Closing the Gap: On Confidence and Community

by Ramona Pilar

Reposted with permission from our friends at Lumen Magazine, where this article was first published on August 5, 2015.

Women Who Submit was born out of a reaction to a couple of gross injustices: a) women are not being published as often nor as broadly as men, and b) women may not be submitting or resubmitting their work as often as men. Men and women of color are published to an even lesser degree.  The founders of Women Who Submit took this information, acknowledged it, and asked themselves what could be done to change this?

The Atlantic published an article called “The Confidence Gap” which posed the idea that “… there is a particular crisis for women—a vast confidence gap that separates the sexes. Compared with men, women don’t consider themselves as ready for promotions, they predict they’ll do worse on tests, and they generally underestimate their abilities. This disparity stems from factors ranging from upbringing to biology.” In their research, authors Katty Kay and Claire Shipman found that women will tend to psyche themselves out of opportunities if they don’t feel close to, if not perfectly suited for the opportunity while men did not have that particular issue.

While there are exceptions to generalizations, there was enough of a commonality to infer that a lack of confidence was one of the reasons why women weren’t submitting their work for publication as often as men.

Confidence is something I personally struggle with when it comes to writing, much less submitting my work for publication. There are layers upon layers of experiences that have transformed me from the bravado-fueled fireball I was in adolescence (my most prolific writing years to date) into a domesticated housecat who refuses to come out from under the bed, shiny eyes reflecting at you from the furthest corner, resigned to remain planted until I’m good and ready to come out.

I’ve been an active member of Women Who Submit for about two years. In that time I’ve submitted work to a total of maybe 10 places. Which, comparatively speaking, is a fraction of a fraction of the amount of submissions other members have followed through on. But comparison is not the point and has never been the point. What brings me closer to crawling out of the safe, uneventful, under-the-bed darkness is being around women who have navigated out of that safe crawl space. Women who have more experience submitting than I do.

The trick, I’ve learned, is to focus on what is actually within my control rather than on being accepted. I can control the content I create, the journals I submit to, the frequency with which I submit pieces. There is not one way to do anything. For example, I’ve acquired four different versions of cover letters to send with submissions. Each of them different and each of the women who shared them with me had success with her version and their reasons why they stuck by it. Hearing sometimes contradictory advice lets me know that the point cannot be about acceptance. That is a faulty, foul gauge of success. The point is to commit to submitting or getting my work ready to submit, at whatever pace feels comfortable for me. Cats don’t live under the bed forever.

The mere act of getting together with committed frequency, either in person or virtually, via Skype or checking in via email, matters. That sense of community is paramount to success, for me individually, and for the overarching goal of working towards gender parity in publishing.

Confidence isn’t some magic superpower only a chosen few are anointed with at birth. It’s something that comes from tangible practicality, from looking at a daunting task and knowing it can be broken down into easily digestible, easily completed tasks. I am inspired by and grateful to the women who have demystified submission by showing me how it’s done.


953012fc-9c9a-4fd6-a657-4393b5e68787Ramona Pilar is a writer, performer, emotional fluffer and native Californian. She is currently working on a collection of essays entitled “Darth Vader Abandoned his Daughter and Other Thoughts Along The Heroine’s Journey.” She can occasionally be found troubadouring with her band The Raveens.

Closing the Gap: DON’T CHEAT. YOU CAN STILL GET PUBLISHED.

Back in September, The New Republic published an article entitled, “Cheat! It’s the Only Way to Get Published.” but not everyone was so convinced. Here is one rebuttal from writer, Rachael Warecki reposted here from Zoetic Press, first published October 5, 2015.

First, let me say that I’m aware I have several legs up in the literary world just by dint of being white, middle-class, over-educated, and employed in a white-collar job. My family and friends have always been supportive of my desire to write, even when they haven’t understood it; I’ve never had anyone tell me that writing is something I shouldn’t do. I have time, space, and a room of my own: in many ways, to many people, the life I lucked into could be considered its own literary cheat.

In the fall of 2011, though, I was recovering from several serious medical issues, unemployed, and in the middle of my first semester as a graduate student in Antioch University Los Angeles’ MFA program. (In the spirit of encouraging fellow emerging writers, it’s perhaps pertinent to add that I did not just sail into an MFA program; Antioch accepted me off the waitlist.) I didn’t have any literary connections to recommend my work. I didn’t have any prestige-journal stationery on which I could write my cover letters. While looking for literary magazines that might publish my short stories, I noticed a call for submissions for the inaugural issue of The Masters Review, a lit mag that—at that time—was only open to writers attending grad school.

Back then, my assets consisted of my words, my classmates’ assurance that my stories were ready for publication, and the generosity of a literary magazine truly committed to helping new writers succeed. Because The Masters Review’s author demographic was so narrow, I thought my work might have a better chance of successfully making its way through the slush pile. As it turned out, I was right: my short story “The Rites of Summer” was published in The Masters Review’s 2012 issue.

In the years since, I’ve worked to build those post-slush literary relationships. I’ve kept in touch with one of The Masters Review’s editors, and I’ve continued to submit my work to their contests and anthologies, which have now expanded to include all emerging writers—not just those in MFA programs. My most recent submission, “10:25 a.m. EDT,” earned an honorable mention and a pending review from a top literary agency, which is an amazing career opportunity for which I’m eternally grateful.

More importantly, I’ve also continued to work those slush piles. Although I had zero relationships with any of the top-tier literary magazines, once I had work I thought was strong enough, I started shooting for the moon. Out of those long-shot submissions, I’ve received personal rejections and encouragement from fiction editors at Tin House, The Atlantic Monthly, Agni, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Blackbird, and PANK. I say this not to brag, but to point out that you can submit to slush piles of top-tier magazines and, if your work is a good enough fit, editors will start to pay long-term attention to you, even if you don’t have a list of previous publication credits or a fancy lit mag’s letterhead to back you up.

Here’s the rub, though: at the most basic level, if you want to be published without “cheating,” you need to be selective about what you send. Three years later, I’m still proud of “The Rites of Summer,” as I am of every story I’ve published, but I’ve also written stories that I’ve stopped submitting for now because I know they’re not yet strong enough for the markets in which I want to be published. Of my unpublished work, I have three “powerhouse” stories making the rounds of contests and top-tier literary magazines, but I also have five other stories, all written almost two years ago, that I’m still pumping up to that heavyweight level. Beyond that, everything else is unsalvageable for various reasons. That’s one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my fledgling writing career: my work can be well-written and well-constructed, but it can still be too unoriginal, too white-bread, and/or too autobiographical to be publishable. Not everything is fit to print.

Which leads into the fact that you also need to be selective about where you send your work. If you’re an emerging writer, look for literary magazines that are committed to finding, publishing, and promoting emerging writers; that way, you won’t be competing for limited page space with the likes of Joyce Carol Oates and Adam Johnson. The Masters Review is a great place to submit since it’s only open to new voices, but many other top-tier publications, such as Glimmer Train and A Public Space, hold contests and grant fellowships specifically designed to attract new writers. If you’re working in a certain genre, submit to magazines that appreciate that genre rather than disdain it. If you think a certain publication might be a good fit for your work, get a hold of some back issues to make sure—even print journals usually have one or two stories available for free online.

The world of literary journals and publications can seem exclusive, insular, and elitist, and that reputation is in many ways deserved. But it’s not a completely impermeable membrane, and you don’t have to cheat to make inroads. Just be strategic and selective about your submissions, and don’t be afraid to cultivate relationships with other writers, wherever you may find them.


 

1091093_347757792022433_1818843801_oRachael Warecki received her MFA in Fiction from Antioch University Los Angeles. She is also an alumna of Scripps College, Loyola Marymount University, and the 2008 Teach for America Los Angeles corps. Her fiction has appeared in The Masters Review, Midwestern Gothic, The Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere. In her spare time, she enjoys rooting for the Cleveland Indians and the Ohio State Buckeyes. She is currently at work on a novel.

Claps and Cheers: Toni Ann Johnson Goes Audible

by Tisha Marie Reichle

-5Remedy for a Broken Angel (Nortia Press), the debut novel of award-winning screenwriter Toni Ann Johnson (Ruby Bridges and Crown Heights) was awarded 2015 Beverly Hills Book Award Multicultural Fiction, received an honorable mention at the New York Times book Festival, won 2015 International Latino Book Award for Most Inspirational Fiction, was a Finalist for Forward Reviews 2014 IndieFab Book of the Year Award for Multicultural Fiction, and was nominated for NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literary Work by a Debut Author.

Johnson’s talent for setting a stage and framing a scene contribute to the book’s cinematic quality: each moment could be emblazoned in film for audiences to enjoy watching after reading the book or listening to Toni Ann read it on Amazon, Audible, and itunes.

Harmonious one minute and dissonant the next, jazz provides the resonant back beat for repeated fiascos. Johnson’s characters reveal how complicated life can become when married to a musician.

Serena, a singer, and Rico, a Latino trumpet player, have a passionate marriage and “she craved him …The way he played … the rasp in his voice, the mystery in his black eyes, his muscular arms, and tight bum.” Their heated battles followed by equally hot reconciliation reminds me of too many unfortunate loves long gone.

Unfortunately, as their daughter, Artie gets older, Rico grows distant. Serena blames Artie when she hears Rico playing her song for their daughter in a private concert. “Why’s he callin’ her his angel? That’s my bloody pet name … After fourteen years, she was having a hard time making sense of how the marriage had come to this. One thing she did understand quite clearly: she was not his angel anymore.” Johnson infuses Serena’s outbursts of agony with her lyrical Bermudian English which makes the audio version that features Toni Ann Johnson so much more memorable. If you don’t believe me, ask her family in Bermuda what they think.

A mother so broken is bound to cause her daughter’s most tangible grief, and there may be no hope for redemption. Tired of battling for her husband Rico’s attention, Serena leaves her only daughter on Artie’s twelfth birthday.

Shortly after, Papi moves them in with a distant cousin and Artie’s relationship with Kendall begins. I remember twelve-year-old love. New and clumsy, the uncertain first kiss when all I could think, like Artie, is Am I doing this right?

But all that innocence can’t last when Kendall is a jazz musician, too. A tenor sax player. They know how to use their tongues. In 2004, “Artie drove home late one night when her husband Kendall wasn’t expecting her…A spicy fragrance wafted out the window into her face. Opium. Her mother’s scent. … Artie hadn’t seen the monster in years, so she was shocked to find her reclining in the passenger seat with her dress hiked above her waist. Kendall was upside down; the six to her mother’s nine, his face buried between her thighs.”

Johnson alternates between Artie’s and Serena’s point of view conveying each woman’s discomfort with relationships and constant longing for love. Moving seamlessly from 2004 to 1990, from New York to Los Angeles Johnson explores the boundaries of familial love, creating characters whose pain and joy is palpable.

While some of Johnson’s earlier work focused on social injustices, Remedy for a Broken Angel concentrates on personal problems, resonating with all readers who have faced familial betrayal. Infused with the melodies of heartache and chords of pure loneliness, Johnson focuses on themes of fidelity and forgiveness, chaos and karma, all leading to an unexpected crescendo.


wwspanelglasses_258Weekdays Tisha Marie Reichle engages high school students with socially conscious literature. On weekends, she writes. Her stories have appeared in 34th Parallel, Inlandia Journal, Muse Literary Journal, Santa Fe Writers Project, and The Acentos Review. For 25 years, she has lived in Los Angeles and earned an MFA in Creative Writing at Antioch University. She is currently submitting her YA novel to agents and working a new book about cousins who struggle with cultural and sexual identity in Los Angeles. She was recently selected as fiction editor for Border Senses – submission will be open in January 2016.

Claps and Cheers: “Put Your Name On It”: Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo on Writing, Submitting, and Honoring Our Creative Work

WWS member, Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo was recently interviewed for La Bloga by Olga García Echeverría. She speaks about honoring her parents, hosting a reading series, finding time to write, and Women Who Submit. Here is an excerpt where she shares submission advice for writers of color and all writers looking to stay true to their work.

From: “Put Your Name On It”: Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo on Writing, Submitting, and Honoring Our Creative Work

Finding a “home” for a literary piece can be challenging, especially when we are bilingual and write in mixed languages. There is always so much negotiation (between the self and the page) that happens prior to sending something out. Should I even send this there? If I do send it out and it’s not a Latino journal, how much of the Spanish do I have to take out? etc. What advice can you give women writers out there who are grappling with some of these issues and questions?

I think my advice would be to make the best piece you possibly can, and try not to worry about who will take it. I know this is hard. I’m trying to do it right now with a YA novel I’m working on. My heroine is the daughter of migrant farm workers, and I’m always thinking, Is that too much Spanish? But I think we have to fight to stay true to who we are, and fight to stay true to the piece. Each piece is different and there is never one answer.

What I hope other poets do is write their hearts out, and make something that makes them proud, something they are proud to have their names on (like my father says), and then send it out. If you do that, I think you will find the right home for your work. I have an essay up at The James Franco Review right now where large chunks of dialogue are in Spanish. I definitely worried no one would take it, but then I found out about The James Franco Review. Based off of their mission and the work they had previously published I thought, if anyone is going to take a chance on this piece it’s this place. And then they did, which was amazing! So I think being true to yourself, and looking for those places who are open to what you are doing is key.

I think that even when we do make efforts to submit, though, it can be pretty discouraging, and it can also be expensive. Although it’s exciting to see more people of color presses and journals, it’s still a very White and very male-dominated literary world. We’ve made many gains, but the racism is institutionalized.

This is true, but we have to keep pushing ourselves into these spaces. I spent a month this summer at a residency that was very white, and it wasn’t always comfortable, but as one mujer told me recently, “So what’s our option? To not go? No!” Being there made it possible to finally write a first draft of a book I’ve had in my mind for years, so no, we can’t stop doing it. But this is something I’ve been thinking about with Women Who Submit. We want to support women trying to move up into these prestigious spaces, which tend to be white and male. I’m curious about what we can do to help arm them before they go. I’m curious to figure out how we can support them from afar.

Money is also a big issue. To apply for prestigious awards and accolades is not cheap. Reading fees and application fees are no joke, and it only helps keep the writing world classist. One dream I have is to start some kind of scholarship fund just for application fees. If we could help women submit their work to places they normally wouldn’t because of fees and financial concerns, that would be huge.


Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo’s debut poetry collection, Built with Safe Spaces, will be published by Sundress Publication in Winter 2016.