How to Submit Your Memoir & Personal Essays
Submitting creative nonfiction is a craft of its own. The writing matters most, but editors also notice whether a writer follows guidelines, writes a clean cover letter, and behaves professionally. None of it is difficult — it simply rewards patience, honesty, and a little organization.
Before You Send
- Revise, then rest — read the finished essay aloud after a week.
- Make sure the piece earns its truth; reflection, not just retelling.
- Cut everything the essay can live without.
- Keep a master file and a status spreadsheet.
Choosing Where to Submit
- Read an issue first — fit matters more than prestige.
- Check the reading period before submitting.
- Mind the word-count limit (flash CNF, essay, long-form).
- Note the fee; many fine journals are free.
Formatting Your Essay
- Standard manuscript format: 12-pt serif, double-spaced.
- Header with your name, title, and page number.
- Title and word count on the first page.
- Send .docx unless a journal requests otherwise.
Simultaneous Subs & Etiquette
- Submit to several journals at once unless forbidden.
- Withdraw everywhere the moment a piece is accepted.
- Don't query before the stated response time.
- Send one essay per submission unless flash allows more.
Using Submittable
- Free for writers — one account tracks everything.
- Any fee shown belongs to the journal, not the platform.
- Follow each form's exact instructions.
- Withdraw from the dashboard when accepted elsewhere.
Handling Responses
- Expect rejection — it's about fit, not worth.
- Take a personal 'please send again' seriously.
- Read the contract; note rights and reprint terms.
- Submit steadily to build a publication record.
04 · Writing the Cover Letter
A cover letter is short, warm, and professional — three or four sentences. It does not explain or defend the essay. A reliable template:
Dear Editors,
Please consider my personal essay, “[Title],” (about [word count] words) for publication in [Journal Name].
[One sentence of bio: recent publications, or simply that this would be among your first. If you have none, say so plainly — editors publish new writers every issue.]
Thank you for your time and for the work you do. I look forward to hearing from you.
Warmly,
[Your Name]
Do not: apologize, summarize the whole story, list every credit you have, or address editors by the wrong journal name. Always double-check you have the right journal in the greeting.
What Every New Nonfiction Writer Should Know
Rights & What Editors Actually Buy
When a journal accepts an essay, it does not own it forever. Most acquire First Serial Rights (often First North American Serial Rights) — the right to be the first to publish it. After publication, those rights return to you, and you keep the copyright throughout. You are then free to reprint the essay in a collection or memoir, or, once it counts as a reprint, submit it to venues that accept previously published work. Always read the acceptance note to confirm what rights are taken and when they revert.
Writing About Real People
Memoir draws on real lives, so a few habits protect you and the people in your pages. Write your truth, but know the difference between honest recollection and reckless claim. Many writers change names and identifying details, tell the people closest to the story when they can, and avoid stating as fact what is only suspicion. Editors will sometimes ask about this; a thoughtful answer marks you as a professional. When a piece could raise real legal or personal stakes, it is worth a careful read before you send it out.
“Published” Is Broader Than You Think
Nearly all journals want unpublished work, and many define “published” to include your personal blog, a public social-media post, an anthology, or a piece posted in an online workshop. If an essay has appeared anywhere public, treat it as a reprint and look specifically for journals that accept reprints. When in doubt, ask the editor before submitting.
Reading Fees — and the No-Fee Philosophy
Some journals charge a small fee (often $2–$3) to submit, usually to cover their submission platform. This is normal and not a scam. But you never need to pay to build a serious publication record: many respected journals are free, and many paying journals offer fee waivers on request. Reserve paid submissions and contest fees for venues you genuinely want.
Avoiding Vanity Presses & Scams
Legitimate journals and contests never ask you to buy your way into print.
“You’ve been selected!”
Unsolicited emails congratulating you and then asking you to buy an expensive anthology or “certificate.” Real acceptances don’t require a purchase.
Everyone wins
“Contests” that accept virtually everyone and profit by selling the anthology back to contributors. A real contest has genuine selection and named judges.
Rights grabs
Terms that claim all rights or ownership of your work in perpetuity. Legitimate journals take first or one-time rights, then return them.
High fees, no pay
Large submission or “editing” fees with no payment to writers and no track record. Check a venue’s reputation before paying anything.
When unsure, look a venue up on Poets & Writers, check whether respected writers have published there, and search Writer Beware for warnings.
