might seem callous. (Who reads something about someone’s father dying, then immediately finds that writer in their submissions queue and, within hours, rejects their piece about their father?)

In fact, though, after the initial sting, I saw these rejections in a different light. Assuming they did actually read the piece here about my dad (which I will never know for sure), I did not see these rejections as callous at all. Sometimes, rejection is a courtesy. A swift rejection is especially so. It may not always feel that way. But I felt that’s what this was. They were freeing up my work so I could carry on.

I heard from Missouri Review next. I’d had hopes for this journal because we had read it in our Lit Mag Reading Club and I thought some of their published essays sounded tonally similar to my own. There is a plain-spokenness and sincerity in their pieces that resonated with me.

Alas, they also declined, though with a personal note that was so nice and compassionate I all but melted to a puddle on my office floor.

At some point along the way I also submitted to J Journal. I admire what they’re doing and I like how their work is laid out visually. I thought my piece might fit into the magazine’s theme of justice. I also knew that Editor Adam Berlin has a recent book out that “is about men and…the underside of trying to live up to male tropes.” I don’t typically try to track down what editors write, as I don’t think it necessarily reflects on what they seek to publish. In this case though, I thought it might.

They too responded quickly with a No, though they also sent a kind and thoughtful rejection letter.

One quick comment about these personal notes from editors. Some of you might be wondering if my zoom interviews grant me any special connections. The answer is No. I think these personal notes have more to do with the very personal subject matter of this piece. Editors are nice (for the most part). They’re human. (I’m pretty sure.) Besides, I get form rejection letters all the time from editors I’ve interviewed. Which is fine. Frankly, that’s how it should be.

So then. Onward we march.

In June I got antsy. I grew tired of waiting, especially when the odds of rejection with elite lit mags are so high.

It was then that one of you that helped me out. In one of our weekend Lit Mag Brags, one of you mentioned BULL Magazine. I’d been aware of this journal from a long time ago, though it had been off my radar. Hearing about it again, I took a look.

This magazine met my criteria in that it is:

• online

• dedicated to a theme that fits my subject matter

• simple, elegant, easy to read and navigate

• long-standing, with no clear signs of imminent closure

Is this magazine a “top-tier” journal? Well, it’s not even listed on Erika Krouse’s or Clifford Garstang’s lists. Duotope reports an acceptance rate of over 50%. Compare that with New England Review, which accepts less than 1% of submissions. (Keep in mind, though, these numbers are based only on what people report to Duotrope, not any stats reported by the magazines themselves.)

I would not consider this magazine to be “top-tier.” Nor would I consider that especially important to me.

This is what I mean when I say your goals might change over the course of submitting your work. Yes, it’s great to have a piece in the most prestigious, most well-known, most highly acclaimed lit mags. But is it worth waiting six months, nine months, or even a year or longer to hear back? Maybe. Maybe not. To me it wasn’t.

I heard back from BULL within 24 hours of submitting. As I’ve said before, theirs was one of the most enthusiastic, encouraging, and definitely fastest acceptance I’ve ever received. Since sharing this news, I’ve heard from many others who’ve had similar experiences with BULL. They seem to have a reputation for quick response times and excited, heartfelt acceptance letters.

Another thing I’d like to share about this magazine is that they posted the work soon after acceptance and responded immediately to a formatting error I brought to their attention. These considerations are also on my list of criteria, though it can be hard to know the answers before you get work accepted. Still, it’s worth taking note of:

• What is the turnaround time from acceptance to publication?

• Will the magazine fix formatting issues? (I’ve had work in online journals where to this day the editors have not responded to my requests to fix errors.)

If your work appears in a print-only magazine, you might also want to consider:

• Do contributors get free copies? Copies at a discount?

• Will it be easy to obtain copies? (One lit mag lost track of a check I sent them so that I repeatedly had to follow up to obtain contributor copies. This isn’t a deal-breaker by any means, but it can be nice to know.)

And that’s it! You submit, you learn, you recalibrate, you take note, you step forward, you fall back, you hone your instincts, you keep going.

Now, what about you?

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Do you identify goals beyond the publication of the work itself? (Landing an agent, reaching a certain audience, getting nominated for anthologies, etc.)

What criteria do you use when deciding on lit mags? What did I forget?

Do your goals change over the course of submitting work?

Do you give the more prestigious lit mags a “head-start”?

Please share.

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