Shut Your Row!

 

Once long ago, I had a story accepted by a magazine.

Posting the ‘Yes, you can have my soul’ letter which gave the magazine the first rights to publish this story was one of the happiest days of my life. I still regard that post box into which this letter tumbled with particular affection and smile whenever I see it.

Reading my printed story in the magazine (many months after than when they said it would appear) was one of the saddest days.

I had at that time no idea that a magazine had particular guidelines about what it would print. Instead, I’d simply read the stories in that particular magazine, and had written one that I would prefer to read instead.

I had noticed how the words used in this magazine were rather simple. ‘Dumbed down’ I thought. I’d wanted to change that. And so my story was peppered through with erudite language which I hoped would set the reader reaching for their dictionary.

At that time, the stories in this magazine were somewhat gloomy, so I’d written something light and funny, along with an accompanying uplifting title: ‘A Good Night’s Sleep.’

I had no idea that a magazine makes such substantial revisions to a story. When printed my delightful title had been revised:

“Shut your Row!” I read.

All my complex vocabulary had also disappeared, and had been replaced by bland simple words.

The ending had also been changed.

And then, as if to make a point, even my name was misspelt.

It was no longer my story, and I felt ashamed of it, and hurt.

Magazines, it seems, imagine the mindset of their readership and then set their contents to wax in such a mould. The result is a house format which suppresses the different styles of contributing writers.

Suffocation of a writer’s natural flair is further ensured by guidelines that would be writers have to read avidly before writing their stories and submitting them.

So many topics are off limits. So many tones and styles are anathema. So many plot lines or devices are just not wanted. Adjectives, similes and metaphors are  trashed in favour of pared down, simply-worded sentences: the shorter the better.

Writing within such a strait jacket of rules is an art form in itself.

I recently learnt that only a quarter of one particular well known writer’s work is actually accepted by the magazines she writes for. And she’s written the “How to…” book on the subject.

Women’s magazines have now started to curtail their fiction slots. So the poor writers,  who are still dutifully adhering to the rules, have even fewer outlets for their work.

With the competiveness this creates, the lonely writer will inevitably hear the yowls of their cat sat on the mat when  rejected stories land on top of them.

I can’t help thinking that magazines have got their fiction slots wrong.

And the trend is now to remove fiction slots from magazines.

This must be because market research has indicated that fiction slots are no longer popular with their readership.

Now I why?

Could it be because women’s magazines have stifled creativity? Could it be because they have churned out bland stories in the house style format week after week? Is it that they have underestimated their readership?

I think this is indeed the case.

It is as if magazine fiction editors have treated their female readership as children.

I squirmed with dismay when I read my mutilated story.

And I squirm even more when I read what is printed today.

 

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