It's Way Too Fucking Quiet around Here

When I'm not listening to the ubiquitous sound of helicopters in LA, hounding after escaped convicts and armed cholos running off with grandma's jewelry, I have moments like these about my writing career: This is the sound of absolutely nothing, which scares the shit out me. I haven't heard from a single journal, agent or publisher in like weeks, which only means one thing: It's about to get loud + nasty + fucked up soon. I'm cringing just thinking about the barrage of rejections. There's a giant shadow blocking the sun, hoovering over my head somewhere in outer space, ready anytime now, in an instant, to crash down to earth like a kaput satellite that arrives half-incinerated, a clunky piece of yesterday about to crush me under the California sun.

Good (Standard) Rejection from Harper's That Feels Special (even though it's Not)

Yesterday, I received the following rejection letter from Harper's Magazine in the mail + though it's their standard rejection letter, the fact that they typed my name up + signed the letter makes me special, even though I'm clearly not. Still, considering Harper's publishes one unsolicited short story a year, I knew my odds going in. On the other hand, I'll gladly be in the company of other rejected writers also sending Harper's Magazine material considered truly impressive and such good work. At least I'm in good company. See, I'm that kind of writer: Devoutly idealistic, ambitious, intrepid, unafraid to take a risk, delusional, the kind of writer that doesn't know how to take no for an answer. And someday, that's why I'm gonna publish my shit.

HARPER'S
MAGAZINE
_____________________________________________________________

March 29, 2011

Dear Mr. Bliss,

Many thanks for sending your story to Harper's Magazine. I'm sorry to say that it's not quite right for us. Please do bear in mind that we publish only twelve stories each year, + receive hundreds of submissions, many of them truly impressive works of fiction, for those spots. Turning away so much good work is a frustrating task for any editor--it is, also, alas, unavoidable.

We wish you the best of luck in placing the story elsewhere, + thank you once again for thinking of us.

All best,


James Marcus
Deputy Editor

German Novelist Patrick Findeis Gives Props to The Ninjas of My Greater Self


Yesterday in workshop we had several visitors, one of whom was Patrick Findeis, a visting German novelist staying at Villa Aurora as a Winter Quarter Fellow whose debut novel, Kein Schöner Land (No Land More Lovely), has been making headlines. Aimee was kind enough to forward me Findeis's flattering words about the excerpt of Ninjas he read last night, which is included down below. Cool, man. At least I know that one German will buy my book when it comes out. Danke!

Hi Aimee,

good to meet you too!
I really enjoyed the class, the level was very high and the writing strong.
I read the excerpt from Jackson's book in the evening and I think it's great. The little I heard of the first story made a big impression on me as well.

Take care,
Patrick

Freedom + Hope: My Last Workshop + Sending a Query to Sandra Dijkstra

1. While I still have five more weeks of this semester, I'm officially done getting my shit workshopped forever! What an amazing feeling: Ah, the tangy taste of freedom! No, it's true, I'll be doing a private writing class with Aimee next semester, but that'll be one-on-one, the very opposite of workshop, in fact. Talking with Aimee is sort of like talking with a very insightful friend of yours who carries a pair of sheers with her wherever she goes + who is also way better published than you are. Not only do I not mind this private writing class next semester, I'm actually looking forward to it because it will force me--structurally, speaking--to keep working on The Ninjas of My Greater Self as I prepare for fields, which will be fun but also crazy stressful too. And while my workshops at SC were a 100 times more helpful for me than the pissing contests/genealogy of morals gang-bang I used to go through at Notre Dame, at the same time, I think I've plateaued with workshop just in general. I know what my strengths + weaknesses are as a writer. Now, it's really just about creating work that is its best version of itself. Through workshop + other venues, I've become very aware of what I do well + where I need help. So, thanks workshop. But now I'm gonna peace out.

2. I just sent Sandra Dijkstra a 25-page sampler of BLANK with a query letter. Hopefully she'll be intrigued enough that she'll want to read the entire manuscript. Based on her client list, I think she'll appreciate the strong, smart, independent female characters, the multicultural crew, the ambitious + intersecting plotline + above all else, the novel's return to history + culture, the love of language + the joy of storytelling in BLANK. But if for some--tragic--reason she rejects BLANK, I'm still planning on asking her if she'd like to see $67 for My Favorite Dictator, my collection of short stories +/or whether she'd be interested in reading Ninjas once it's finally done--whenever that is.

