Submission Burnout: Taking the 100 Submissions Challenge
Freshman year I heard one of my writing professors talk about taking on the “100 Submissions Challenge,” a year-long promise to submit to 100 literary magazines for publication. Only recently had I learned about literary magazines from a stray submission call email for ZAUM Magazine. After grilling one of my upperclassmen about how to format a cover letter, I was lucky enough to be accepted for publication. It was my first validating experience as a writer — telling me I could exist in a professional sphere and that I wasn’t as far behind my peers as I’d thought. So when I heard of the 100 Submissions Challenge, I decided to take it on myself. After all, the worst thing that could happen is rejection.
I was lucky to have a submission buddy for this challenge: my best friend (and now roommate) Jasmine Liang. We shared the resume-related need to be published, but also the personal desire for writing incentives. Pursuing this goal meant we would be forced to write more often and hopefully curb burnout. We started with some UC Santa Barbara (UCSB) publications, including Spectrum. I remember submitting a hybrid piece about social masking (which upon re-read was not great by any standard) without reading any of Spectrum’s previous issues. My method for submitting was to see if it was a themed call, and if not, just submit whatever I had.
When the first 10-15 rejections rolled in, I knew something needed to be adjusted. The first thing I changed was actually reading the past issues of the magazine, noting its vibe, difficulty, and what kind of language they preferred. Very quickly was I able to notice a pattern within magazines: this one liked snapshot pieces, this liked distant narrators, this one liked extended metaphors. Soon my second acceptance rolled in alongside my third and fourth. By about 30 submissions into the challenge, I had been accepted into five magazines—mostly university publications—including Laurel Moon, The Catalyst, The Ekphrastic Review, Sad Goose Cooperative and Outrageous Fortune Magazine.
By this point Jasmine and I considered ourselves to be submission connoisseurs, fluent in the lexicon of literary magazines. After reading my peers’ pieces, I would send them submission links to literary magazines I thought would fit their work. I know you wrote that one beach vampire story, here’s a lit mag that does dark horror! or This lit mag would love your poem about breast reduction surgery! Many of the students in our major, Writing & Literature at UCSB’s College of Creative Studies, feared the submission process or thought it out of reach despite their amazing writing. We saw a gap that needed to be filled.
In October of 2022, Jasmine and I started Publishing Press, a student organization made to provide guidance and incentives for UCSB students to publish their visual and written work. We bullied our peers to join our Discord server where we regularly posted submission calls alongside some observational notes about the magazines. With the advent of Chill Subs, our job became infinitely easier, and we gained a reputation for our lit mag experience.
40 submissions into the challenge, something started to wane. Classes and professional development had a death grip on our lives. Submitting became something I just didn’t have time nor energy for, no matter how many random moments inspiration hit me. Every time I posted a submission call, I no longer thought about what I could submit, but rather it was me checking off my presidential duty of Publishing Press. I had reached submission burnout.
50 submissions, 44 rejections, and no desire to submit anytime soon: was this all I gained from my failed 100 Submissions Challenge?
It was around this time that I joined Spectrum as a reader. Quickly I was evaluating 5-10 pieces of writing every other night and passing judgment on them. At first my notes were neat and clear: Writing lacked clarity, theme was not explored satisfyingly, or extremely compelling prose with unique vernacular. That soon devolved into: bro what, this is wild and i’m here for it, or idk i’m lost. I was reading work ranging from first-time writers to well-written veterans; seeing the vast disparities in experience levels reignited something within me. I recognized my freshman self in those first timers, and in those veterans I saw a goal — something to reach for.
There’s something humbling about reading spectacular writing while it’s unpublished. Suddenly the author doesn’t look like a headshot on a book sleeve. They’re like me: sat behind a desk, pecking at their keyboard, and copy-pasting the same cover letter for the millionth time.
Today marks my 65th submission. Here’s to 35 more.