
Last month, I did a series of posts about Elmore Leonard’s Ten Rules of Writing and how I use them. Leonardβs rules are pretty specific and granular and have a lot to do with the actual nuts and bolts of the prose. On the other end of that spectrum, another legendary author also has a set of writing rules that are a more about the process of publishing work than simply writing it (which he assumed you already knew how to do). Iβm talking about Robert A. Heinlein, of course, and his famous five rules of writing. These rules come from an essay called “On the Writing of Speculative Fiction“ that was published in Of Worlds Beyond in 1947. Itβs an interesting read, if only to get an idea of what writing SFF looked like eighty years ago.
Like I did with Leonard, I thought it might be fun to take a look at Heinleinβs guidelines (hah!), opine on them, and tell you to what extent I agree with them. Obviously, the publishing landscape in 2026 is wildly different than it was in 1947, but I think Heinlein’s rules still largely apply, though, of course, there’s a lot of nuance there. Anyway, I’ll list each rule, give you my opinion on it, and then tell you how much I agree with it in a simple percentage score.
Let’s jump in.
No getting around this one. If you want to be a writer, especially a published one, you gotta write. Iβve heard some folks say that planning, organizing, and outlining should be counted as writing, too, which I agree with to a point. Those things are important, no doubt, but the best planning and organizing in the world doesnβt amount to squat unless it leads to words on the page. In addition, and Iβm speaking for myself here, planning, outlining, and organizing can be a handy way to procrastinate from actual writing. (See also long-winded blog posts about writing rules from eighty years ago.)
So, yeah, 100% agree here.
Another slam dunk for Mr. H. You canβt publish what you donβt finish. This is something I see holding back a lot of new writers, and I think thatβs because itβs pretty easy to start a project when the idea is fresh and exciting in your mind. Then, after that first page or so, things get tougher, the plot isnβt coming together the way you hoped, or the characters arenβt the people you envisioned, and so on. Itβs easy to give up at that point, but I think itβs important to push through and accept that no piece of writing is ever going to end up like you thought it would be when you started. That doesnβt make it bad, just different.
Now, should you finish EVERY project you start? No, I donβt think so. I think you should finish MOST projects, but sometimes you take on a story or a novel during a time when youβre just not ready to write it, either because you donβt have the writing chops yet or because there are emotional factors at play. I think itβs perfectly fine to backburner a project like that, then return and finish it when youβre ready.
Iβm 75% with Heinlein here.
Ooh, not sure I agree with this one. In fact, I mostly disagree with it, though thereβs some nuance. He said editorial order, which I would take to mean from a publisher, i.e., on a story youβve sold. I think you could bend the rule a tad and still hit the spirit of it if you included notes from beta readers and critique partners as editorial orders. Personally, I view those folks as every bit as important as the editor sending me notes on a sold story. They’re often the reason I was able to sell the piece in the first place.
No where I really disagree with rule three. Self-revision is a big part of my process. Iβm a former editor, so I know a thing or two about how a story should work, and I always give my stories and novels a pass or two so I can fix obvious issues before I send them off to beta readers and critique partners. Can you over-revise? Yeah, definitely. You can get caught in a loop of trying to make the work perfect, which is a) impossible and b) almost guarantees that story or novel will never leave your hard drive. Thatβs why I limit myself to one or two self-revision passes before I hand it off to others to read.
Iβm 25% in agreement with Mr. H here.
No argument here. If you want to publish a story, you have to put it out there. Now, again to say that things have changed in publishing since 1947 is the understatement of the millennia. Putting something on the market can mean a lot of different things in the year of our lord 2026. Heinlein almost assuredly meant sending the story to SFF magazines or the novel to agents/publishers. What you might call traditional publishing. Today, though, you can self-publish, and quite successfully. You can put your novel on Amazon or you can publish fiction on Substack or Medium or a blog and attract a huge and paying audience. The spirit of Heinleinβs rule still stands, though, You gotta put it out there and take the inevitable lumps (rejections and bad reviews) if you want to be a published writer, traditionally or otherwise.
