6 Things I've Learned in 6 Months of Running a Lit Mag

I started a lit mag with literally no experience and here's how it's going

I started a literary magazine with literally no experience.

I wish I could say that I’d always dreamed of doing it. That I’d worked in the industry for a while and finally gained the courage to take the leap and start my own. That it was something I had a lot of experience with — something, anything, to give me some credibility.

But the truth is, the idea just popped into my head one day and that was that.

I never looked back.

Honestly, I knew next to nothing about literary magazines prior to this. I had never even submitted to one (...and still haven’t). While I’ve been writing my entire life and have a literacy-focused background in education, I just hadn’t ventured into this side of the writer life yet.

So now, being the founder and editor of a literary journal, you might say I’m woefully underqualified (or maybe just the right person for the job? However you want to look at it.)

With what little I did know, right off the bat I could tell that what I wanted to do was a bit out of the ordinary. A lit mag that values sincerity and wholesomeness, responds to its submissions within the month, and has such a clearly defined emotional mission? Few exist quite like it, I think.

After running 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐦 & 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 since February, I can say I’ve truly learned a lot about what it requires, what it’s like behind the scenes, and all the little nitty gritty details that nobody would think about. It got me thinking, why not share what it’s really like?

So, for funsies, here are several things I’ve learned from founding my own lit mag with literally no experience.

1. The whole thing is a lot of work

I knew it would be work. I knew I’d first have to set up the website, settle on a design theme, and figure out alllll the logistics. I also knew that the monthly cycle I wanted to follow would require constant work and deadlines to keep up with it (but that, along with that, I would have an easier time of it if I had to keep to a schedule).

But man, reading 60 pieces and sending out 60 emails¹ each month... on top of coordinating with accepted writers, creating graphics, scheduling pieces, and crafting a dense monthly newsletter for paid subs? I have to work on this thing daily to stay on top of it.

Truly, though, I do love it; and it’s so incredibly special watching the journal grow and resonate with so many people. I can quickly see it becoming something that I need to set up childcare for a weekly “work day” or two — but I’m not gonna think about that until well after this baby² is born. Maybe next year.

2. Sometimes goals have to change

Going into it, I wanted to send personalized replies to every submission, if even just one or two specific words about the piece. Up until last round, I did stay true to that goal — until I realized that if I want to increase the amount of submissions we take in, I’d have to make the responding process quicker. Now I only sending personalized responses to the submissions that really stand out or are entirely against the guidelines (because, ahem, I don’t want people coming back if they don’t read our guidelines. No smut here, thanks.)

3. Rejection is not straightforward and I hate it

My least favorite part, by far, is telling people no. Being a chronic people pleaser, I was prepared going in, but it’s not getting easier very quickly. The difficult part is that there are some great pieces that I simply can’t take because of one reason or another. Maybe they didn’t quite fit the journal’s vibe or something else beat them by a hair. But... I also feel terrible saying no to the bad pieces, too. Honestly I just feel bad all around.

The thing is, even though I have to put my professional editor hat on and reply to the story, I can’t help remembering that there is a person behind the piece. Somebody wrote it — actually sat down and spent time putting a bit of their heart on a page. Sometimes I see a name I recognize or receive returning submissions from the same person, and sending out a rejection hurts just a little bit more. I know it’s just part of the gig and it’s probably harder for me to send the “no” than for someone to receive it… but I don’t know that it’ll ever get easier.

4. “Good” does not always mean “a good fit for us”

As I mentioned above, plenty of truly great pieces cross my path. I often find myself sucked into a story, truly wondering what will happen next, only to respond with a “no” because it just isn’t the kind of piece the journal needs.

Also, way too many people submit without looking at our publication. They simply see “short fiction” or “poetry” and throw whatever they’ve got at us, which results in seeing some well-crafted pieces that are totally not what we’re looking for. It’s unfortunate, because if everyone actually read the guidelines, we’d have more room for the writers that truly write pieces we’d take. Consider this a reminder to always brush up on the desires of the lit mags you submit to.

5. I am slowly discovering my taste as an editor

I knew I wanted W&W to be a place that features imaginative, poignant pieces, but with every story I read, I am more deeply refining my philosophy. Sometimes, I pick a piece because it left me smiling for the rest of the day. Sometimes it’s because it was genuinely a fantastic story that fit our genre, other times it’s because it got me thinking.

I also pay attention to how pieces will fit together through the month — in June, for example, we had a strong fairytale theme (the journal chose this for herself, honestly.) Other months, I find myself searching for variety, wanting each story to give readers something a bit different. It all depends on the submissions for the month, what we did the previous month, and oftentimes, simply my gut.

6. Wholesome doesn’t mean shallow

Pretty quickly I learned that I’m searching for something not easily done — wholesome imagination that is deep. Whimsy with depth, ache, wonder, meaning. Anyone can write a story where they all lived happily every after. Not everyone can weave meaning into their pieces, writing in a way that leaves the reader with something.

I think a lot of people read words like “whimsical” or “imaginative” and immediately think “fluff”. Not many realize that sadness, difficulty, or heaviness might also walk alongside it. At the end of the day, I don’t want to avoid hard topics, but avoid leaving readers with nothing but hopelessness. So much of today’s literature revolves around grief, depression, and other grim topics without also providing any resolution or light. It’s considered brave to bare your soul and share the darkest parts of your life in a show of raw vulnerability.

I recognize that sometimes, it’s easier to gush out all the bad without making an effort to find the good in it all. That has a time, place, and purpose, but it’s not helpful to linger there. I believe that good can truly come of anything if only you have the eyes to see it. That, at the end of the day, choosing hope is sometimes what’s bravest of all.

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Needless to say, I’m only 6 months in, but it’s been a learning experience for sure — one that I’m very grateful for. I’m also thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to learn on my own without the influence of being with an established journal. This has allowed me to find my own path and come to my own conclusions without any preconceived notions about the market or what I “should” do.

I think, above all else, I’ve learned that starting a journal is less about knowing the industry and more about cultivating a place that resonates with people, protects its vision, and is needed. I’m just over here happily carving out a new niche into this corner of the Internet.

Honestly, people should be less afraid of stepping out into something new and just go for it more often. If 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐦 & 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 is proof of anything, it’s that sometimes, the unexplored turns out to be the most needed.

And I guess I can’t say I have no experience anymore. Which is inconvenient, because that was a pretty good opening line.

1. Which Gmail templates are a lifesaver for

2. Cause I’m pregnant as can be