Payment: What to Expect
Creative nonfiction pays a wide range. Many fine journals pay in contributor copies or a token amount; stronger markets pay anywhere from $50 to several hundred dollars per essay, and a few pay more. Publishing for little or no pay is normal early on; the value is in readership, credits, and building toward a book.
Flash CNF, Essays, and the Path to a Memoir
Most nonfiction writers build in stages. Place flash creative nonfiction (often under 1,000 words) and personal essays in journals first. Over time those credits accumulate into an essay collection or strengthen a book proposal, and a book-length memoir is far easier to sell when editors and agents can see you already placing work. Every published essay is a brick in that foundation.
Patience & Persistence
Response times commonly run one to six months, and rejection is the norm even for accomplished writers — acceptance rates at good journals are often under five percent. A “no” usually means the essay didn’t fit that issue, not that it lacks worth. Keep a steady rhythm of submissions, celebrate personal notes from editors, and treat each rejection as one step closer to the right home for the piece.
Your First Submission — Step by Step
If you have never submitted a personal essay or memoir excerpt before, this section is for you. It is a single evening’s work — start to finish — and it will teach your hands the whole choreography that carries a piece of writing from your desk into the world. Do it once, and every submission after this becomes ordinary.
Choose one essay
- Not your best. Not your most personal. Just one you have finished.
- It should be complete — not perfect, but ended.
- You have already revised it at least twice.
- It has been sitting in a drawer at least a week.
Read it aloud, then rest
- Read the essay aloud, slowly, from opening line to closing sentence.
- Mark anywhere your voice catches, hurries, or falters.
- Check the emotional truth — does it land where you meant it to?
- Fix only what the reading exposed. Save as Title_YourName_final.docx.
Format the manuscript
- 12-point serif, double-spaced, one-inch margins, ragged right.
- Top-left of page one: your legal name, address, email, phone, word count.
- Centered a third of the way down: your title, then your byline, then the essay.
- Every page after page one: a running header — Your Last Name / SHORT TITLE / page #.
- End with the word END or a centered #.
Pick three journals
- Open the journals table below. Pick three whose CNF you admire.
- Click each link and confirm the reading period is open tonight.
- Confirm your essay fits their word-count range and genre focus.
- Prefer free journals for a first submission. Paid contests come later.
Write the cover letter
- Use the template above. Three or four sentences.
- Change the journal name and essay title for each of your three submissions.
- If you have no publications yet, say so plainly — editors publish new writers every issue.
- Read the greeting twice. Wrong journal name is the fastest way to bury a submission.
Submit on Submittable
- Make a free Submittable account if you do not have one.
- Follow each journal’s link from the table — it usually opens the submission form.
- Upload the .docx, paste in the cover letter, submit.
- The whole trio takes under twenty minutes once formatted.
Log every send
- Open a plain spreadsheet — Google Sheets, Excel, or a notebook page.
- Columns: Essay · Journal · Date Sent · Response Deadline · Status · Notes.
- Log all three tonight before closing the laptop.
- Set a calendar reminder ninety days out to check status.
Start the next one
- The essay is out. That part of the work is done.
- Return to your desk tomorrow and open the next draft.
- Submitting is not a project — it is a habit. Send. Write. Send again.
- The rhythm is what turns a writer into a published writer.
The whole walkthrough, done in one sitting, is the most valuable exercise in this guide. After tonight, submitting is no longer a threshold — it is a door you have already walked through.
Beginner-Friendly Literary Journals
These journals publish memoir, personal essay, and creative nonfiction, and either welcome emerging writers explicitly or keep barriers low. Most are free or low-cost to submit to. Every venue was verified on its own website on August 4, 2026 — always confirm current guidelines before submitting.