Of course, some folks do indeed write simply for their own pleasure and have no desire to see the work published. Thatβs great and perfectly valid. Heinlein (and me to some extent) are talking about the business of getting published and trying to make a career out of this nonsense. If youβre not trying to do that, well, youβre smarter than me and probably a lot happier. π
Iβll go 100% here IF publishing is your goal.
This is a tough one, but I do agree with it for the most part. I see a lot of new authors give up on their story or novel after a mere handful of rejections. That’s usually a mistake, in my opinion. To date, Iβve sold over 125 short stories and nearly all of them were rejected multiple times. Many hit double-digit rejections before they sold. If Iβd given up on those stories after one or two noes, well, I probably wouldnβt have much to put on my CV. Rejections suck, I know, but they do not mean bad story and bad writer. They usually mean bad timing and bad fit.
Now, do I think you should leave every story out there until you run out of places to send it? I donβt, especially if you get feedback from a rejecting editor that resonates with you. This kind of dovetails with Heinleinβs third rule about only rewriting to editorial order. Feedback on a rejection is not quite the same thing as editorial notes on a story youβve sold, but itβs in the ballpark. If it makes sense, itβs a perfectly valid reason to rewrite a story. Iβve done it, and it’s resulted in the story selling on the next couple of submissions.
I also think itβs okay to trunk a story thatβs not selling. I donβt think you should do this often, but sometimes a story is just not right for the market, and thereβs nothing you can do about it. Additionally, especially when youβre starting out, you might submit a story thatβs not ready for primetime, something you realize only after youβve gotten a bunch of rejections and some experience under your belt.
Rule five is 75% for me.
To sum up, I think Heinlein’s rules hold up for the most part. The business of getting published has certainly changed a lot in the last eighty years, but these guidelines are still pretty universal, and I’d say following them, with a few caveats, isn’t a bad way to go if you’re trying to publish your work. Obviously, like with Leonard’s rules, there are plenty of successful authors who buck Heinlein’s rules and do just fine, though I dare say you won’t find many successful writers who don’t write and don’t finish. π
One of my literary influences is Elmore Leonard. If youβre unfamiliar, Leonard is the author of some of the greatest crime fiction novels (among other things) that you have almost certainly heard of because a lot of them have been made into movies. A few examples are Get Shorty, Out of Sight, and the short story βFire in the Holeβ, which is the first appearance of one Raylan Givens, he of Justified fame.
Besides writing fantastic novels, Leonard is also known for his Ten Rules for Good Writing. These rules are often hotly debated in writing circles and contain some of the oft-repeated thou-shalt-nots seen on blogs and social media. Since heβs such a big influence on me, I thought it might be fun to take a look at Leonardβs rules and see how much I adhere to them.
Before we dive in, a disclaimer. In my opinion, you absolutely do not have to follow these rules to be a good writer. There are plenty of wildly successful authors who don’t. Leonard’s rules, like most, often come down to two things: avoiding cliches and producing writing with a certain style and tone. That said, thereβs absolutely sound reasoning behind these rules, and it’s good to understand that reasoning before you break one. Still, I believe they should be viewed more as guidelines or starting points than indelible commandments.
So, in this post, I’ll gonna rate the first five rules on a scale of one to five based on how they apply to MY work (I’ll get the other five next week). A one means I never use it, and a five means itβs pretty much THE LAW for me. Again, the rating is not meant to indicate whether or not the rule is universally valuable or if itβs valuable to YOU. Itβs just how it relates to my own writing and style, which again, is definitely influenced by Leonard. Got it? Cool.
