THE Authoritative, Indispensable, Essential, and Definitive ONLINE LIT GUIDE

everything you ever wanted to know about online lit (but were too afraid to ask)

What’s up? Today we’re hosting a panel of writers to talk about all things online lit, everything you ever wanted to know about online lit but were too afraid to ask.

This post was Hanna’s idea, and I helped bring it to life. It seems like a great fit as part of my ongoing series of live documentations about online lit and all of it’s intracacies. Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoy this panel!

If you are new here, please consider subscribing. It’s free, and I promise not to flood your inbox. I’m pretty easy-going. Honest.

Now I’d like you all to give a warm Talk About It welcome to The Authoritative, Indispensable, Essential, and Definitive Online Lit Guide.

THE Authoritative, Indispensable, Essential, and Definitive ONLINE LIT GUIDE

Welcome to the panel! Please tell us a little bit about yourself.

Alexandra:

Hi! I’m Alexandra Naughton, and this is my blog. I also have a website.

Travis:

Hey hey, my name is Travis Shosa. To keep things mostly brief, I’m a writer from Texas with experience in journalism who over the past year plus has re-embraced writing creatively after putting it on the backburner for a very long time. Last year was the first time I attempted to publish any of my creative work after talking myself out of it for years and it’s been a great opportunity to turn myself into a bit of a yes man in many more ways as well. The result is I now have an online journal and a reading series and I’ve been published in some cool spots and I might be traveling to your city to read to you in a bar. I’d say my poetry is very heavy emotional bloodletting stuff and my fiction is more dry absurdist satire, though it all essentially comes from the same place underneath the presentation. Oh, also I’m really into professional wrestling, punk music, tokusatsu, and my favorite food is sushi. One year I dressed up as Po from Teletubbies for Halloween, and I’ve recently gotten really into claw machines and collecting scars on my hands. All of this feels really important to mention.

Hanna:

Hi! I’m Hanna and I’m from Baltimore. The first poem I remember writing was about the leaves changing color and the last poem I wrote was a Villanelle about cosmetic dermatology for my writing workshop that will never see the light of day. Poetry has always been my mainstay but recently I’ve also tried out some longer form prose and even autofiction, which sounds like a salacious act so I usually keep that to myself. I think largely I’d call my work accessible and depending on the day I see that as an asset or a limitation. I return to Billy Collins, Suze Kay, Tracy K. Smith, and Ewen Glass with great regularity. I have trouble resisting the siren call of internal rhymes. Offline I’m mom to an equally wonderful and impish two year old who I love sooooo much even when she’s lukewarm on me (often). Other than that, you’re liable to run into me on the mean streets of south and southeast Baltimore, at happy hour, or moonlighting as the best damn tour caboose the local preservation society has ever had.

J.L:

J.L. Moultrie is a writer from Detroit. He hasn’t been the same since encountering Hart Crane, Ovid and Richard Wright. He’s the author of the poetry collection Cairn.

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When did you first become acquainted with online lit, and how did you find it/what brought you there?

Alexandra:

I found out about alt lit back in 2012, through someone I was dating at the time who introduced me to the Facebook group Alt Lit Gossip, and some online literary mags from that era like Metazen, Internet Poetry, and HTML Giant. I have been writing online since 2003 (at least) and started making my own literary zine in 2010, but I feel like this community in its current incarnation is pretty unique, and I am glad that it exists.

Hanna:

I’m not sure I’ve heard of a dumber path to “online lit” than mine. I’ve written poems since I was a kid, but I genuinely didn’t know a publishing world existed outside of, like, The New Yorker until sometime in 2024. I was at a beloved Baltimore dive bar one night when I saw a cool sticker in the bathroom that said simply, “BRUISER,” a term my family commonly uses when someone is less than graceful. When I went back a few months later I saw it again and googled it, hoping to buy one for my siblings. In doing so, I learned this BRUISER was a local, seemingly very indie literary magazine: who knew? Over the next few months, I sporadically returned to BRUISER, just sort of dropping in to read here and there. Through the horrors of modern living, my twitter algorithm eventually picked up on that and started serving me tweets from other small lit mags. I finally got the nerve up to submit my first piece in 2025 and the rest was history – though I still have not actually submitted to BRUISER.

