The Ballad of the Slush Reader What I’ve Learned (And What I Want to Know) about Reading Slush
by Nelly Geraldine García-Rosas
Introduction – In Which I Rant a Little
First, let me get this off my chest; I don’t believe that reading slush can make anyone a better writer. I say this because anytime a magazine opens applications to add first readers to its team, several folk come out encouraging emerging writers to try it, as if the experience counted as training wheels for the creative process. I’m sure those people are well-intentioned, but I think they miss the mark of what this editorial position should focus on1.
The decision to be a first reader in any publication shouldn’t come only from a desire for personal gain, but an eagerness to champion and help put in front of an audience the stories that will shape our community. I’m not suggesting that slush reading should be a totally selfless act done while a choir of angels sing. What I’m suggesting is to treat this role with the respect it deserves based on its importance in the SFFH short fiction publishing industry, and the responsibility we owe to it as members of said group.
I’m not the self-appointed slush reader representative of the short fiction genre publications, nor do I pretend to be one. I write these lines, first and foremost, from my own brief but fulfilling experience as a slush reader for Clarkesworld Magazine, as well as from what I’ve gathered in conversations with friends, who are also part of editorial teams. This essay is unapologetically, a personal generalization that hopes to start a discussion somewhere, sometime.
Verse – Bringing Our Own Perspective
Reading slush does make us better readers, though.
I know that reading widely and constantly is important for every writer. Still, when it’s done for the specific needs of a particular fiction market, that process is—or should be—informed and guided by the publication itself. That’s why articles about “how to stand out in the slush pile” are tricky beyond the usual don’t self reject and send your best, because each magazine is different. For example, no matter how much I like horror or how amazing I might find a zombie story, I wouldn’t suggest it for publication to Clarkesworld’s Editor-in-Chief Neil Clarke because the magazine’s submission guidelines are clear about not accepting either horror as a genre or narratives about zombies, as well as a very specific list of “hard sales.” But maybe, if I were part of a different editorial team, with its particular needs and preferences, the same story could be recommended to the second round of consideration.
Although slush readers are trained to make suggestions based on the editor’s wants and preferences, we’re not their clones and shouldn’t try to be. We not only help manage and streamline the submission process, but also bring our particular perspective into it and act as advocates for the stories that speak to us and that we think are needed in our community. That is the reason why we need readers who come from varied backgrounds and literary traditions. In that regard, we have a huge responsibility: to show our editors that there are diverse and exciting stories being written by diverse and exciting authors. Sometimes, that will mean reading beyond our taste and experiences, asking honest questions, and allowing ourselves to be amazed. Many stories will confront us with our own worldview or will make us redefine our concept of what narrative or craft is. It is our job to share those same experiences with the editor.
Chorus – Training Sequence
To inhabit the perfect spot where our particular reading tastes and the editor’s preferences intersect, we need training and communication.
By training, I don’t mean a quick “here’s Moksha/Submittable/Google Sheets/Airtable/our-proprietary-system, fill in this text box and click on this button when you’re ready, that’s all.” Our editors or senior staff members should teach us how to use the submission tools, provide us with accessible documentation, and guide us through the reading process while we get the handle of it. I understand that following the work of a reader in training can be exhausting, but there must be a way to ensure that editors are consciously working to assemble the diverse slush team that works best for their publication.
Communication is a two-way affair. Editors should be clear about the specific kind of commitment expected from slush readers: amount of stories read, level of detail in recommendations’ comments, etc. It is expected from them to be approachable and open to answering our questions on submission guidelines, as well as offering guidance on handling problematic stories, protecting author privacy, and giving advice on trusting our editorial instincts. First readers should write concise, unambiguous notes for the submissions we read and share any concerns we may have about them. We shouldn’t ghost our editors or make unilateral decisions based on our interpretation of the magazine’s guidelines if something is not clear in them. We’re members of a team, after all.
As the first ones to interact with a submission, we must treat the authors’ privacy with respect. A little decency goes a long way. Markets have the responsibility to delineate confidentiality specifications for the team and make sure authors know they exist. I believe that having better practices during recruitment, selection, and training can help identify and avoid the few people who might try to misuse the authors’ private information before they can even have access to it.