Talking Field Exam Reading Lists + Agent Referrals with TC Boyle

Since he's my thesis adviser + also a former teacher of mine, TC Boyle told me to stop by his office soon after the recommendation snafu to talk about my Post WWII reading list for fields. I also wanted to talk to him about getting a referral to Sandra Dijkstra. Stop on by, he emailed. After teaching, that's exactly what I did, a slight spring in my step. Must be the sunshine.

1. Field Exams

When I walked into his office, the dude looked fucking exhausted.

I shook his hand + said: —You look fucking exhausted. —I am, he said, leaning his head back.—I saw you on Bill Maher's Real Time.—Oh yeah?
I nodded. —Yeah, it's the only time I've seen you in a group of people where you're not talking the whole time.
We both laughed.—I don't like dealing with talking heads.
After chatting a little more, I handed him my proposed reading list for the field exam I'll be doing with him, post WWII literature. He read the list + nodded: —Well, this looks great.—I'm not sure what critical connections I'll make yet, but once I've read 1/4 to 1/2 of them, I'm sure I'l see them.—Well, I've read almost every book here.—I haven't a read single book on that list. That's why I picked'em.
He looked up.—I thought it would be a perfect excuse to read a bunch of books I've always wanted to read but haven't.—That's brilliant.

2. Sandra Dijkstra

Once we'd finished figuring out the details for my reading list, I paused, turned to Tom + said: —So can we talk about Sandra Dijkstra?—Sure. It's time to get you an agent so you can get your books published. What's up?—Well, I'm still waiting to hear from the Irene Goodman Literary Agency but I'm getting antsy + I don't want to wait anymore, so I wondered whether you might give me a referral.—Of course. I told you I'd be happy to.—I took a look at her client list + it's pretty rad.*—Well, I already talked you up to her.—Awesome.—Okay, how about this? I'll write her a letter right now. When will you send her a manuscript?—Tomorrow.—Great. Okay, are you going to send her Ninjas?—I'm not sure. I kinda want her to take a look at BLANK before I send her Ninjas. But I haven't decided yet.—Okay, well, he said, pulling out a piece of SC stationery + scribbling a note to Sandra Dijkstra, I'll send this today, should get to her by tomorrow + you'll send your manuscript to her tomorrow + a short letter mentioning some of her clients you admire. . .—Okay, great.

I'm not sure what's going to happen with any of this + I haven't closed the door to the Irene Goodman Literary Agency at all, but a little competition won't hurt anyone. Besides, from reading literary agent blogs, I get the very strong impression that agents are naturally fierce with each other + accept competition because they have to (it's part of the industry), even embracing it sometimes. So we'll see what happens. Even so, I'm flattered that Tom actually talked me up to such a big agent. That shit is flattering.

Now, back to The Ninjas of My Greater Self



*Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, Lisa See, Susan Faludi, Maxine Hong Kingston, Amy Tan

Good Rejection from the Missouri Review

Though I was told that my story is too dreamy (the opposite of real) + the narrative voice is somewhat off-putting (which I don't get), nevertheless, this was a good rejection from the Missouri Review + is a nice way to end my relationship with the journal since I'm not planning on sending them anymore shit. See this entry to find out why.

Dear Jackson,

I've been asked by our editor, Speer Morgan, to notify you in regards to your submission " . . . " Though it was read and enjoyed by several editors, in the end, we've decided to pass on it. Specifically, we found the narrative voice somewhat off-putting, and though there is some very nice writing in the piece, the story somehow never quite felt real. Thank you so much for your interest in our magazine, and please submit again.

Best,

Owen Neace
Office Assistant
The Missouri Review
----------
Please enter our spring contest: The 4th Annual Audio Competition—four categories, each with a $1,000 prize, and publication on our website.
Postmark deadline: March 15th, 2011

The Flipside of Rejection

On the flipside: My wife + I are going to Beijing in May, which is going to be fucking dope. And I'll have the entire summer to work on my novel + read the shit out of my Asian-American/Pacific Rim reading list for fields. And recently I found out I won the Ace/Nikaido Fellowship, giving me just enough money to spend some time in Japan sometime this year (probably December) to study cosplay subculture. So, some things have worked out really good, even if I didn't end up scoring a goddamn artist residency!

