You have just received a response from flashquake, but the message is just another anonymous rejection. Is your immediate reaction that these editors just don't get it with my writing? Well, remember the advice of James Cozzens that, "If you find a lot of explaining necessary, something is wrong with your material." A good story opens up a door and announces that it has arrived.
You take a second glance at the rejection and although the commentary on your submission is rather negative, the realization occurs that someone (actually two or more people) actually read it and, bless their determination, reread it. Gee, you think, maybe I should study these comments (conflicting point of view, unbelievable premise, pretentious style, and so on) and reedit this story yet again. If the above is your reaction, then you have just improved as a writer.
As the guest editor for this edition of flashquake I found the majority of the submissions that I read just plain awful. I labored. I said "no" so many times I thought I might audition for the ubiquitous Capital One commercial presently on TV. I worked against my own predisposition to reject a story because when I started reading each story I desperately wanted to say "yes." Unfortunately, the "yes" came too infrequently and I was reminded of Rupert Brooke's admonition, "Easy writing makes damn hard reading."
Here then, in no particular order, are some guidelines for writers. Ignore them at your peril.
Always use a spell checker. As Joan Daugherty, the editor of Artisan, noted once, "USE A SPELL CHECK!!!" (Her capitals and exclamation points to indicate she's screaming.) Here are several examples from recent submissions to flashquake: "dinning" for "dining," "jncos" for "juncos," "dieing" for "dying," "crustaecions" for "crustaceans" and "grautin" for "gratin."
If principle, time or inclination prevents you from using a spell check, reread rule one. Spell checkers aren't infallible. Proofread the story. As Roger Paris, a former story editor at flashquake said, "Before the rules of craft can be broken, the craftsperson must have a thorough understanding of those rules." It would seem authors would know how words work but here are some more errors from recent submissions: "beacons" for "beckons," "straight" for "strait," "door way" for "doorway" and "maybe" for "may be."
Don't give editors the opportunity to reject by waving stop sign flags. Christa Walters, at the Potomac Review, maintains that "self-indulgent whining disguised as 'art'" would be immediately rejected. She also said that "a difficult childhood" isn't automatically interesting. Although it sounds soulless, Michael Wilson, a former guest editor at flashquake remarked that he "eliminated stories because of a mistyped word…and eliminated others because of a word used incorrectly." Did he mean just one word? Yes.
Do give editors a new angle on common experience. An editor at the Wisconsin Review admits that "sad cancer stories" need a "fresh angle."
Crush clichés like ants at a picnic or at least attempt to reinvigorate them. As Mark Mallet of Prism International advises, "clichés are an immediate turn off." Use strong verbs. Editor Bastien, at the University of North Carolina, advises writers not to lose editors "in all the adjectives, metaphors and similes." Steve Hirsch at HeavenBone rejects "hackneyed ideas with no language craft."
Editor Manley at Rain Crow Publishing has an easy question for a good story: "Is this something we would like to read again?" As you edit your submission — you do edit, don't you? — does it get better each time?
Don't take it personally because we readers don't have the foggiest idea as to who you might be. As Michael McCluskey, a former guest editor at flashquake remarked, "The process of selection is blind, only one editor knows the names of the authors."
Lastly, did you notice how I kept referring to former editors at flashquake? Before you sent in your story, did you check their guidelines?
So, I wish you the best for your writing success. Remember, the writer is on a journey and as Doris Lessing remarks, "There is never anywhere to go but in."