We’re supposed to read slush to support and advocate for other people’s work, but that doesn’t mean that we have power over them or that they owe us anything. We shouldn’t even think about rejecting a story on the basis of an author we don’t like, or recommend our friend’s work just because we know each other. We’re professionals. We do this for the stories, for the end readers. At Clarkesworld, for example, I don’t make final decisions but suggestions that have to be reviewed and approved by a senior member of staff.
Everything I’ve said so far could seem like time-consuming work for everyone involved, but it’s the minimum we can do to ensure that submissions are treated with fairness and care, besides, it’s a very rewarding process. I remember the first story I recommended for the second round of consideration that ended up in a sale (and the ones that have come after!). And I try to take notes every time the editor’s comments validate my initial gut feeling about a story, because even though my training period ended many months ago, I haven’t stopped learning and developing my slush reader “sight” for this specific magazine. Personally, I get excited whenever I have the opportunity to read a story by someone who writes in English as a second language or who hails from a non-English speaking country (after all, the reason I started reading slush for Clarkesworld was a special call for SF stories written in Spanish). I want to advocate in favor of those stories while, at the same time, recommending the ones that are ideal for the magazine, so this balance has become a tuning activity that changes with every published issue. It doesn’t mean, of course, that those are the only kind of stories that I recommend, but I make sure that my personal perspective is always present in my reading process.
Guitar Solo – We Need More Diverse Slush Readers, But At What Cost?
As spiritually and intellectually rewarding as slush reading can be, it’s a mostly unrecognized, unpaid role. Not everyone can afford the luxury of free time, much less BIPOC and other marginalized people who are systematically overworked and underpaid. For many, dedicating time to reading slush can mean abandoning a personal project, reducing their creative endeavors, or losing the wages necessary to afford a decent living. I already stated that we, as a community, need more diverse first readers, but how are we solving this problem? How are we allowing them to live, be creative, explore other sides of the editorial and literary interests, while at the same time contributing with their much-needed perspective to the enrichment of our publications? What are publishers doing to create safe spaces for slush readers of color to work and remain in their teams?
(Before anyone suggests it, no, not by phasing out slush readers entirely with tools based on LLMs that promise complete objectivity. In reality, what makes the slush pile interesting is that it’s read and understood by people with varied points of view, different backgrounds, tastes and knowledge: the kind of subjectivity that is key in our industry. Nor by allowing them to submit stories to the same publication they’re part of, because it’s a conflict of interest.)
Is listing every member of an editorial team on awards enough? Giving them fancy titles like “editorial mage of first encounters?” Training/mentoring them to be future editors like a soccer feeder team? Considering stipends—if meager—in the publication’s annual budget? Having bigger teams? Giving readers more flexibility in terms of time commitment and scheduling? Inviting them directly to join the team?
I don’t ask all these questions rhetorically. I’m genuinely wondering how to answer them to suggest a solution. I’m aware that every market has its particular needs and goals, and, while not everything I said here applies to them, some publications are already actively doing something2 to create a safe and inviting environment where BIPOC and other marginalized people can work as first readers and focus on the submissions while, at the same time, taking their time and careers into consideration.
Allow me to leave with one request to the publishers and editors who are actively cultivating the creation of these spaces: please, share your strategies with our whole community because we need to work together to make sure more diverse slush readers are advocating for the publication of stories that represent their worldview and idiosyncrasies. And to BIPOC first readers or those considering becoming one, I ask you to imagine the ideal editorial team. How would it look? What do you need from a magazine to help us find our next favorite story?
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1 There are learning opportunities in each step of the editorial process, of course, but I want to approach this essay from the idea of intention.
2 To mention a few: khōréō’s commitment to have first readers that represent the voices of immigration and diaspora, Diabolical Plots’ considering slushing as a mentorship and opening applications specifically for BIPOC, Apex’s recent announcement of a new slush process, or Fiyah’s team comprised in its entirety of Black speculative fiction writers with intersectional identities.
Author Bio
Nelly Geraldine García-Rosas was born and raised in Mexico but now lives in the U.S. She is a graduate of the Clarion West class of 2019. Her short fiction has appeared in Lightspeed, Nightmare, Stra
This is the sixth essay in the Publishing Taught Me: A SFWA Anthology Project. The Publishing Taught Me project is overseen by multiple award-winning editor Nisi Shawl and two editorial interns, Somto Ihezue and Zhui Ning Chang. More information on this series can be found here: Publishing Taught Me: A SFWA Anthology Project – SFWA