J.L.:

I created a twitter account back in 2020, after I had my first poems published. I was not as active as I am now and did not know about the online lit community. I had a job in a factory that took up most of my days, so my life was defined by this underlying rift between finances and creative expression. I eventually walked away from the job and decided to dedicate all of my free time towards immersing myself in literature and honing my craft. I began sharing more of my work and promoting it through social media. Engagement was very scarce during this period, but I kept writing through everything.

Travis:

Early-2025, I was growing increasingly bitter about music journalism, which is essentially what I’d abandoned my own creative pursuits for. I love music, and I love thinking about music, but the actual practice of pitching, the culture, it was all just growing increasingly apparent that I hated the workflow and I wasn’t clicking with most of the people. At a really low mental point, I had a friend who was lending an ear about some personal things when I didn’t really have one, and she’d just been posting song lyrics and occasionally poems. And despite looking down on poetry for a while, it seemed like the right avenue to address those feelings, and a lot of other unaddressed shit. I’d been aware of Maudlin House and BRUISER before I started writing creatively again, and I was lucky to place some work there early, after I wrote my first real batch of poems in late-March of last year.

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What are your long term and short term goals for publishing?

Alexandra:

Short term, I need to finish edits on my novel and also put finishing touches on this new poetry collection and figure out where I want to send it. Long term, I want to find a way to get myself and others paid for the work that we do.

Travis:

Right now, I’ve got a loose 3-year-plan to complete and publish three manuscripts: a novel-in-mostly-flash, a poetry collection, and a “proper” novel. The first two I’d love to get out at respected small presses, and the novel will likely be my Hail Mary to see if I can get one of those mythical big money book deals. Past that, it’s getting the work out there at places I like so people can read it. It’s nice to break into new journals, but the most important part is being happy with the work. Second is actually sharing it.

Hanna:

For me, entering this world has only been about accountability - I have no desire at this point to work toward a book. I used to write constantly but fell out of anything close to a practice a few years back and was looking for some kind of external pressure to apply to that. When I happened ass-backwards into online lit, my only goal was to submit one poem, not even to have it published, and that’s still kind of my ethos. I use submissions to clear my pile and then I write more or edit older stuff and move them out again. It’s simple, but it works for what I want out of it.

J.L.:

I just want to write things that excite me and I believe are good. Honing the craft of literature or any art is a lifelong task and I feel I’m just scratching the surface of what I want to accomplish. I get the most enjoyment from having a fresh idea and witnessing it unfold in real time. Being published, I feel, is a byproduct of immersing myself fully in literature. I don’t take anything for granted and love if anything I write helps others on whatever their current journey is.

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How do you find magazines to submit work to? Are you a reader of those magazines?

Alexandra:

When I see a friend get published in a magazine that has a cool aesthetic, that’s typically what drives me to check out the magazine and feel out if I’d be a good fit. I am not sure if I’ve ever submitted to a magazine that I hadn’t previously read (unless I got solicited).

Travis:

I’m on Twitter a good bit, so I’ll scour around to see where writers I follow publish. Past that, I do look at the directories: Chillsubs and Duotrope. I don’t send anywhere unless I read it at least a little, or, if it’s brand new, I’m very excited about the editorial or the premise. Inaugurating HAWKEYE was my one real blind shot. No idea who runs it. But I like M*A*S*H. That’s worked out well. Great spot. Some places I obviously read more than others. I follow BRUISER and The Bulb Region obsessively, and I do my best to keep on top of things elsewhere.

