Thursday Flash Craft: 9 Surefire Ways to Get Your Flash Fiction Accepted

Recently, for the wonderful Los Angeles Review, I wrote a blog entry, "Something About Rejection." Here's a companion piece, something about flash fiction acceptance. From 2004-2009, I served as an editor with SmokeLong Quarterly, by the end reading as many as 400-500 submissions per month. So part of this advice comes from my editorial experience and part comes from my own submission/acceptance history and most is, as one might expect, a best guess.

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1. Find the perfect match. I did an exercise with one of my flash fiction writing workshops in which I let the students choose which story (among three) I should send to a particular journal (one that replies quickly). Their chosen story received a prompt but nice rejection. Had I asked them to match each of my pieces with a journal, I imagine they would've often gotten it wrong, continually mismatching story with the journals' readers/editors. I did ask the editor of this particular journal who rejected the student-chosen piece  if I could send another story, and he accepted it. The point here is that often rejection is a matter of sending the wrong flash fiction piece to the wrong journal. To figure out that perfect match, I (of course) read the journal to figure out their aesthetic, but I also look at the writers they publish (and the writing of those writers), the writing of the editors/readers, and the guidelines. Also, I look for articles/interviews the editors might've done concerning submissions and their "biases."
2. Figure out who will be first-reading it. If you can, try to determine those first readers for your flash. Both putting the right information on a cover letter that would appeal to these readers and attaching that letter to the story that might capture their attention are important things to consider, methinks. My guess is that most university journals have university students reading for them, so what's best to send to them, I think, the story about an old guy facing a painting his wife did or a new father coming across his college bong in the basement? And so I do think, when trying to figure out what flash fiction piece to send where, about what kind of writing/piece might appeal to its first-readers. Also, what information on a cover letter might get them to think twice before tossing the story aside? My fellow workshop members at Zoetrope Virtual Studio would now and then make fun of me for including "Zoetrope Top Flash Story" for "Top Three Story" as part of my resume, but that information, in front of the right people, led to a number of gigs. Don't always think as a writer would about what these "accomplishments" mean. Think sometimes about a reader who is not as familiar as you with their "real meaning." Also, think about the experience level of the editorial staff. For example, the readers at SmokeLong Quarterly tended to be experienced flash fiction writers themselves, so they were very aware of unoriginality in both the storytelling and the language. In submitting to SLQ, it was important to understand that you were submitting to a number of fairly established flash fiction writers who rarely, if ever, accessed bios or even author names. Knowing who is guest editing, newly editing (university journals might change editors yearly), and so on definitely helps figuring out which flash piece to send where.
3. Avoid premature submission by following a routine.  It takes me about a week to get a flash piece that I consider to be in "early draft" mode. Sometimes this early draft process takes place among a group of writers that write a flash-a-day online. Mostly, it happens on my own. Then, I post the piece at Zoetrope Virtual Studio's Flash Wing, where it remains for forty (40) days. During that time, I'm considering both the story itself and readers' feedback. After the forty days are up, I spend a few weeks to a few months figuring out the "problems" I've identified in the piece. By following this process, I'm tricking myself into giving myself time to get it right and not rushing from the creative process to the product.
4. Don't use "summary" titles. Don't make the title what the story is about.  If the story is about an uncle's death, don't call it "Uncle Henry." Call it something that changes everything. Imagine the title being taken away. Does the story now become something else without it? Does the title matter? People underestimate the power of a title to convince readers of the "smartness" of a story, of the care that went into crafting the story. Think of the title as being the key to the subtext, of hinting at how the story should be read, of opening and/or closing the flash. Convince readers that you took so much interest and time with this flash fiction piece that even the title has been carefully considered and thoughtfully wrought; it's not just something stuck at the top on a whim.
5. Nail that ending. In flash fiction, that final line so often functions as the deal-maker or deal-breaker. Odds are you didn't nail it that first draft. Odds are you wrote past it, so look for the ending some place other than the final line. The tendency is to write the ending and then have a few sentences or paragraphs afterwards that explains it for those readers who didn't get it. Michael Czyzniejewski, the editor of Mid-American Review  and author of Elephants in Our Bedroom, gave me some great advice about my endings. He said he felt that the imagery/thought was coming from outside the story (from me as author) rather than from the POV character. I'm still working out that concept but I do get it. The ending needs to belong to the character, everything about it, the words, the images, the allusions, the syntax, the emotion, the all of it.
6. Continually surprise (but avoid the twist ending). Flash fiction doesn't always require the surprise and suspense that comes from the unexpected ending, although that can be perfectly fine. There's the perhaps by now over-said defining quality of flash that "every word counts." I take that to mean, in my own flash writing,  that the words I use continually have to be the unexpected ones, especially if the situation I'm writing about—a guy and girl in a bar, for example—has a familiar ring to it. Of course, you can also surprise by having a situation editors/readers have rarely encountered. Michael Czyzniejewski's "Wind' begins, "All of a sudden, nobody can explain the wind." What's important is that you let editors/readers know that you are aware of all the stories and all the words/phrasing that came before yours, and that you've committed yourself to making sure that your story and language has a freshness about it. It's not the same old thing that the editors/readers have been encountering in submission after submission. This one will rock their world.
7. Think of the dramatic imperative as it applies to submissions. Xu Xi, during my MFA, taught me about what she called the dramatic imperative in fiction, the idea that a reader needs to know why, of all moments in characters' lives, the story is happening at this moment. Why now? Why not some other time? As an editor, I sometimes wondered that about the submissions I received. Why SmokeLong Quarterly? Why here? Why now? If that reason exists, it might be worth mentioning (briefly) in a cover letter. Was it a particular story? An interview? A writer? Something about the journal itself? The editor? Why them? Why now? 
8. Think of the new business model. When I was teaching a blogging class, I came across somewhere this new business model, from the old thinking of Buy our product because we kick ass to the newer message: Buy our product because we'll help you kick ass. I'm not sure that a cover letter needs to tell editors and readers how you kick major literary ass; instead, there might be some way to convey how you and your story might help them in their ass-kickin' pursuits. Adding a line on your cover letter about your involvement in the literary community, as a blogger, editor, journal subscriber, patron saint, and the like might be something to mention. How do you giveth (and not only taketh) from the literary community? Of course, you might think as a writer that you are giving each journal your work for, in most cases, no payment except contributor copies and that should be enough. But they, too, are in a similar position, getthing little or nothing for their editorial efforts. So, maybe it's something to consider thinking about. Yes, you kick butt. But  how do you help all of us kick butt, too?
9. Write a great flash fiction piece. Oh yeah. I almost forgot. That's the important thing to do.

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Okay, so maybe the sure-fire of the title is more for the search engines. But if you're writing great flash fiction, there surely are some things that you can do to make sure that you are finding the perfect home for your wondrous work. I hope these nine (9) suggestions help. Of course, I will gladly take full credit for any acceptances that result from your following this advice, but will take absolutely no responsibility for any terrible things that result from it. Good luck!

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