The MCB Quarterly: The Quarterly, #6

By E.J. Tett, Teel James Glenn, Andrew Warburton and 4 more

The Quarterly is an eMagazine of LGBTQ fiction—of all kinds. This volume features five short stories:

Athanasia by E.J. Tett
The Angel of Illusion by Teel James Glenn
The Russia Soldier by Andrew Warburton
Rapture by Gregory L. Norris
The Grand Opening of the Official Dew Point Museum by Nathan Sims

It also includes an Interview with Poppy Dennison talking about "The M Word," and our Featured Author Toni Griffin. And our very own Angel Martinez offers an Op-Ed on "Sense & Submissions."
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mischief Corner Books
• Release date: Sep 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386931508

Book preview

Sense & Submissions

By Angel Martinez

In the age of typewriter and paper, submitting a manuscript was a complex and pitfall-fraught quadrille, sometimes involving long searches for just the publisher's submission address, let alone their submission guidelines. It was a world where not knowing the rules meant you didn't get a hearing and finding out the rules felt akin to going on an epic quest. Those days are long gone, of course, and now the rules are stated clearly on publisher websites. Usually. I'm not going to talk about the possible pieces of a submission (query letter, synopsis, etc.) but I do want to talk a bit about submission etiquette.

Correspondence etiquette used to be taught, from proper forms of address to the acceptable construction of a business letter. Not so often any longer, but when corresponding with publishers, how authors present themselves can make the difference between having a submission considered and having it immediately tossed in the reject pile. The old rules of etiquette have been replaced by rules of professionalism, but these are no less vital to how correspondence will be perceived.

Just a few do's and don't(s) (and if some of these things sound absurd, I only include them because I've seen them):

Do –

Read the submission guidelines. I can't emphasize that enough. Read the guidelines. Know the publisher's word count limits, formatting preferences (if any), what they want included in the submission, what they do not want submission-wise, and if you're really a good fit. Understand whom you're submitting to and what they're looking for.

Include any experience you have as a published writer. If you don't have any, don't be afraid to say this is your first novel, etc. Including awards and prior experience is great, but make sure you're not talking about yourself more than your work.

Include the word count and genre/sub-genre of the story in your letter. (Synopsis may be required – either a brief overview or a formal synopsis. See submission guidelines.)

Be polite and brief, but also advocate for your work. If you don't convey your excitement in your book description, the editors won't be excited either.

One more time: read the submission guidelines. Take them seriously. These are not suggestions. The publisher wants these things from you.

Don't –

Send simultaneous submissions. What does this mean? This means that you shouldn't send a manuscript to more than one publisher at a time. Multiple queries are fine. (Would you have any interest in this?) Multiple submissions of a full manuscript are bad form.

Be an arrogant jerk. You can be excited! Be enthusiastic! (Don't use exclamation points – I'm just illustrating.) But don't give the impression that you're doing the publisher a huge favor by submitting to them.

Send a flood of submissions. Please don't do this. One, possibly two at a time. Any more smacks of desperation and will lead the publisher to wonder about quality of submissions. (Why do you have so many unpublished manuscripts just sitting around?)

For the love of all that's holy, don't reply to a rejection. Recognize that some rejections will be form letters and some won't. Don't reply and most certainly don't reply with something angry and snarky. (Please don't. People remember. People talk. Editors know each other.)

Talk about the specifics of a rejection on social media. This is an adjunct to above – generally, it's best not to give specifics on your submissions in public, especially regarding where you've submitted. Wait until you have a contract and the ink is dry to announce that you've had a submission accepted, but airing the specifics of rejections out of anger or for sympathy can be risky for you from a professional standpoint.

Look at a revise and resub as a rejection. An editor sending you a revise and resubmission request is not We hated your story; fix it before we'll look at it. No, no, no. A revise and resub request is a We love this and you're almost there! Please redo these couple of things for us! No one bothers to write a revise and resub if they're not interested in the story.

Submit prohibited content. That shouldn't even have to be said. But again, it comes down to the submission guidelines. If the publisher says we don't consider sparkly vampires, don't submit sparkly vampires. (Most of the time, prohibited content includes things like necrophilia, bestiality, sex with minors, that sort of thing, but you never know what a publisher might ban.)

Submit an obviously inappropriate story to a specific submission call. This wastes both your time and the submission editor's. Have a clear understanding of the publisher and the submission call before you consider sending that story.

Be courteous and polite. Write a letter that looks like a grownup wrote it. Proofread before you send. Will all this get you accepted? Not on its own. But it won't get you tossed right in the delete bin either.

Athanasia by E.J. Tett

Clunk-clunk... clunk-clunk...