Hanna:

So far it’s really only been twitter. I didn’t make a writing account until after my first piece was published with Corporeal Lit Mag last summer, then, having no idea what to do next, I literally just blind followed the first fifty or so people the Corporeal account followed, then whoever was recommended to me based on that so on and so forth (sorry if you got a random request from me in June 2025, it was a weird time). But it worked out since I got an immediate look at not just mags publishing work and posting calls, but also where other authors were submitting. In terms of where I submit after having been “in” (loose term) for the last year, I tend to only submit to places I already read. Much of that is due to a fear of wasting the editors’ time, but I also want a deep understanding of where I’m sending out to before I do so.

J.L.:

I used to use Duptrope and Chill Subs a lot, but now, if I’m reading a mag and connect with their ethos, then I”ll submit. I read the magazines I submit to, some more than others. Twitter has been vital in how I navigate the submission process and decide which magazines to read and submit to.

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What are your best practices for submitting your work?

Alexandra:

I honestly hate submitting. I dread it. I hate getting rejected, and I think that fear keeps me from sending out my work with the frequency of some of my more published peers. The HAD calls are fun and can be a good generative exercise, and even though I’ve submitted to them more times than I’ve been accepted it feels fine and normal. Like, I don’t expect to get selected. The one time I did get accepted I was like, ah yeah, that’s sick. Sometimes I’ll see a call for submissions posted on Instagram or Twitter or whatever and if it sounds like a good fit for me, I’ll go through my files of unpublished, recently composed work and see if I have something, or I’ll sit down and start to write something new specifically for the call. I like that. My best advice is to just be chill and try to make it work and if it doesn’t then at least you have a new piece to continue tinkering with.

Travis:

I submit slowly, for the most part. Like, I don’t really shotgun a piece out there, but I also don’t like the idea of letting something I’m confident in languish in a queue for half a year or longer. When I’m happy with something, I’ll usually send it to 1-3 places with reasonable turn times that I think could be good fits. If none of those land, I’ll send to 2-3 more places, and if that fails, I’ll usually revisit the piece. There’s a push and pull between overthinking a poem or story and rushing it out. I used to overthink and it’s caused me to scrap a lot of work from when I was younger that had potential. With this round, I’m a little more “you be the judge,” as long as I’m mostly happy.

Hanna:

I kind of feel like no one should follow my current practice for submitting. I’m a slow writer, so my submission process follows that same curve. If you’ve received a submission in your inbox from me (all ten of you!) I’ve usually thought about that submission for a good few months beforehand, and God knows how long I’ve thought on the piece itself before that. It might be self-limiting, in a way, but I prefer feeling like I’ve really considered what I have out there. I also never simultaneously submit, too much admin!

J.L.:

I think it’s up to each individual to determine their best path. Creative writing is such an unpredictable practice, so submitting will be unique for everyone. I make sure to read the mag’s submission guidelines and at least a few pieces from their archive from different time periods if they’ve been around for some time. My best practice for submitting is to not overthink the process and trust yourself.

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What mistakes have you made that you want to warn others about?

Alexandra:

Years ago, I made the mistake of trusting someone with my work who I definitely should not have trusted. He did not have my best interests at heart and left me and my project hanging. I was also very naive and didn’t really understand what was transpiring, so idk. Do your research, talk to their previously published authors and ask what their experience was like, and if things seem chill make sure you have a contract to read and sign.

Travis:

If you were to ask certain people, it’s that I’ve likely burned a couple bridges! But it’s also not something I’m overly concerned about. There’s a place for what you do and how you conduct business, it’s just about finding it. I don’t really regret any of my publications. Some will see small tweaks in books, but that’s an entirely normal practice. I feel like I’ve made a billion mistakes in my life and I’m sure I’ll make some big blunders in online lit, but I feel lucky and content with how things have gone.

