All Rileyed Up

Beth Staples is the managing editor for Hayden’s Ferry Review and Marginalia and was kind of enough to do some Q&A with me about the submissions process for her publications. You can read excerpts from Hayden’s Ferry Review here, the publication’s blog is here, and an LA Times review of Hayden’s Ferry Review can be found here. Enjoy!

1. Approx how many submissions do you receive in a month and what is the process for reading them?
Oh boy. Math on the very first question. I’m not sure how many per month exactly, and that probably varies. (Some journals don’t read in the summer, and even though we do, it seems like people submit less during the summer months.) For each issue of HFR (every six months), we receive about 1300 prose submissions (that’s fiction and nonfiction, though about 90% of that is fiction), and 750 poetry submissions (each submission has usually 3-6 poems). We also accept unsolicited art and translation submissions, though the editors for those areas spend a lot of time researching and courting the work for the issue.
Our editors are MFA students in their third year of the program here at ASU. The associate editors are a combination of graduate students in their first two years, and talented ASU staff and community members. The associate editors are the first line of defense, reading through the slush. They decide whether to reject the work or pass it on to the editors. There are usually two editors per genre, so from the passed-on work, they must come to a consensus about what they will accept. I basically oversee the process, hire and manage the staff, and help out with the reading.

2. Do you try to divide each issue up equally among the different forms of writing, or do you find that your issues tend more towards poetry or fiction or…?
We allot a certain number of pages to each set of editors based on a 180-page issue. But sometimes we find that we’ll have an especially wonderful set of stories, or more poetry, or more black and white photography, etc. and the editors can choose to share some of their pages. The issue is sometimes longer or shorter than 180 pages, based on how much good work we receive. Basically, we wouldn’t publish work we didn’t like just to pad the issue, and we wouldn’t send away work that we wanted to publish. The page allotments are fluid, and the editors work together to decide what goes in.
One thing I’ll mention is that we don’t get many nonfiction submissions. For our “Works of Witness” issue (#39), that theme really lent itself to nonfiction, and we published 4 or 5 essays. In our last issue (#42) the editors didn’t choose any nonfiction because they simply didn’t feel strongly about anything we got. We’d definitely like to see more essay submissions.

3. How much time do you spend on your own writing?
Not enough, is the short answer. I’ve only been editing HFR full time since January. Before that, I was an MFA student at ASU, finishing the first draft of my novel for my thesis. The transition from graduate school to the working world wasn’t the easiest one. My alarm hadn’t been set that early in a while. I was tired a lot. I bought a house, so I was also broke. And the absence of that kind of womb-like community of graduate school left me a little scared, I think. I realized it didn’t matter if I wrote or not, not to anyone but me. I’m only just getting used all of that, getting back into writing regularly again. And by regularly I mean a few stolen hours on maybe two weeknights, and a nice little chunk on a Saturday. I also have to vacuum sometimes, and watch So You Think You Can Dance, and eat, pet my cat, go swimming. It feels like juggling sometimes, trying to find time for all of those things. It’s funny, as a writer you never feel like you have “free” time; whenever I sit down to relax I always think, “You should be using this time to write, dummy.”

4. How much reading do you do outside of the reading you do for the journal?
I’ve been making this more of a priority lately. I find it’s really hard to do both – read for HFR and read for “pleasure” (Not that reading the slush isn’t pleasant; I absolutely enjoy it). It’s weird, the more I was reading for HFR, the more difficult I found it was to read already published stuff. There’s a certain editorial mindset involved with reading submissions, a kind of hopefulness or cheerleading as you read a story or poem, and usually the feeling kind of crashes. That is, you don’t love everything you read no matter how much you want to. It’s hard to relax that tendency. And maybe you shouldn’t, I don’t know. But when a book or story is already published, it doesn’t require the simple yes/no answer that editing ultimately requires. Or, necessarily, the cheerleading. In some ways, editing might be hostile to the act of reading for pleasure. But then again, I’m not sure a writer can read strictly for pleasure. I’m always trying to take apart what I’m reading, to learn from it. Did I answer the question?

