Allow me begin at the beginning. I’m a writer, although that avocation has taken a backseat to my current role as publisher and editor of Brigit’s Temple Fiction Magazine. I know the struggles and anxiety that most writers suffer as they pour themselves onto paper only to receive an impersonal, curt note wishing them better luck with another publisher.
I’d watched the demise of magazines and the conglomeration of publishers shrink the market for writers to a pitiful few, creating a bottleneck of ‘The Hopeful Undiscovered’ all trying to squeeze into the few opportunities left. At the same time, as a consumer of modern fiction, I found the shelves and magazine racks crammed with the same old names with the same old, often deteriorated, styles of the name-brand who continue to sale more on their laurels than on the quality of the current offering.
As one who firmly believe in doing something rather than complaining, I summoned all of my hubris and optimism and charged forth on a mission to start a fiction magazine of my own.
Starting out on my own, with my own money (mind you that I’m living paycheck to paycheck and my husband is unemployed), I set forth on my mission. My goal, to provide a paying market for writers and artists, and to showcase them to the world. No problem, right? After much calculation, I figured the maximum I could pay was 1/4 of a cent per word, and one contributor copy. I promised myself--and in so doing, the future contributors,--that as soon as I possibly could I would increase the pay to pro levels. That was a few months ago. As I suspected, finding quality fiction was not difficult. I once read on Marion Zimmer Bradley’s web site that she wished she had as many subscriptions as she had submissions. In a month I had filled the fiction slots in three and a half issues.
Working from the opposite side of the editor’s desk, I truly understood for the first time all of the articles I’d ever read by editors. In this first month, I must admit, I have already begun to build the callouses that editors develop, and which are often mistaken for a jaded outlook. What has astonished me the most has been the authors themselves. My own experience as a writer never prepared me for such a wide range of encounters in so brief a time.
Some writers, bless their souls, have endured several rounds of revisions. I half expected a few to give up after the first couple rounds, but they stuck with it, never complaining (not to me anyway). I’ve aganized over rejections, having felt their sting myself. I’ve seen every cover letter tactic I’d ever read about, some friendly, others pleading, and even a few hard-nosed ones that a inform me what rights they are willing to sale and at what pay-rate they expect with an insistence on a speedy reply. (All the more surprising when their list of publications include only a few small or non-paying magazine—if any at all).
I’ve even had three encounters which have truly surprised me. One writer refused to make two tiny revisions, and withdrew the story. (That made me blink, but I shrugged it off.) One writer objected to the wording of the contract (It says First North American Serial Rights OR Reprint Rights, the writer said that only reprint rights were available—no problem, then right? I mean it clearly says ‘OR’. Nope, the writer returned the contract with the ‘FNASR OR’ scratched out about thirty times and a nasty little post-it note. Do I need to tell you that I’ll NEVER buy another thing from that person?). And the last one actually prompted this article.
I received a request from a writer for two changes in the contract. The writer wanted the payment increased by a few dollars, and to increase the number of contributor copies from 1 to 3. An outrageous demand? Some might not think so, but in this case, yes. At $4 an issue, that would increase the pay by almost $10, more than doubling what was offered. Considering a good number of my authors are only receiving $1, that is a huge amount. The guidelines clearly state what we offer, and the writer (who should have read the guidelines before submitting) should have known this. As you’ll remember from above, I’m offering all I can as it is. I don’t feel that it is fair to pay one person more than I pay another, and since I can’t offer those terms to everyone, I will not increase it for one person.
Beyond that moral stance of fair play, I had other reasons for my decision. Editorially, that story barely fit the style of the magazine anyway. The writer doesn’t have any name-brand appeal that I’m aware of that might tip the scales in their favor. I certainly wouldn’t have any trouble filling the hole with an equally good, and probably more appropriate story.
But the one thing that really bothered me was the wording of the note. Was it a request? No. The writer informed me that they will REQUIRE these additional payments. Require? What does that mean to me, as an editor and publisher? Will the story be withdrawn if I don’t pay? Does this writer think they have me over a barrel since I had expressed an interest in publishing this story? Is the poor innocent story being held over a fire to be cast cruelly to it death if I don’t pay the ransom?
Well, it may mean that the story will be withdrawn. It may mean that this writer will never submit to me again. Neither will keep me from sleeping peacefully. It all depends on how the writer response to my refusal. If the response is anything but professional, I may have to add their name to my ‘reject on sight’ list.
(A month ago, I never would have imagined that I’d even HAVE a ‘reject on sight’ list. Live and learn.)
Out of the Slush
The Writer's Page
