Once a month, we stop practicing and invite you to show off your best work.
Are you interested in being published (in print)? Would you like to get better at the writing craft by working with an editor? Do you enjoy a little friendly competition? And are you a fan of The Write Practice?
Then this writing contest might be for you.
A few years ago, the memoirist Donald Miller was approached to turn his book Blue Like Jazz into a movie. (Have you seen it yet, by the way? I heard it’s pretty good.) As he started to work with the producers to turn his book, which is essentially the story of his life, into a movie, he was surprised when they said they’d have to cut sections because it wasn’t interesting.
His life wasn’t interesting? His life wouldn’t make a good story?
I worked on an article for a magazine today for about four hours. It’s still not finished but it’s close. The muse is pumping and I’m in the flow.
But it’s 5:55 pm and my rest tonight includes a date with my wife at six pm.
I have two options:
1. Post-pone our date for thirty minutes to finish the article.
2. Reject the muse and stop working.
This isn’t a hard decision. My spouse is more important than my writing (sorry, Hemingway), and besides, she’d yell at me if I didn’t turn off. I saved the article and shut down my computer (or I will after finishing this). Done. Rest on.
However, most of the time we don’t make this decision. We choose to postpone rest (a date with ourselves, our souls) all the time.
I’ve noticed the following two problems in my own writng and in the writers I edit:
1. Too much inner monologue.
2. Not enough setting and description.
This is a problem because the more inner monologue you use, the yonger your writing sounds. I don’t know why this is, but inner-monologue-heavy novels feel younger and more fit for teenagers than novels that give less access to their characters’ heads.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Hunger Games is selling millions of copies while Cormac McCarthy is winning awards and living in relative obscurity. We like our inner-monologue-rich novels. But they also feel less like art. Decide whether you want to use it accordingly.
Glimmer Train literary magazine is harder to get into than Harvard. In 2011, Harvard accepted 6.2 percent of applicants. Literary magazines like Glimmer Train often have acceptance rates of under one percent.
So when I asked Linda Swanson-Davies, who founded the journal with her sister in 1990, to chat with me about Glimmer Train and how to get published in literary magazines, I honestly wasn’t expecting her to say yes.
But she did!
I’m so excited to share our conversation with you. I hope it challenges you to consider submitting your work to literary magazines like Glimmer Train, and I hope it provides something of a salve to the soul if your story isn’t chosen. Mine certainly haven’t been!
Enjoy the interview.