5. What other jobs have you held that have enabled you to understand writing/publishing process better?
Well, let’s see. I worked as an editorial assistant my first job after college. Except I was working for a medical publisher. I worked on textbooks about otolaryngology and urology. I actually helped put together a chapter for surgeons about what to do with a penis caught in a zipper. Then I worked for a “publishing services provider” called Xlibris. Basically, we helped people self-publish. A lot of those books were really bad, but I still liked working with the authors. I kept thinking, “all these people can write a book. I can write a book.” So I applied to grad school. In grad school, I worked as a teaching assistant, teaching English 101 and creative writing. My third year, I applied to be one of the fiction editors for HFR. And then I got a graduate assistant position working with Salima Keegan, the Managing Editor of HFR (for over 20 years!). When she was retiring and I was graduating, she really pulled for me to take her place. She knew how much I loved HFR. I owe so much to her. Honestly, I was in the right place at the right time. I feel lucky.

6. Is it okay that I said writing/publishing, or do you feel the two are separate, with two separate paths?
I’m not entirely sure I understand the question, but I’ll give it a go. For me, I pursued publishing after college because it was related to writing. I liked to write, but I knew no one would pay me to write short stories. Publishing sounded exciting. Some people who love to write get jobs as journalists or technical writers, but that never sounded any good to me. I didn’t want to get burnt out on writing with a job that required me to write all the time about (potentially) things I didn’t care for. That argument is just academic, though. I know writers who just write and write (for a living, at home), and the more things they write, the better they feel. I don’t think I’m that person. That said, I’ve been enjoying blogging. I usually write at least one post a day, and I like the rhythm of that. It’s been giving me confidence for my other work, I think, regularly producing an (albeit small) piece of writing.
As for whether writing and publishing are the same for me as a writer, that’s of course no. You have to just write what you believe in. Write and write and don’t think about whether anyone else will like it, last of all a “publisher.” Write the story you have to tell. When you’re done, you send it out. Getting it published doesn’t make it good.

7. How did you first get into writing?
It’s the same kind of corny story a lot of people tell. I wrote as far back as I can remember. When I was a kid, I wrote poems that rhymed and fables about animals. I used to narrate my every-day activities as if I were in a book. That way it felt like someone cared about every little thing that I did. That sensibility has stuck with me – an attention to the little things, a desire to chronicle moments so that they’re not lost, writing as memory.

8. Who are your favorite writers?
Gabriel Garcia Marquez. George Saunders. Nicole Krauss. Jose Saramago. Kelly Link. Vladimir Nabokov. The way Nabokov writes is so amazing to me. You can just see that he has it, The Gift. (Ah! That’s a joke, because that’s the title of one of his novels!) I love the magical and strange, anyone who can make me laugh.

9. Any editor pet peeves that writers should know about, personal or general?
That’s tough, because I think the things that annoy me are highly personal. A few things do get under my skin: I’m always highly suspicious of stories that take place in trailer parks or at religious revivals. They’re a kind of “white trash” story I see a lot, often accompanied by the characters speaking in some strange version of a southern accent. I rarely like stories about writers or teachers of writing: they often seem like a failure of the imagination. And don’t explain your story in your cover letter; always a red flag. I can think of exceptions to all of the above, though. Anything can be done well.

10. Are most of the editors you know also writers?
I don’t really know many other editors. The few I do are writers. Editing is another one of the ways to be employed doing something you really care about. I love my job. I get to work with and in support of writers and artists all day long.

11. I’ve heard the criticism of MFA programs that they focus so much on craft they lose sight of the creative process? Sour grapes, or do you have any thoughts on this, for writers considering an MFA?
I’ve heard tons of bad things about MFA programs. Is it possible that someone could come out of an MFA so wrapped up in the technicalities that s/he has lost sight of the joy? I suppose. Do I think that MFA programs could better prepare writers for the real world? Perhaps. Do I think some are too competitive? I’m sure. Do some encourage group-think? I guess it’s possible. None of that happened to me. This is what I’ll say of my MFA experience: I was given three years to spend most of my time writing. Someone else paid me to do that! ASU gave me a community of people who valued what I did, people to talk about writing with. I worked with brilliant teachers and writers. I learned that I could teach. I traveled to China. And I found my way into a job. All of that is pretty amazing. To be given the time, space, and support to simply write as much as possible – that’s a dream come true for a lot of writers. I feel grateful for the experience.