My Annual Query Letter to Nicole Aragi

Like for X-mas, anniversaries, passover + the birthdays of uncles, I like to send Nicole Aragi a little thank-you note every year to honor + commemorate the blossoming of our future agent-writer relationship that I know we'll have someday when I'm famous + she's just a little richer because of me.

Okay, that's wishful thinking. Actually, almost every year, I like to send an unsolicited query letter to Nicole Aragi hoping that I've found the perfect window in which she's looking for just one more client that hasn't landed on her desk yet from an editor, agent or writer referral. I have no chance of codebreaking Nicole Aragi's window, I get it! But, considering what a superagent Nicole Aragi actually is + what she has done (continues to do) for the writing careers of her clients (don't even make me drop the list again), I have to fucking try anyway. So that's what I did:

Dear Lisa Smith,

Instead of sending you my annual query letter, I'm trying another approach: Is there any chance that Nicole Aragi is looking to take on a new client in 2011? If so, may I send you my query letter?

Peace, Blessings,

-Jackson Bliss

I realize my email is unorthodox + kinda curt, but I don't mean it rudely at all. I'm just trying to save Lisa Smith + Nicole Aragi time. If Nicole Aragi has already found her two new clients for the year between January + March of 2011 + she's sincerely not looking for another client until next year, then why waste their time? While I'm a hardworking writer with a crazy work ethic, an insane amount of ambition + talent to burn, I'm not a sadistic motherfucker by any stretch of the imagination. I'll never force myself on any agent, but I will try persuading a few to give me a chance. Worst case scenario (almost guaranteed scenario): Nothing happens + I'm right where I was before I sent that damn email. I can live with that.

My New Strategy for 2011

I sent out 103 manuscripts to journals in 2010 + I only have one acceptance so far + only 8 manuscripts left in that cycle. I'm not saying it's not worth it to send your shit out there because you kinda have to if you want to get published + since literary agents read literary journals, it's kind of a necessary evil. But now that I know what I know about 2010, I feel like I wasted an incredible amount of time that I could have spent writing. So, my new strategy for 2011 is simple:

1. Write the shit out of The Ninjas of My Greater Self, since that seems to be the book that's getting the most attention for me right now, making it all the more important that I finish it.

2. Send submissions to only the journals that are essentially game-changers, meaning:

The Paris Review
The New Yorker
The Atlantic
Conjunctions
Zoetrope
Tin House
A Public Space
Esquire
N+1
Granta
Southern Review
Black Clock

Now, granted, these are some of the most prestigious journals in the business + will increase my rejection rate from 99% to 99.9%, but I think that's okay because I don't mind being rejected from the glossies/gatekeepers. In fact, though it's unfair, I kinda expect that. With small MFA-affiliated journals, however, I don't expect that kind of rejection, which is a huge mistake since the average fiction reader is a white, 20-something MFA student, often male, highly opinionated, unpublished, insecure, technically competent, idealistic + overworked writer who wants to be the next great American writer. When it comes down to it, fiction readers in MFA programs don't really want to read your shit. They think they do before they get recruited to read for a literary journal, but after two months, it takes up too much time that they need to work on their own shit, not to mention all the crap that's getting dumped on their lap in workshop. In the context of MFA programs + reading for literary journals, rejection--whether it's deserved or not--becomes the most effective way to get back to your own writing, sad to say. Also, with that extra .9%, I will feel like I'm really fighting for a dream since getting picked up in any one of the above journals will change your writing career in some way. Not so with most of the very good + very small literary journals peppered all across America. Lastly, lots of major writers have found their agents or started their career with the following journals. If it sounds like I'm vaguely giving up the prospect of publishing new stories in journals, I actually am. I won't stop fighting, but I will stop expecting it to work out + focus more on my writing, which is the only thing I used to care about when I first started writing.

