The Monsters the Guidelines Forgot: Vampires

Continuing my series of post about how to sell stories featuring monsters who frequent publisher do-not-send list, we’re gonna talk about the only monster that might give zombies a run for their money as most maligned. Yep, it’s time sharpen our fangs and talk about everyone favorite undead parasites: vampires. As with zombies, I’ve had a bit of success selling vampire stories, and to date, I’ve managed to convince seven editors to give my vampire tales a shot. Let’s discuss some of the way I did that.


As with my first entry into this series, I’ve come up with four ways you can add variety to your vampire stories that might give you the edge you need to sell one. Of course, these changes are not sure-fire or bulletproof by any means, but I do believe they’ve helped me snatch a few acceptances from the jaws of rejection.

1) Real Monsters (or Real Funny). In my experience, much of the antipathy toward vampires is essentially a kind of literary fatigue around a specific type of vampire, a type that dominated films, TV, and fiction in the early to mid-aughts. I’m of course talking about the beautiful, sexy vampire first popularized by Anne Rice that later took the market by storm with shows like True Blood and The Vampire Diaries and, of course, massive bestsellers like the Twilight series. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that kind of vampire or telling stories like those in the IPs I listed (I’ve done it and even sold a few), but there seems to be a lingering distaste toward that kind of vampire. So, what are you to do? Easy, return to the vampire’s roots, when it was a horrific, blood-drinking abomination fit only for destruction. The vampire as monstrous antagonist has been making a real comeback in film and other media, and editors seem to be more open to this representation of the vampire than the more benign type.

Of course, we’ve also seen the vampire jump back into the spotlight by going completely in the other direction and embracing humor rather than horror. The best example of this is the show What We Do in the Shadows, which takes tons of traditional vampire tropes and plays them for laughs instead of, you know, choking death gurgles. I personally love injecting a bit of humor into my horror, and I’ve used that to successfully sell vampire stories a number of times.

2) Creative Creation. Vampires are usually created when a vampire drains a human of blood and then reanimates them with a bit of their own. There’s nothing wrong this creation method, of course, but changing it wholesale can add an interesting new twist to the traditional vampire story. There’s so many other ways you can go here, but I think my favorite is removing the need for another vampire entirely and having vampirism gained from an outside source. Often this a dak ritual or even some kind of cursed artifact. I went with the latter in my story “Second Bite” where I combined two horrors–dentistry and vampirism. In the story, a character becomes one of the undead after being fitted with dentures crafted from the teeth of a particularly powerful vampire. A little silly, sure, but I played it straight and ended up selling the piece.

3) What Are You Doing Here? I talked about this in my zombie article, but it applies here, too, and really to any classic monster. Just putting your vampire in a new environment can add a lot of depth and interest to your story, even if you go with a 100% traditional vampire. Unlike zombies, vampires are intelligent, free-willed monsters, and letting them deal with the problems that arise in unusual situations can make for an engaging story. For example, in my story “Night Games,” I had a vampire playing baseball in the minor leagues. The questions I had to answer to make that plausible helped me structure the narrative. For example, how did the vampire avoid sunlight? He only plays night games. How does a vampire baseball player get the blood he needs without drawing attention? Minor league teams travel a lot, so he can spread his kills around. When a player finds out there’s a vampire on the other team, how does he deal with the monster? Wooden bats and inside fastballs. 🙂

4) Myth Management. One of the great things about vampires is just about every culture features some version of them in their myths and legends. The general idea is the same–a creature that rises from the dead to prey on the living–but other details can be wildly different. For example, in Chinese and certain Eastern European myths about vampires, the monsters can be distracted by throwing a handful of rice, seeds, grains, etc. in front of them. The vampire is compelled to stop and count the tiny objects, allowing its victim to get away, or, if there’s enough rice or seeds or whatever, keep them counting until the sun comes up. You can treat these details form various myths as kind of an ala carte menu of vampiric traits or simply choose one of the more obscure and horrifying examples of vampires and run with that. Take the penanggalan, a vampire-like creature from Malaysian mythology created by a dark ritual (see point 2) that allows the practitioner to detach their head and all their internal organs, which dangle beneath the disembodied noggin, float away and prey upon and drink the blood of the living. You don’t have to tinker with that concept much (or at all) to make it unique and terrifying.


As I mentioned, I’ve sold seven vampire stories to date, and most of them features some of the methods I discussed above. Here are some examples.

  • Real Monsters: “Bites” published in Footsteps in the Dark by Flame Tree Press
  • Creative Creation: “Second Bite” published at MetaStellar
  • What Are You Doing Here? “Night Games” published at PseudoPod

For whatever reason, I’ve never used the myth management change-up in my vampire stories, though I’ve always admired authors that do that. Sounds like I need to write another vampire story. 🙂


So there you have it, four ways to give your vampire stories more, uh, bite and maybe convince an editor there’s still some (un)life left in vampire fiction.

Thoughts on writing and selling vampire stories? Tell me about it in the comments.

Rejectomancy Rabbit Hole: Acceptance Rates

Recently, I was discussing the chances of getting published at some of the big genre markets with my author pals, and a few numbers were thrown around, some by yours truly. These numbers were mostly guess-work. None of us really know the exact percentage chance we’ll make it out of the slush pile and onto the editor’s desk, to say nothing of our chances of actually getting published. Then I remembered a few markets had actually told me how close I’d gotten to publication in their rejections, relating my near miss in terms of percentages. So let’s take a look at those rejections, use a little rejectomancy, and see what we can learn.

The first rejection is from Escape Pod, a fantastic sci-fi audio market.

[1] Thank you for sending [story title] to Escape Pod. Unfortunately, this story wasn’t a good fit for us. Choosing stories is a subjective process, and we have to reject many well-written stories. Please note that we do not accept revised stories, but we wish you the best in finding this one a good home, and we look forward to your next submission.

[2] Our Associate Editors enjoyed this story, and the Assistant Editors liked it enough to hold it for a second look, but ultimately the competition was too strong this month. About 5-7% of submissions reach this stage.

[3] This was a well-written story with a great setup, but we wanted the story to be set at a point when the narrator was still making decisions.

A nice little rejection that I’ve broken down into three sections. Let’s discuss each one.

[1] It’s not uncommon in close-but-no-cigar rejection to find the same boilerplate language you’d see in a form rejection. The reason for this is, I think, pretty simple. There’s certain information a publisher needs to relate to every author in every rejection, no matter how close the story actually gets to publication, and  there’s no point in reinventing the wheel. That’s what we have here.