| Journal | What They Publish | Fee | Reading Period | Per Sub |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Brevity | Flash creative nonfiction, 750 words or fewer | $3 (via Submittable) | Fall: Sept 1 – Dec 1; Spring: Mar 1 – May 1 (closed summer) | One essay per submission |
| River Teeth / Beautiful Things | Narrative CNF (no strict word limit); ‘Beautiful Things’ micro-essays up to 250 words | $3 | Sept 1 – Dec 1 and Jan 1 – April 1 | One piece per submission |
| The Sun | Personal essays and memoir up to 7,000 words; also free ‘Readers Write’ feature | $2.50 online (free by mail; Readers Write is free) | Year-round (rolling) | One prose piece per submission; pays $300–$2,000 |
| Hippocampus Magazine | Personal essays / memoir up to 4,000 words; flash CNF up to 800 words | $3 (fee-waiver fund available) | Fall: Sept 1 – Nov 30; Spring: Mar 1 – May 31 (flash extends longer) | One essay or one flash piece per submission |
| Under the Sun | Creative nonfiction up to 7,500 words | $2 (free by email) | Sept 1 – Dec 1 | One essay per submission |
| Fourth Genre | Creative nonfiction / essays up to 8,000 words | Free (general submissions; contest has separate fee) | Sept 1 – Nov 30 (general submissions) | One essay per submission |
| The Rumpus | Personal essays up to 5,000 words; roving rotating themes | Free (limited windows) / small tip-jar option | Rotating open calls; check the current status — typically two windows per year | One essay per submission |
| Sweet: A Literary Confection | Creative nonfiction essays up to 1,500 words | Free | May 1 – June 30 (annual window) | One piece per submission |
| Hunger Mountain | Prose up to 4,000 words, or up to 3 flash pieces (includes CNF) | Fee applies (confirm at submission) | Reopens ~September 2026 through early December | One prose piece or up to 3 flash per submission |
| Bending Genres | Creative nonfiction up to 1,500 words; hybrid and lyric essay welcome | Free general categories | Year-round / rolling monthly windows | Up to a few pieces per submission (see current call) |
| Gulf Coast | Nonfiction up to 7,000 words (online exclusives up to 3,000 words) | $3 | Print: Sept 1 – March 1; Online: Jan 26 – Dec 20 | One nonfiction piece per submission |
| Guernica | Nonfiction / memoir / essays, generally 2,000–7,000 words | Free | Year-round (rolling) | One piece per submission |
| Longridge Review | Creative nonfiction on childhood / coming-of-age | $3 | Three reading periods per year; check current window | One essay per submission |
| Under the Gum Tree | Creative nonfiction only, up to 4,000 words (flash under 750 words) | $5 (includes digital issue access) | Year-round (rolling) | One piece per submission |
| Complete Sentence | Single-sentence prose / memoir / lyric essay | Free | Year-round (rolling) | Multiple sentences may be submitted (see guidelines) |
| Citron Review | Flash creative nonfiction | Free | Approx. Feb 1 – Dec 6 (quarterly windows) | One flash CNF piece per submission |
| Split Lip Magazine | Memoir under 2,000 words; flash CNF | Free in Jan, Mar, May, Sep, Nov; paid other months | Year-round except Dec 15–31; free-submission months rotate | One piece per submission; pays $100 on publication |
| Baltimore Review | Personal essays, memoir, creative nonfiction | Free (Aug 1 – Nov 30 and Feb 1 – May 31) | Currently open for the Fall 2026 window (Aug 1 – Nov 30) | One prose piece up to 5,000 words |
| Tahoma Literary Review | Creative nonfiction, memoir, essay, lyric essay | Free | Rolling; monthly submission windows | One CNF piece up to 5,000 words; pays $50–$100 |
| Sundog Lit | Creative nonfiction and memoir; hybrid welcome | Free for the first 300 entries per window | Two windows: Mar 1 – May 1 and Oct 1 – Dec 1. Reopens Oct 1, 2026. | One piece up to 4,000 words or up to 3 flash essays under 1,000 words each |
| Cutleaf (EastOver Press) | Fiction, poetry, and nonfiction — memoir and personal essay welcome | Free | CNF window is Sept 15 – Oct 15 (some cycles Oct 1 – 30); Fall 2026 window opens in ~6 weeks | Essays ~1,500–6,000 words; pays $100–$400 for published prose |
| DIAGRAM | Innovative CNF, hybrid work, lyric essay, and experimental memoir | Free | Rolling year-round | Genre-specific caps apply; unpaid but well-regarded. Annual Essay Contest and Chapbook Contest also run. |
Flash-CNF markets and word limits are noted in the description. Several well-known CNF venues have closed in recent years (Creative Nonfiction magazine, Catapult, Entropy) and are deliberately not listed. Hobart / HobartPulp is also dropped from this cycle while its status is uncertain. Confirm the live status on each journal’s own site before submitting.