Hanna:

When I get into something my urge is to devour it whole, so when I was very early days I took some recommendations on places and people to read and I REALLY went down the rabbit hole. I think I was trying to get my arms around the landscape of a world I was very unfamiliar with, but in retrospect I wish I’d gone about that from a place of curiosity rather than research, mainly because I didn’t come across much that resembled my own work. This isn’t to say I didn’t benefit from and truly enjoy what I read – some of the people I deep dived on are still among my favorites, Travis was one of them! – but I ended up thinking there wasn’t a place for how I write and got really down on myself for a while. I didn’t submit again for eight months after my first piece came out. I think feeling intimidated was always going to happen and is ongoing, but there’s such a lovely, wide world out here.

J.L.:

I kind of wish I’d started submitting poems sooner than I did. I overthought the whole thing and, as is common with many young writers, lacked confidence in my own writing. At the same time, I wish I’d been more patient with the whole thing. I also wish I’d made an effort to read more international poets during those formative years.

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How do you engage in community?

Alexandra:

I have an online magazine called Be About It Press, I run a daytime, outdoor reading series in Philadelphia called Bring a Blanket, I produce an annual multi-day free alternative to AWP called A Writers Party, and I show up for friends and peers by going to their events, reading their work, and sharing it. I also blog about online lit on this little substack called Talk About It.

Travis:

I started a reading series! It’s called Dodo Eraser. They’re basically just monthly Zoom hangouts but people seem to like them. Such a vain origin, I wanted to open mic at Eva Alter’s launch for her Autocartographies chapbook but it got cut short and my solution was just to start my own series so I could read when I wanted to, get practice, etc. But I’ve also been very lucky to read tons and tons of great work from other writers, and we don’t always get the opportunity to really engage with each other’s actual voices. Not everyone lives in a big literary hub, and there are some great online series like Night Light, Lo-fi Lit, and Troublemaker Firestarter. But I just felt that maybe there was an opportunity to add something that tries to bring people into the space to a larger degree, when they might not have thought to do so themselves. I don’t do sign-up forms for these, I always ask for who I want and I think that keeps things personal and it lets writers know that I’m actively thinking about them. I always love putting together a little virtual bill with a few established names alongside brand new ones. Having our last reading feature the first full sets by Raniya Chowdhury and Christian Fuller–who blew people away–is something I take a lot of pride in. And somehow, I’m now doing these in-person in Baltimore and Chicago after running them out of my media room in Spring, Texas. Also, Dodo Eraser is a lit mag. I do need to keep better on top of that part…

Hanna:

After literally hiding in a corner at an AWP event in Baltimore this past March, I’ve been trying to put myself out there a bit more. I make light out of happening “ass-backwards” into things, but that approach has continued to net some great results in this world. Namely and most recently, the summer workshop I got hooked up with completely by accident. I was pretty intimidated by the syllabus (and, frankly, my cohort) at first but I’ve ended up incredibly grateful I took the leap. I couldn’t ask for better people to learn from and I’m so excited to do critiques in the next few weeks - I love working hard for people in that regard.

In that same vein, I also recently had the opportunity to do a manuscript review for a writer whose work I was pretty smitten with before they even reached out. It felt like such an honor to be asked that I was thrilled to hit it as hard as I could and I learned a ton doing it. I’m still moving in this world in small ways, but I think that’s why these little acts of community feel really special.

J.L:

To engage with community, I do readings in person and over zoom. I also participate as a part of an audience. Being a part of online lit has given me an opportunity to connect with others and goof around. I mostly repost friends’ work on twitter or any writing that impacts me. I just began posting an ‘interaction circle’ and making silly lists that I feel increases comradery.

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What is your experience in forging friendships through online lit?

Alexandra:

I love it. Since 2012, nearly all of my friendships have come about by meeting people through alt lit/online lit. The thing to remember, if you are shy, or feel like you might be an awkward person like I envision myself to be (I have been told that I am not as awkward as I think I am), is that we are all writers and all of us are a little weird with introverted tendencies and everyone is probably nicer than they appear to be. I mean, some people also just suck, but most people are kind even if their online persona is offputting. If you admire someone’s work, just tell them. It’s a nice thing to hear and everyone should get their flowers while they can appreciate them.

