Hot Streak

Attempting to predict anything in publishing is a mug’s game, especially trying to predict how long it will take for a short story to find a home.

I’ve been on a roll this summer, with 10 original short story acceptances beginning June 20 and ending as I write this, a few days before it posts. (I placed a pair of reprints and a few originals earlier this year, but I’m only looking at my recent summer sales because there are some interesting things to note.)

Ten acceptances in nine weeks means an average of 1.11 acceptances per week. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had acceptances at a rate averaging more than once a week.

Six were accepted by paying publications; four by non-paying publications.

Three stories were accepted on first submission, five on second submission, and two on third submission.

The two fastest responses came quickly—one the same day as the submission and the other the day after submission. The slowest response took one year and 11 days. Ignoring the three outliers, acceptances ranged from eight days to 120 days.

One story took 10 days from submission to acceptance, but in between the editor requested some small revisions, so I date the acceptance as the day the editor accepted the revised version.

One other story required a revision before it was accepted, but the editor did not request the revision. The original rejection letter was so specific that I knew what I needed to change to fix/improve the story, but the story sat on my computer for more than three years before I figured out how to solve the problem. I submitted the revised story to the same editor with a note about why I was resubmitting it and what I had done to fix the problem. An acceptance followed. So, it sold on second submission, but to the same editor who had previously rejected it.

Eight of the stories are crime fiction. Two are romances.

One story was written to invitation. One was written for an open-call anthology. The two romances were originally written for a specific market that did not accept them. The other stories were of the “write first, market second” variety, which I haven’t been doing much of the past few years. Most of my writing has been “market first, write second”—that is, writing stories by invitation or writing to meet specific open-call anthology guidelines.

Now, here’s where I found some interesting data:

One story was written in 2003, one in 2010, two in 2016, one in 2020, one in 2024, and the last four were written this year, which means the oldest story would be old enough to vote, were it a person, and another would be getting its learner’s permit to drive. Many of the publications where I placed these stories did not exist when I wrote the stories.

What I learned from these acceptances is two-fold: 1) Never throw anything away because 2) the market is in constant flux.

I’ll be surprised if this pace continues, but it might. I’ve been looking through my unsold stories and putting them back out to market. After all, they’ll never be published if I don’t submit them.

* * *

I’ve been having a good streak with publications as well. In addition to the five stories I mentioned in my two previous posts, two more stories are hitting newsstands and mailboxes as you read:

“The Girl in the Shop” appears in the September/October issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and “Blind Pig” appears in the September/October issue of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine.

“Curves” was published August 17 on Guilty Crime Story Magazine’s website.

* * *

Like many of you, I’ll be at Bouchercon in New Orleans the first week of September.

Barb Goffman and I will accept the inaugural Derringer Award for Best Anthology for Murder, Neat. I will also be celebrating Tammy Euliano’s Derringer Award for Best Long Story for “Heart of Darkness” (Scattered, Smothered, Covered, and Chunked, which I co-edited with Stacy Woodson), and I’ll be celebrating Stacy Woodson’s Derringer Award for Best Novelette for “The Cadillac Job” (Chop Shop, which I edited).

I’ll be hanging on tenterhooks awaiting word about M.E. Proctor’s Shamus Award nomination for Best PI Story for “Drop Dead Gorgeous” (Janie’s Got a Gun, which I edited).

And I’ll be hanging on different tenterhooks awaiting the announcement of the Anthony Award for Best Anthology because I co-edited two of the nominees: Murder, Neat, with Barb Goffman, and Scattered, Smothered, Covered, and Chunked, with Stacy Woodson.

I’ll also be participating in two events:

“Killing Your Darlings: Edit that Manuscript,” a panel discussion with me, Luisa Cruz Smith, Donald Maass, Paula Munier, and Otto Penzler, moderated by Sara J. Henry. Friday 2:30–3:25 p.m. in Galarie 5-6, followed by a signing in the Acadia Ballroom.

“Jumpstart Your Story,” which I’ll co-host with Harry Hunsicker and Stacy Woodson. Saturday, 10:00–11:00 a.m., in the Media Room.

If you see me, say howdy!

Hesitation Blues

by Robert Lopresti



Imagine, if you will, that I have been having a very bad day. Assume that the IRS has shown an unhealthy interest in my career, that the Klingons have fired disrupters at the starboard nacelle, and that Hittites are demanding apologies for my allegedly anti-Hittite rant at a nightclub. That sort of day.

Evening has fallen and I am checking my email. There is good news and bad news. Unfortunately the good news is all from strangers who want to improve my love life or want me to help them smuggle millions of dollars out of Nigeria. The bad news tend sto be from my nearer and dearer, and it is not improving my mood.

After reading and weeding the majority of correspondence I find a message from a familiar name. Specifically an editor. The subject line is YOUR STORY. My fingers reach for the Enter button, and then I hesitate. This is what you might call a binary dilemma. Either I am about to get an acceptance or a rejection. Good news or bad news.

And the way my day has been going there is no reason to expect good news, is there? I am really not in the mood for more gloom.

I know a lot of writers keep all their rejection slips. Do they print out the ones that come electronically, to add to the pile of misery? That seems above and beyond. I used to save mine, but it began to feel ridiculous. And the file was overwhelming my acceptances. (I got seventy-sox of the precious little beasts from Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine before I collected one sale there.) So the rejection slips have gone away.

Nowadays when I get a paper rejection note I tend to crumble it, throw it across the room, and stomp on it before I throw it in the recycling bin. Call me Mr. Mature.

My favorite rejection note was from an agent, informing me that she had decided not to represent my diet book. Fair enough, but I had sent her a mystery novel. Perhaps she was making a helpful hint.

Of course, this current email might NOT be a rejection note. Perhaps the editor has seen the light and decided to share my masterpiece with her lucky readers. I DO keep all my acceptance notes, or contracts.

The first acceptance I ever got came with no letter or contract. I opened the envelope and out fluttered a check; there was nothing else. Fortunately the check had the title of my story on it or I might never have figured out what it was for.

Meanwhile the current email is still waiting for me to open it. I seem to be stalling.

Of course, the note doesn't HAVE to be a yes or no. Once an editor wrote to tell me she had lost the manuscript and would I please send another copy? I did, and she rejected it.

And once an editor wrote to say she liked part of the story and suggested that I rewrite the ending. I'm still thinking about that one.

Okay. I've run out of stalling techniques. Time to hit the button and see what there is to see. Cross your fingers.

Here goes...

Screw the Klingons. We're gonna party tonight.