In the meantime, I'm gonna spend less time mailing out stories to journals my parents have never heard of and more time working on my second novel, which is probably where my literary career begins anyway. And if I'm wrong + one of the above journals picks up one of my stories, all the better, but I'm definitely not expecting that, at least not without an agent.

Someday I'll Cry

When I finally get my first book published, when I finally see my first book in print, when my family finally reads a complete book of mine, when my friends can go + buy my books at their local bookstore (or at least fucking order them), when I have something to actually post in a perfectly legit Wikipedia article, the truth is, I'm going to cry my fucking eyes out because this industry can be so brutal + so impenetrable. Trying to make it as a literary novelist is by far the hardest, most difficult + most excruciatingly drawn-out thing I've ever done in my entire life. It can break your heart, inhale your soul + weigh on you like a broken limb. It can beat you down, keep you frozen in time + elude you like a specter. There are no promises in publishing. Nothing guarantees anything, not hard work, connections, schmoozing, the right MFA program, the right contacts--nothing is anything until it's everything.

For all of these reasons, once I finally get the call (or the letter), I'm going to do the same shit I did when I got into USC, I'm going to gulp really hard, take a moment to let reality seep into my pores, I'm gonna look around the room for signs of the dreamworld + then I'm going to cry my fucking eyes out because it's tough being a writer in the digital era, especially when people have become immune to literary fiction + the publishing industry no longer protects + promotes art the way it once did. On that inevitable day when I finally break through the surface, I'm gonna cry my fucking eyes out because writing is my fuel, writing is my grotto, the one perfect prayer in my heart, the one perfect orphan that I love completely + entirely, the one ripple in time where my voice is unique, beautiful + resonant. Like love + mirrors, travel + ecstasy, there are no limits in writing whatsoever except for the million different ways we close our eyes to the world. For me, writing has always been the first maze, the second kiss + the last drawing.

(Yet Another) Good Rejection from Witness

Dear Jackson Bliss,

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider "...." Our readers admired many elements of the work, but we've decided that the manuscript isn't right for us. We wish you success in placing it elsewhere.

Sincerely,

The editors

Somehow, my science fiction(y)/literary short story about a giant asteroid that is heading towards Earth is not disastrous enough for Witness's disaster-themed issue. Now what?

Maybe they're just being assholes, maybe asteroids are too disastrous or maybe I'm being too goddamn literal. Who the fuck knows?

Guess I'll just send them another story + see what happens.

I Miss You, Second Novel

When you're a PhD student, you have to read a lot of books. Most of the time, that's awesome because the shit you have to read is fucking awesome. To give you an idea of how nerdy I can be, I'm actually looking forward to my field exams next year because that means I'll get to read 70 books of the awesomest books in the whole wide world, books I've always wanted to read, from Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections + Lan Samantha Chan's Hunger to Robert Olen Butler's Scent from a Strange Mountain, among other standouts. But that said, there are things I miss (like weekends), + one of those things is, I really miss my second novel, Ninjas of My Greater Self.

Anyway, second novel, I'm looking forward to another date soon. I miss you like crazy. I really really need to hear your voice + remember what's it's like to be in your world again.

Irritating Rejection from TLR

I almost never take rejections personally, no matter how much an editor ignores/praises me. Either way, it's a subjective business. The one thing that does piss me off, is when a journal makes me wait a year for nothing. You can send me a form rejection after a week + I'll laugh out loud. You can send me a form rejection after three months + I'll nod. You can send me a form rejection after six months + I won't flinch. You can also send me a personalized rejection at any point between one week + one year + obviously, I won't get angry either. Disappointed + probably mopey, but never angry. But when you make me wait a year for absolutely nothing--The Literary Journal, I'm talking to you--that pisses me off for a bunch of reasons:

1. The New Yorker + Esquire now only make unknown writers wait for 3-6 months before they find out they still need an agent (+ those journals get at least 24,000 fiction submissions a year, probably more)

2. The Paris Review will send you something usually in the same time-frame with fewer submissions + fewer readers

3. If you're a small, non-glossy, non-glitzy, university or MFA-affiliated literary journal + it's taking you a year to send people form rejections, then you're not dealing with your slushpile effectively at all. Either you don't have enough readers or the managing editor isn't doing her/his job of splitting up the manuscripts or the journal has moved locations (in all three cases, just keep the submission manager offline until you're ready to actually read shit).