Travis:

It’s honestly been really, really nice. I don’t want to harp too much on the music journalism thing, and I think people know I don’t love everyone in online lit. But overall, the energy is just so much higher, almost everyone is so passionate about what they’re doing and it’s infectious. I’m typing this up from Chicago because I have a reading at the Whistler tomorrow. I’ve never been to Chicago. Online lit is why I’m here, to read my silly words in a bar and hangout with my internet friends.

Hanna:

My fellow summer workshoppers have quickly felt very important to me “online friend” wise. They’re all unbelievably smart and plugged in but also genuinely supportive and kind, I feel very fortunate to have a little sounding board and hype crew in that group. On the parasocial side of things (twitter), I’ve also found people to be overwhelmingly kind as well - I definitely have a few little online buds, silly as that sounds. On the local scene I have some work to do, but I *might deliver Jameson Draper some hydrangeas from my garden next week, so let’s start there. (**as of publishing the heatwave got to my hydrangeas. Sorry, Jameson!).

J.L.:

I’ve met a handful people in online lit that I consider friends. In each case, it happened organically and we bond over mutual interests such as music, poetry, novels or films.

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Is it alt lit? Or online lit?

Alexandra:

The oldheads are alt lit. Online lit is this new wave. It’s all the same thing though.

Travis:

Online. We’ve been calling it online in the questions and I know that there are publications and writers in this broader space who would not feel the alt lit label is appropriate. Maybe alt lit is a subsect of it. Whereas if we’re writing lit online… it’s online lit.

Hanna:

Don’t play games with me, kid.

J.L.:

I refer to it as online lit. Alt lit is, I feel, derived from the genre of alt rock (which i love). I just feel that the title “online lit” is a bit less constricting.

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When, if at all, do you let someone read your work before you decide it’s ready to share? How do you know when your work is done, i.e. publishable?

Alexandra:

It depends, but sometimes when it feels done enough is when I might decide to share it with a friend or two (or a writing workshop) to get some feedback.

Travis:

When I think I’m happy with something, I actually historically have my aunt read it. She’s very smart but she’s more science, as a reader she’s more what you’d consider the average reader. She does enjoy Douglas Adams and Kurt Vonnegut though, which incidentally works out I think. I can go pretty weird and knotty with some of my symbolic systems, and I think it’s really valuable to have someone “outside” of all this bring you just a touch back down to earth, without stifling you. Additionally, I’ll send things on occasion to peers to look at, even if I’m mostly insular. Exception is a new peer I’ve been very happy to exchange work with.

Hanna:

I typically sit on things for a good long while before I let someone else read them. I started school on an opera scholarship and when I was singing I never felt confident until I could get a piece stuck in my head because it let me hear where I was weak – that’s how I move with poems as well. I don’t really consider something done until I can recite it from memory, even my long stuff. Once I have that, my first reader is always my best friend because I know she’ll be honest with me. If she likes it, I’ll occasionally also send things to another friend who’s better on the true copyediting side of things - they’ll also punch up my lineation which I always need – and after that I start deciding where to shop it, the aforementioned several months process. Slow and steady, baby.

J.L.:

Knowing when to leave a piece alone and let it be is the hardest job of an artist. I’m fairly private when I’m in the middle of something. I only share publishable work with one or two people. I think being cautious and using your judgement will make things more manageable, especially early on.

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How do you write your bios? What information do you think is important to include? Do you switch up your bio depending on the venue?

Alexandra:

I have a standard bio that gets altered slightly depending on what I have going on at the moment. One I’m using now is: Alexandra Naughton is a writer, publisher, and literary events producer based in Philadelphia. Her third novel, Fake Company, is forthcoming from Maudlin House. But sometimes I like to do a fun one, if that seems to be the vibe of the publication. Alexandra Naughton gets ‘er done. Or whatever.

