Why do I Keep Hearing No From Literary Magazines? Five Mistakes to Avoid

Sending pieces of writing into magazines can be incredibly daunting, especially when starting out. I remember telling myself the first time I submitted that I had no expectations for getting published—but in the back of my mind, I was hoping that there was something setting me apart, and that I would be the one writer who never heard the words “we’re not interested”. I am not an exception to the rule—in fact, I’ve heard no a lot more than I’ve heard yes. 

It hurts to hear no. But don’t despair! The reasons for the no are not always rooted in the quality of writing at hand—it has a lot to do with fit, theme of the issue and more that I’ll get into in a moment. 

If you’ve been applying to literary magazines consistently for over a year and still haven’t been published in anything, or maybe you’re beginning your journey of magazine submission, this is for you. I’m going to spill some secrets as someone who’s been on the other end of receiving pieces, and what you can do to avoid them.

Before I begin, however, I want to make clear why being published is something worth your time. In my first year of creative writing class, I asked the professor why I should try to get published in magazines for shorter work because I was interested in being a novelist. She explained that getting published for novels doesn’t often happen out of nowhere—you have to build up some proverbial street cred in the world of publication. It helps build trust in your work, helps create name-recognition (however small), and builds a foundation of quality-checked pieces. 

Even if you’re not interested in working your way toward a novel like I am, having published pieces of writing, creative or nonfiction, is an amazing feeling. Add it to your resume, frame the copy of the magazine on the wall, and post it on social media. It’s been earned!

Now, here are some mistakes I made to avoid so that you can brag about your publication endlessly. 

1. I wasn’t submitting as consistently as I thought I was. I wasn’t actually submitting 2-3 times a month, it was more like 2-3 submissions in a frenzy every few months when I remembered it was something I should do. One of the best pieces of advice I was given when I was starting out was to keep a log. Now, I keep an Excel sheet that tells me what I submitted, to who, the date I submitted, and if I’ve heard back. This helped me when I was submitting the same thing to multiple magazines, because if something was going to be published, I knew exactly which magazines I would have to remove my submission from. Keeping this list also kept me honest with myself about how often I was actually submitting, because I had the evidence in front of me. I had to shift my mindset to think about this more like fishing—I’m not trying to catch a single white whale in the ocean. I’m trying to cast a huge net and hope I get one fish. 

2. I was submitting work to magazines that didn’t align with my piece. I was writing sci-fi and submitting them to feminist literary magazines—this obviously led to huge disappointment when they turned me down. It also wastes both my time and the magazines’, because it doesn’t matter how excellent the piece is, it doesn’t align with what the magazine is about. Now, I read what the magazine specializes in, and it’s even better if I can read some of what they’ve published in the past so that I can get a sense if it’s for me. For example, I sometimes write poems that lean on the weird, speculative side. When I sit down to submit, I’m looking for a magazine that publishes at least some of that genre. 

3. I was submitting a first draft. Sometimes, I was submitting things that were not ready to see the light of day yet. When I was editing for a literary magazine, we’d sometimes get grammatical and spelling mistakes in submitted works. Even if the piece was well-written, a story or poem is likely being read by a room of people who are nerds for grammar, spelling, and good writing. Having an obvious spelling or punctuation mistake is unprofessional in submitted pieces. I needed to realize something painful but also relaxing—first drafts are meant to be bad. That’s why they’re drafts. No matter how much I loved what I’d written, no matter how much I’d gotten attached to it, I can guarantee that a first draft is not ready for publishing. Now, I read my draft out loud, show it to at least one other person to get a sense of what they’re confused about, and rewrite it in an entirely new document. I’ve realized being a good writer often means being ruthless—being willing to delete the sentences I’d once thought were genius and now, with a few days' space and a fresh cup of coffee in my hands realize…kind of sucks. 

4. I was writing something that had been done before. I don’t mean this in the way that all things have been done before, or all stories are a variation on the hero’s journey. I mean my metaphor choice, my diction, and my sentence structure were reflections of things I had read and enjoyed. I teach myself now to be wary of cliches that editors will have been sure to see before. Here are some common examples: “She let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.” Sadness crushing “like the waves of an ocean.” Now, I do a pass of my submission specifically for cliche things—where did I get that idea from? Where did I read that word last? Do I have something to add to this topic? Getting inspiration from other writers isn’t a problem. We all have to be inspired by something. But having an understanding of what is truly a new idea and what is echoing is key. 

5. I wasn’t reading submission guidelines carefully. If they asked for size 12 font and I submitted in 14, they might just get rid of my submission without reading it. Magazines, especially the large ones, receive thousands of submissions, and they’re often run by people not being paid much. If my submission doesn’t meet their requirements for formatting, they may use it as an excuse not to read my piece—which, in my opinion, is fair. Submitting to a magazine means I believe I have something to add to the literary world, which means I’m attempting to garner the respect of others’ in the writing community. How can I expect that kind of respect when I’m not reading the guidelines someone else set?

Submitting for literary magazines can be brutal. You hear no more often than anything else, even when the work you’ve submitted is good. It’s hard to tell when you should give up on a story or poem and when you just need to find the right magazine to take it. I was told during my undergrad that it’s easy to feel like you don’t have anything to add to any genre, or that you’re not good enough to ever make this writing thing work out—but it’s important to remember that if you give up, your unique voice will never make it out there. Keep writing and refining your work. Every rejection gets you a step closer to finding the right place for your work. Keep submitting, learning and growing as a writer—I know I sure am, too.