Contests for Emerging Nonfiction Writers
Contests can bring larger prizes and visibility. Several below welcome emerging writers or unpublished work. Deadlines were verified on August 4, 2026; where the 2026 cycle has closed, the projected 2027 window is shown — always verify on the contest’s own site before entering. Two book-length prizes are included and marked as such.
| Contest | Type | Fee | Prize | Deadline / Cycle |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Missouri Review — Jeffrey E. Smith Editors’ Prize (CNF) | Creative nonfiction / essay, up to ~8,500 words | $25 (includes 1-year digital subscription) | $5,000 + publication in the Spring 2027 issue | Deadline October 1, 2026 (open now). Annual. |
| Autumn House Nonfiction Prize (book-length) | Book-length CNF manuscript: memoir, essay collection, narrative nonfiction, 45,000–90,000 words | $30 | $1,000 + book publication + $1,500 travel/reading stipend | Opens January 2027 through June 30, 2027. Annual. |
| The Iowa Review Award in Nonfiction | Essay / literary nonfiction, up to 25 pages | $20 (includes issue) | $1,500 + publication | Opens January 1, 2027; deadline January 31, 2027. Annual. |
| Ploughshares Emerging Writer’s Contest (Nonfiction) | Personal essay / creative nonfiction, up to 6,500 words | $30 (includes subscription option) | $2,000 + publication + conversation with agency Aevitas Creative Management | Opens ~February 1, 2027; deadline March 31, 2027. Annual. For writers who have not published a book of nonfiction with a major press. |
| Hippocampus “We Love Short Shorts” Contest | Flash creative nonfiction, up to 250 words | $5 | $250 first prize + additional placements | February 1 – 28, 2027. Annual. |
| Bellingham Review — Annie Dillard Award for CNF | Essay or flash nonfiction, up to 4,000 words | $15 (US); $30 international | $1,000 + publication | Opens December 1, 2026; deadline March 15, 2027. Annual. |
| Diana Woods Memorial Award in CNF (Lunch Ticket) | Creative nonfiction, up to 3,500 words | Approx. $10 (verify at submission) | $250 + publication | Two windows annually: February and August. Watch for August 2026 window. |
| Fourth Genre Steinberg Memorial Essay Prize | Essay / creative nonfiction, up to 6,000 words | $20 | $1,000 + publication | Opens January 1, 2027; deadline ~April 15, 2027. Annual. |
| River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Prize (book-length) | Book-length literary nonfiction: memoir, essays, or reportage. 35,000–85,000 words. | $27 (includes one-year subscription) | $1,000 honorarium + publication by University of New Mexico Press | Deadline October 31, 2026. Annual. |
| Ninth Letter Literary Award — Creative Nonfiction | Personal essay / creative nonfiction, up to 8,000 words | $20 | $1,000 + publication | Opens March 1, 2027; deadline ~May 9, 2027. Annual. |
| Passages North — Ray Ventre Memorial Nonfiction Prize | Essay / creative nonfiction (typically up to ~6,500 words) | ~$15/essay | Cash prize + publication (amount confirmed each cycle) | Runs in odd-numbered years only. Next window: Feb 15 – Apr 15, 2027. |
| Narrative Prize (Nonfiction eligible) | Award (not a fee-paying contest) for best work by an emerging writer; nonfiction eligible | n/a — drawn from Narrative’s regular submission channels (which carry fees) | $5,000 | Entries considered through April 30, 2027. Annual. |
Contests currently accepting entries (as of August 4, 2026): Missouri Review Editors’ Prize (closes Oct 1), River Teeth Book Prize (closes Oct 31), Diana Woods Memorial Award (August window), and Chestnut Review Prose Prize (summer window). Watch the venue’s own site for exact opening and closing dates each cycle.
The Rejection & Revision Playbook
Most of what returns from a submission is not an acceptance. Learning to read what you receive — and to answer it well, or not answer at all — is a working writer’s most useful skill. Rejections in creative nonfiction fall into three distinct categories, and each calls for a different response.
The Three Kinds of Rejection
The Form Rejection
- Same paragraph every writer receives. No named reader, no note about your essay.
- Reads: “Thank you for sending. Unfortunately this is not right for us. We wish you the best of luck placing it.”
- This means only one thing: the essay did not fit that issue.
- Not a verdict on the essay, and never a verdict on your life. Send it out again the same day if you can.
The Tiered Rejection
- A form rejection with one added line: “This was a close read for us,” or “This came close.”
- Sometimes signed by a name, sometimes by an editorial team.