Travis:

I use my bio to flaunt my massive ego. Kidding. Kinda. I do get satisfaction out of credentials “escalating” like it’s a little minigame. But the primary point is to actually tell people where they can find your stuff if they like it. I usually do a braggart’s bio. That said, my two biggest hubs are Maudlin House (where I can’t update it) and BRUISER (no bio). It doesn’t really matter. I do joke bios occasionally when I feel like being fun. But usually I’m really boring and unfun and lame and I want to remind you my haiku string was nominated for a Pushcart.

Hanna:

I think of bios like bumper stickers, in a way: an opportunity to say something without speaking, whether that’s through something legitimate or goofy. Lately I’ve tried to tread that line, but I do like when people get a little silly with it. While I’m here I also want to remind you that Travis’ haiku string was nominated for a pushcart.

J.L.:

I’ve tweaked it over the years, but always making it more concise and to the point. Early on, it felt like I had to compress my writing life up to that point in a few sentences. This was just me overthinking. I’ve settled on a bio in recent years, but like any vocation, it’s all very much a work-in-progress.

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What do you think of the online lit discourse machine? Are we all seeing the same conversations take place on Twitter/Substack/Instagram/wherever else writers convene?

Alexandra:

I don’t mind the discourse machine. The topics are always changing. Some of the topics that become widespread discussions can be really interesting. A lot of the time I don’t care about whatever discourse is happening online and the good thing about it is that I can choose to ignore it or engage with it if I want. I think it’s funny when people rage out about the discourse being annoying or stupid because, yes it very often is, but also who cares? I also feel sheltered, specifically on Twitter, from non-online lit discourse. On earlier iterations of Twitter, I would see more general “book people” discourse happening regularly, like hot takes from people who care about what larger publication outfits and the writers with mainstream cultural currency are doing, and that was almost always annoying, but the algorithm has since changed so I really don’t know what those people are talking about these days, although sometimes I get a glimpse of it when I log onto the Substack mobile app and scroll the feed there.

Travis:

It’s a very broad sort of question. I think discussion is often fun, although sometimes I wonder if we take silly things too seriously and serious things not seriously enough. Sometimes I’ll see a bit of discourse that probably seems pretty silly on the surface but has some more consequential subtext. I’m running out of time where I can still call myself new now, my rookie year has just closed out. But I think there have been a lot of shifts even just in the past year or so. Publications like Burial Magazine, Michigan City Review of Books, Some Words last year, The Bulb Region, Plague Circus Press, electric pink, and GONZOID this year have led a sort of online publishing influx in the spaces in which a lot of the people who might be reading this operate. There’s a pull toward publishing democratization which I largely think is healthy, but I’ve also seen some places that have AI guidelines or some absurd gimmick with no real credentials or followthrough. Conor Hultman and Mai Bell’s Loser project has been a fascinating social experiment that’s extending beyond the publication itself and into an influx of copycats and spintakes. I could sit here and say that a lot of them aren’t well thought out and will likely die out in a calendar year, I could be very cynical and say that. I’m saying that. Other people are saying it. I’m sure if it’s not already tired and played out, it will be soon. But also, I think the level of discourse we have right now, as silly as it often is, or misplaced, is representative of energy. It’s so uncool for people to admit that they actually give a shit, right? But you can always tell when people do. I think people here give a shit. I think keeping that in mind even when it annoys me or even pisses me off helps me stay invested too.

Hanna:

I would say 99% of the time I’ve completely missed the inciting event – be it LOSER or the hot literati or whatever – but there’s something really interesting about piecing together the zeitgeist of the week through response alone. I’ve never used social media in a discourse-based way but “lit twitter” has been a real education in the “backlash to the backlash” of it all. In general I feel I have nothing meaningful to add to any of it, so I don’t. I can also never really tell if people are truly annoyed or just reacting, but I always want to take people in good faith. It’s funny to read Travis’s response right above mine, because I think it’s such an asset to care and be willing to say so and I do think that might be missing from the conversations that I see. But in the limited way anyone can understand anything, I guess the short answer to “what I think of the discourse” tends to be: “how nice, everyone participating.”

