I Read Your Guidelines. I Still Don't Know What You Want.

Can I vent for a minute?

Or is understanding what a literary magazine really wants akin to following the plot of Inception?

Sometimes it feels like being handed a recipe for chili only to discover it requires peppers from Peru, cardamom from Italy, and sea salt harvested from Atlantis.

I don't know what your process is, but when I'm looking for a home for a story, I usually start on Duotrope. I'll read a magazine's "About" page, their submission guidelines, maybe browse a few issues if they're available.

And let me tell you, I've read some beautifully written "About" pages.

Some are more beautifully written than our "About" page, that's for sure.

The problem?

Too often, I finish reading and still have absolutely no idea what the magazine actually wants.

I know you accept all genres.

I know you're looking for work that lingers with the reader.

I know you welcome both emerging and established writers.

I know you encourage marginalized voices.

Check.

Check.

Check.

Check.

Here's my question:

Don't most literary magazines say some version of this?

If you tell me you accept all genres, but you've published nineteen literary stories and one romance over the past year, are you really a magazine for all genres? Or are you a literary magazine that's technically open to romance?

If you encourage marginalized voices, what does that encouragement look like in practice? Who actually appears in your table of contents?

Those aren't "gotcha" questions. They're the kinds of questions writers ask because we're trying to find the right home for our work.

As both a writer and an editor, I think we sometimes confuse mission statements with submission guidelines.

Mission statements tell me who you aspire to be.

Submission guidelines should help me understand whether my story belongs there.

Those aren't the same thing.

As editors, I think we can do a better job of reducing the mystery.

Tell me what you've loved lately.

Tell me what rarely works.

Tell me if you're drawn to quiet character studies or high-concept plots. If humor almost never makes the final issue, say that. If you're open to speculative fiction but publish it once every two years, that's useful information too.

Clarity doesn't limit writers.

It helps us make better decisions.

It saves everyone time.

And maybe—just maybe—it leads to stronger submissions because writers aren't trying to decode beautiful but opaque language.

As for the writers reading this...

Keep doing what you're doing.

Research the magazine.

Read what they publish.

Revise.

Then revise again.

Submit fearlessly.

Try not to let rejection wound too deeply.

It happens to every single one of us.

And if you still can't figure out what a magazine wants after reading their guidelines...

Well...

It might not be you.