I submit to thee, new year

We’re well into 2014, but I still think we’re in a time of reflection, goal-setting, and planning for the months to come.

At the end of 2012, I wrote a blog post about my annual tally of lit journal submissions. It was “the year of 100 submissions,” as I had made—and achieved—that specific goal for 2012. For 2013, though, I didn’t set a defined number for my submission goals; I merely wanted to keep up a rhythm of getting polished pieces out the door amid the busy schedule of traveling, speaking, and major project deadlines.

As 2013 rolled into 2014, I was curious what that meant on paper. If I hadn’t set a specific numeric goal, did that mean my submission productivity dropped? It did, in some ways; yet I am super excited that my actual results weigh in with similarity.

During 2013, I made 46 submissions to lit journals (that’s 46 batches of poetry, short stories, and short nonfiction). Sure, that’s a significant drop, but my results came in very close percentage-wise to the previous year.

Out of those 100 submissions in 2012, 11 were accepted for an 11% hurrah rate. Out of the 46 submissions made in 2013, 5 received a yes for a 10.869% celebration rate. Not bad.

Also significant? There are 12 submissions from 2013, particularly from the late fall, that have not yet received a response at all just yet. So, there’s still some outstanding hope in the mail.

What does this mean? I don’t know. Quality outweighs quantity or something like that. More so, I think it means the better I define and understand where my work fits, the more chance it has of finding a home there.

Shall I set a goal for 2014? Maybe. I already know how busy this year will be on the road, teaching, and with two books on the agenda…. But I really do want to keep sending my work out into the lit journal world. So I think a fair goal is to surpass what I did for 2013, which means I’ll aim for about 50 submissions in this new year.

What about you?

2012: a tale of 100 submissions

I am a compulsive to-do list maker so it’s no surprise that as one year comes to a close and another makes its presence known I am sucked in with list making, spreadsheet formatting, and resolution drafting.

I treat this time of year not as a time to plot unrealistic fantasies, but a time to reflect on what I have (or have not) accomplished in the closing year and to plan for what I wish to accomplish in the coming year. Project managers use the SMART plan (specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, and timed) to set goals that can become a reality. I tend to follow this as I have proven to myself that it works. Or, at least, it works enough to keep up the game every year, and every other time I feel the need to reconsider my goals—which happens at least twice per year.

We writers do not always have instant gratification on our side. We often don’t even know if a completed project will find success beyond the (major) accomplishment of completing said project. We can wait. We can wonder. But once a project is out of our hands, it is out of control. So I focus on what I and I alone can control and set my goals as such. That way, I am accountable for what I do (or don’t do) and can celebrate on my terms.

For example, I truly wanted to increase the number of my submissions to journals this year. The year earlier had been particularly busy, so 2012 was my year to improve that and I aimed to end the year on a better note. I did. The goal I set was to send out 100 submissions to journals. This seemed like a massive number compared to 2011’s sad dozen. Yet I wasn’t willing to make simultaneous subs, either, just for the sake of letting the numbers add up more quickly. I wanted to be selective, too.

There’s a funny thing, though, about wanting to do something and making it happen. In between those moments, the work must be done. When March rolled around and I had one lonely submission out there (thanks to a hectic start of the year), I knew it was time to step it up. So I did. And between March 8 and Dec 16, I made my goal. Had I submitted more in the latter part of December, I would have trumped those numbers, but… that’s a goal for next year, now, isn’t it?

In the end, for 2012, here is what resulted from that one goal:
100 journal submissions (poetry, short stories, and creative nonfiction)
11 have been accepted to date
22 have not yet received a response
67 received rejections

Do the rejections bum me out? Not in the slightest. Those rejections are proof that I fulfilled my end of the bargain. 67 rejections means I sent my work out there. Rejections are inevitable and are what fill in the gap between those other wonderful numbers: 11 new acceptances for the year and 22 potential pieces of good news yet to come in the New Year. I’ll take it.

Notice, too, I have only referred to submissions made to journals.

As it stands right now, I also have 3 book-length manuscripts sitting on the desks of editors…. for which I have not yet heard back about, but can hope good news will come in 2013.