I've been a fiction reader for literary journals before + I know this. If your editor in chief misplaces manuscripts, oh, say, in an attic for a year, that's another story. But with online submission managers, stories don't become refugees the way they used to.

Okay, in summary:

The glossies are getting to manuscripts faster than a lot of these small literary journals + they have 20 times as many submissions each month + often not that many more readers. Of course they also have unpaid internships + $$. On the flipside, most MFA students have no desire to read from the slushpile after the buzz has worn off + they start to realize that they have stories to workshop in two weeks + a pile of short stories to (not) read. In any case, I don't give a shit: it's still obnoxious to send responses a year after a submission was sent unless that manuscript made the final round but then was rejected, in which case, it's still kinda obnoxious but the good rejection makes the obnoxiousness kinda go away even though it's also really heart-breaking + feels oh so fucking close.

For all the above reasons, even though I've admired a few of the stories in TLR (specifically, Heidi Durrow's piece), I'm gonna peace out of all future TLR submissions. I just don't have another year of my life to waste + I'm not convinced the wait is worth it. At least when the New Yorker makes you wait a long time--it happens--the rejection hurts less because with your next submission, you still get a smaller-than-life chance to do the impossible + publish one of your stories in the motherfucking New Yorker, which would change your writing career forever.

Let's Get This Party Started!

Another year, another dream. Another year of fresh hope + another year of trickling rejections (most of them by trigger-happy fiction readers purging the slush pile of a million stories uploaded on some type of online submission manager). But that's okay. You have to risk rejection everyday to get published + live like a writer, so I finally got out my first round of submissions today for 2011 to the following journals:

N+1
American Short Fiction
Threepenny Review
The Missouri Review
Story Quarterly
Crazyhorse
9th Letter
Quarter after Eight
Sentence
Prairie Schooner
Crab Orchard Review
Salt Hill
New Letters
Playboy Fiction Contest
Santa Monica Review
Conjunctions
Granta
The Atlantic
Michigan Quarterly Review
Georgia Review
Zoetrope
Harvard Review
A Public Space
The New Yorker
Subtropics
Harper's
MAKE

What are the odds of any fiction writer publishing in those journals? Oh, slim to none. And we all know that the glossier you get, the harder it is. But like I give a shit, man. You've got to put yourself out there as much and as often as you can tolerate it. Someday, the same assholes that reject you will be quoting your ass, pretending they saw your talent all along. But the crazy thing is, a few of those readers were right about you from the beginning, so you work your ass off to defy the odds + find them the way they found you.

Good Rejection from Algonquin Books

The pain, the pain. While I knew it was a long shot to publish a novel through Algonquin Books from the slushpile, I have to admit that I let myself dream just a little bit. Being probably the best indie press in the American South, it's not hard for that dream to thrive inside your brain. But today I received the dreaded letter + though it was kindly (thoughtfully) written in a this-is-strictly-business kinda tone, I'm not gonna lie, it still hurts. But that's okay. It's supposed to. Here's the damage:

February 9, 2011

j1b
*****
Los Angeles, CA 9*****

Dear Jackson Bliss,

We have now read BLANK (actually, they only read about a hundred pages). We read the material with care + interest, but I'm sorry to report that we not believe this is a project that Algonquin Books could publish successfully for you.

As you know, we are a small publishing company +, as such, we must limit our list to only a few new titles each year. Those few we do select are the sort we think we know how to market best. That yours doesn't fit the categories means nothing about its publishability--only that it's not right for us.

Thanks again for giving us the opportunity to read your work, + best of luck.

Sincerely,

K********* P*********

Limbo: Where Fiction Writers Sleep

About the only thing I know right now is that I've been waiting in a state of perpetual limbo for awhile now + it just doesn't go away man, not even after a long nap. By waiting in a state of perpetual limbo, I mean:

1. I'm waiting to hear from Graywolf Press + Algonquin about $67 for My Fave Dictator + BLANK

2. I'm waiting to hear from the Irene Goodman Literary Agency about BLANK

3. I'm waiting to hear from 20 journals I submitted stories to in the past year, some of which I sent a year ago--you know who you are, TLR!