12. What prompted your decision to create a blog for HFR?
This question actually prompted me to write a blog post. What I said there was that a blog seemed like a good way to supplement the work of our printed issues, a place to talk to our contributors and learn more about their work. It helps us to both deepen our readers’ experiences with what we publish, and broaden the reach of our contributors. And since our mission is to support emerging artists, the blog also gives us a chance to do more of that: to talk about writing and visual art more. The implication is that the reach of the printed copies of HFR is limited. This is, of course, true. We are not only limited by our ability to find our readers out in the world, but also by the number of copies we can afford to print. The blog, ideally, helps us find more readers for our printed issues, and furthers the whole of our mission. And, it’s fun. And, you know, a strong internet presence seems to be kind of important.

13. And just so that all the writers out there can remember that as an editor, you’re also a human, how about your most embarrassing moment?
Okay, here it goes. This is pretty gross. I was on a kind of “date” with this guy I met at a bar. It was my first year at ASU, and I was trying to get to know people. He worked on campus, so we met on a concrete bench next to a palm tree for coffee. I had a cold. We were sitting and talking for a while, and my nose started to get runny. I didn’t want to get up to ruin the moment, so there was a lot of sniffling. As things escalated, I tried to check for drippings by casually running my finger under my nose. All the while, maintaining a witty banter. (In my mind, I replay this like that scene in Better Off Dead where John Cusack and that character “Beth” both think they have something in their noses while they’re talking. Except worse.). Obviously, there was something emerging, because when I pulled my hand away, a giant strand of snot – like a tight rope – connected my nostril to my outstretched hand. At this point, I was able to excuse myself. I went to a bathroom in the nearest building to clean up and calm down. When I returned, in typical ‘me’ fashion, I remember saying, “I peed while I was in there, just to make sure I won’t go in my pants.” I thought that was funny. Now that I’ve typed it, I’m not so sure. I’m engaged now, so eat your heart out, fellas!

This concludes the interview. Once again, here are the links: excerpts from Hayden’s Ferry Review here, the publication’s blog is here, and an LA Times review of Hayden’s Ferry Review can be found here.

Thanks, Beth!

Some of you might have noticed a new addition to my sidebars. There is now a link for you to follow me on Twitter. When I first heard about it, I thought, huh, that sounds dumb. Nobody needs to know that much about me. Now, I think, huh, I was dumb. I love Twitter! It’s like my own personal record keeper. One sentence, maybe two? How easy is that?! I’ll be meeting my writing goals every day FOREVER!

So, feel free to follow me. And I don’t mean that in a stalker kind of way.

So I’m at Staples. I’m looking for a cell phone charger. The kids are both with me. Little No Limit is wearing her tattered and torn bought-it-for-a-dollar-Salvation-Army Tinker Bell costume with pink socks that have red roses and before-there-was-dirt-on-them white slip-on shoes that have those zig zag straps that Velcro. The Boy is wearing cowboy boots, athletic shorts, and a pajama shirt. Yes, I let my kids dress themselves like this. I hope one day when they see pictures they say, “How could you dress me like that?” and I will respond, “I gave you independence. You should be so lucky that I let you wear what you want, dagnabbit, did you know I walked two miles to school though snow, uphill both ways! Yes! In Florida!”

Ahem. Where was I?

So I’m at Staples. I’m looking for a cell phone charger. The kids are wandering the aisle on the other side of the cell phone chargers. I figure, they’re both loud, the store isn’t crowded. I can look over the top of the aisle and keep an eye on them.

And you know what happens?

An earthquake.

AN EARTHQUAKE!!!!!

Seriously, can’t I get a break? Can’t I get a few minutes to look for a cell phone charger while my oddly clothed children wander the aisle on the other side? Can’t I?