- Meaning: the essay made it past the first reader. It reached a discussion.
- Response: no reply needed. Log it, celebrate quietly, send that essay out again immediately.
The Personal Rejection
- Written specifically about your essay, by name. Two to six sentences.
- May name a scene, a line, a moment. May say “please send us more soon.”
- The rarest and most valuable reply in this guide — under five percent of submissions receive one.
- Response: yes. Reply briefly, warmly, and follow through — see the template below.
What a Personal “Please Send Again” Actually Means
When an editor takes fifteen minutes to write to you personally, they are telling you three things at once: they read the essay carefully, they liked your writing, and they want to see more of your work. In creative nonfiction, editors are also signaling that your voice and your material feel worth returning to. The invitation is real, not a courtesy. Treat it as an open door and walk through it.
Reliable reply to a personal rejection
Dear [Editor’s Name],
Thank you for reading “[Essay Title]” so closely, and for the kind note. It means a great deal.
I would very much like to send another essay. I will submit one within the next few weeks through your regular submission process, and I will mention this note in the cover letter so you can find it.
Thank you again — I appreciate the invitation.
Warmly,
[Your Name]
Then do it. Submit another essay within four to six weeks, through the normal channel, and reference this reply in your new cover letter: “[Editor] kindly wrote to me about ‘[Previous Essay]’ earlier this year and asked me to send more work.” That single sentence lifts your submission out of the general pile.
When to Revise, When Not To
Revise the essay when…
- Three or more personal rejections all name the same problem — the ending, the reflection, the balance of scene and thought.
- Reading the essay aloud tonight, you can hear the flaw yourself — a passage that is too explanatory, a moment that is not yet earned.
- You have grown as a writer since drafting it and can now see what you missed on the page.
- The essay has been out fifteen or more times without a personal note.
Do not revise when…
- You received a single form rejection. Send it out again as-is.
- An editor’s note praises the essay overall and names one small preference (a taste call).
- You are tempted to change the opening because it just came back from journal #3. Give it more time.
- You are rewriting from grief or anxiety rather than from craft. Rest first, then decide.
The Fifteen-Sub Rule
A working benchmark for emerging nonfiction writers: if an essay goes out to fifteen carefully chosen journals and comes back with only form rejections and no personal notes, retire that piece to a folder and let it rest at least six months before revising. If it returns even one personal rejection along the way, keep sending — that essay is finding its readers, just slowly. Memoir often needs longer runs than fiction; the emotional material takes editors more time to sit with.
Rejection is the ordinary weather of a working writer’s life. It is not a verdict on your story or your worth. It is the room where the work gets stronger.
Reprints, Anthologies & the Second Life of an Essay
An essay does not end when it appears in a journal. Once your rights have reverted — and they almost always do — the piece can be sent out again to venues that accept previously published work, submitted for Best American Essays consideration, gathered into your own collection, or excerpted from a longer memoir project. This second life is where a writer’s early credits become a working body of work.
What Counts as a Reprint
Once an essay has appeared in print or online anywhere — a literary journal, an anthology, a Substack post, even your own website — most journals consider it published. If you send it out again without disclosing this, you are in violation of the guidelines, and acceptances have been rescinded on this basis. When submitting a reprint:
Confirm rights have reverted
- Read your original acceptance letter. Most journals take First Serial Rights only, which revert on publication or a stated interval after.
- If unclear, email the original journal and ask when rights revert.
- Wait for confirmation in writing. Save it in the essay’s file.
Disclose in the cover letter
- One sentence, plainly stated: “This essay first appeared in [Original Journal], [Season/Year], and rights have reverted.”
- Include the URL if the essay is online.
- Never hide prior publication. Reprint-friendly venues expect and welcome the disclosure.
Send only to reprint-friendly venues
- Most journals accept only unpublished work. Do not submit reprints there.
- The venues listed below explicitly accept reprints as of August 4, 2026, or run annual anthology / best-of features that pull from prior journal publication.
- Always confirm the venue’s current guidelines before submitting.
Update your master list
- In your tracking spreadsheet, tag each essay with its status: unpublished, published, or reprint-eligible.
- Rotate reprints just as you rotate unpublished essays — new venues, fresh cycles.