[2] Okay, now we’re getting to the good stuff. The editors relate some of how their selection process works. In addition to the info here, Benjamin C Kinney, a former assistant editor at Escape Pod, provided even more details on the selection process on his blog, here. What we’re looking at is three tiers of readers: associate editors, assistant editors, and then, finally, the co-editors (EICs?) of the publication. I don’t know if Escape Pod also employs first readers, but I assume so, as most markets this do. My story was rejected by the assistant editors, and as the rejection states, that’s roughly 5-7% of submissions. Not bad.

[3] As is common with this level of rejection, the editors provided a bit of specific feedback on my story. This is always exceedingly helpful. Even if you don’t end up using the feedback, it lets you know what the editors might want to see in a future story. So, when I submit another piece to Escape Pod, this piece of feedback will help me determine which story to send them.

Okay, the next rejection is from Flash Fiction Online, one of the premier markets for genre flash fiction.

[1] Thank you for considering Flash Fiction Online for your story, [story title]

Unfortunately we have decided not to accept it. As much as we wish we could, we can’t publish every good story that comes our way. Truthfully, we’re forced to return a great many stories with merits that make them well worthy of publication, including yours.

[2] Your story did, however, reach the final stage of our selection process–one among an elite group. Less than 5% of stories make it this far. That is no small feat.

[3] In winnowing, stories are discussed and vetted before I make my final selections. If you are interested in receiving feedback based on those discussions you are welcome to email me at [email]. Please use the following subject line: FEEDBACK REQUEST: [Story Title].

We wish you the best of luck finding a home for your story elsewhere, feel confident of your success in doing so, and hope to receive submissions from you in the future. May the muse be ever by your side.

Like the rejection from Escape Pod, I’ve broken this rejection down into three parts. Let’s discuss them.

[1] Again, we see the boiler plate language here that relates important information regardless of the tier of rejection. I really love that they talk about turning away good stories. Every market does. They have to. There just isn’t enough space to publish all the stories they like. What’s great, though, is that when you do make it this far with a market like FFO, it’s pretty much a guarantee you’ve got a sellable piece on your hands. I’ve gone on to sell all the pieces FFO rejected at this stage, and I was able to submit those stories with greater confidence after FFO turned them down.

[2] The nitty-gritty details. FFO, like many of the big genre markets, as a multi-tiered selection process. I’m somewhat familiar with it as I’ve made it to this final stage a number of times. I know it begins with a team of first readers that choose stories from the slush pile for further evaluation. Then there are a number of rounds where the staff votes on their favorite stories (three, I think). Finally, the editor makes a decision on which stories get published. As noted above, about 5% of submitted stories make it to the final round. Again, that’s pretty good.

[3] Flash Fiction Online offers a very useful service to authors who make it to this final stage of the winnowing process. You can email the editor, and they’ll provide you with curated feedback from the staff when they were voting on stories. I’ve taken that offer once and received an excellent mix of praise and constructive feedback. I can say without reservation that that feedback and the revisions I made because of it helped me sell the story on the next submission.


With the above information in mind, what are the chances of getting published by these two markets? Even knowing the exact percentage of stories that make it to these final evaluation stages, all I can do is speculate. Duotrope and The Submission Grinder give us one more clue, though – the acceptance rate for each market. That’s roughly 3.5% for Flash Fiction Online and 3.0% for Escape Pod. Now, rejections are always underreported at both Duotrope and The Submission Grinder, which can inflate acceptance rates. My best guess is that both markets are closer to a one or two percent acceptance rate.

Of course, the burning question is how many submissions do these markets receive during their submission windows? I don’t know for sure, but we can look at another pro genre market, Diabolical Plots, that provides exact submission numbers for their submission window and draw some ballpark conclusions. In their last submission window, Diabolical Plots reported 1,451 submissions received. I’d guess Escape Pod and Flash Fiction Online receive a similar amount of submissions (maybe more, maybe less). If I put on my rejectomancy hat, I can surmise that roughly 75 stories reach the stage my story did with each publisher. I can then even more crudely guess that of those 75, maybe 20 to 25 stories actually go on to publication. I have no way to determine the accuracy of that statement, but it feels about right.

So, yeah, we’re looking at some long odds, but I think we all knew that, right? That shouldn’t dissuade you from submitting to these markets, though, and you should avoid thinking about acceptance percentages like gambling odds. It’s not really random. The right story has a 100% chance of getting published, and the more you write and submit to these markets, climbing up the rejection ranks and getting useful feedback, the closer you get to publication.


Well, I hope you enjoyed my little trip down the rejectomancy rabbit hole and that a look at my rejections provided you with some useful information. Thoughts on rejection percentages at these markets or others? I’d love to hear it in the comments.

The Monsters the Guidelines Forgot: Zombies

In this series of posts, I’m going to talk about writing and selling stories featuring classic monsters. You know, the ones you often find in publisher guidelines after the words “absolutely no”. It’s usually the big three—vampires, werewolves, and zombies—that make the do not send list, but other well-worn beasties show up as well. I’m not here to tell you not to write about these classic critters. On the contrary, I’ve had success selling stories featuring the big three, and I thought I’d share my thoughts on how I was able to do that.

Before we get started, a word of advice. If you do see a no vampires, zombies, werewolves, or [insert overused monster here] in a publisher’s submissions guidelines, don’t send them a story featuring the forbidden critter. It’s bad form and a guaranteed rejection. What I want to share in these posts are tips to win over the skeptical editor rather than try and change the mind of the decided one.

Finally, all this is only my (somewhat informed) opinion and what’s worked for me. My approach might not work for you, and that’s okay. There are certainly other ways to write new twists on classic monster stories than how I’ve done it.


Let’s kick off this series with everyone’s favorite animated corpses. Zombies might be the most maligned of the big three, which has much to do with the glut of zombie-related shows and movies. But how do you sell a zombie story? I’m here to tell you it is possible, and what follows are four ways tips that might make it possible to do so.

1) Original Origins. One of the easiest ways to keep a zombie story fresh is to come up with a novel origin for them. You can keep it in the natural world and change the biological mechanism that creates zombies, get more metaphysical with it and have the dead rise because of a supernatural event, or, hell, go sci-fi and make zombies the result of advanced technology. What’s great is that changing the origin of your zombies suggests other changes that’ll make the dead more unique. A great example of idea in action is the game/show The Last of Us. The cordyceps fungal infection introduced in The Last of Us not only offers a new origin for zombies, but it also changes just about everything about them: their appearance, how they hunt, and how the survivors must fight them. That’s the kind of thing that sells zombie stories.