At first, when I heard everything shaking, you got it: I blamed the kids.

What are they doing, I thought, fearfully imagining towers of paper clips falling over and my children standing in the middle. That happened one time at the grocery store, only it was 2 liter bottles of Coke and my dad. Which actually made it kind of funny to see a 40-something year old man in the middle of a grocery store trying to keep up the bottled sodas. Especially when two of those bottles exploded just as the store employees ran up to help.

Ahem. Where was I?

So I’m at Staples. I’m looking for a cell phone charger. The earthquake shakes things up. Everything in the store is rattling and jiggling. I realize it’s not the kids doing it. I realize it could in fact be an earthquake, or on one of the other aisles, an employee driving an in-store mechanized lifter has dropped something that literally weighed a ton, and now, I’m worried about the kids. Are they safe? Why did I let them wander the other aisle? I look over the shelf. They’re both just standing there, in a bit of a surfing stance, like hey, the ground is shaking!

The shaking ends a moment later, and everything goes back to normal.

I buy my goods, stop and get gas on the route home ($4.51/gallon, good grief), and when I get home, Husband says, “Did you feel the earthquake?”

“Yes,” I said. “I thought it was the kids at first before realizing they couldn’t be responsible for ALL that shaking.”

We laugh and then go about our business.

The End.

How’s that for an anticlimactic ending?

I think earthquakes make me lose my train of thought.

Talk About Curing Autism, or TACA, is a support network for families affected by autism.

Where is My Brother? is doing a giveaway to encourage people to donate to a cause. And how cool is this – she’s giving away kimonos! Did you know that for my whole life, I have always wanted a kimono? Really. It’s true. If I win it, I’ll post a picture of myself wearing it. Unless the picture comes out bad. In which case, I’ll have my son draw a picture of me wearing it, and I assure you, the likeness will be impressive.

Anyway, rules are easy enough. Make a donation, then leave a comment on her post letting her know you donated.

(P.S. Should you choose to donate, and then win my desired kimono, just know — I can be bartered with.)

Recently, two celebrity remarks have generated buzz in the autism community—

Actress Amanda Peet said in Cookie magazine: “Frankly, I feel that parents who don’t vaccinate their children are parasites.”

Radio talk show host Michael Savage said: “I’ll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it’s a brat who hasn’t been told to cut the act out. That’s what autism is. What do you mean they scream and they’re silent? They don’t have a father around to tell them, “Don’t act like a moron. You’ll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz. Straighten up. Act like a man. Don’t sit there crying and screaming, idiot.”

Peet apologized, and said, among other things, “I still believe that the decision not to vaccinate our children bodes for a dangerous future. Vast reductions in immunization will lead to a resurgence of deadly viruses.” and “In the fifties, vaccines were recognized as life-saving. My mom had polio and was quarantined when she was 6 years old. It’s so hard to appreciate vaccines now that so few children are dying from preventable diseases today, but that could all change if we’re not vigilant.”

Savage and his network have apologized, and defended his remarks with “Dr. Savage [according to Wikipedia, he holds a PhD in nutritional ethnomedicine] has clarified that his July 16th statements concerning autism were not directed at those who are in fact challenged by this horrible affliction, but were instead addressing efforts to broaden the concept of autism beyond those who truly are autistic to a broader “autistic spectrum” of behavioral symptoms which are also manifested by persons who do not suffer from autism, and his concern that many children are being misdiagnosed as autistic due to the subjective nature of autism diagnosis (due to the lack of known biomedical indicators, such as blood tests, to definitively confirm or deny the actual existence of autism). Dr. Savage has also explained his belief that there have been efforts by certain professionals and professional organizations to expand diagnoses of autism more broadly, for various reasons, and his concern that this victimizes and stigmatizes children who are misdiagnosed as autistic.”

The apology statement went on to point out that “The purpose of talk radio is to raise the level of public discourse by introducing commentary on controversial issues.”

So the real question is, why didn’t you guys just #@&! say that in the first place?

Commentary on controversial issues does not mean speak like a close-minded jerk. If you wanted to address the concerns of overdiagnosing autism or the importance of vaccines, you didn’t need to classify an entire group of people as brats or parasites to get your point across.