Where Reprints and Best-of Consideration Are Welcome
Reprint markets for CNF are much narrower than for short fiction — most respected memoir/essay journals accept only unpublished work. What follows are the venues genuinely open to reprinted work, plus the two annual recognition paths unique to nonfiction. All were verified on the venue’s own website on August 4, 2026 — always confirm current guidelines before submitting.
Direct reprint markets
| Venue | Reprint Policy | Fee | Word Limit | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| The Sun | Explicitly accepts previously published work; paid at half the normal rate | $2.50 online (free by mail) | No formal cap; rarely over 7,000 words | The clearest, most reputable reprint market found — pays $150–$1,000 for reprinted essays (half the normal $300–$2,000). |
| The Woven Tale Press | Accepts new or previously published work, provided you still own the rights and enough time has passed since original publication (their page currently says 5+ years; a Poets & Writers listing says 6+ years — defer to their live page) | No fee | Not strictly specified; publishes poetry, fiction, CNF, memoir | Rolling submissions; simultaneous OK if notified immediately upon acceptance; 4–8 week response. |
| Under the Gum Tree | Narrow allowance: self-published work on the author’s own blog or site is allowed; work previously published by another venue is not | Nominal fee (submitter receives current digital issue) | Departments up to 2,000 words; Flash under 750 | Best described as “reprint-adjacent” for self-published-only content; not a full open-reprint market. |
Recognition pathways for already-published essays
These are not submission markets — you cannot enter your own essay directly. But if an essay of yours has already appeared in a periodical, these two paths give it years of additional life and public recognition, and both are meaningful credits on a memoir writer’s biography.
| Pathway | How it Works | What You Can Do |
|---|---|---|
| Best American Essays — Notable list & anthology | The series editor reviews essays already published in U.S. or Canadian periodicals during the year. About 100 candidates are passed to a guest editor, who selects roughly 20–25 for the anthology; the rest appear on the annual “Notable Essays” list at the back of the book. | Encourage the editor of the journal that published your essay to send it in for consideration. Digital periodicals may nominate up to 5 essays/year. You cannot self-submit an unpublished essay to the series. |
| Pushcart Prize (CNF / essay / memoir category) | Small-press and journal editors nominate up to six previously published pieces per year, explicitly including reprints and translations. Nominations run Oct 1 – Dec 1 (postmarked) for the next year’s anthology. | Ask the editor of the venue that published your essay whether they would nominate it. You cannot nominate your own work unless you are the publisher (which does apply to self-published essays through Silver Current Press). |
A note on venues wrongly listed as reprint-friendly elsewhere. Older guides sometimes list Longridge Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, DIAGRAM, Sundog Lit, or Reservoir Road as reprint markets. As of August 4, 2026, all five explicitly reject previously published material of any kind in their current guidelines. Assay is a scholarly journal about creative nonfiction, not a market for memoir. Always check the venue’s own current guidelines rather than relying on a directory listing.
From Reprints to Collection to Memoir
The purpose of placing essays is not only to reach new readers, though that matters. It is also to build the foundation for a book. For memoir writers, published essays serve two distinct paths:
The essay collection. Ten to fifteen published essays, organized around a shared preoccupation or life period, become a strong essay-collection manuscript. Small presses and university presses run annual book-length nonfiction contests (see the Contests table) that seek exactly this shape.
The book-length memoir. Individual essays can be excerpted from your longer memoir project as you write. Editors and agents are far more likely to sign a memoir when they can already see excerpts placed in respected journals. Every essay you publish while drafting the book strengthens both the book’s eventual proposal and your credibility as its author.
Every reprint acceptance, every Notable Essays listing, every anthology placement is another brick in that foundation. Publish steadily, keep track of every credit, and over the years an ordinary essay can accumulate a life far larger than its first appearance.
A reprint is not a lesser publication. It is an essay continuing to do its work.
Submission-Tracking & Discovery Tools
Submittable
The most widely used online submission-management platform; writers create a free account to submit to and track submissions at hundreds of journals and contests.
Chill Subs
A modern, writer-friendly database of literary magazines and presses with filters (fees, pay, response times, vibe), submission tracking, and author profiles.
The (Submission) Grinder
A free market database and submission tracker (run by Diabolical Plots) covering fiction, nonfiction, and poetry markets with response-time statistics.
Duotrope
An established subscription database of publications and literary agents with submission trackers, custom searches, deadline calendars, statistical reports, and interviews.
