With a Little Help From My Friends
The role of an editor and how a tiny nudge can change everything
Over the last year, I’ve been committed to submitting work to literary publications. I’ve had some success. Short stories have been accepted. Poetry, too. Oh, yes, there are far more rejections than acceptances. But if you’ve been writing and submitting for any length of time, you know a no comes much more often than a yes.
My first book had more than two dozen rejections from publishers. When I finally received the first yes, I got two more right after that. There are so many uncontrollable factors in these decisions, and many times they have little to do with the writing. It’s theme, or maybe there have been other stories like it that have been published by the same house, or there are genre issues, or marketability concerns. On and on.
And sometimes it’s the smallest little thing that might be the very big thing that makes the difference.
Recently I submitted a short story — flash fiction, really, about 900 words — to a literary magazine. They liked it. Well, most of it. The responding email said, paraphrasing here, “We liked your submission, especially the poetic nature of the prose. But the ending just wasn’t strong enough. If you’d like to rewrite or edit and resend your work, we will consider again.”
Hmm.
It’s not unusual for an editor to make suggestions, big or small. It’s part of the job. But I’ve not had this kind of semi-acceptance before. In my experience, editors will like the piece of they won’t. After acceptance, they might ask to do some light editing, minor things, but nothing like this. A story’s ending is, well, a big deal. It’s what the reader is ultimately left with. It means a lot. The writer owns it and holds to it with conviction.
My first reaction to the email was to thank them and move on. The story had been submitted to other publications. Maybe one would like it as it was first written. It was a strong piece, I believed. Still, instead of “moving on,” I thanked the editors and said I would “consider their thoughts.”
Time passed. I ruminated over it. One side of me said, “Leave it alone. Believe in it just as it is.” The other side said, “You know you have a tendency to dislike tied-up-in-a-bow endings so much so that you err on the side of no bow at all.”
So, I got to work.
I considered a sentence or two more. I considered several paragraphs more. I considered what my narrator wanted, what he was after. I considered what he might need. Was there transformation? Was it enough transformation? Was there a revelation? What did I want the reader to be left with? What emotion? What was I really trying to say?
I took a long walk and thought about it some more.
When I returned, I returned to writing. A little of this. A touch of that. Cut this. Add that. Rework this. Change that. Five short paragraphs, some only a sentence long, were added to the end. Then, I did more work. Change a word. Add this one. Drop the comma. Add the comma. Change the last sentence. Change it again. Then again. Go back to the first change. Delete it. Rewrite it. And when I finally thought I might have had something, I read it aloud.
Magic.
The piece was far better. Not because I was some genius or master, it was better because another set of eyes saw something I could not. The editors saw potential, enough to believe there was something worthy to uncover that might allow the story to go from simply good to being, well, magic. Is it magic? I don’t know. That’s for the reader to decide. But first the editors and the writer must believe magic is possible.
I resubmitted and in a day the editor of the publication sent me a final email.
I am happy to inform you that your piece “Not How it Works” has been selected by our Editorial Board and will be featured in the magazine’s April 2024 edition. Congratulations.
Writers should believe in their work, protect it, and have conviction in what their gut tells them. But sometimes writers can’t see a work’s full potential without a nudge or a poke. Should we always accept that poke? No. Consider the source and how firm your artistic feet are sealed in cement. But don’t dismiss a chance to see another way to a better story.
Sometimes it only takes a few little changes. And sometimes you just need a little help from your friends.