I especially liked (and by liked, I mean rolled my eyes) this blurb from Savage’s network’s statement concerning “his brief 84 seconds of commentary”:

“In the context of his broader concerns, it is clear that Dr. Savage’s comments were intended to suggest his opinion that, in the vast majority of cases, most children throwing tantrums, or refusing to communicate, are not autistic. Unfortunately, by condensing his multifaceted concerns into 84 seconds of commentary, the necessary context for his remarks was not apparent, and the few words he used to express his concerns were, in this instance, inartfully phrased.”

What “vast majority of cases” is he referring to? Children in general or cases of autism? If the former, duh, of course temper tantrums and refusal to communicate don’t mean they’re autistic. Who even thinks that? If the latter, how could he possibly formulate such an opinion without reading enough autism diagnoses to say “a majority of cases.” Here’s the criteria for DSM-IV Autism. Clearly, more than temper tantrums and refusal to communicate are necessary. Is the wording vague? Yes. Is there room for misinterpretation? Yes. Did a neurologist once explain to me that autism diagnosing was similar to art appreciation and that everyone views it differently? Yes. These are very important things to consider if you think your child has autism or you disagree with a DSM IV diagnosis, and I think Michael Savage would agree, but the seriousness of his subject was lost to his “inartfully phrased” comments. Is it just me, or are the words “inartfully phrased” the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever read? He called 99 percent of autistic kids “brats.” That’s not “inartfully phrased.” That’s rude, demeaning, insulting, offensive, generalizing, judgmental… take your pick.

What bothers me about media focal points like Peet said parasites or Savage said brats are the that they bury the real concern – children’s health – under name calling.

I don’t care about Amanda Peet or Michael Savage and they don’t care about me. They will insult me today and apologize tomorrow and I will be no different as a result. We do have a shared concern for the health of children, though. So the next time Peet and Savage have the opportunity to use their celebrity status to bring attention to something important, I hope they don’t waste it on an insult, er, inartful word.

In her excitement to get out of the car and walk to the front door (I know! It’s SOOOOO exciting to do that!), Little No Limit tripped and fell down in the driveway.

This resulted in the her screaming out in holy bloody murder terror. She ran in, still screaming and crying, saying “I hurt! I hurt!”, and I rushed forward, ready to save the day.

“Do you need Mommy to kiss it?”

This is not me being a simpleminded-stars-in-her-eyes-over-the-power-of-her-kiss kind of mother. This is our usual routine. She cries, I kiss, all better. But on this occasion, she jerked her arm back from me (which, I might add, was not even bleeding) and said, “Nooooo! Band-Aid! Band-Aid! Band-Aid!”

We went to the bathroom, I tried to reason with her that she wasn’t bleeding, my logic fell on deaf ears and pitiful tears, and then Sponge Bob, not Mommy, saved the day.

I can’t believe I’ve been replaced by this guy! We don’t even watch the show!

Okay, so there is NO WAY I am going to actually read all of these book in August. But better have to have too many on the list than not enough, right?