Poets & Writers - Literary Magazines & Grants/Awards databases
A free, editorially vetted database of nearly 1,000 literary magazines plus a Grants & Awards / writing-contests database, with filters for open reading periods and unsolicited-submission policies.
On a budget? Submittable + Chill Subs (or the Submission Grinder) + Poets & Writers is a complete, no-cost toolkit.
Glossary of Submission Terms
The vocabulary editors use, in plain language.
- Creative nonfiction (CNF)
- True stories told with the craft of fiction — memoir, personal essay, lyric essay, literary journalism.
- Flash CNF
- Very short creative nonfiction, usually under 1,000 words; 'micro' is often under 300.
- Simultaneous submission
- Sending the same essay to more than one journal at once. Standard practice, but withdraw immediately anywhere it is accepted.
- First Serial Rights
- The right to be the first to publish a piece. Reverts to you after publication; you keep the copyright.
- Reprint
- An essay published before (including on a blog or social media). Only certain journals accept reprints — check first.
- Reading period
- The window when a journal accepts submissions. Many open only a few months or weeks a year, or close at a monthly cap.
- Standard manuscript format
- 12-point serif, double-spaced, with a header carrying your name, title, and page number.
- Cover letter
- A brief, professional note accompanying your essay — not a place to summarize the whole story.
- Contributor copies
- Free copies of the issue your work appears in, often given in place of (or alongside) payment.
- Lyric essay
- A CNF form that borrows from poetry — fragmentation, image, and white space — over straightforward narrative.
- Slush pile
- The stack of unsolicited submissions editors read through. Yours starts here — that's normal.
- Fee waiver
- A free pass around a submission fee, offered by many journals on request or for writers facing financial barriers.
A Simple Starting Plan
If this feels like a lot, start here. This four-step rhythm will place you on a professional footing within a single afternoon.
Pick three free journals whose nonfiction you admire and whose reading period is open now.
Polish one essay in standard manuscript format, making sure it reflects as well as recounts.
Write one short cover letter using the template above, tailoring the journal name for each.
Log each submission in a spreadsheet or free tracker, then set a reminder to submit again next month.
Essays live when they find readers. Send them out, keep good records, and let each "no" move you toward the right "yes."
A Personal Note to You
First, let me say how glad I am that you are here, and how much your writing has come to mean to me. Whatever happens with any single submission, please know that I believe in you and in the work you are doing.
I want to tell you something before you begin, because I wish someone had told me plainly when I was starting out: this was hard for me too. For years I sent my work into the quiet and waited, and what came back, again and again, was no. The rejections arrived in bundles — some gentle, most simply silent — and every one of them asked whether I was willing to keep going. I decided that I was. Not because I felt sure of the work, but because I had come to believe that the writers who make it are rarely the most gifted in the room; they are the ones who keep sending, who let each no be a comma and never a period.
Memoir asks something extra of us: the courage to put our own lives on the page and then hand them to a stranger to judge. I know that vulnerability firsthand. One of the pieces closest to me is an essay called “Teaching at Fifty-Six,” written near the end of three decades of teaching — a reflection on why the work mattered, drawn from Thoreau, Whitman, Emerson, and Dickinson. It found its first home in The Font: A Literary Journal for Language Teachers, and has since been reprinted more than once. But it began exactly where your work begins now: as pages I was unsure anyone would want, sent out anyway.
What carried me through was not confidence — it was persistence, and the quiet discipline of returning to the desk: revise, submit, write down the date, begin the next piece, and send again. I promise you this: the acceptances, when they came, did not cancel the rejections. They grew out of them. Every no was teaching me something, even when it didn’t feel that way.
I care very much that you get published — not someday, but truly, and not because publication is the only measure of a writer, but because your story deserves to be read, and because I know how much it means to hold that first acceptance in your hands. So I’ll ask of you the same thing I once had to ask of myself, and I’ll ask it gently: choose a piece you believe in, find two or three journals from the lists in this guide, and submit it today. Not tomorrow. Not when it feels perfect — it never will. Today. The waiting is part of the work, and you are more ready than you think.
And let me say this plainly, because I mean it: I think of you as my peers — fellow writers, not students beneath me. I respect every one of you. It has been one of the great joys of my life to witness your talent up close and to sit with you in conversation about writing and literature, and I have come away from those hours happier and richer for them. I am confident — genuinely, not politely — that you will be published if you persist.
