My aim is true

I was speaking with some new creative writers the other day, focusing on how to get published, maximizing success. It’s always great conducting seminars such as these. Being peppered with tricky questions. How do I make it? What are the chances? Why don’t you publish this and publish that instead?

If only I had the answers. But I only have the approximations. Of course, you need talent. And you need a polished submission that says you’re a pro (even before you’ve published anything) and that you take this game seriously. But these things aren’t enough. You need to do your research. As unromantic as it sounds, selling poems or fiction is pretty much like selling anything. You have to know your market and be providing it with the things that it wants – and doesn’t have enough of.

So far, so good. Except that of course, editors often don’t know what they want. We only know, you see, when we… see it. But there are some elementary rules. Every editor channels his or her vision through the pages of the magazine they shepherd. If they didn’t, the magazine would be about as impressive and sexy as a limp handshake. It would have no identity whatsoever. So, you can assume that most, if not all, quality magazines will have their own particular line on beauty. Therefore, if a magazine has a strong emphasis on the contemporary mainstream, then it stands to reason that your avant masterpiece may not make the cut. If the magazine has limits on the space that can be devoted to fiction, then clearly your 6,000 word short story will probably not find a home there. Even though – and very often – the editor may find merit in it. Putting a magazine together is a complex business – not merely in terms of shaping it into something you feel is attractive to the mind and the eye, and, yes, useful, but also in terms of the curious jigsaw puzzle nature of it, right up to the wire. There’s no space flexibility. Everything must fit perfectly. It has caused a few sleepless nights here and there, I can tell you. But I’m not complaining – it beats every other job I’ve ever had by quite a margin.

If you’re looking for publication within a magazine’s pages, engagement with it is a must. Pick up an issue. If you like what you find, subscribe, read and, yes, submit to where you feel your work will find a good home. If you don’t, then keep searching until you find a magazine that reflects your own integrity and creative vision.

It helps to know that rejection is not universal, but particular. It’s not about you or your work necessarily, but about finding the right fit. It’s a big world out there, even with the increasing pressure placed on magazines over the past twenty years. There’s room, I’d like to think, for multiple voices and multiple platforms. Moving on from rejection is the single most important lesson every author has to learn. But it has to be learned – or should I say earned. No platitudes. In a box at the top of my wardrobe sits my first rejection letter for a submission of six poems, well preserved and treasured in its original envelope. A souvenir from the start of my own journey. From a magazine called New Welsh Review.

Absolute Beginners

Recently, I was commissioned by Academi to write an online guide about how to become a writer, what the literary landscape looks like today in Wales, and what opportunities were on offer. The online guide – book-length – is now available. I hope it will prove useful whether you're just starting out as a new writer or are a more established writer who's new to Wales and wants to find out how things work. Although the guide is designed with the writer in Wales in mind, a lot of advice will hopefully prove both practical and, crucially, supportive wherever you are based in the world.

I've written the guide from both sides of the table, as a writer and as an editor myself. You'll find nuggets of wisdom I've learned from brilliant writers and editors I've encountered, hard-won lessons I've learned for myself, straight-up advice on how things work, and loads of lively links to help you explore further and get in touch with the literary communities that are out there. There's the talent, of course. And then there's another kind, the talent that's in the choices. If you want to take a look at the writer's guide click here. All access is completely free. Happy writing.

Please find enclosed for your consideration

Many years ago, when I was a poet ingénue and New Labour was still in its first term, I cornered a distinguished editor of a distinguished literary journal and ruined their night. What, I wished to know, are you looking for? I can still recall the waves of nausée playing across that kindly face. They made their excuses and promptly exited the building.

Now, as well as being asked that question fairly regularly by others, it’s a question I am regularly asking of myself. Any editor worth their salt will tell you that they prize strong, tight writing. Correct spelling and grammar is crucial (there’s no quicker way to rejection than a questionable grasp of the English language). Originality is high up there, as long as the writer can evidence a knowledge of tradition and the current. And as for that slippery article ‘panache’? Yes, please. Clean white A4 paper? No fancy fonts? Both are a must. I am guessing that most editors would concur with these criteria.

If these alone were sufficient, however, they would approximate a formula. You could spread the word and much heartache would be spared. And those writers who could do the sums would be well on their way to world domination. But no: they are not sufficient. In fact, a surprising amount of work that editors receive may fulfil many – sometimes all – of these requirements. And yet… There is something, somehow, missing. What is it? Well, it’s that thing you’re looking for, of course. That thing… It’s a matter of taste, isn’t it? No, not in the way you’d think. So what is it? And, more to the point, where is it? The truth is, you simply can’t tell because you don’t know until you’ve found it. Because the best writers, whether new or established, are not simply capable of satisfying a taste, they can actually create a taste for their work in a reader. And the best editor is, first and foremost, an open reader.

So the bad and the good news for writers and editors is that there is no definitive answer to the question.

Poet and critic Zoe Skoulding has recently been appointed editor of Poetry Wales. We’ll both be appearing at the Dylan Thomas Festival on 9 November and will be discussing aspects of editing literary magazines and of our envisaged creative directions for Poetry Wales and New Welsh Review. The discussion will be chaired by Professor M Wynn Thomas, and no doubt there will be the opportunity to ask questions (except for the dreaded one above) about publishing in literary magazines and practical ways to maximise the chances of a successful submission.