What Not to Do Wednesday | Cathy C. Hall Writes

About 47 minutes into my work day here, I thought of something I used to do when it came to finding the right market. Notice, grasshopper, that I said used to do. As in the past, way back when, long, long ago.

Okay, maybe it was just last year. That’s not the point. The point is, I have learned my lesson when it comes to finding the right market for my work. And now, I’m passing along that lesson to you: Research, Research, research.

Here’s what Used To Do Cathy C. Hall did when it came to finding a market:

Step 1. Thumb through market listings in Writer’s Market, or Duotrope’s Digest, or any market newsletters I might have on hand. (So far, so good.)

Step 2. Find a market that accepts what I’m looking to place. (Sounds reasonable, right?)

Step 3. Go online and check out market for guidelines and such. (Of course, I’d do that. I’m a pro, you know.)

Step 4. Submit. (Wheeeee!)

Well, that plan looks jim-dandy, doesn’t it? Except for one teensy, little thing. It wasn’t working so well. Eventually, I woke up and smelled the step I was missing: Step 2a. Read the market.

See, I thought I’d take a shortcut. You know, scan the masthead, give the market a real good skim, even peruse a page or two.

Don’t do that, grasshopper. Unless you like rejection. Take the time to read the entire magazine or webzine, or at least as much as is available online. Or check out an anthology from the library and read the whole thing.

Yep, the whole thing. That way, you’ll get a good idea of the voice and style of the market. You can get a feel of what an editor likes. And that will tell you whether your work has a chance with that editor…or not.

And yes, grasshopper, it takes awhile. Which is why, here at the end of the day, I’ve only sent out one story. But midway through my market madness, I had to update my website. Which I should have done last month. But that’s an entirely different What Not To Do (Sheesh).

Dear Grasshopper,

It’s that time of year again when one must pick oneself up by the chocolate-smeared reindeer slippers and give some thought to resolutions. What’s more, grasshopper, one must put those thoughts into something more than your holiday-befuddled brain. What one must do, I’m afraid, is write the goals and whatnot on paper. Or at least a sticky note. And write your resolutions with some sort of, um, resoluteness. And don’t leave out the particulars. Here’s what I mean:

DON’T say “I’ll become a better writer this year.” (Well, of course you can say that. But it will help tremendously if you actually do something.)

DON’T say “I’ll write the Great American Novel this year.” (Trust me when I tell you that a goal such as that doesn’t work. Unless you’re a Great American who happens to be a Great Writer.)

DON’T say “I’m going to make $20,000 as a writer this year.” (And for heaven’s sake, don’t say something like that around someone else, like, just to throw a “for instance” out there, the Beneficent Mr. Hall. Some people, like for instance, the Beneficent Mr. Hall, may think you have a business plan. However, if you have a monetary goal, one of those business plan thingies would come in mighty handy.)

I could go on, grasshopper, but I think you can see where this whole resolution thing is going. Besides, I’ve got my own very specific, scathingly brilliant goals to think up. (And write down.)