Author Archives: Karen Kittrell

Call Me Plankton, Not Ishmael

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Quality literary journals aim to publish works worthy of inclusion in anthologies such as Best American Short Stories (BASS) or the Pushcart Prize. With that very serious statement, I’m more of the mind to consider the acronym, BASS, and fall to the temptation of dreaming about fly fishing and lures named Woolly Bugger and Sneeky Pete Popper. Oh, I didn’t stop there. Videos on the Orvis How to Fly Fish Center show graceful casting and educate in short one minute segments. It occurs to me the pursuit of bass for sport and BASS (Best American Short Stories) for literature require some of the same techniques for casting and choosing lures.

In the great literary fish tank, the food chain dominates. As an emerging author, I am small, like plankton floating among the smallest of fish. Editors in journals or magazines prefer to publish as big a fish as possible. Often, submissions are skewed to published authors with novels on their resumes, and hence, no plankton need apply. Selective editors prefer certain lures with statements of “no simultaneous submissions” to avoid chum tossed overboard and a feeding frenzy.

For the sake of this article, let’s assume BASS is a large mouth bass, which swims in deeper and slower water. Like the aquatic fish, BASS wants only smaller fish that are published in American and Canadian national journals. These journals, the first publishers of a great short story, are baitfish for BASS. And from my research, BASS prefers certain fish more than others. Some might also argue that the editors of these journals work much harder to get selected by BASS.

John Fox, on Bookfox, ranks literary journals and magazines for the ability to publish stories which are eventually selected for the annual BASS anthology. He assigns points for both appearance and mentions. Every Writers’ Resource also ranks the journals using different criteria such as the number of years a journal has been in publication and a broader range of anthologies are considered. The favorite baitfish in these rankings are: The New Yorker, Tin House, Ploughshares, Atlantic Monthly, Harper’s Magazine, Glimmer Train, Granta, McSweeney’s Quarterly, Georgia Review, New England Review, The Kenyon Review and Paris Review.

The Pushcart Prize is the best of the worlds’ small presses for poetry, short stories, essays, memoirs or excerpts from novels. If in our example, Pushcart is a small mouth bass, then expect feeding on the surface in moving water, around rocks and ledges. According to the Orvis videos, a fisherman should observe the food sources in the water and emulate the food with the lure. Upon seeing baby crayfish, use the lure with the reddish-orange feathers and fur.  Clifford Garstang’s Pushcart Prize Rankings also list Tin House, Ploughshares and Paris Review as top ten favorites, but Pushcart draws heavily from Conjunctions, One Story, Southern Review, A Public Space, Zoetrope: All Story, Kenyon Review, and Three Penny.

As the apex predator, the reader, I want what is considered the best, but quite honestly, I enjoy reading everything. At bottom of the food chain, as the emerging writer, I learn and submit to places which might offer an opportunity. My goal is to create my own top ten list and submit them to death. However, I did submit to a February contest in the BASS top ten feeder journals. Although my probability of winning is low, actually infinitesimal, I receive a subscription to the review which makes it a win for plankton, apex readers and the journal’s overall readership.

Hungry for a Short Story

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WARNING: May cause cravings for Spanish tapas and short stories.

A meal of Spanish tapas is similar to the reading of short stories. Imagine different flavorful dishes served one after another – combinations of vegetables, fish, cheeses and more. Dinner guests suffice with a few bites of each dish. Add dates, sherry and marinated olives to the next round of tapas. Still hungry? Order again from the menus – hot or cold – with different ingredients, seasonings and sauces. Want more? Then turn the page for the next short story in an anthology because reading these tasty bites are just as delicious.

Like tapas, short stories come in many different forms and structures. Longer stories might be structured as miniature novels. The reader travels at warp speed through the character arch or hero’s journey. A short story, however, might give a glimpse into only one aspect of a longer story. In The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Fiction, one of the contributing writers, Nathan Leslie, categorizes flash fiction into five basic types: the monologue, the tale, the scene, the snapshot story, and the experiment. Leslie states the individual scene is the most common. The scene format worked for my first short story which I entered and placed in a contest. Since a novelist already thinks in scenes, this style is an easy transition to short stories. Likewise, in a tapas restaurant, an order might begin with the more familiar food items and progress to the more experimental.