This rule, to my mind, is simply about avoiding cliches. It always reminds me of the old Peanuts cartoon where Snoopy is at his typewriter and opening his story with βIt was a dark and stormy night.β The idea being, of course, that Snoopy is, uh, not exactly a great writer. Yes, I know that’s not where the phrase originated, but I’d guess more people are familiar with Peanuts than Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s 1830 novel Paul Clifford. Thereβs nothing technically wrong with opening with weather, of course, but itβs one of those things that’s become associated, fairly or unfairly, with cliched writing. I may have opened a story with weather at some point, but it is something I do try to avoid. But, hey, if you can pull it off, and some writers have, go forth and conquer. π
Thereβs a lot of debate on whether you should use prologues or not, and I take a pretty neutral stance on them. When they work, they work, and there are novels with prologues that are among the most memorable parts of the book. For example, Jurassic Park and Game of Thrones both feature prologues that do an excellent job of defining the threat and stakes of the novel without intruding too much on the story itself or feeling extraneous. They set a tone, whet the appetite, and they just work. Iβve used prologues in a few of my novels, and Iβve written and deleted some, too. Generally, when I’ve deleted them, it’s because they create an unnecessary distance between prologue and the actual beginning of the story. When I’ve kept them, it’s been more of that Jurassic Park, Game of Thrones scenario, where the prologue set’s a tone or relays important information that a) I want the reader to have right away and b) can’t come from the protagonist(s). Note, I am in no way comparing myself favorably to the great Michael Crichton or George R.R. Martin.
While I donβt agree that this rule is useful to every author, it works for me and my style. I use said probably 80% of the time when I use a dialogue tag, but I do use other tags, too. Youβll find asked, replied, responded, and even the occasional shouted, yelled, or muttered in my work. This is one of those rules that really comes down to HOW you write. For example, the excellent fantasy author Joe Abercrombie’s dialogue is full of snarls, screeches, hisses, and you name it, and it is, hands down, some of the best dialogue Iβve ever read. So, if youβre going for a more stripped down, get-to-the-point style, then maybe stick to said. If not, snarl, screech, and mutter away.
Stephen King, another big influence on my work, is also very much against the use of adverbs to modify a dialogue tag. He’s kind of against adverbs in general, to be honest. I think this is a pretty good rule, primarily because, as King says (and I’m paraphrasing some here), a lot of writers use adverbs when they don’t trust the verb they’ve chosen to get their point across, or, in this case, the dialogue they’ve written. I think that’s often true, and I find in my own writing, when I use an adverb, especially of the -ly variety, I’m being a bit timid with my prose. So, I do try to edit out adverbs where I can, as they’re often an indication that I need a stronger verb or that my dialogue isn’t hitting right. Still, I’m not an absolutist, and there are time where I will modify a dialogue tag with an adverb. I tend to do it for extra emphasis, not because I think the reader won’t get what I’m laying down, but because I kind of want to beat them over the head with it. Obviously, bludgeoning your reader with an adverb is something you want to do sparingly, but, hey, every toolbox needs a hammer, right?
Look, you can definitely overuse exclamation points, but one every 100,000 words feels a little extreme to me. Don’t get me wrong; it absolutely works for Elmore Leonard, and I do believe the man had no use for them. I use ’em, though, and though I try to not to go crazy, I think an exclamation point in a tense, shouted/screamed bit of dialogue adds a little something. Now, I’ll admit, I do search for exclamation points when I’m editing, and I do nuke a fair few. So, even if you’re like me and a fan of the BANG!, it’s not a terrible idea to go through and make sure you’re not being a TOO dramatic.
As you can see, I’m not an absolutist when it comes to Leonard’s rules, even though I do see a lot of value in them. Again, it’s important to remember that a lot of writing rules are about producing a certain type of work, and in that regard they’re useful. If you’re NOT trying to write lean, fast-paced crime novels, though, and you’re writing say epic fantasy, then these rules may not be as useful to you. In other words, understand why the rules exist, what they’re trying to teach you, and then make the informed decision whether or not to follow or flaunt them.
