Five Ways
Subscribe to my newsletter and get a free story!
Share this:

Response Times and Professional Magazines

Yesterday I withdrew a story from a market because we were starting to near the one year mark, and the couple of queries I’d made all got the usual “It’s in the queue, we’re swamped, just a little longer” reply. I don’t mind waiting a little longer, but I do mind when it gets used to keep you going for months.

So that’s cool, and no hard feelings over them having sat on it a while. I end up withdrawing a story for similar reasons once every couple of years. But here’s the reply I got regarding the withdrawal:

Thanks for the note. Your story is officially withdrawn from our reading queue. One thing you might want to consider in the future is that pro markets take a lot of time. So I’d tailor a story for a certain market and then move on while you wait. That’s what Bradbury and Matheson and all those guys do. Some pro markets such as Cemetery Dance take up to two years. So that’s why I say. But the credit one receives when they break pro is worth everything. I hope this helps you future endeavors. You can send along something else in the future when we reopen for subs in [identifying information redacted]. Just make sure it’s a different story as I don’t accept stories that have previously been withdrawn.

Some pro markets do take up to two years, but it’s darn few of them. Most of the professional magazines are professional; they get stuff back to you fast. Even without e-submissions, Gordon Van Gelder manages to wade through swamps of rejections and still return them in a timely manner. Sure, Tor.com is slow, but given that they pay five times as much as most, I’m willing to give them five times as much time in which to reply. Asimov’s, Analog, Lightspeed, Clarkesworld, Fantasy Magazine, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Strange Horizons all pay professional rates and yet manage what is apparently a highly unprofessional rapid reply rate.

We got 550-600 subs a month towards the end of my tenure with Fantasy, and I would have felt terrible making people wait over a month, let alone more. And I’m going to say, this particular rejection is a great argument for form rejections, because the patronizing tone here really put me off, plus this is TERRIBLE advice for a new writer. Write what you want to write, not what you think a magazine wants to see.

I dunno. Maybe the editor is working off a different definition of professional than I use.

7 Responses

  1. Couldn’t agree more. I cannot think of a single pro market for short fiction that feels it is OK to hang on to a submission for a year, let alone two. A good number of the so-called semi-pro (based on smaller payment, not necessarily quality) are just as speedy in their editorial decisions. My last sale to one of those markets, a highly respected UK magazine, had a 30-day response time from the editor. The layout spread and payment arrived within another thirty days. We’ve all had a few incidents where a story languished for a very long time, but they’re the exception, thankfully. (I personally strongly dislike it when an editor or publisher holds a story for eight months or longer and then sends a form rejection — if they held the story that long through a cut or two I think they owe the author some concise feedback.) And yes, writers should always write the stories that inspire them, and not attempt to imitate stories they read in F&SF or Clarkesworld in hope of making an easier sale. Good luck with that strategy.

  2. Oddly enough I got a very similar note recently, and the wording was only slightly different. I decided to give the editor another couple of months, but perhaps I made the wrong decision. Many thanks for posting this. If the 1-year mark rolls around without an answer, I’ll withdraw the story.

  3. This editor doesn’t seem to be very abreast of the field, either, given (a) you’re hardly a newcomer and (b) as you mentioned, several highly respected pro markets have very timely turnaround, including the big 3. An editor so unaware of today’s oft-published authors and his competition would turn me off permanently.

  4. Naw, I can’t fault anyone for not knowing who I am, there’s plenty of short story writers out there and I have only been publishing for a few years.

    But they -should- know better than a) equate long reply time with professionalism and b) to assume a submitter has never made a pro sale. The latter is just plain condescending (imo).

  5. Well, I’m pretty new to the field — just started submitting professionally in December — but I’ve done my reading, and I have an idea who the established names are in the field. Okay, you’re not Bradbury or Matheson, but if I ran a magazine, I think I’d be keeping up with what was being published elsewhere. Seems like good business sense to me, knowing one’s market. Heck, just a visit to this website’s “Fiction” page would have told the editor you’ve published in many of the leading magazines over the past five years, and hardly need advice on “breaking into” the field.

    I agree wholeheartedly on both your points.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Get Fiction in Your Mailbox Each Month

Want access to a lively community of writers and readers, free writing classes, co-working sessions, special speakers, weekly writing games, random pictures and MORE for as little as $2? Check out Cat’s Patreon campaign.

Want to get some new fiction? Support my Patreon campaign.
Want to get some new fiction? Support my Patreon campaign.

 

"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."

~K. Richardson

You may also like...

Teaching Blogging

I just sent my scheduler in to Bellevue College last week – I’ll be teaching the Writing Fantasy & Science Fiction class again this spring as well as the Blogging 101 class. I’ll post the dates for that when I have them in hand.

With both classes, I’ve gone through my notes, getting them together. With the blogging class I’ve been using a new online tool I saw mentioned during the great “Yahoo is getting rid of Delicious!” flak, Trailmeme.

WIth Trailmeme, the central metaphor is “trails” of links, which you can annotate. So I’ve used the outline from my Blogging class to collect my Delicious links on the topic. Here is the Blogging 101 “trail”. A cool feature of Trailmeme is the ability to discuss links – please feel free to make suggestions and/or forward the link to the trail along to people who might find it useful. I know a lot of those links are ones I’ve frequently referred to and often continue to use.

One of the reasons I’ve gone to that trouble is that I’m pushing a couple of consulting services next year, and one of them is a critique of your blog or website talking about its current structure and organization, its search ranking and strategy, how you might use it more effectively, how you might be using social networks, and directions you might want to take it in, based on what a student gets out of that class. For $100, you get a 500 word write-up. If you want to go more in-depth, contact me and I’ll give you an estimate.

...

WIP: Teaser From "Red in Tooth and Cog"

This is what I’ve been working on today. It’s a lot closer to being done that it was.

This is how Renee lost her phone and gained an obsession.

She was in the park near work. It was a sunny day, on the edge of cold, the wind carrying autumn with it like an accessory it was trying on before settling for it for good.

She set her phone down on the bench beside her as she unfolded her bento box, levering back metal flaps to reveal still-steaming rice, a quivering piece of tofu.

Movement caught her eye. She pulled her feet away as a creature leaped up onto the bench slats beside her, an elastic band snap’s worth of fear as it grabbed the phone, half as large as the creature itself, and moved to the other end of the bench.

The bento box clattered as it hit the concrete, rice grains spilling across the grey.

She’d thought it an animal at first, but it was actually a small robot, a can-opener that had been greatly and somewhat inexpertly augmented, modified. It had two corkscrew claws, and grasshopper legs made from nutcrackers to augment the tiny wheels on its base that had once let it move to hand as needed in a kitchen. Frayed raffia wrapped its handles, scratchy strands feathering out to weathered fuzz. Its original plastic had been some sort of blue, faded now to match the concrete beneath her sensible shoes.

The bench jerked as the robot leaped again, moving behind the trash barrel, still carrying her phone. She stood, stepping over the spilled rice to try to get to the phone, but the leaves still on the rhododendrons thrashed and stilled, and her phone was gone.

Enjoy this sample of Cat’s writing and want more of it on a weekly basis, along with insights into process, recipes, photos of Taco Cat, chances to ask Cat (or Taco) questions, discounts on and news of new classes, and more? Support her on Patreon..

...

Skip to content