So, I could
a) sit on my duff for the next year and await responses from 3 books and 22 journal submissions and still feel like I have work out there and am doing something, or
b) do the realistic thing and that is to submit more, again, and keep doing what I’m doing, what we all do. We write. We submit. We set and accomplish our goals and hope for the best with what’s no longer in our control. 

May you all have many, many rejections in 2013. Because that will mean you are doing your job. That will mean you have done the work, taken a chance, and probably have at least one reason to celebrate your successes. 

Happy New Year and best wishes for 2013.

p.s. If you haven’t already, please do check out my revamped website (which was also a goal for 2o12). Next up? Improving and renovating this blog!

revved up: racing past rejection

Last month, Dear Spouse took me to a local track as part of my birthday treat (he’s a ‘special’ kind of romantic, but at least he remembers the date). I’ll admit, I am not what most would consider a fan, but I don’t dislike it either. I’ll also admit that watching a race in person is a whole other experience compared to the televised snippets played in the background on a Sunday afternoon. In person, the adrenaline can’t help but spike.

Since I take my camera practically everywhere, of course I took photos of the races. Chance timing allowed me to capture this crash.

Why, though, would I possibly find it interesting to talk about a car race on a blog about writing?

It made me think about how writers can be hard on themselves. Prior to being published, an emerging author will get their hopes high, only to feel so low when a rejection comes back. There’s this constant up-down emotional ride that, honestly, doesn’t end once a publishing contract is signed. Since writers are always putting themselves out there, the ups and downs will always follow.

Then, the published writer can be particularly hard on him or herself, once the first contract is signed, as he or she wonders if a second contract will ever happen. She wonders if she’s a one-book-wonder or if readers hated the first book so much it doesn’t matter if a second book will come along since no one will read it anyway. Or, even if these self-doubts don’t come into play, a reviewer will doubt the writer on her behalf, or the editor will question why a contract was accepted, or… any number of imperfect things will happen.

With so many obstacles in the publishing world, with so many ups and downs, it’s a wonder any writer makes it through a day without giving up. Writers are terrible self-critics. Which brings me back to this car crash…

Is a racecar driver only successful when staying on course? Are crashes not inevitable? Are they not expected? Whether a local racer on a small course or a pro at the Indy 500, accidents happen. Drivers go off-course. So do writers.

Racecar drivers know accidents happen but they generally get back on course and finish what they started. So does a professional writer. Whether it’s ignoring a form rejection, or soaking in the advice of a personal rejection, it’s up to the writer to get back on course.

When it comes to writing as a career, an author must always keep the end goal in sight. We can’t let the little spinouts or literary fender-benders slow us down. There will always be downs, but with those come the ups that make it all worthwhile.

There’s no such thing as a perfect race when it comes to writing. The finish line always changes; there is always a new goal to reach. It’s not about coming in first. It’s about getting back on course when we stray off path and not letting a bump on the road completely derail us (oops, mixing metaphors!).

Like racers, a writer needs a good support team. Maybe that includes a spouse and some friends or maybe that includes a critique group or workshop retreat. Use your team to help keep you on track and guide you along your course.

Speaking of support, I was just asked to join this year’s Critique Mania, hosted by Whidbey Island Writers Association. For $25, emerging writers can submit a poem or three pages of prose to be personally critiqued by one of the many wonderful authors who have volunteered their time to support this fundraiser for Soundings Review, the Whidbey Island Writers Association magazine. Not only is this a great way to support a top-notch literary community, it’s also a fantastic way for an author to get detailed feedback on a work-in-progress. Details about the 2009 Critique Mania will be updated on the Whidbey website very soon, so I hope you’ll check it out.

Remember, a writer is not unlike a racecar driver. There are bound to be hits and misses and it’s inevitable that a crash will happen to even the most experienced writer. But by keeping focused, dismissing the negatives, and working with the positives, a writer can learn to tame the self-doubts and cross that finishing line each and every time.

What stumbling blocks have you had to overcome in your career? How have you moved past rejection and kept up your momentum? Please feel free to share your own experiences here. We’ve all been there and most of us will be there again. After all, it’s simply a part of being in the race. The important thing is, is that you’re still in it.