Editor’s Desk is a column about literary journals: the submission process, the evaluation process, and everything else.
We are diving through our slush pile right now, looking for work to feature in our upcoming issue.
I’ve done a post like this before, outlining some common items in pieces that were a large part of the reason my readers and I said “no.” It’s interesting how certain seasons bring about a large amount of work tilting a certain way.
Quick disclaimer: my list in this post comes from combing hundreds of subs and seeing items appear numerous times in many essays. It is because of the prevalence in what I’m seeing that I felt it was important to unpack why these elements can cause a swift “no.” Writing takes self-awareness and growth. Rejection allows us to accept some hard truths and learn how we can be better versions of ourselves. I write this with the sole intention of helping others challenges themselves and improve.
Edgy or just overtly inappropriate?: Writing with a strong, distinctive voice has this quality of letting us in immediately. Think Denis Johnson’s essay collection Jesus’ Son. However, I’ve encountered several essays where the irreverent tone borders into voicing covert sexism or racism.
There’s a couple things to say on this. While I understand a writer is showing their “truth,” they must also accept that they might get a lot of backlash for writing something that reveals toxic thinking. In addition, we’ve had to stomach so much art made and appreciated for centuries that later we look at in our contemporary lens and we think, “Geez! That didn’t age well.”
I love edgy work. If you are someone who has a knack for a strong voice, go for it. But it’s essential to consider whether you’re “punching up” or “punching down” and further perpetuating oppressive systems. There are a lot of literary journals that state in their guidelines that they don’t accept work with sexist or racist overtones, and for good reason.
It’s not “there” yet: While the prose is admirable, the heart of the story is not there yet. In these cases I wonder if the writer has had their work reviewed by peers and gotten feedback yet. We frequently get essays that don’t feel fully realized, where we reach the end and we are scratching our heads trying to understand what it is about.
Giving voice to the voiceless: Another heady topic. It’s a problematic statement to say the least, especially since it opens the doors to writing that has a savior complex theme. On one hand, I like to encourage writers to write about everything and anything. On the other, I get concerned when I’m reading essays that go into massive detail about someone less privileged. They can read like a special report on the less fortunate and frequently, the writer is so distant, they have become an observer.
While I believe you can write about people outside of you, there comes a question of consent. Does that individual know you wrote about them? Would they allow it if they knew?
This is why my feeling is that if you are writing about someone else, you need to couch the story within your experience with that person. It’s then your story. In my early writing days, I published an essay about the servants in my relatives’ homes in India. Even though I wrote about them, I focused the essay on my complicated emotions about having servants, how it didn’t fit into my American individualist mindset. In addition, I tried to unpack the way the servants had become more like family to my relatives than I was, thus deepening the question of whether I had a right to pass any judgment on the norms of others.
More than one essay: I habitually do this in early drafts, especially when I’m still trying to explore and figure out what I’m writing about. You may feel you have a complete piece, but get a fellow writer to look it over. I have a tendency to want to put so many things into one essay, not realizing that I actually have several essays and I need to tease out only one of these items. Take it as a good thing that you might be able to create a few essays instead of just one!