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Courtesy Costs Nothing … Again

April 17, 2014

As everybody would know, we have just announced the [untitled] short story longlist. We received submissions for said competition through Submittable, a submission engine that more and more publishers, journals, and competitions are using. Submittable allows you to track where your submissions are, and will tell you where they stand: ‘Received’, ‘In-Progress’, ‘Accepted’, ‘Declined’, or ‘Withdrawn’. On the other side of the desk, Submittable will automate a lot of the duties we previously had to do individually, and also allows us to communicate (when required) with submitters en masse.

Now, let’s backtrack.

[untitled] (and page seventeen) are not profitable ventures for Busybird Publishing. In fact, they run at a small loss. We persevere with them in an attempt to contribute something to the literary community, as well as help give exposure to new and emerging authors. Moreover, we hope [untitled] provides a home for good stories that other journals might be too literary to consider. As we keep saying, We’re about stories.

The administration of the competition is performed by an intern. This involves downloading stories through Submittable, filing them (on her own computer initially, no less), logging details into a spreadsheet, and corresponding with any authors who might have queries. She also has to file hardcopy submissions, which are provided when she comes into the Studio. When the submission window closes, she comes in and files everything on this computer where this very blog is now being written.

Some might wonder whether every entry in the competition is read, from (as they say) cover to cover or whether some underhanded practice is in place, where a handful of submissions are randomly chosen, and the rest are discarded, unread. I’m sure more than a few people have considered that, or something like that. After all, there’s a lot of material to get through in a short space of time.

Well, we can assure you everything is read, the stories divvied (on this occasion) between myself, Blaise (head of Busybird Publishing), Beau Hillier (chief editor of page seventeen), and several assistant editors. What’s more, everything is read in our own personal time. This is also often the case with general submissions for [untitled], as well as for page seventeen, (and is probably the case with most unprofitable journals).

Sometimes, though, things can seem to go awry.

In this case, it involves Submittable not ticking over the status of submissions for submitters from ‘Received’ to ‘In-Progress’, so after the longlist was announced Tuesday, we fielded several queries asking whether we had, in fact, read their submissions. Surely, if we had, submissions would be listed as ‘In-Progress’ in the submitter’s Submittable account, rather than remain at ‘Received’, which seemed to imply that their submissions were sitting here unopened.

We checked our spreadsheet and found that stories in question had been logged. We then checked the folder that contained all the stories, and found them both sitting there. We then checked the file allocation, and found that each story had gone to somebody to read. Effectively, the stories went through the same course as all the others. Nothing had been overlooked on our behalf.

We then emailed the people at Submittable (who are always very prompt and helpful in responding), who explained the status only changes when the submission is assigned to a reader, a note is added to the submission, or a vote is cast or the review of the submission is completed – these are all internal Submittable functions, (which are available when one of our staff logs into our Submittable account). The status does not change, we were told, if the submission is simply downloaded off Submittable.

It’s deflating to be accused of some sort of impropriety, which – in this case – amounts to larceny (taking subs for the money) and fraud (but not then reading the subs). Should this really be the first response when something seemingly goes awry? Is that more probable than contemplating that there’d be some perfectly logical explanation?

This is not the first time we’ve run afoul of submitters. Early in our tenure, one submitter responded indignantly to being edited and pulled his story, then tried to offer it back. By that time, we’d filled the slot and offered to carry his story over to the next issue, but he re-withdrew it. We later discovered he’d behaved similarly with the journal 21D. On another occasion, we fielded a haughty inquiry about our response times. Sometimes, things get on top of us and we can slip behind. We don’t like it – we really don’t like it – but it happens. If you want to know the status of a submission, just ask. We’re happy to respond.

Most people are great – polite and understanding and a pleasure to work with. But, if for some reason, you feel you need an explanation for anything that’s occurred, feel free to bug us but, but, please, show some courtesy. It’s all we ask.

L.Z.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye…

April 12, 2014

You’ve been waiting for it.

I’ve been waiting for it.

Heck, maybe the whole universe has been waiting for it. Let’s not undersell this.

page seventeen is open for submissions as of today. As of right now.

Now, for the one heckler in the back that just yelled ‘so what?’ I’m going to take a deep breath and quickly summarise.