J.L.:

I think any discourse is healthy which facilitates an honest exchange of ideas and experiences. The latest is the emergence of Loser by Conor HUltman and Mai Bell. I’m hopeful for the future of literature and its surrounding community. This is how arts and literacy movements have been formed historically. I find thinking about the bigger picture of what this - concentrated creative expression- could all possibly mean to future generations.

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ONLINE LIT 101: GLOSSARY OF TERMS

SUBMITTING

Simultaneous submission: when a piece or packet of pieces is submitted to more than one venue at the same time in the hope of being published. If a simultaneous submission is accepted at a publication and you want to move forward with that publication, it is best practice to email and withdraw the submission from the other submitted venues as soon as possible. Not all magazines accept simultaneous submissions and tracking/ admin of simultaneous submissions is the responsibility of the author.

[Hanna: (hissing)]

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Submission guidelines: read these before submitting! They will tell you what a publication is expecting with regard to the cover letter, formatting of your document, word count, topic, etc. If a mag’s submission guidelines are sparse, you can sometimes find more information on chillsubs or duotrope but community is also a good option - a quick email or DM might clear up questions that would otherwise hinder your submission.

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Form rejection: a standard generic rejection sent by a publication to decline a piece. Typically this is not meant to discourage a writer from submitting again.

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Tiered rejection: A non-standard rejection meant to indicate that, while the editor or publication is going to pass on the piece submitted, they are interested in reading more.

[Alexandra: a personalized rejection? I honestly don’t know the difference and this isn’t something I care much about. A rejection is a rejection and unless some helpful feedback, or an invitation to submit something a little different (as in, “we don’t normally post silent film reviews but we love your style and we’re looking for someone to review the new Nolan movie if you’re interested”), is included it doesn’t seem like an important distinction to make in my opinion!]

[Travis: gonna push back — this kinda matters. Yes, you still didn’t get your piece picked up but if an editor takes the time to tell you that they enjoyed your work when they normally don’t do that, it can be valuable information when sending work to that editor again. Reading work on the site is a good way to try to feel out what an editor might like, but you can’t really just copy a writer’s style and hope that works. Learning what types of stories or poems you write that work for an editor is valuable. And depending on a publication’s schedule, a tiered rejection would be an acceptance otherwise and can let you know the piece is worth staying confident in. I’ve also gotten tiered rejections from guest editors that lead to being published on their own sites, tiered rejections that lead to social media follows from editors at respected sites, etc. Also as someone who is on both ends, I’ve rejected very good work that simply doesn’t fit my publication, and when I do, I usually like to make it clear that not being a fit does not necessarily mean “there is something wrong with this you need to fix.” And some of that work has landed entirely or essentially unchanged in some very solid places.]

[Hanna: we are become discourse machine.]

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Open call: An invitation to send whatever, but check the publication’s guidelines to make sure you still conform to what they’re “open” to (i.e. - if a mag’s guidelines say they don’t accept pieces over 5k words, an open call doesn’t mean a 6k word story is acceptable).

[Hanna: I heard there’s an open call in Avee Chaudhuri’s forthcoming “Shedgirl.”]

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Themed call: There is a prompt, vibe, or subject that a piece must conform to in order to submit, or a general theme that the magazine is hoping to publish an issue or series on. You can go through your work to see if you have a completed piece that may fit the call, but it can be a fun challenge to write something new for the occasion. For reference, HAD and Moss Puppy Magazine run regular themed calls.

[Alexandra: The first ten years of Be About It zine were all themed calls!]

[Travis: I don’t have anything to argue here, I just want to say themed calls are fun but they drive me nuts. This is a personal problem, I just want you to know.]

[Hanna: who doesn’t love a constraint? I want the next HAD call to be “Robert’s Rules of Order” themed.]

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Packet: A small selection of previously unpublished short works submitted in a single document to a publication. An editor may choose to publish one, all, or a selection of the packet. As the author, if you’d like your packet to only be accepted in full, you should indicate that to the editor during submission.