If youβre even passingly familiar with my work, then youβll have noticed I tend to gravitate to certain tropes. Like, a lot. The top three are: vampires, demons, and hitmen/organized crime. There are definitely others (and Iβll likely do a part two for this post), but these tend to be the most common. Anyway, I thought Iβd do a little public self-reflection and attempt to explain WHY I return to these particular monstrous wells again and again. Letβs dive in.
Goddamn, do I love me some vampires, which can be tough as a writer as they are still generally maligned in editorial circles unless you do something really different with them. What attracts me to vampires is less the monstrous aspects of the bloodsuckers and more what remains of their humanity. Although I certainly dabble with vampires as pure monsters, I really like the idea of exploring certain aspects of humanity through the lens of the undead and immortal. Iβm certainly not unique in this approach, though I do tend to shy away from more romantic interpretations (though, thereβs nothing wrong with that). My favorite premise is the vampire where you donβt expect them: baseball, Uber drivers, ER nurses, dentists, etc. That juxtaposition of the mundane and the monstrous, where a put-upon vampire has to grit their fangs and deal with shitty customers/patients just tickles me to no end.
If youβd like to check out some of my published vampire pieces (that are also free to read/listen to, here are some of the better ones.
My favorite subgenre of horror films is demon-possession, and to say that theyβve influenced my work is quite the understatement. Though Iβm an atheist, I was raised evangelical Christian, so demons and Satan and all that were a big part of my childhood. (Fun, huh?). So, it’s not too surprising that fallen angels and the denizens of hell make frequent appearances in my work and not always as monsters/villains. My demons tend to be of the Judeo-Christian variety simply because thatβs the mythology Iβm most familiar with. Like vampires, demons are great for exploring the human condition, and they tend to lend themselves to stories about anger, betrayal, and regret. This is not to say that I donβt sometimes use demons as simple boogeymen, but my favorite stories are the ones where the demons are more nuanced characters or even protagonists.
Some of my published demon-centric stories.
Iβm an absolute sucker for a good mafia/organized crime move/series, and Iβve watched Goodfellas, Casino, Eastern Promises, and a slew of shows like Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, and The Jackal more times than I can count. Hitmen, especially, intrigue me, and itβs no surprise they show up in my work a lot. I think a lot of this comes down to my love of the antihero, and whatβs more antiheroic than someone who kills for money. Now, I of course know that REAL hitmen and organized crime is nothing like how itβs portrayed in popular media, so itβs essentially crime-coded fantasy. Speaking of fantasy, one of my favorite things to do is mix organize crime with my other favorite tropes, so, yeah, Iβve published stories about vampire hitmen, demons that work for the mob, and, of course, a bunch of just straight up crime fiction. I donβt mean to repeat myself here, but I think the reason Iβm drawn to this trope is what it says about people in general, and how, especially with organized crime, a lot of the bad decisions and terrible things people do is a result of feeling like they have no other choice. Thatβs a bit reductionist, of course, and thereβs certainly more nuance to be had in the genre, but for a broad strokes motivation, itβs compelling.
Here are some of my hitmen stories, both pure crime and hybrid horror pieces.
And there’s a tiny little peak into why I write what I write. Although vampires, demons, and hitmen are certainly the most common, I have been known to write stories centering on zombies, time travel, and dinosaurs pretty frequently, so I’ll discuss those in an upcoming article and hopefully impart something more compelling than, hey, I just like ’em. π
Thoughts on my overused tropes/monsters? What tropes do you tend to fall back on? Tell me about it in the comments.
Anecdotally, a good acceptance rate for short fiction tends to be around ten percent. With regards to rejections, that percentage generally works out to a statistically consistent ten to fifteen noes in a row . . . except when it doesn’t, and you go on a rejection heater like the one I just ended. To whit, my last acceptance ended the longest rejection streak of my career, a staggering FORTY consecutive rejections before Incensepunk MagazineΒ (bless them) put me out of my misery with yesterday’s yes.
So what the hell happened? We’ll discuss, but first some stats.