1. A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Mohammed Hanif. I saw this title on one of those bookstore emails and loved it immediately. The storyline sounds good too.
2. Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri. I love Interpreter of Maladies and The Namesake so much. I had no idea this book had come out until last week when a friend mentioned that she thought she’d heard Lahiri had come out with something new. I went home and ordered it.
3. Dangerous Days of Daniel X by James Jatterson’s. His latest YA. Reading this for a Mother-Talk review. Post forthcoming.
4. A Friendship Test by Elizabeth Noble. I have no idea what this book is about, but it’s my book club selection for August and I’m leading the discussion, so best be prepared (see #10).
5. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I get that I’m a couple years behind everyone else, but I never got around to it. I recently read A Thousand Splendid Suns and it renewed my interest.
6. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. I bought this book years ago after reading an interview with the author and it has sat on my shelf collecting dust. A friend mentioned she was reading it, and I like to read books with other people are so we can talk about them, so I told her I’d try to read it before the next time we see each other.
7. Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Another one of those bought-it-and-shelved-it books. I kind of feel like I’m losing street cred in the writer’s world by admitting I still haven’t read this.
8. Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger. Lawyer Girl loves Salinger and I found all his books at the used book store for cheap and thought, you know, I should finally get around to reading them since she loves so much.
9. Geek Love by Katherine Dunn. This has been recommended to me a few friends as and I do like the title.
10. Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by David Oliver Relin and Greg Mortenson. Technically, I should have read this for book club last month, but I attended the meeting without having read the book, and participated in the discussion anyway. It was like I was in college, only I said “I have kids” instead of “I was at the bar” as to why I didn’t do my reading.
11. A Gesture Life: A Novel by Chang Rae-Lee. I heard about this through a writing class. WWII, comfort women, Japanese soldiers… it sounds like the book I wanted to write, but set in another country.
12. When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron. Ever since I read an interview with Pema, I’ve been enamored with her. And this is her biggie, but I still haven’t read it.
13. Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl. I bought this book for the title alone. Yes. I am a title junkie.

More lists of thriteen here.

If you can’t spell, I’m not buying your souvenirs.

More Wordless Wednesday pix here.

Two months ago, the water dispenser in my friend J’s fridge broke and filled the fridge with water. Upon the door being opened, the water spilled into the kitchen and dining area and seeped under the wood floor. J and her husband R and their two girls have been living without flooring these past two months, waiting on their insurance to assess the damages, approve the cost to fix it, and send them the money to do it.

They were (finally) approved! As a bonus, they were approved for so much money that they were able to re-floor the entire first floor, the stairs, and the upstairs hallway with a nice light colored wood, much nicer than their previous flooring, in fact.

It was installed last week, and the family and I went over last night to ooh and aah.

We brought wine to celebrate.

I pulled out a corkscrew. I opened the bottle. And then I dropped the corkscrew.

Onto their brand spanking new wood floor.

And would you believe it, the corkscrew went straight into the wood like a thumbtack in a corkboard. Seriously. It was like I had thrown a dart into their floor. J stared at the corkscrew and I stared at J, and neither of us spoke.

I finally coughed. “I’m so sorry… um… I’m… really embarrassed.”

J laughed it off, pointing out that the dog had already scratched up the floor over by the sliding glass door. So I’m in company with the dog. But they love the dog, so that’s a good thing, right?

Years ago, I walked into the Rainbow Sandals store in San Clemente and was taken in by the framed sandals on the wall. Worn-through sandals accompanied by letters from satisfied customers who’d worn these shoes for XX years. I thought to myself, oh, I’m totally getting my shoes on this wall.

I bought a pair of the standard brown leather sandals and my feet took to them as happily as I take to ridiculous teen movies (I just saw High School Musical – Michael Crawford in the fridge, hahahahaha!). The shoes have accompanied every trip I’ve been on since buying them. They’ve touched ground in Florida, Louisiana, Oregon, California, Hawaii, Alaska, Canada, and French Polynesia. They are well worn and much loved.

And then, disaster struck.

I took them with me on a trip to New Orleans last October, the one where I disabled my rental car in a flash flood. I had my Rainbows on while pushing my car to the land of high ground, and when I returned to my friend’s house, I left the soggy flip flops on her porch so they could dry. Where they stayed.

After getting home and tearing apart my suitcase looking for them (baby, where are you? baby, please come out!), I emailed my friend asked her to mail them to me. They didn’t arrive and I chalked the situation up to “my rainbows have moved on.” It gave me an excuse to buy a new pair, though, and I had been wanting to try out the hemp line.

A couple weeks ago, my friend was in town for the ALA Conference, and I went to her hotel to hang out with her, and what does she pull out of her suitcase—yes, my Rainbows.

And there will be joy!

So, I’ve got them back, my comfy wonderful Rainbow sandals, and my quest to make it to the Wall of Fame is over. I don’t want to part with them again. They can just hang out in my closet and be the oldtimer to all my newbies.

And let’s also not forget my BIG Rainbow:

More on how I got this shoe here.