MEDIUM/ PUBLISHING

Micro: a piece typically between 6 and 400 words, however, consult the submission guidelines and archives to ensure you’re working with a mag’s specific definition of “micro.” Plague Circus Press is a new publisher of poetry micros and the annual Best Microfiction awards recognize exemplary pieces in this category.

[Travis: Word count on micros changes pub to pub but I typically define it along the lines of Best Microfiction eligibility, which would be 400 words or fewer.]

[Hanna: Thank you, Tom Snarsky, for your efforts in this category]

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Flash: typically refers to short-form fiction between 100-1,500 words, but check submission guidelines for individual publications. Scaffold, Smokelong Quarterly, and Wigleaf are well-established publishers of flash fiction, and Wigleaf also assembles the annual Wigleaf Top 50 for exemplary flash pieces.

[Travis: Best Small Fictions defines flash as 1000 words or fewer and while some places stretch this, that seems to be the safe call.]

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Hybrid: A piece, chapbook, or full length work that blends multiple genres, such as poetry, prose, and memoir, but can also include photography and visual art to convey the author’s intention.

[Travis: I don’t know what a hybrid is unless you’re talking about a full manuscript. Everything I’ve seen published as a hybrid “piece” I’d just call a poem.]

[Hanna: I’ve just learned I’ve written a hybrid piece.]

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Chapbook/ “Chap”: a poetry collection significantly shorter than a full length. Publications accepting chapbooks will typically have considerations for length that may vary by genre, but a chap can run anywhere from 5 to 40 pages.

[Alexandra: As someone who loves experimenting with poetry and borrowing from the music world (because I am not musically talented but I very much appreciate music and what it can do to a listener) and making “concept albums” with the books I write and put together, I like to think of chapbooks as EPs to a full length’s LP.]

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Full Length: A collection of pieces or a single piece that is between 50 and 100 pages. Publications that are accepting full-length works will typically have considerations for length that may vary by genre.

[ Alexandra: I feel like this means 100 pages or more, for a selected poetry manuscript. Also, I just realized that not everyone formats their manuscript as how it will appear when printed. My poetry and novel manuscripts are always formatted 5.5 in by 8.5 in so when I’m putting my book together I know how it will look when published as a book. Which means that my idea of 100 pages is not the same as everyone else who keeps their documents standard 8.5 in by 11 in size.]

[ Travis: Varies place to place, I’ve seen 50 page manuscripts called full-length (and that is generally long to be called a chap).]

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Manuscript: A finished, but unpublished, collection of pieces or a single piece that a writer sends to publications with the hope of being published. A manuscript is typically as settled as an author wants it to be before submitting, but will still undergo multiple rounds of edits if accepted by a publisher.

[Alexandra: the document that your book lives in that gets sent to publishers/agents.]

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Awards/ nominating: A process that certain publications engage in to nominate published pieces from a designated time period to be recognized by an awarding body in indie lit. A nomination indicates that the publication wants to formally recognize your piece. Awarding bodies in indie lit include the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, Best Small Fictions, and Best Microfictions. Some individual publishers will also compile their own version of awards, such as the Wigleaf Top 50.

[Alexandra: the nomination is the prize.]

[Travis: There are a ton of writing awards but the ones you’ll hear often around here are the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, Best Small Fictions, and Best Microfictions. Best Small Fictions and Best Microfictions are both real awards. You can win them. Best of the Net is half-real. I’ve heard tales of people winning Best of the Net but only through bard’s songs. The Pushcart Prize isn’t real. If you get nominated for a Pushcart, you won a Pushcart. Congratulations.]

[Hanna: Hey, does this mean Travis’ haiku string actually WON a Pushcart??]

[Alexandra: It also means I won a Pushcart AND Best of the Net ;)]

Did we leave anything out? Any question you want answered? Let me know in the comments below.

Further reading: