Back in my dating days, I often had to deal with Dudebro Jerks. They would ask you out, and when you said, “No, I’m not interested,” they would demand an EXPLANATION. They would hound you looking for the solution to this asking-out puzzle like you were a stuck vending machine and they just had to punch the buttons harder.
“How can they BE like that? Who even wants to date someone who doesn’t want to date them?” I’d ask.
Well… I realized recently that when it comes to fiction submissions… I am the dudebro.
I can’t even imagine what it’s like for editors, because writers outnumber editors insanely. I mean, true, the dudebro outnumbers the women-dudebros-hit-on. (Maybe it just feels that way? Women are 51% of the population! But… well, men are more likely to pester potential dates so each man represents let’s say ten times the pestering-interactions? There should be research and a citation hereish, but I’m lazy.)
There is, of course, this great article where a guy posed as a woman online for two hours just to see how horrifyingly awful it is. An experience unlikely to shock any of us who have ever received the separate messages “A/S/L” “Are you hot?” “Measurements?” “Bra size? R THEY HUGE?” “Why aren’t you answering my texts you BITCH” within four microseconds from the same guy while still typing our answer to his first message of “Whatcha doin’?” begging the question: do these guys have this stuff scripted or are they chat bots?
I digress. Big time.
Point is: you have, for whatever reason, a large pool of people competing for the attention of a small pool of people. Multiply that into a thousand wannabe authors, screaming into the ether, “Just what do you want from me, John Joseph Adams?!?!”
And only one John Joseph Adams saying, “Dude, I just… we only had one open slot in the magazine and I liked another story best.”
The most vitriol on author message boards and mailing lists is spilled on editors who want to do a ‘limited demographic’ submission call that doesn’t include YOU, precious writer who has done nothing wrong.
Why, why can’t they want ME, no one but me, all the time me?
*slaver slaver slaver*
I mean, honestly. I supported “Women Destroy Science Fiction” hoping I could send a story in, and because of that I am glad to sit back and watch “People of Color Destroy”. I had my turn. I didn’t get in. It’s okay. Someone else’s turn now.
Let’s face it, the reason we love limited demographic calls is the hope that, with a smaller selection pool, we’ll have a better chance. We don’t want to think of ourselves as “good for a Midwesterner” but when they only want stories by Midwesterners, we are checking the deadline, amIright?
This wasn’t supposed to be about that. Not entirely. It’s about… being aware of your own ugliness. The dudebro has to stop a moment and realize not only does he have no chance with this girl, he is actively disgusting her.
So, authorbros – let’s be a little nicer to the nice people with the oh-so-attractive contract-signing-hands? Ultimately, all the rejectomancy in the world doesn’t change the fact that an editor picks what the editor decides to pick. Maybe they just really like donkeys and there’s a donkey in that story. It’s okay. They are allowed to like what they like and make decisions for purely irrational reasons. Because it is THEIR decision.
Just like I don’t have to explain why I don’t want to date you, random dude. Because I just DON’T. And that is all you need ever know.
Which is all a long way of saying: Sorry, John Joseph Adams, for my mean tweet.*
*There was no actual mean tweet. This is a joke. I picked on John Joseph Adams because he has actually bought the most of my stories of any editor and I like his name. But by all means, follow me on twitter to be sure.