2) Apocalyptic Adaptation. Generally, I don’t like to set my zombie stories during the apocalypse. In fact, I much prefer a partial apocalypse that’s been contained so I can explore how society might change in the wake of such an event. One of my favorite angles to take in that scenario is to think about how certain industries and professions would take advantage of a zombie outbreak. For example, how would the funeral industry adapt now that the dead walk? What services might they offer to help grieving families deal not just with a loved one that’s passed on, but a loved one that’s passed on and will become a flesh-eating monster? How about police work? If a murder victim can literally get up and shamble away, it could be hard to make a case. The self-defense industry? You could see a whole host of anti-zombie products hitting the market, from bite-proof clothing to, I don’t know, anti-zombie spray. The options are practically limitless and offer opportunities to introduce new protagonists, narrative styles, and conflicts into your zombie tale.

3) What Are Your Doing Here? You could call this a trope unto itself, but putting classic monsters in unexpected situations and environments is an easy way put a fresh spin on an old tale. This approach, of course, works for zombies, too. You could go historical with it. How would the Romans deal with a zombie plague? Vikings? Prehistoric humans? How would the mythology around zombies change in these historical settings? Location is another dial you can turn to add something unique to your zombie tale. Enclosed spaces like hospitals, prisons, and ships at sea that cut off any chance of escape create interesting avenues for story telling. New environments, too, can make for an interesting change, especially in how they might affect the zombies themselves. What happens to zombies in the arctic? Do they freeze solid? What about the jungle? Do they rot faster? As soon as you start asking the questions, the stories almost write themselves.

4) A New Challenger. Often in zombie media, the folks facing down the walking dead are drawn from what I like to think of as the usual suspects: active and former military, law enforcement, doctors, scientists, and, in general, people who already possess skills useful in battling and surviving the undead. But that’s just a tiny fraction of the people who would end up facing down a horde of walking corpses in a zombie apocalypse. People from every walk of life, and every size, shape, age, and disposition would also be affected. Those folks have stories, too, and you can alter the tone and direction of a story for the good just by choosing a protagonist that’s not usually featured in zombie narratives. As the POV changes, so do the challenges a character faces when dealing with the walking dead. That’s a recipe for a unique and compelling tale.


Of course, all the above suggestions don’t mean much without some evidence they can actually sell a story, right? So here are some of the zombie stories I’ve sold that use one or more of the narrative devices I listed. The first three are free to read online.


To sum up, though zombie stories are a well trodden (shambled?) road, there are always paths you might take to craft something fresh . . . or at least a little less decayed. 🙂

Thoughts on writing and selling zombie stories? Tell me about it in the comments.

Query Quest: Postmortem

Last month, I marked the last outstanding query for my novel SECOND DAWN as closed, no response (CNR), ending my first trek through the deep, dark jungle of query land. It was a rough trip, but I learned a lot, and I will absolutely put those lessons into practice when I start querying my second novel in the next month or so. In this post, I’ll give you a quick recap of my querying stats and then talk about some of the things I learned.

As always, this entire post comes with the disclaimer that all of my conclusions are based on my individual experience with specific agents. I could be (and probably am) dead wrong with some of my conclusions. So take that into account before, you know, taking anything I say here to heart.

First, the numbers.

  • Queries: 53
  • Rejections: 35
  • CNR: 18
  • FMR: 3

I feel like that’s a solid first outing. I could continue querying, but to be honest, I was running out of agents that repped the kind of horror I write, and my last ten queries or so really felt like shots in the dark. I don’t think that’s a great way to go about getting an agent. Now, of course, there are agents who might be a good fit who just weren’t open when I was querying, but there’s a good chance I’ll hit them with my next novel.

In addition, there are things I need to improve and revise in SECOND DAWN if I want to have a real shot at selling it, so pulling it back and focusing on the next novel, HELL TO PLAY, seems like a reasonable thing to do. I plan to revise SECOND DAWN while I’m querying the new novel, and there’s a every chance I’ll query SECOND DAWN again if I don’t land an agent with HELL TO PLAY.

The Query Package

So what did those fifty-some queries teach me that I can use in my next foray into query land? I think a good place to start that examination is an honest, even blunt appraisal of my query package. What did I do well and what did I do, uh, not so well? Again, this is all based solely on my perception of things and the limited feedback I received from agents, but I feel fairly confident I’m in the ballpark with my conclusions.

The Good

  1. Query letter. I think my query letter was strong. I had good examples to draw on from authors I know who successfully engaged an agent, and I think the structure, the brief synopsis, and my bio were all good enough to get an agent’s attention. Keeping it, however, is an entirely different matter. 🙂
  2. Sample pages. There’s a caveat here, which I’ll get into in a second, but I believe my first three chapters were good, moved quickly, and set the stage for the rest of the novel. My premise was unique enough to intrigue and may have been the biggest factor in the three full manuscript requests I received.

The Not-So Good

  1. Synopsis. In my opinion, my synopsis was just kinda okay. It got the job done, but barely. It was too long, and I’m not sure it conveyed the strengths of my novel as well as it could have. Writing a good synopsis is tough, as any writer will tell you, but it’s one of those things that can make a break a query package. In short, a “just okay” synopsis is not good enough.
  2. Comps. My comps for SECOND DAWN were, like my synopsis, adequate at best. I really struggled to find ones that fit the subject matter or the tone. The ones I ended up with were in the ballpark, but they weren’t as good as they could have been. Again, I need to do better than “adequate” going forward.
What Did I Learn

With the strengths and weaknesses of my query package in mind, here are two broad, but I think important, takeaways from my querying experience. The operating word here is broad, so, please keep that in mind, especially with my first point about the two different types of agents.

A Tale of Two Agents

There seemed to be two types of agents I was querying that differed primarily in the type and amount of information they wanted in the query package. I should point out that neither of these types of agents is “doing it wrong.” Every agent wants the same thing you do: to sell a novel. The way they go about choosing which novels are sellable, though, can differ from agent to agent.

The first type of agent generally wanted a query letter, a full synopsis, a separate pitch, a list of books like mine (in addition to comps), and a description of the target audience for my book. The kicker here is that usually these agents don’t ask for much in the way of sample pages, generally no more than ten and often as few as five.

The second type of agent often only wanted a query letter (sometimes a synopsis, but noy always) BUT they want much more of the book, usually three chapters and as much as 50 pages. These agents did occasionally want a pitch or more comps, but less often than the first type. Hell, one agent I queried didn’t even really want a standard query letter, just pages.

Conclusion: Whether or not I hit or miss with the two types of agents described above is going to depend a lot on both the book I’m querying and the relative strengths of my query package. If I look at SECOND DAWN, it’s somewhat clear my query package was more suited to the second type of agent (that’s where my full manuscript requests came from). Why? Well, some of the weaknesses in the package aren’t as glaring when an agent doesn’t put as much stock in a synopsis or comps (or doesn’t even ask for them). Also, I don’t think my novel really shines as brightly in five to ten pages as it does in two or three chapters.

All that said, I want to have a good shot with both types of agents in my next go around, which means a) I need to shore up the weaknesses in my query package and b) I need to take a good hard look at at my first five to ten pages and make sure they’re as compelling as I can make them.

Ghost Town

Coming from a background of short fiction, I was a little caught off guard by the lack of response that’s absolutely standard when querying a novel. A full third of my queries and two of my full manuscript requests simply received no response. Some thoughts on that.

In the case of an initial query, I quickly got used to the idea that there was a good chance an agent simply would not respond, and that no response meant they were not interested. Most agents are very up front about this and state it openly and clearly in their guidelines. I’m fine with that. Agents get A LOT of queries, and it’s simply not possible for them to respond to all of them. Forewarned is forearmed in this case.

Now, when an agent requests your full manuscript, I think there’s more of an expectation you’ll receive some kind of response, even if it’s just a form letter. This is simply not the case, and looking at the stats on QueryTracker, a fair few agents have a low response rate to manuscript requests even if their response rate for general queries is good. Look, it’s hard not to get your hopes up when you get a full manuscript request, but the reality of the situation is that there’s a good chance you won’t hear anything back.

Conclusion: The closed, no response (CNR) is just a fact of querying life, and it’s something I can accept without much rancor. That said, I think there’s nothing wrong with following up with an agent, especially one who has requested your full manuscript, after a reasonable amount of time has passed. You shouldn’t expect a response there, either, but sending a brief status query is perfectly reasonable in my opinion, and if/when there’s no response, it feels, to me, safer to go ahead and move on.

Now, you might wonder if I would query the agents who did not respond to my queries or manuscript requests with my next novel. The answer is absolutely, especially the agents who requested full manuscripts. I think it would be foolish not to. Those agents saw something they liked in my work, and even if SECOND DAWN wasn’t a good fit for them,  my next novel might be. It’s the proverbial foot in the door (okay, maybe just a toe), and there’s no way I’m not gonna see if I can’t boot that thing open. 🙂


As I said in the beginning of this post, my initial foray into querying was very educational. I learned a lot about the process, what agents are probably looking for, and what are the likely strengths and weaknesses of both SECOND DAWN and my writing in general. My plan going forward is simple: rely upon my strengths and shore up my weaknesses as best as I can.

I do feel I’ll be more successful with my next novel, HELL TO PLAY. Maybe I won’t land an agent, but I think I’ll put forward both a better query package and a better novel. I like my chances with that combo.

Thoughts about my query conclusions? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

The Writer’s Block Post or How I Yeet the Yips

I’ve been running this writing blog for the better part of a decade, and not once have I really covered writer’s block. Quite the oversight; I know. Do you even write, bro? In this post, I will talk about the aforementioned writer’s worst nightmare, but only my personal experience with it. You see, I think writer’s block is kind of a catchall terms for a wide array of conditions that goes beyond the simple “I can’t write.” It’s manifestations are as varied as the authors it plagues. So what you’re going to read here is what my writer’s block looks like and how deal with it. Hopefully, that’ll be helpful to some of you, but I’m not gonna lie, there’s some big time catharsis going on here. 🙂

The condition that most resembles my form of writer’s block is more often found in professional sports. It’s called the yips. Essentially, what the yips does is make it impossible or very difficult to do something you’ve done as naturally as breathing for years. For example, a pitcher who gets the yips might suddenly not be able to throw the ball over the plate, something he’s been doing reliably for decades. The yips tend to come on suddenly, out of the blue, and thought it’s causes are varied, it generally results in you psyching yourself out before you even start. You BELIEVE you won’t be able to throw the ball over the plate, or dribble the basketball, or, you know, write a coherent and compelling sentence, so all of those activities get exponentially more difficult.

The first time I had the writing yips was in October of 2020. I’m sure you remember what was going on that year. The pandemic and lockdown was not exactly awesome for those of us prone to brain weasel infestations (I have OCD, so my mind is pretty much a brain weasel’s natural habitat). In addition to enduring a once-in-a-century global pandemic, my dumb ass decided to throw buying a house and moving into the mix. To say I was stressed out would be the understatement of the millennia. But, hey, we didn’t get Covid, we made it through the move safe and sound, and I thought everything was okay. Nope! In early October, I took part in the biweekly one-hour flash fiction challenge I’ve been doing for ten years. Normally, I can look at the prompt and pound out a thousand words of pretty decent flash fiction in around forty-five minutes. This time? Complete brain lock. It took me ten minutes to come up with something resembling an idea. and then I wrote in fits and starts for the next fifty, finishing with a godawful, disjointed mess. It scared the shit out of me. This had never happened before. The words were always just there, the vaunted flow attainable almost instantly with first word to blank page. This time, I felt like I was thinking through mud, trying to push square pegs through round holes. In short, it sucked.

After the disastrous writing challenge, I thought, hey, it’s an isolated incident. I was just stressed out. Next time I try to write, it’ll be fine. Unfortunately, it was too late and the yips and its army of rabid brain weasels was already at work on my worn-out psyche. The next time I sat down to write. Same thing. The words didn’t come, the sentences looked and felt like shit, and I spent hours getting more and more worked up until I was a frazzled, anxious mess. Now the brain weasels really went to work. What if you’ve lost the ability to write altogether? They whispered, and then, gleefully, they pushed me onto a catastrophic carnival ride. You’re gonna miss deadlines and never be able to finish that novel and you’re gonna have to tell people that you’ve lost it and slink away in shame never to show your face AGAIN! God, brain weasels are assholes. So, with these lovely thoughts running rampant in my brain, writing became tougher and tougher. The yips fucking had me. Every blank page induced feelings of sick panic, and the brain weasels worried my gray matter like a dog with a chew toy.

How did I survive my writing yips? I did a thing that is so alien to my writing process, I might as well have gone to the moon. What I did was GASP! take a break. I correctly identified the source of my yips as the layered effect of multiple stressful situations. But now I was in a safe place where those stressors were either gone or vastly reduced, so I could take a breath and let my emotional and creative batteries recharge. I took about a week off from writing, and then when I came back, I started slowly. I just wrote microfiction. Those little fifty-word stories were an easily attainable goal. Even if I was still feeling stuck, I could get something out, and feel like I’d accomplished something. Then, when I shared the micros on social media, the likes and positive feedback was a much needed shot of validation. About a week later, it was time for the next biweekly flash challenge, and as terrified as I was about totally locking up, I wasn’t going to miss it. When the hour started, I sat for five minutes thinking about a concept, and then I started writing. It was tough for the first few minutes and then it happened. The walls tumbled down, the words gushed out, and my fingers flew across the keyboard on a direct line to my thoughts. I was in the motherfucking flow, and it felt wonderful. What I wrote that day was maybe not my absolute best work, but the way I wrote it banished the yips and its brain weasels to the outer dark never to return . . .

Or so I thought. 🙂

Yeah, I’m dealing with the yips again. Like last time, it’s a combination of real life stresses that have conspired to render me pretty useless behind the keyboard. You might now be thinking, “Hey, aren’t you writing like a whole blog post right now?” Yes, I am, and this is an specific feature of my personal version of the writing yips. It only seems to affect me when I’m writing narrative fiction. Who knows why. Blog posts, gaming articles, stuff like that, while maybe not as easy as they are when I’m not yipping, I can still bang them out pretty reliably. It also doesn’t seem to affect me as much when I’m writing media tie-in. It’s tougher, but I can still get it done. Deadlines have a wonderful way of forcing you to get your shit together. 🙂

This current round of yips started in the exact same way as the last. About a month ago, I got stuck on a story in the biweekly flash fiction challenge and that ballooned into The Great Brain Weasel Jamboree, Part Two: The Gnawing. It sucks, and I’m dealing with a lot of the same shit I dealt with in 2020. So what am I gonna do? Same thing as last time. I’m gonna take a break, and then I’m gonna come back slow. I’ll start working on my microfiction miracle cure, and then, when I’m ready, I’ll take part in another flash fiction contest with the hopes that the words will flow, and the yips will become a thing of the past. But even if they don’t, I have conclusive evidence that the yips can be defeated. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.


So there you have it, my version of writer’s block, why I get it, and how I deal with it. I don’t have much in the way of specific advice to offer about dealing with your own yips other than they might stem from something outside of your writing. My yips are a symptom of larger issues in my life, and yours may be, too. Identify and deal with those outside issues (nor easy task; I know), and you, too, can yeet the yips. 🙂

2023: A Writing Rearview Review

Well, 2023 is in the books, and as writing years go, it wasn’t all I hoped it would be. Though not a complete failure by any means, 2023 was nowhere near as productive as years past. This is largely due to a focus on querying my novel SECOND DAWN, which ate into both writing and submission time far more than I expected. Still, there were some bright spots to 2023, primarily what I learned and can take into 2024 to make it a more productive year. Below, I’ll cover the broad strokes of the major areas of my writings/publishing endeavors in 2023. Let’s get into it.

Short Story Submissions

Here are the raw numbers for my short story submissions in 2023.

  • Submissions: 38
  • Acceptances: 3
  • Rejections: 31
  • Pending: 4
  • Published: 7

Ugh, right? I haven’t done a year-by-year comparison, but I think this is my worst year in both number of submissions and number of acceptances since 2012. A lot of this has to do with a lack of new material, and most of the rejected stories are those that have been in the trenches for a long time. I still have a lot of faith in some of these stories, but holy shit are they taking a long time to sell. As far as my acceptance percentage, it’s just under 10% if you don’t count pending subs, and a measly 8% if you do. Yuck. This is an area I definitely want to improve in the coming year.

I did manage to publish seven new stories, some of which were accepted in 2022. Here are links to the ones free to read or listen to online.

  1. “Coffee Fiend” published by Factor Four Magazine.
  2. “Reporting for Duty” published by Flash Point SF.
  3. “Hell to Pay – Installment Plans Available!” published by Tales to Terrify.
  4. “When Gods Walk” published by Radon Journal.
  5. “Brave New Apocalypse” Factor Four Magazine. 
Novel Queries

Last June, I started querying my novel SECOND DAWN. It was my first attempt at querying a novel, and I learned a lot, even if those lessons were somewhat painful. Let’s start with the numbers.

  • Queries: 53
  • Full Manuscript Requests: 3
  • Rejections: 34
  • Closed No Response: 19

Technically, one of the FMRs is still awaiting reply, and I won’t officially mark it as a CNR for another week or so. That said, based on other FMRs sent to the same agents, I’m pretty sure I won’t hear back on this one. I’m going to do a full breakdown on my first querying experience later this month, but here’s the broad strokes. I researched around 150 agents and queried 53 of them. I received three FMRs in fairly short order, and, perhaps foolishly, I got my hopes up. While I expected CNRs on basic queries, I naively expected full manuscript requests would always result in some kind of response. Sadly, this is not the case, and when I start querying my next book, I’ll treat FMRs with a little more caution.

It wasn’t all bad news with queries, though. The FMRs tell me I can put together a decent query package, and with what I learned in 2023, my query package will only get better. Additionally, I know a lot more about the agents I want to query and those I should avoid (not because they’re not good agents, but just because my style and subject matter isn’t a good match).

Freelance Work

The bulk of my actual writing in 2023 was on freelance projects, primarily for Privateer Press. I wrote/published a novels-length of words of Iron Kingdoms fiction for the latest version of the tabletop miniature game WARMACHINE. Generally, this fiction is a steampunk-esque fantasy adventure, but this last year there was an opportunity to add a horror element to the setting, and that was REALLY fun. Anyway, here’s a quick recap of the work I did here.

  • Novellas: 2
  • Articles: 7
  • Short Stories: 6

I’ve already signed contracts for more Iron Kingdoms stories and articles in 2024, and I’m looking forward to diving back into the land of warcasters and warjacks in the coming year.

Trials & Tribulations

Although I certainly wasn’t idle this last year, and I took some clear steps forward in pursuit of an agent and publishing deal, the pervasive feeling was one of spinning my wheels. I think this is largely due to the fact that I spent so much time in the querying process–both in the writing and refining of my query package and the actual queries themselves–and I feel like I didn’t get anywhere. Now, that’s not actually true, of course. I did receive three full manuscript requests from prominent agents, and I certainly learned a lot about the querying process. Still, I won’t sugar-coat it; querying is a real motherfucker that can quickly erode your confidence if you let it.

I also struggled a bit with what some folks might call writer’s block. I’m not a big fan of the term because I think it doesn’t accurately represent what, for me, was largely a dearth of creativity. It’s not that I couldn’t write or even that I couldn’t write publishable material, it’s was just very difficult getting started and even more difficult to get into the so-called groove. I think much of this stems from simple burnout. I’ve spent that last decade fighting the good fight, pushing my work out there, weathering rejections, and for the most part I’ve rolled with punches. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little more affected by my setbacks in 2023 than in other years. So what does that mean? Well, it means I need to get back into some good habits that tend to recharge the ol’ creative batteries, and first among those is reading. I don’t think I finished more than a dozen books in 2023 and that, for a writer, is unconscionable. So, in 2024 I want to get back on the reading train and not just in my genre. I’ve already got three new novels on my kindle–one horror, one crime/mystery, and one sci-fi–and I’m looking forward in losing myself in someone else’s creation for a bit.

Goals

I’m not gonna go crazy setting grandiose goals for myself in the coming year, but there are a few things I want to get done in 2024.

1) Finish revising and query my horror/thriller novel Hell to Play. This book just needs some fairly light revision and it’ll be ready to query. I think in a lot of ways it’s a more marketable book than the one I queried in 2023, Second Dawn. Comps are more obvious and the tone and subject matter is more indicative of my usual writing style. There are no guarantees, of course, but I think I stand a better chance of landing an agent with this one.

2) Write and submit more short stories. A perennial goal, but this time I’m not gonna shoot for a specific number. I simply want to write and submit more, and that’s enough.

3) Read, read, read. A lot of folks set out to read 100 books a year, but, like with short story subs, I’m not going to shoot for a specific number. I’m just going to commit more time to reading and focus on discovering new authors and maybe even new genres.


And that was my 2023. Some ups and some downs, but I think the best way for me to look at 2023 is as a growth year. Growth can be painful, but ultimately it’s a good thing, and that’s where I’ll sign off. 🙂

Leaving the Nest: Where To Send My New Story

I recently finished a new story, and it’s time to send my poor little word baby out into the dark, feral wastes of submission land. In this post, I thought it might be fun to talk about how I go about deciding which markets to target first with a new story. This process is rife with rejectomancy, so it’s perfect for the blog. Let’s discuss. 🙂

The Story

My new piece, which we’ll refer to as “Baby Bird” for this post is a sci-fi cyberpunk-ish crime thriller and clocks in at just under 6,000 words. I generally don’t write stories over 5,000 words and rarely over 4,000, and the reason for this is simple. Once you get over 5k, the number of markets willing to accept the story shrinks considerably. But a story needs to be as long as it needs to be. That said, this one did creep all the way up to 7,000 words, but with the help of my very excellent critique partners, I whittled it down to a more manageable (and hopefully publishable) size.

The Markets

As I usually do when submitting a short story, I start with pro markets and work my way down. So, turning to Duotrope, when I enter the genre, length, and pay rate I want for “Baby Bird”, I come up with thirteen possible markets. However, I’ll be focusing my initial efforts on just five. I’m ruling out the others due to a number of factors, but primarily I’m just going with markets where I have a track record. So, the five markets I’ll submit to first are:

  • Clarkesworld
  • Analog Science Fiction & Fact
  • Escape Pod
  • Asimov’s Science Fiction
  • Strange Horizons

These are in no particular order (that’ll come later), and I’ve subbed to all of them with various degrees of success (though I haven’t had a story accepted by any of them yet). There are, of course, other pro markets that might accept “Baby Bird” that are not currently open to submissions, and I’ll adjust my list according if and when they open up. I should note that I think all five of these markets are fantastic, and I would be overjoyed to have a story appear in the pages of any of them.

Track Record

Okay, now it’s time to take a look at my track record with each of these markets, so I can figure out where “Baby Bird” goes first, second, third, and so on. The biggest factor for me in determining the order will be my submission history with each market, but response time (from Duotrope) will play a part as well. So, how have I fared with each publisher?

Clarkesworld

  • Submissions: 14
  • Acceptances: 0
  • Shortlists: 0
  • Personal Rejections: 0

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has failed to make a dent in the slush pile of Clarkesworld. It’s a very tough market that gets a ton of submissions for very few spots. The subject matter and themes of “Baby Bird” look like they could be a good fit, but my track record here says I might want to start elsewhere. With fourteen form rejections, I just don’t have much to go on.

Analog Science Fiction & Fact

  • Submissions: 1
  • Acceptances: 0
  • Shortlists: 0
  • Personal Rejections: 1

Yep, just one submission to Analog. The reason for that is, well, I don’t write a ton of straight sci-fi. Sometimes my stories have science fiction elements, but they’re usually mixed in with horror. Their guidelines are very clear on the type of science fiction Analog is looking for, as stated: We publish science fiction stories in which some aspect of future science or technology is so integral to the plot that, if that aspect were removed, the story would collapse. Unfortunately, my stories rarely meet that standard, but “Baby Bird” does, as did the only other story I’ve sent them. That story, “Time Has No Memory”, was rejected, but the editor added the following note after the form letter.

“I like your style of writing and suggest that you try us again.”

That’s encouraging, and since “Baby Bird” is written in the same style as “Time Has No Memory”, it puts Analog right at the top of the list.

Escape Pod

  • Submissions: 5
  • Acceptances: 0
  • Shortlists: 1
  • Personal Rejections: 4

I’ve done okay here, and one of my stories made what I’d consider a short list. I think Escape Pod adds a personal note to most rejections (at least they’ve done so for me), and that’s helped me decide which stories to send them. Now, the story they shortlisted is “Time Has No Memory”, the same story the editor of Analog commented on. Generally, that would put Escape Pod at the very top of the list, especially since “Baby Bird” is similar in tone to “Time Has No Memory”, but it’s important to read the guidelines. Though Escape Pod does take stories up to 6,000 words, their guidelines state that the sweet spot for a submissions is between 2,000 and 4,000 words. So “Baby Bird” is right at their maximum and well outside the sweet spot, and I have to take that into consideration.

Asimov’s Science Fiction

  • Submissions: 6
  • Acceptances: 0
  • Shortlists: 0
  • Personal Rejections: 0

As you can see, I’ve had no luck with Asimov’s, and I’ve received nothing but form rejections. That said, I have a feeling that “Baby Bird” might be a solid fit. That’s based on nothing but reading a few stories from the magazine and some gut intuition. I could be dead wrong, of course, and I have nothing to go on but six boilerplate form rejections, but, hey, sometimes you gotta go with your gut.

Strange Horizons

  • Submissions: 5
  • Acceptances: 0
  • Shortlists: 0
  • Personal Rejections: 0

Another market I’ve had very little luck with. Some of that has to do with when they’re open for submissions and what I have ready to submit when they are. Strange Horizons is a broadly speculative market, so I generally like my chances there since many of my stories are difficult to put into a single genre. Research and experience have led me to wonder if the tone of my work is a good fit for Strange Horizons, but since I’ve received only form rejections, it’s hard to say. This is another case where I’ll have to go with my well honed (hah!) writerly instincts.

Final Order

With all the information and variables I discussed above, the order in which I’ll submit “Baby Bird” to the five markets I’ve chosen is:

  1. Analog Science Fiction & Fact
  2. Escape Pod
  3. Strange Horizons
  4. Asimov’s Science Fiction
  5. Clarkesworld

Now, there might be some wisdom in submitting to the markets that respond the quickest first, and since I’d be thrilled to be published in any of these journals, it’s tempting to order them that way. But I think I want to send “Baby Bird” to the markets where it’s most likely to get published, and from experience, feedback, and that good old gut feeling, I think the order above is probably right. Again, these are all fantastic markets, and I would be thrilled to place a story with any of them.


And there you have it, my super scientific process for choosing markets to submit to. The list above is not set in stone, of course. Some of these markets could close to subs before I get to them, and/or another better-fitting market could open up. It’s a good place to start, though, and here’s hoping “Baby Bird” soon takes flight. 🙂

Query/Submission Statement: November 2023

I was fairly active in November, but, overall, it was a disappointing month for both short story submissions and agent queries. It was a month of cleansing, and I cleared out a lot of stale agent queries with the goal of heading into 2024 with a clean slate. Anyway, let’s have a look at the numbers.

November 2023 Short Story Submissions

  • Submissions Sent: 5
  • Rejections: 3
  • No Response: 0
  • Acceptances: 0
  • Further Consideration/Shortlist: 0
  • Withdrawals: 0

Another five submissions in November, though they didn’t amount to much. My short story numbers for 2023 are, to put it bluntly, abysmal. Much of this has to do with the fact that I haven’t written much new material, which means I haven’t sent many submissions. Getting an acceptance is a numbers game, and I generally hover around a 15% acceptance rate, but this year I’m at about 10%. That wouldn’t be so bad if I’d sent more submissions. I’ve sent a grand total of 37 in 2023, the fewest in a decade. In other words, 10% of say, 75 or 80, which is where I’m usually at, would sit a lot better than 10% of less than 40. I still have some subs pending, so it’s possible another acceptance or two will come in. I also plan to fire off a few more subs in December, and I’ll probably end the year with somewhere between 40 and 50.

November 2023 Agent Queries

  • Queries Sent: 3
  • Rejections: 4
  • CNR: 9
  • Full/Partial Request: 0
  • Withdrawn: 0
  • Nudges: 2

I sent three more queries for my novel SECOND DAWN in November, and they are the last three I’ll send on the project in it’s current state. I received four rejections, one of which was a rejection on a full manuscript request. That last one hurt, especially since it didn’t come with any feedback, but them’s the brakes. I CNR’d nine stale queries in November, and I’ve CNR’s another two this month. That leaves me with six outstanding queries and two outstanding full manuscript requests.

I sent nudges to the two agents who are still reviewing my full manuscript. I’ll nudge them again this month, and if I get no response, I’ll CNR both. It’s certainly disappointing to think about getting no response on an FMR, but, unfortunately, it’s not uncommon.

By the end of the December, I expect all outstanding queries and FMRs to be resolved one way or another. That one way will likely be rejections and CNRs. If/when that happens, I’ll pull SECOND DAWN and start querying my other novel HELL TO PLAY in 2024. I think I might fare better with HELL TO PLAY. It, too, is a supernatural thriller, but comps are easier to find, and it’s not part of a so-called dead genre (vampires). I’ve learned a lot querying SECOND DAWN, and I’ll put the knowledge to good use in the new year.


And that was November. My goals for December are fairly sedate. I want to finish a short story or two, send out a few short story submissions, and then finish the revision of HELL TO PLAY so I can start querying it in 2024.

How was your month of querying/submitting/writing?

Writing Challenges: The Four Brain Weasels of the Apocalypse

It goes without saying that writing and publishing is a tough gig. To make matters worse, the writerly brain is beset by a myriad of doubts, insecurities, and plain old fears that make it even tougher. Speaking from my own experience, there are four primary fears and doubts I battle on a regular basis. I like to call them the Four Brain Weasels of the Apocalypse. So let’s talk about them, and, more importantly, how to fight them.

1) The Brain Weasel of I’m Not Good Enough

Often the first of the four to appear, this brain weasel lurks on blank pages and in the space between outlines and first draft. It says, why even bother to start that story or novel? You’re not good enough to get it published. This brain weasel seeks to keep you from writing at all, and its main weapon is procrastination. It will lure you away with minor household chores and video games and working on other projects that feel safer or aren’t as important.

Battling the Brain Weasel of I’m Not Good Enough: For me, there’s only one way to defeat this brain weasel, and that’s to simply start writing. No matter how awful it feels, no matter how much my brain screams TERRIBLE with each labored sentence, I do it anyway. After the first couple hundred words, things get easier, the words start flowing, and the the Brain Weasel of I’m Not Good Enough slinks away in defeat. In almost every case, when I come back and look at my “terrible” writing the next day, it’s nothing of the sort, which just proves that brain weasels are full of shit. 🙂

2) The Brain Weasel of Why Not Me

This brain weasel often rears its misshapen head when its siblings are having a good chew on your confidence. When another author posts some wonderful news about a story acceptance or landing an agent or getting a book deal, this brain weasel likes to scream IT’S NOT FAIR. You’re as good as that other author. Why aren’t YOU getting that book deal or acceptance?

Battling the Brain Weasel of Why Not Me: We all compare our work to the work of others, and that’s a normal and healthy thing to do, especially when you’re looking for ways to improve. BUT the second you start thinking you deserve something more than someone else, you have to shut that brain weasel down before it leads you down a path of bitterness and misery. The absolute best way to defeat the Brain Weasel of Why Not Me is to charge in and congratulate authors who posts good news. Be the first person to say CONGRATS! Be the first person to tell that author how much they deserve that accolade after all the hard work they’ve put in (because they do and they have). Revel in the success of others, learn from it, and most of all, take inspiration from it. Do that, and I guarantee you’ll shut down the Brain Weasel of Why Not Me long before it can sink its teeth in.

3) The Brain Weasel of I Used to be Better

This brain weasel often accompanies I’m Not Good Enough and tends to plague authors with some publishing experience. It insists that your older work is much better, and you’re not the same writer you used to be. In fact, you might have actually gotten worse and MAYBE you’ve lost the ability to write publishable fiction entirely.

Battling the Brain Weasel of I Used to be Better: Like all brain weasels, this one’s a liar. Its primary goal is to keep you from writing, to keep you from even starting that next project, story, or novel. It can be defeated by simply barreling through and writing, but I also find it can be sent packing with a little positive reinforcement. I like to go back and look at acceptance letters, especially recent ones, and even read the odd positive review. You still have to buckle down and write, but reviewing the hard evidence that you haven’t “lost it” can help you put that first word on the page, which leads to the first sentence, which leads to the first paragraph, and soon enough the Brain Weasel of I Used to be Better turns tail.

4) The Brain Weasel of Phantom Feedback

Perhaps the sneakiest of all brain weasels, this one slips into your mind every time you get a rejection letter. With a form rejection, it tells you there’s some hidden meaning behind that boilerplate not for us or not the right fit. That hidden meaning is, of course, that you’re writing is terrible. Worse, it whispers lies into your brain when you get a good review or a nice personal rejection or when anyone says something positive about your work. This brain weasel insists they’re “just being nice,” and that, in truth, they don’t like your work because, of course, your work is terrible.

Battling the Brain Weasel of Seeing Things That Aren’t There: This is a tough one to fight because it’s so insidious. How do you prove someone doesn’t mean what they haven’t said? The best thing to do is simply take folks at their word, because, for the most part, editors and agents and readers are going to be honest. If that form letter says it’s not a good fit, than that’s what it is, and you should send out that story or query letter to someone else. If someone says they like your work, it’s because they do, and it’s okay to take them at their word, too. The Brain Weasel of Phantom Feedback wants you to chase figments of your imagination, so tell it to go fuck itself and focus on the things you have actual evidence for.


There are of course many other species of brain weasel that plague the writerly brain, but these are the four that inhabit my gray matter. Whatever brain weasel you deal with on the regular, just remember that brain weasels, by their very nature, are liars and should never be believed. I know that’s easier said than done, but it’s possible; I promise. 🙂

Which brain weasels do you wrestle with? How do you deal with them? I’d love to heat about it in the comments.

The Regularly Rejected Story: Give Up or Keep Submitting?

Although most of my recent submission efforts have been focused on querying my novel, I have sent out the occasional short story submission. Admittedly, I haven’t written much new material over 1,000 words in a while, so I’ve been grinding away at the stories I haven’t managed to sell yet. In today’s post, I want to discuss three of those stories, which have, by far, accumulated the most submissions and rejections. Is it time to give up on these three? Let’s discuss.

First, let me give you the submission numbers on these pieces. I won’t be mentioning the titles since two of the stories are currently out on submission. I’ll just call them A, B, and C.

Submissions Pending Shortlists
Story A 19 2 3
Story B 15 2 3
Story C 13 0 0

Okay, now it’s time for some high-level rejectomancy to see if I can figure out why I’m struggling to sell these stories. What follows is pure speculation on my part, so don’t take it too seriously. 🙂

*puts on High Rejectomancer hat*

Story A: If I had to pick the best of the bunch, I’d say it’s this one. It’s straight-up sci-fi, which tends to have a slightly broader appeal (there are certainly more markets for it), and, if I may be so bold, I think it’s one of the better examples of my writing. It’s been shortlisted by three high-profile pro markets, and the feedback has been very positive. This is where you ask, if it’s so good, why haven’t you sold it? Good question, and I can only speculate. First, it’s about time travel, and though I think I have a unique spin, it’s still an overused trope that you often see in do-not-send lists. Two, it’s an epistolary, which is a format not to everyone’s taste. If I had to guess, it’s more the time travel bit that’s hurting me than the format. I’m not ready to give up on this one, though I am running out of places to send it. That said, I feel like I’ve got a decent shot with the two markets it’s currently on submission with, one of which has published a couple of my hard-to-place stories before.

Story B: Like Story A, this one has gotten close to publication at some very good pro markets, but hasn’t crossed the finish line. Unlike Story A, which received a fair amount of feedback, some of which I actually used, Story B has collected a whole bunch of generic not the right fits and we’re going to passes, even on its shortlist rejections. So what’s the problem with this one? Again, I can only speculate, but this story is similar to a number of my hard-to-place stories in that it doesn’t fit neatly into one genre. It has elements of sci-fi and horror, but it would be a stretch to call it either or to call it a true hybrid. It’s simply speculative. I tend to write those stories a lot, and I tend to have a hell of a time selling them. I almost always do sell them, but it’s often to a market that is specifically looking for, well, unspecific speculative stories. Anyway, I think I will sell this one. It has a unique premise and the fact that it has gotten so close to publication before tells me the piece has some merit. It, too, is currently subbed to two markets, so fingers crossed.

Story C: As you can tell, I’ve had ZERO luck with this story. It’s received nothing but form rejections and well, I think that says a lot after thirteen submission. So, what’s the problem here? Speculation time, but I think this story faces a number of challenges. First, it’s set during the height of the Covid pandemic, and while it’s not putting forth any kind of agenda on that topic, it does feel like publishers are somewhat leery of the subject. Second, it contains one of the big three. Those three being the monsters most often seen on do not send lists: vampires, zombies, and werewolves. In this case it’s vampires, and, well, if you want to submit a story on hard mode, just stick a vampire in it. Lastly, the story is kind of a bummer, and while stories that end on a very dark note aren’t unsellable, I do think when you layer touch sell after tough sell on a story, you’re definitely facing an uphill battle. If I want to have a better chance with this one, I think a heavy revision is in order that removes one or maybe two of the tough sell elements. So, for the moment, this one is a trunk story.

Of course, I have engaged in ridiculous amounts of rejectomancy in this post, and while I have enough experience to make some educated guesses about why I’m struggling to sell these pieces, my speculation could be completely off base. This is one of the reasons I keep submitting a story even after double-digit rejections. An acceptance still comes down to putting the right story in front of the right editor at the right time, and I’ve sold plenty of stories with the tough-sell elements I mentioned above. This is not to say that if you are truly getting nowhere with a piece, you shouldn’t reassess (like I’ve done with Story C), but make sure you’re giving the story a fair shake before you do.


Thoughts on the rampant rejectomancy in this post? Tell me about it in the comments.