Accessible Submissions For All
A Writers’ HQ Revolution
Hello and welcome back to our guest post series from other thing-owners in the indie lit world. Today, Jo Gatford from Writers HQ wrote a piece for us about accessible submissions. What they are. Why they’re important. What we can do about them. We participated in this series and you’re welcome to read our interview here.
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Before the (freaking amazing) creation of Chill Subs, we used to compile a monthly list of submission opportunities over at Writers’ HQ. It was kinda satisfying (there are SO many great lit mags out there!) and kinda painstaking (Chill Subs are worth their weight in printer ink), and a whole lot of work, but it felt like a worthy thing to do to contribute to our little writing community and help writers find places to send their work.
And for the most part it was a great experience. So much great stuff going on in the indie lit world. So many editors and readers and publishers and teams out there who commit their time, focus and sometimes their own hard cash for the love of literature. Damn fine people who take excellent care of their writers and respect their work.
But as with anything you do for a reasonable amount of time, we started to see patterns. The same challenges. The same issues. The same red flags. Fledgeling mags that launched with a bang and quickly fizzled out. Competitions that bit off more than they could chew and had to rethink their model on the fly. Entry fees that climbed higher and higher and higher. And as with anything you really care about, it’s the injustices that tend to stand out.
We started getting frustrated with how expensive subs were becoming; how restrictive; how exclusive. Some organisations even seemed to be farming out contests without even bothering to publish the results. And then one day we received a listings request from a competition that charged £45 for a single short story.
We replied to say something along the lines of “are you fucking kidding?” or “that’s extortion” and to ask why and how and in what universe they thought that was a reasonable entry fee, but funnily enough they never responded.
And so, as with anything that gets us really riled up, we just couldn’t let it lie. By then, Writers’ HQ had something of a recognised name, so we figured maybe we had some clout. Maybe we could yell about stuff and people might listen.
We made a new policy for comps and mags wanting to be included on our listings, with the basic caveat of: don’t be a dick. We started questioning and challenging those who hadn’t taken into account that entry fees could be a barrier to some (many) writers, guided by the central tenets of our Accessible Submissions For All project:
Charging entry fees and not paying contributors is fucking shitty
Charging entry fees the equivalent of a ¼ of someone’s weekly grocery budget is fucking shitty
Charging entry fees while not providing a subsidised or free option for writers who can’t afford to submit is fucking shitty
We had some… interesting responses. Some proper pearl-clutching, over-privileged outrage, and sheer obliviousness that this could even be a problem. Some who just did not give a single fuck. There were a whole variety of excuses, but none of the reasons they gave were based in any kind of reality. For example:
“But, but, but, if we offer the option of free entry, people will take advantage!”
Hmmmm, well, not in our experience, no. We’ve been offering free sponsored memberships for yeeears now and we’re far more likely to get people sending us endlessly self-deprecating applications trying to convince us that actually they’re not as deserving as other writers and they understand if we can’t help them but they’re super grateful for the opportunity.
Do you know how hard it is to ask for help in late stage capitalism? Do you know the guilt and shame that comes with requesting assistance? Which is yet another reason why you should make it as easy as humanly possible for people to access that shit. Don’t make them jump through hoops or prove their eligibility or submit weeks before the final deadline. Don’t make them tell you their tragic backstory. Just let them have the free thing if they need it. It is really that simple.
And if some people do take advantage, honestly, so fucking what? You get a handful of people who try to save a buck? If you’re truly providing a worthwhile service and have cultivated a loyal and loving community around you, you’re going to find yourself surrounded by people who willingly and generously support you far beyond what you’re asking. Case in point: every single time we’ve offered a pay-as-you-feel option we’ve had far more people overpay than go for the free option.
So if you’re so worried about your audience being full of chancers and arseholes, maybe that says more about you and the kind of people you’re fostering in your community, hmm?
“But, but, but, we’re looking for quality writing…”
An actual response from a prestigious and long-running competition who refused to even entertain the possibility of a low-cost entry option.
Like, wow, say the quiet part out loud there, buddy. So, what you mean is: quality writing can only come from those who can afford high entry fees? Or only those who can afford to pay deserve to get published/win a prize/become successful? Or allowing low-income and maginalised writers to access your competition will sully the quality of your slush pile?
In an industry that is publicly screaming for ‘diverse voices’ and jumping on every social justice bandwagon rolling by, sounds a lot like you don’t actually want to make any kind of systemic change.
“But, but, but, it’s impossible! Capitalism! Profits! There’s just no way of making it work!”
Oh, friend. Let us learn you the ways. There are so many options for offering low/free entry while still encouraging a healthy, self-sustaining model. Such as:
Pay as you feel: In addition to (or instead of) your standard fee, allow writers to pick an amount they can afford (and make £0 an option) — we guarantee you will have people paying over the recommended amount if they love you.
Sponsored entries: Reach out to your audience and invite them to pay it forward to a writer in need. Even better, ask some wealthy benefactor to sponsor a bunch of ‘em.
Free entry cap: Allocate a specific number of free entries to each submission entry, first come, first served.
Enhanced submissions: Offer something shiny for a higher-priced submission (eg: expedited responses, feedback, or a prize draw entry) and use this to fund the free subs
Free entry days/cycles: Set aside certain days or submissions periods where entry is free, and have others where you charge entry fees. Best of both worlds.
Tip jar/donations: Allow and encourage your readers to show their appreciation and subsidise entries for those who can’t afford it.
And y’know what all these things have in common? They don’t cost you anything. They broaden the diversity and scope of the entries you’ll receive. They provide opportunities to new, struggling, marginalised and systemically-excluded writers. They are good fucking karma. They may even make you money in the long run, as you prove yourself to be full of goodwill, good intentions, and good ethics. Because the main thing that ensures the success of any of these models is the fact that your audience likes you. If they really, truly like what you do, respect your publication, want to have their words inside your pages, want to support what you do because you’re Good Guys/Gals/Non-Binary Pals, then they really, truly will pay if they can.
And look, just to be clear: we’re not coming after the lil’ guys here. We know how much Submittable costs. We’re not getting pissy about a £3 entry fee that helps keep the lights on (though there are plenty of equitable options that benefit everyone — see above!). But we see so many huge organisations and competitions and mags with the chops to make some real changes to the literary industry, and they just… don’t wanna.
So let’s champion the ones who DO. Let’s help sustain our community by supporting worthy lit mags and competitions, by paying it forward, by sponsoring entries for those who can’t afford them, by lobbing a few bucks in tip jars now and then, by spreading the word and sharing stories and reading and buying journals and anthologies and keeping this whole circus going. Because we also know how much work goes into running a lit mag or a competition. And in an ideal world, everyone should get paid — writers, editors, judges, readers, artists, designers, translators, web developers — everyone involved in putting words on the page.
We know we’re not there yet, but every revolution starts with one gobby motherfucker, right?
We’re gonna keep on shouting. We hope you join us.
 | A guest post by
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I used to think that adding a small fee would encourage writers to be more selective: If it cost $2 or $3, they’d send only their most polished stuff. Then I spent a year reading for a magazine that had both free general submissions and a pricey contest; the writing in the free submissions was far better. This article makes many excellent suggestions!
I.L.P. (and other scammers like them) had a lucrative business going in the pre-Internet era when poets and writers had to subscribe to P&W, The Writer, or Writer's Digest to find out who was open for submissions and also buy The Dustbooks Guide once a year to see the literary markets outlined.
But those outrageous "pay to play" fees are not new, unfortunately.
P.T. Barnum knew there was a sucker born every minute.