As of April 15, all our submission windows are open to determine the content in Issue 11:

General submissions: short stories up to 5000 words, poems up to 100 lines and pitches for non-fiction pieces. (More info and submit here)

Prose competitions: short stories up to 3000 words, poems up to 100 lines. (More info and submit here)

Cover competition: photos and digital art in the running to be used as the next issue’s front cover art. (More info and submit here)

We’ll be taking all submissions from now until June 30. That’s just over ten weeks for you to submit your work and potentially be included in page seventeen’s eleventh issue. Which, incidentally, will also be released as an ebook – meaning more readers than ever will see your name in the contents.

And, it’s also my pleasure to announce the judges for this year’s competitions!

The short story judge is Emilie Collyer, two-time Scarlet Stiletto Award winner with short stories appearing in many of Melbourne’s top literary journals. (http://www.betweenthecracks.net/)

The poetry judge is Ashley Capes, long-time friend and poetry editor of P17 and prominent Victorian poet. (http://ashleycapes.com/)

The cover comp judge is Kev Howlett, resident Busybird illustrator and artist.

Now, as the trumpets die down and the cheap paper steamers stuck across the archways peel away from their masking tape, some of you might be looking for hints about what we’re after in the submissions. What content will grab our attention the most? What themes will get the most attention?

Sorry. I can’t quite make it that easy for you. Our issues aren’t themed and have tackled a wide variety of content in the past.

What I can say, is that we love new ideas and fresh voices. Challenge yourself. Take a risk or two. We’ve always encouraged emerging writers to consider submitting to page seventeen, and we have a proud tradition of being the first publication for many emerging authors and poets. We want writing that bleeds passion and enthusiasm – whether the content is happy, grim or just delightfully off-beat.

To everyone submitting: good luck. Say hi at our Facebook page or on our Twitter feed, or send any queries through to pageseventeen@busybird.com.au.

And with that, the wait is over. The production of Issue 11 has officially begun.

Beau Hillier | Editor, page seventeen

Condensing Scenes

April 10, 2014

Something a lot of authors miss when writing are the opportunities to collapse two or more scenes into a single scene. This means that whatever they’re writing is longer than it needs to be, and also might contain static, one-dimensional scenes – scenes that singularly exist to deliver their point and nothing else.

Let’s say we’re writing a first-person story about a relationship. The narrator lives alone and we want to establish the domesticity of their life. Of course, being in a relationship, the narrator talks regularly with their partner. Obviously, these are very broad strokes, but we need only a general scenario to set up our examples.

Okay, next, let’s consider two scenes – the first is a conversation between the couple. It might begin like this:

Now imagine this conversation goes on for a page or so as they talk about something to establish the rapport of their relationship. For the sake of this example, the specifics aren’t important.

In the second scene, we’ll deal with the narrator coming home. This follows directly after the conversation …

I hung up and swung the car back onto the road, contending with peak-hour traffic. It was dark by the time I got home. I pulled into the drive and hauled the shopping out of the boot. There was so much I should’ve made two trips, but instead slipped my hand through the handles of all the plastic bags until they cut into my palms, then started for the front door.

From here, the narrator goes inside and puts the shopping away. The point of this second scene might be to establish the narrator’s domesticity so that we see their everyday routine – they’re busy, like to do things all at once, buy plenty of shopping to tide them over rather than just shop for the day, etc. It’s part of the world and character building of this piece.

So what we have are two scenes that deliver different pieces of necessary information, (or for the sake of this blog, let’s imagine they’re necessary for whatever story they’re part of).

There exists, however, the opportunity to collapse these scenes into one another. After all, visualise this as if it was a movie playing out in your mind. How exciting a scene is a narrator sitting in a car on the side of the road having a conversation, or the protagonist lifting the shopping out of their car and then putting it away?

Imagine we do it like this, though:

And so it would go on, the narrator juggling the conversation as they goes inside their house, wrestle with all their shopping bags, and put their shopping away.

By merging these scenes we’ve layered what’s happening. The narrator is no longer just sitting on the side of the road talking with their partner. And the domestic scene is no longer just a tour of the narrator’s life, but becomes integrated with a conversation that has to happen.

This also helps in another regard – actions interspersed through dialogue. So often, I see something like this:

Authors constantly feel the need to break up their dialogue with action, but are the actions of the character running their hand through their hair and biting their lip essential, or just something for the character to be doing? Often, they exist simply for the sake of existing. Using our example of the protagonist putting away their shopping whilst holding a conversation, everything that happens is needing to happen.

Moreover, presenting the situation like this – and let’s remember, this is the most basic example – actually contextualises the scene in a new light. Sitting on the side of the road having a phone conversation, there’s no emotional resonance, other than what the narrator brings in. Here, the narrator might be frustrated because they’re interrupted, they might be harried, the phone call might be the picker-upper they need, etc. The story drives what’s happening. And in trying to juggle everything, not only do things happen, but we’re challenged with new opportunities.

When writing scenes, question if you’re getting everything out of them, and/or whether you can merge them with other scenes.

It’s a simple technique, but it can help unfold your story in a whole new world.

L.Z.

Writer’s Block

April 6, 2014

I’m going to request some mood-setting on your part to accompany this article. Trust me, it’ll enrich the experience.

First, complete isolation is required. No one is to be in the same room as you. Turn off your phone and any chat windows you have open.

Next, we need dim, moody lighting. Draw the blinds or read this at night.

Finally, find some public-domain music, preferably something that amounts to an ominous drum beat. Press play.

Got all that? Okay. We’re ready to talk about writer’s block.

With page seventeen’s submission window just about to open, it feels like a good time to address one of the most notorious concepts behind being a writer. Maybe you’re someone looking to submit to page seventeen #11, or preparing for the competitions – maybe you even have an idea all ready to go.

Then the problem arises. You can’t get that idea on the page. You can’t get past the opening. Maybe you can struggle past the first few paragraphs until you find yourself on the edge of a canyon, and you can’t see any way to the other side. You can’t start. You can’t finish. You just can’t, can’t, can’t.

I could propose a series of methods to beat writer’s block. I could list the ways in which successful writers have dispelled the deadly curse. But chances are you’ve already read that. Writer’s block is one of the most widely-discussed aspects of being a writer; any how-to I put together will only join the mountain of articles that have come before.

So when it comes to methods, if you still need them, peruse what’s already out there and use trial and error to determine what works best for you. Half of it is contradictory anyway. One article will tell you that writer’s block is the cue to get away from your desk and do something else for a while, whereas another article will insist that you need to ‘chain that muse to your desk’ (in the words of Barbara Kingsolver, if you’re interested).

No. I’d rather talk more about writer’s block itself.

Turn the drum sounds off now.

The paralysis of writer’s block usually stems from insecurity – either one particular anxiety, or a tight little knot of several preoccupations. You’re not good enough. The idea is terrible. The words won’t flow. No one will read it anyway.

Pardon me for being direct, but no wonder you don’t get anything done if you’re that miserable about your own writing.

We’re all plagued by doubt, but if you’re letting doubt and insecurity get the better of you then you’re focusing on the wrong things. You’re a writer because you like being a writer. You like creating the stories, the articles, the viewpoints. Right?

Maybe you’re even set of making a career out of it – or you already have. And there’ll be bumps along the way just like with any other career – or any other hobby, for that matter. But if you want to keep going with that job, or that hobby, you find ways to overcome the situation if only to avoid the alternative: quitting. You adapt and evolve your methods based on the challenges you’re faced with. And you pat yourself on the back for finding a way through a sticky situation – then, you move forward.

Because guess what: writer’s block? It’s not that big a deal. There. I said it.

Open the blinds, or switch on a light.

The concept of writer’s block has enormous weight for many authors. The idea of writer’s block itself can often be the paralysis. Would there be so many writers struggling with this problem if the concept wasn’t named, catalogued and discussed so widely? One could say it’s the equivalent of a hypochondriac getting the flu and treating it like the Black Death.

Forget about writer’s block the same way you forgot about the boogie man being in your wardrobe. Tell yourself that you’re allowed to be stuck on something, to need a little more time than expected to get a specific passage the way you want it, but don’t call it writer’s block.

It’s actually a lot easier than it sounds. You just need to find the right way to communicate the idea to yourself. Talk to yourself in front of a mirror if you have to. Just don’t do it with anyone else in earshot – it can be a tad awkward.

Sometimes it’s a bigger matter. Life can disrupt the best-laid plans. Major events can derail your normal habits, or leave you with no mental space to be creative. Well, unless writing is your livelihood – in which case I might recommend having a plan B – sometimes it’s better to let it get in the way. Life’s an unpredictable mistress sometimes, and big things will happen that leave you bereft. Don’t punish yourself for that. The key is remaining optimistic that when you’re ready, the words will come again.

And if you’re still stuck on an idea, or can’t get past a scene no matter how hard you try – well, there’s a pretty straightforward way to start breaking down that barrier.

Invite someone into the room with you; alternatively, call or message someone. Tell them the idea you’re stuck on.

Because remember – you’re better than that, even if you don’t always believe it. You’ve devoted yourself to telling stories and embracing your own creativity – whatever your medium is. Don’t let a little hiccup like writer’s block get in the way.

Beau Hillier | Editor, page seventeen

Dreams, Goals, Life …

April 3, 2014

This is Kev Howlett. He’s one of the co-founders/owners of Busybird Publishing, Busybird’s resident artist and photographer, is responsible for the weekly ‘Busy the Bird’ funnies that go up on Facebook (and are archived here on our website), cuts our videos (like the Open Mic Night highlights) and does an assortment of other things.

He also had the goal to climb up to Mount Everest Base Camp before he was fifty – something he just accomplished, with several years to spare. What’s more, he integrated the trek into a fundraiser for CMT (Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease), a condition his eldest son has, and took photographs of his expedition, which will comprise a full-colour coffee-table book due out in November, entitled Walk With Me, (a portion of proceeds which’ll go to CMTA Australia, to raise awareness and contribute to finding a cure for CMT).

That’s not a bad CV.

And it’s one that makes you think about pursuing and achieving the goals in your life.

What is your goal?

Be honest, you do have a goal. We all do. Maybe it was born in our youth, when the world was impossibly large and filled with boundless opportunities, and we had nothing but uncontainable enthusiasm. Or maybe, just maybe, as the everyday grind (work, household, kids, et al) shackles the innocence of our dreams, our hopefulness, that belief that all things can be possible, it’s become a symbol of rediscovery, reinventing ourselves into who we ideally want to be (or at least recapturing it, however fleetingly). Or maybe it’s just something we’ve always wanted to do.

Somewhere, inside of us, we have something we want to do that goes beyond everyday desires. It might be something outrageous, something most might scoff at. It might be grand and worldly. It might just be the sort of life we want. The point is it’s our Everest – and can come to represent something seemingly unconquerable. Or perhaps that’s just the way it grows as time goes by.

It’s easy – far too easy – for this goal to become unattended, if not neglected. For it to become buried. It can even become identified with a lament, Oh, I remember I wanted to do such and such. But now it’s no longer a goal. It’s not a dream. It’s just something that once existed, like flares on pants, or disco. The reality is there’s no time. Or it’s too hard. Or you’re too old. Or … well, there’s any number of other reasons which prohibit us from fulfilling our goal.

We get stuck in who we are, what we are, the circumstances of our lives.

But we have choices. We always have choices. And it’s important – vitally important – that we try to be true to that part of ourselves, even if everything else in our day-to-day lives is demanding (sometimes kicking and screaming) that our attention be focused elsewhere, and even (or perhaps especially) if our everyday lives shape our conscious, practical, adult minds into stodgy, doubting, pessimistic know-it-alls: Don’t be silly. You can’t do that.

But you can.

This doesn’t mean shove the kids in the closet, dump your partner, ditch all responsibilities and ties and go off on a wild adventure. But if there’s something you’ve always wanted to do, if you’ve had a lifelong goal, or even if it’s something new, there’s someway to be true to it, to be true to yourself, and to find a way to do it.

The number one regret of dying people is that they didn’t take enough chances, didn’t pursue what they wanted.

Don’t wait until you’re on your deathbed to realise there are things you’ve left undone.

That there’s things you should’ve done.

And want to do.

Do them.

LZ.