Those 40 noes in a row eclipses my second longest streak, way back in 2018, by 13 rejections. Oof and also yikes. The only thing you can do when you hit a rough spot like this is to keep writing and submitting, but it’s hard not to start questioning your talent, your skill, and your sanity after about thirty not for us’s. Of course, me being me, I want to know WHY. There are no concrete answers, unfortunately, but I can put on my rejectomancer hat and make some educated guesses, and maybe we can learn something from them.
It’d been a while since my last one back in 2022, so I was overdue, and boy, did the streak come back with a vengeance. Still, surviving these little (or not so little) statistical blips is just part of sending out a lot of submissions, though, as I listed in point four above, it can often be an indicator that’s it time to make some changes, too. So, don’t let a long rejection streak get you down too much, and maybe even take it as an opportunity to fine tune your work and your submission targeting.
Thoughts on my record-setting rejection streak? Care to share one of your own? Tell me about in the comments.
On April 4th of this year, I hit another big submission milestone. I received my 800th rejections since I started recording them on Duotrope back in 2012. As usual, I have some dirty details on my nice round number of noes and not for uses. Let’s get to it!
First, let’s talk about the stories that were rejected. I had a total of 171 distinct stories rejected in the thirteen years and change I’ve been submitting. I went on to sell 81 of those rejected stories, which is roughly 47% or within spitting distance of half. That’s not bad, especially when I consider many of the unsold stories come from when I started submitting, and were simply not ready for primetime.
Most Rejected Stories
Below are my top ten most rejections stories.
These are the stories that have racked up the most rejections. The ones marked with an asterisk are ones I eventually sold. One thing these stories all have in common is they’re short stories instead of flash. For whatever reason, I sell flash much, much quicker than I do shorts. That likely has to do with the fact that there are fewer slots available for short stories and they represent a larger investment of both money and time for the publisher. The one I’m most proud of here is “Times Has No Memory” which took me almost five years to sell, with final round rejections from a bunch of pro markets. I eventually sold it to Abyss & Apex last year, and you can read it for free right here.
So, who’s responsible for my 800 rejections? Well, a whole bunch of publishers, actually. A full 178 of them, to be exact. These markets range from tiny for-the-love-of-it publishers to the biggest, most recognizable magazines in the SFF industry. I get around when it comes to rejections. One interesting and kind of sad statistic from this list is that a full 70 of these markets have gone defunct or are on indefinite hiatus. It’s a tough gig to run a genre mag, and no mistake.
Most Rejecting Markets
Below are ten markets that have rejected me the most.
The markets marked with an asterisk are ones that I have yet to sell a story to. I know; that FFO number is pretty high, but I keep making it to the final round of consideration, so I’m gonna keep on submitting to them. ApexΒ is a tougher nut to crack, but I’ve made it out of the slush pile enough and to the final round of their monthly flash fiction contest, so I think they’re worth keeping after as well. Of course, Daily Science FictionΒ is sadly on indefinite hiatus, so it’s unlikely I’ll ever get the chance to publish with them. Now, the numbers for The Molotov Cocktail and The Arcanist look pretty high, BUT I’ve published 17 stories with Molotov and 16 with The Arcanist,Β so my hit to miss ratio was still pretty good.
The big question is what have I learned from 800 rejections? Well, a few things that make getting rejected easier and allow me to put it in its proper perspective. If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, then you’ll have heard me say these things before, but they bear repeating for new folks and as a reminder to the veterans.
And there you have it. The crunchy details on 800 rejections. Thoughts and opinions? Tales of your own rejection woes. Tell me about it in the comments.
A few days ago, I hit a submission milestone more than a decade in the making. Yep, 1,000 submissions. It’s been a long road with a lot of ups and downs, but it feels pretty damn good to see that giant round number on Duotrope. I’ve even held off on sending out more subs recently because I just like looking at it. π Anyway, as I always do when I hit a big submissions milestone, I’ve broken down all the crunchy details for you. So, let’s dive in and see what 1,000 submissions actually looks like.