4. I'm waiting to have more free time to start working on The Ninjas of My Greater Self again after getting sidetracked by essays I had (still have to finish) grading, an oral presentation on Joan Didion + kicking it with LB's sister Fia, where I relived all of my touristy moments in LA for the 100th time

5. I'm waiting to have more free time to start sending out new submissions for 2011, after which point, I will begin waiting and living in a state of perpetual limbo all over again

6. I'm waiting to hear from the Macdowell Colony about a summer residency I applied for

7. I'm waiting to hear from the East Asian Studies Center at SC to see if I was awarded a partial/full grant to travel to Tokyo/Osaka this summer to study cosplayer subculture

8. I'll soon be waiting to hear from the English Department at SC to see if I was lucky enough to score one of their endowed fellowships, which would mean no teaching composition next year! Can't you even imagine that?

9. I'm waiting to hear from the universe pretty much all the fucking time, sister

10. I'm waiting for Black Clock's submission window to open again

Good Rejection from Fairy Tale Review

Dear Jackson,

I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we've ultimately decided not to include "..." in the Fairy Tale Review, though I did consider it very seriously and admire its many fine qualities. Due to the fact that we only publish one issue a year, we find ourselves rejecting far more than we'd like to. Your story will find a place, I'm certain. And thank you so much for submitting, and for your exploration of the fairy tale tradition. (And I apologize for the time it has taken for me to reach my decisions. We’ve had an overwhelming number of excellent submissions for this issue.)

Best wishes,

Timothy Schaffert
Guest-editor, the Brown Issue, Fairy Tale Review

I'm in a Dry Spell Y'all

These exclamation points don't conform to my own personal trajectory. They really fuck with my mind + make me feel like shit, but at the same time, they are also part of my learning curve, and therefore, part of my resistance, my defiance + my determination to be a great American novelist:

1. I haven't gotten a story accepted since last April, which is close to 10 months!

2. I'm still waiting for my first short story to get accepted from 2010. In other words, while I "30 Roofies" was accepted by Quarterly West in April of 2010, I submitted that story in 2009! To this day, I haven't gotten a single story accepted thus far that I submitted in 2010 + I submitted a 103 manuscripts! Even more fucked up, I only have 19 manuscripts left, which includes one agent, one publisher + a bunch of literary journals. Statistically, that's pretty fucking grim!

3. Part of the reason I'd love to have an agent, is because I'd love to stop submitting manuscripts to journals. It takes too much time away from my writing + time is already scarce enough commodity as a grad student!

4. I remember a conversation I had with Aimee + she said that most of the time, a dry spell occurs right after a string of acceptances + I'm starting to think she's on to something. I know I can't expect les bon temps rouler forever. After ZYZZYVA, finally getting my copy of the African American Review, + then Fiction, The Loudest Voice + Quarterly West, that shit can't go on forever. I know. I know. I know. But after seeing all of that momentum since 2009, it's really hard to let it go + even harder to start the momentum over again. I almost feel like after I get my next story picked up--inshallah--I'll get a couple more within a couple of months after that. But maybe I'm being too goddamn optimistic again!

5. In the big scheme of things, really, this dry spell forces me to realize how far I still have to go in my own writing career. By that I mean that while I'm happy/honored to publish novel chapters + stories in good literary journals, I never write fiction for the sole purpose of publishing it in literary journals, that's just a means to an end to get my name out there, to work with editors, to connect with readers, maybe some day find an agent + ultimately get my novels published + into people's hands. There's a lot of room for humility here too (though I think humility is an overrated quality, artistically speaking) but just as much for determination. I will get my shit out there someday + the almost 100 rejections I've gotten this year only make me more determined to publish BLANK + $67 for My Favorite Dictator + finish Ninjas too. Don't know how, but I'm gonna make it happen!

6. While it's ridiculous to make this call, I have a feeling I'm gonna get some good news in March-April. Don't know why, just a feeling I've got. And if I'm wrong--definitely happens--then whatever. I'm gonna keep writing. Someday, it's gonna work out. I just don't know how yet. Call me crazy. Call me misguided. Call me vain. As I see it, 2011 is gonna be a good year!