It sounded as though someone was using a very large wrench to hammer out a very bad tune on the other side of the wall.

Silver was used to hearing strange sounds. Her cabin lay next door to the engine, and that thing made all sorts of unusual noises, particularly when she was trying to sleep. But this wasn't the engine.

Clunk-clunk...

The clock on the wall said it was 4 a.m. She knew she'd have to start work in a couple of hours.

She hated her job. TV back home had lied to her. Life aboard a spaceship was supposed to be exciting. All those adverts about working in space, about how glamorous, how awe-inspiring it was? All lies.

A toilet on a space ship was still a toilet. And they still needed cleaning.

Clunk-clunk...

Silver groaned and pressed the pillow over her face. One thing kept her from quitting her job—two things, if she included her contract—but the main thing was the ship's captain.

Justice Jamerson. Quite possibly, Silver thought, the most beautiful woman in the universe. She loved everything about her. Her name, her hair, her smile, her body... especially her body. And that captain's uniform!

Silver sighed. She peeked out from beneath her pillow and glared at her own uniform hanging on the back of the door. It was grey. In fact, it blended perfectly with the colour of the walls in her cabin.

Clunk-clunk...

Captain Jamerson never noticed her strolling through the ship's corridors. Silver melted into the background, a grey shape against grey walls.

Although, she mused, even if the uniform had been bright yellow, the captain probably still wouldn't have noticed her.

Clunk-clunk...

With a frown, Silver thumped her fist against the wall. Silence descended on the room just long enough for her to drift off to sleep, and then, clunk-clunk... clunk-clunk... clunk-clunk..., twice as fast as before. Silver groaned loudly, threw the thin blanket from the bed, and pounded her fists against the wall. Shut up, shut up, shut up! she yelled.

The noise stopped. She sighed and rested her forehead against the wall. I hate my life.

Why?

She sat back and stared at the wall. Her heart beat a little faster than usual, and she wondered if the lack of sleep was making her hear things.

She chewed her lip and pressed her ear to the wall. Hello? she said. She felt like an idiot.

Why?

It was definitely a voice, though Silver couldn't work out if it was male or female. She thought it might be a computer, some sort of artificial intelligence. Or an alien. It would be an alien, knowing her luck.

You keep me awake, she said. It's driving me mad.

Why? the voice asked again.

Because of all the knocking! I need to sleep! Silver looked at the clock and realised she had to get up. She placed a hand to the wall. Just... be quiet, okay? Please?

No answer this time, so Silver got out of bed. She gave the wall a frown and turned away. Tonight, she decided, she would go to the bar and get very drunk.

* * * * *

Justice Jamerson, captain of the spaceship Athanasia, couldn't decide whether she wanted to wear red lipstick or go nude. She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and looked at her advisor.

Red or nude? she asked.

The man appeared somewhat perplexed, so she rolled her eyes and waved a hand at her lips. The lips, man. Red or nude? Come on!

Nude, he said.

Justice picked up her red lipstick from her desk and applied it. "I am meeting men, Barkley. Red lipstick says power, and I want to impress. There are plenty who think a woman shouldn't do this job, you know."

Not really, ma'am. I think there are more female captains than there are male nowadays.

Justice sighed. Yes. Well, I wish there weren't. It's so difficult to stand out.

She blotted her lips with a tissue, twisted the lipstick shut, and dropped it into a drawer. She got to her feet. This cargo they want us to ship, Barkley. Do you know what it is?

No, ma'am. They'll only talk to you about it.

So long as it's not aliens. Annoying little buggers, aliens. The door slid open as she approached, and she stepped into the corridor. Barkley trotted by her side like a well-trained dog.

As they walked down the corridor, people nodded or gave a murmured Ma'am. Justice didn't know who half of them were or what they did. She didn't care either, though she wondered whether she should.

Strange girl, that one, she muttered to Barkley as they passed a young woman with a mop and bucket. Stares a lot.

Do you want me to have her spoken to? Barkley asked.

Spoken to? Justice repeated. She stopped outside a door, pressed the code into a console, and continued on her way as the door opened. About what?

Barkley's shoes tapped a fast rhythm on the floor as he hurried to keep up. About the staring, ma'am, he said.

Justice waved her hand. Let the girl stare, she said. Now these men, Barkley, they know not to be late? It's bad enough that I have to go to them. I don't want to be hanging around too. This is my ship, man! I shouldn't have to take time from my busy schedule to meet these people.

Uh...

"They pay our wages, you might say, Justice said. I say, screw them. Let's fly away and never come back."

She gave Barkley a smile, ignoring the frown on his serious face. Oh lighten up, she said. She turned to another door and opened it.

Inside the room, sitting at a round table, were four men. Three were old and wrinkled