An Author's View © by Jeffrey Dane - 1999
The Easiest Markets. Publications which solicit Letters To The Editor. A
featured section in most magazines and newspapers, it's little wonder they're
actively sought and welcomed by editors: the publication doesn't have to pay
writers for the copy - but it can still be a useful and satisfying outlet for
a novice or unpublished writer to have his or her work appear in print.
Parenthetically, a department store patron would be hard pressed to find an
entity there called the Compliment Department. Most letters to the editor
complain, not compliment.
The Most Difficult Markets. Not as judgement but merely as observation, the
author's findings are that religious-oriented publications appear to be the
most difficult to deal with. They are meticulous almost to the point of
indecision, and their specifics make them extremely hard to satisfy with
one's writing and almost impenetrable to access. I proposed an article about
the work of a man considered an authority in his field. As I had met him
several times, I decided to write a piece that was operatively a combination
of an overview of his work and a profile of him. I offered it to a religious
publication who expressed both an interest in the article and reservations
about my qualifications for writing the piece. I furnished them with salient
particulars of my background, outlined my publication credentials, and added
that I had on several occasions met the subject of the piece (most recently
when I interviewed him for it), each time gleaning data and details for the
article. I felt this qualified me if not as "the world's foremost authority"
on the man himself then certainly as someone now equipped to write a piece
about him and his work. It may be hard to believe, but the editor responded
with the trivializing comment, "Your having met him several times seems to
indicate that all you're doing is a profile of someone who's merely a friend
of yours." First the editor questioned my qualifications, and then questioned
my objectivity when he learned I knew the man who was the article's subject.
I'm convinced only Joseph Heller would have loved the absurdity of this
Catch-22 situation, but I did not - and if the late Rod Serling had been so
victimized, we'd be graced with at least one additional Twilight Zone tale in
his roster of them. We writers have more important things to do than waste
our time contending with this or any kind of nonsense. I withdrew the article
immediately and soon found another published home for it.
The Best-Paying Markets Aside from the major USA publications, the
best-paying markets seem to be in Europe generally, and in Austria
specifically. The different sense of values - difficult to define and
explain, but very easy to recognize - found in the European character may
play a role here. An article I wrote about Beethoven's Vienna residences was
rejected by several USA music and travel publications: the latter felt it was
too musical and the former saw it as being not musical enough. While a few
offered an insultingly nominal sum, most of those that wanted it proposed
"Payment only in author's copies," or offered as compensation " the prestige
of being published in our magazine." I decided that what they could do with
that prestige is something I wouldn't say to a lady or gentleman. The article
was soon accepted by a publication who said my article was " an ideal balance
of information for both the tourist and the musician": Skylines Magazine
(published in Vienna), the official publication and inflight magazine of
Austrian Airlines. In Austrian Schillings I was paid the equivalent of $550
for it. I was also paid $800 by the European Cigar Journal (also published in
Vienna) for an article I wrote about Johannes Brahms and his penchant for
cigars. This article had been rejected by a number of such magazines here in
the USA, and though my writing had been translated before into other
languages, when the piece appeared in the extremely handsome Viennese
magazine it was the first time I saw my work published in German. For those
to whom I sent the article but who don't know the language, I made offprints
of the published piece and included a single-spaced, smaller font rendition
of my original typescript. Another benefit to having one's work appear in a
foreign publication is that it can indeed be translated by the editor(s) into
the indigenous language, thereby giving the author a more international
exposure and broadening his publication credentials.
T. J. Smith, Editor; Dana Jones, Publisher. - Titles like these succeed mainly
in promoting confusion about the addressee's gender and force us into the
role of clairvoyant when preparing a query. Political correctness
notwithstanding, sometimes it is necessary or certainly desirable to know
whether the editor is male or female. How should we address such people when
querying? To begin a communique with, "Dear T.J. Smith" is clumsy and
impersonal, and it would have been embarrassing to make the innocent but
discomfiting faux-pas of addressing the late Dana Andrews in writing as MRS.
Andrews, or the late Dana Plato as MR. Plato. A disarming but practical
solution is to address your communiqué to DR. Smith, or to DR. Jones. Using
such a title is surely a courtesy, not an insult, and would in most cases
succeed as a blanket procedure that covers all contingencies (or almost all
of them: one editor actually seemed positively annoyed when responding, "I am
not a Ph.D or a physician!!"). We all know that Finland's greatest composer,
Jean Sibelius, was a man - but mentioning the name Camille Saint-Saëns would
in the minds of most people prompt the image of a lady. That's the name the
French composer used, though he (!) was born in 1835 as Charles Camille
Saint-Saëns.
It Doesn't Grab The Reader. Most people would take offense if you grabbed
them to get their attention. Wouldn't you react more favorably to an
introduction marked by subtlety and elegance, which in the hands of the
astute and exacting writer can be just as compelling as being "grabbed"?
What's most obvious, by its nature, can easily escape our attention, so it
may be worth noting that you don't need the literary counterpart of a
sledge-hammer to get someone's attention. The distinction in quality writing
would be clear to perceptive readers and should be clear to perceptive
editors.
Breaking In. Perhaps the most egregious phrase of all, it's literally
suggestive of a criminal act. Don't writers find it insulting to see this
disturbing phrase used so consistently in connection with their "crime" of
trying to find a published home for their work? In context we know what the
phrase means, but the association is still offensive. "Breaking into" a
publication corresponds to an image of the writer as criminal, the latter an
armed burglar and the former a shady individual using his tools of choice -
words - as "weapons" to gain access to places otherwise closed to him. The
phrase, as commonplace as crime in some areas, is too often used and
accepted.
Offering On Speculation. In a well-known writers' magazine I recently saw the following sentiment: "Don't offer on speculation. Those at the target
magazine might think your piece was already offered elsewhere and was
rejected." So what? Was it courage or downright foolishness that prompted
them to print such a statement? Does a magazine expect to be the only
publication to which you'd offer your piece? Some ask for much and offer
little: a virtually total re-write in exchange for a "payment" of four free
copies, feeling that the "exposure" you get from the appearance of your piece
in their magazine is adequate recompense - but they still have the nerve to
expect exclusivity from you, or that theirs should be the very first
publication to which you must offer your article. Some magazines even specify
" no simultaneous submissions," expecting to be the ONLY publication to which
you'd offer your article.
Manuscript. Old habits die hard. By technical definition rather than common
usage, I'm aware of no publication that today would accept a writer's "manuscript,"
though submissions are still so called. The manuscript was long ago replaced
by the Typescript - which in turn is now being superseded by the electronic
submission.
Query With Clips. This is an insult to authors by insinuation and it's
surprising it isn't viewed as such. When it involves a query per se, it
implies that editors don't believe the writer's work has been published
before, as though that alone would invalidate the quality of the writing at
hand. If a piece has merit, it shouldn't matter if the author doesn't have
distinguished publication credentials, a university connection or strings of
degrees after his or her name. It's the finished product that matters. When
asked to fill out a biographical form, one man wrote, "Happily impossible, I
would have to paint nothing but zeros and dashes in these columns. I have had
no experiences that I could communicate. I have attended no schools or
institutions for musical culture. I have embarked on no travels for purposes
of study. I have received no instruction from eminent masters. I am the
incumbent of no public offices, and I hold no official positions. Well, then,
what am I to write here? With greetings - Johannes Brahms."
Your Article Doesn't Discuss This-or-That. Well, maybe it isn't supposed to.
The concept of "ludicrous" seems to have its most fitting application in
situations like this. The author's own experience shows him that some people
seem hard of reading: unable (or worse, unwilling) to gauge a finished,
integral piece by its own intrinsic value and to understand and appreciate it
for what it is, they prefer instead to view it tangentially and focus on what
it is not. This is what's commonly known as a cop-out. One editor commented
he "didn't find much new or original" in a personal remembrance I wrote of
Leonard Bernstein (whom I knew in my student days), adding, "I don't think
your essay adds a lot to our knowledge of him." That my piece was clearly by
title and character a personal recollection of Mr. Bernstein, not a
"biography" of him, somehow escaped the editor's attention. I offered an
article (to a religious magazine) about the composers' spiritual views. "Each
section on the composers is too short to really cover the concept, thus
leaves the reader wanting," the editor said. Her next sentence was, "It's
difficult for a magazine to publish longer pieces." First she questioned
brevity and literally in the next breath made an oxymoronic comment. The
editor's remarks seemed somewhat contradictory and I must admit I was a bit
confused by them. Those able or willing to gauge something on its own merits
are the exceptions, not the rule - but they're the gems in the editorial and
readership settings, and can make an author's frustrations worthwhile, by
compensation.