The waiter brings the tapas and proudly says the name of the dish. We have ordered several tapas. Perhaps if the restaurant were not so loud, or our Spanish were better, or less of the sangria had found its way to our glasses, we would know what was in front of us. Nevertheless, part of the fun is guessing the dish. We sniff for the garlic and look for the pimento. And then, someone sees the olives and knows it is definitely the beef. A novel prolongs the guessing of who “done it” or “will do it.” Guessing games frequent literature, television shows and even childhood playtime such as Hide and Go Seek; Animal, Vegetable, Mineral; and Hangman. Short stories are guessing games on steroids. The form compresses the timeframe and eliminates unnecessary details or facts. The reader must parse through subtle gestures and implications to arrive at the theme and decipher hidden clues, meanings and flavors.

When I mention tapas, I also speak of menus, waiters and restaurants because it is far easier to eat tapas at a restaurant with a bevy of chefs, cooks and busboys. Similarly, short stories are a treasure to read and analyze yet very difficult to write. The challenge is to determine the most concise presentation of the theme and then the best way to reveal the story.

Now I have to decide which theme I want to write next. Which one of these will it resemble?

QUESO DE CABRA CON NUECES – goat cheese rolled in caramelized pecans, served with poached pear in red wine, grapes and toast points

CAZUELA DE PULPO – marinated octopus with sweet peppers and sherry vinaigrette

CAZUELA DE POLLO SALTEADO – casserole of sautéed chicken with garlic, chorizo, mushrooms and amontillado sauce

PINCHO DE SOLOMILLO A LA PIMIENTA – grilled beef brochette rolled in cracked pepper, served with caramelized onions and horseradish sauce

If you’re tempted by these tapas, stop at Emilio’s Tapas in Chicago for any of the menu items above. Take along an anthology of short stories by Spanish authors. Or practice your Spanish and read Colombian short story writer, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Write This Not That

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Completing a 100,000 word manuscript is a daunting task. Craft elements can go rogue and crash a well-intended plot. Months, and yes, years pass in the process of writing and editing. Babies are born. Children graduate from school. And everyone grows older except for the fledgling characters in the story. For many, even writers disciplined enough to attend writers’ groups, workshops or conferences, the hurdle of a completed manuscript is too high, at least initially. If the goal is publication, then contests are an opportunity to build a writing resume.

Ah contests, I remember them well – working each entry until the last minute before the midnight deadline, correcting stupid (and stupider) mistakes and editing phrases or lines to finish with the right word count or page number. For the price of a contest entry fee, you get all this nail-biting and neurotic sort of fun.

Fortunately, contests also provide a test market for your work, a marking to market of your ability. In other words, how do I compare to a pool of equally aspiring writers? Sometimes, the winners, especially in literary magazines, are so amazing I’m tempted to abandon writing and begin any number of long neglected chores like taxes, continuing education or even cleaning. Other times, the winning entries bring a jaw dropping, head scratching, and audible “huh.” Writing is the quintessential Olympic ice dancing event as opposed to the timed or measured track and field sport.

You can slant the odds in your favor. Creative pursuits require sound project management grounded in probability. For example, is it possible that I might get my first-ever written manuscript published? Yes, but it’s not probable. Can I hone my skills and compete in contests with a possibility of publication? More probable. A combination of strategy, research, practice and numbers makes small wins lead to bigger wins.

Strategy begins with contest selection. Highly advertised contests receive more entries. If my odds of getting struck by lightning are higher than winning – all ego aside – I’m skipping the contest. Contests held by non-writing organizations draw a wider range of writing levels and are better for increasing the odds of placing at the top. Note – the uber literary MFA types are less likely to enter a short story contest sponsored by Ducks Unlimited. Competing against unpublished writers, defined differently by each contest, is another viable strategy. Additionally, research can enhance strategy. I read the publications hosting the contest or writing samples of the past winners. If the judge is announced, I research (i.e. internet literary stalk) the judge’s style, education, publications and demographic factors that might make an entry emotionally connect with him or her. Know the audience. My writing improves from the research alone (if I’m not driven to binge cleaning by the past years’ winners).

Compared to the first two steps, practice is the easy part of the process. This year, my practice area is short stories, and in the coming blog posts, I will share more about short stories, contests, and publications. Finally, the contest process depends on the law of averages – the numbers. The more contests a writer enters (assuming strategy, research and practice) determines the likelihood of success. With that in mind, here is my plan for the coming year, and perhaps, your plan also:

  1. Search for smaller, less publicized contests.
  2. Compile a contest spreadsheet sorted by deadline and word count lengths.
  3. Assess your current writing inventory available for contests.
  4. Look for opportunities to experiment with different lengths or genres.
  5. Identify specific contest deadlines within the next three months.
  6. Research the publication, contest winners, and judges.
  7. Write. Edit. Edit. Write.

Submit. Wait. Submit again.