Okay, first, here are the basic nuts and bolts.
Most of these categories are pretty obvious, and things like acceptances, rejections, and pending don’t need further explanation. Now, I’ll admit, I don’t even remember why I labeled three submissions as lost/returned instead of never responded. I will say, that I use never responded now for markets that a) don’t respond and b) don’t have a notice in their guidelines that says a non-response is basically a rejection. Withdrawn is also pretty obvious, though the vast majority of my withdrawn subs, especially early on, were from markets that didn’t respond after one or multiple submission status queries. Now I use it for the rare occasions I sell a story that’s been sim-subbed or I remove a story for other, miscellaneous reasons. The acceptance percentage is simply the number of acceptances divided by the number submissions minus pending, withdrawn, lost/returned, and never responded. An argument could be made that I should count never responded as rejections, so if you want that number, it drops my acceptance percentage to 12.7 percent.
Now let’s look at the stories that made up all those submissions. Below is the number of distinct stories, then those stories broken out by length. The number in parentheses is the number of each type of story I’ve actually sold.
Hey, how about that perfect record on novellas? Not bad, huh? π Anyway, 195 stories is a bunch, and one of the things I’m most proud of in this heap of stats is that I’ve sold a bit more than half of the stories I’ve written (103 out of 195). Looking back over my submission history, there are a bunch of stories that simply weren’t good enough to be submitted in the first place, but I think that’s a common issue for most writers when they first start seriously subbing their work. These days, I’m a bit better at only subbing stories that have a chance of selling. Obviously, the bulk of my output has been flash fiction, but my overall acceptance rate is about the same for short stories. It just takes me a lot longer to sell them.
Here are a couple of other numbers I wanted to share about individual stories.
My most subbed story period is an urban fantasy piece called “Set in Stone.” I shopped it for years, and though I got a couple of final-round rejections, I never could place it. It now lives in the trunk. On the other hand, “Time Has No Memory” was also subbed for years, but I did manage to sell that one to Abyss & Apex. It comes out next month. π
Finally, let’s take a look at the markets whose inboxes I’ve been haunting over that last decade and change. Couple of notes here. At one point I was tracking my novel queries through Duotrope, which was a mistake that just kind of muddied the waters. Those queries are included in my submission total, but I’ve removed them from the distinct markets list because, well, agents aren’t markets. In the case that I sent a novel directly to a publisher, though, I included that publisher in the numbers below. It’s not perfect, but it’s what I got. Also, I’m kinda going off memory for some of these markets as to whether they’re semi-pro or token. That’s primarily because so many of the markets on my list don’t exist anymore, so I have no reliable way to look that up. I think I’m mostlyΒ right, though, especially with the pro markets.
As you can see, I generally restrict my submission to pro and semi-pro markets, though some of these markets make semi-pro by the skin of their teeth. Lately, I send to pro markets first, then to semi-pro, and then I usually trunk the story or wait until more pro or semi-pro markets open for subs. I will occasionally send a piece to a token publisher, but it’s usually a reprint.
Couple of other numbers regarding individual markets you might find interesting.
The most subs to a single market is toΒ The Molotov Cocktail,Β mostly on account of their flash fiction contests. I do have 17 acceptances there, though. The other market that I’ve sent a TON of work to where I actually sold them something wasΒ The Arcanist,Β now sadly on hiatus. I sent them 50 submissions and sold them 16 stories. Now for the bad news. The market that I have submitted to mostΒ withoutΒ a single sale to my name isΒ Flash Fiction Online.Β I’ve made it to the final round of their deliberations enough that I’ll keep trying, but, man, 44 noes in row does sting a bit.
And there you have it. One thousand submissions in all their glory and shame. Let me know what you think about my little milestone, and feel free to share one of your own in the comments.
I’ll see ya at 2,000! π