One last thing. Other writers were generous with me when I was starting out, and that generosity is a debt I can only repay forward — so on the pages that follow, I’ve shared a little of my own work with you: what I believe about writing, and two introductions from books I’m still making. They are not offered as the best of anything, only as honest examples, one writer to another.
I’m rooting for you — always. Be gentle with yourself, keep going, and know that I am in your corner every step of the way.
— James Mulhern, Silver Current Press
An Artistic Creed
Over the years, so many writers generously shared their work with me — their drafts, their beliefs, their hard-won lessons — and I would not be where I am without that generosity. So let me share some of mine with you in return. I do not offer these because I think they are the best; I don’t. I offer them simply as honest examples you can look at, learn from, and then set aside to write something that sounds like no one but you. Here is one of mine — a statement of what I believe about my own work.
I write as a Transcendentalist — in sensibility and in spirit. I came to this not as a doctrine to be argued but as a way of seeing I could not put down. Emerson taught me to trust the inner light and to call the great current of things the Oversoul. Thoreau taught me to look long and closely at the near and the small until they open. Whitman taught me that a single life, honestly told, contains multitudes and belongs to everyone. I am in their debt, and I do not pretend otherwise.
I believe the sacred is not far off but here — in a kitchen, a sickroom, a stretch of shoreline, the face of someone loved and lost. I believe the soul is not sealed within us but joined, through the Oversoul, to every other soul that has been or will be. And I believe that nothing true is ever finished. The Oversoul repeats and refines what it has made, never completing it, and I take my instruction from that unhurried, unfinished work.
This is why I return, deliberately, to the same scenes, the same symbols, the same kinds of people. The repetitions in my work are purposeful — they are my way of pointing to the truth I hold. I am not repeating myself; I am practicing recurrence, gathering up the same enduring truths and setting them down again in new hands, new voices, new incarnations. What is laid down is taken up. Nothing we love is lost; like water, like breath, like light, it is only changed, only carried forward, only lived anew.
So I write from mercy rather than judgment, and I extend that mercy to every character I make. I treat each story as a small act of faith — a way of summoning what is unseen and holding it in the light a little longer. If my work has one purpose, it is this: to show that the ordinary is holy, that memory is a form of love, and that we are, all of us, one people — gathered, remade, and never truly parted.
— James F. Mulhern
Two Sample Introductions
In the same generous spirit — the way other writers once shared their pages with me — I want to hand you two more of mine. Many books open with an introduction or a foreword, and writing one for your own work is harder than it looks. Please don’t take these as the best examples; they are simply mine, and I offer them humbly. And I want you to see them honestly, as works in progress: both books are still being made as I write this, and I am still revising these very pages. I cross out, begin again, and doubt them, exactly as you will with yours. That is not a sign you are failing. It is the work. I share them only so you have something real to look at when the time comes to write your own.
Introduction — All We Ever Needed (a story collection)
The stories in All We Ever Needed move through kitchens, classrooms, beaches, bookstores, apartments, and fading neighborhoods where love and damage rarely arrive one at a time. Again and again, people try to live inside family histories that have already marked them. Some are buoyed by memory, some haunted by it, and some use wit, cruelty, appetite, or make-believe to keep from being swallowed by what they know.
A few images recur by design. Water is the constant: a seawater cure sought on the Feast of the Assumption, a pond that has kept its drowned, a bath drawn for an aging mother, a fountain, a river, and at last a rain that leaves a man drenched to the bone. I have let it move through the book as more than weather. Water is the oldest sign of the spiritual life — the water of baptism, of ruin and renewal — and it runs beneath these ordinary lives as the possibility, never quite promised, of being made clean.
I take language to be a sacred inheritance and the act of naming to be a kind of devotion. These stories are my prayers, and my prayers are my stories; the recurrences in these pages are laid there in that spirit. What remains, after the jokes sour and the illusions fall away, is the question the collection keeps returning to: what, in the end, sustains us? The answers here are partial, unruly, and deeply human.
— James Mulhern (draft · in progress)
Foreword — Mia Bambina and Other Stories
There is a durable American lineage of fiction that begins not with spectacle but with a room, a family car, a parish, a school hallway, a kitchen table at which someone says the wrong thing and the air changes. One hears, at moments in these stories, the grave attentiveness of Andre Dubus, the domestic acuity of Alice McDermott, the religious pressure of Mary Gordon, the rueful comic steadiness of Richard Russo.
The five stories gathered in Mia Bambina and Other Stories move through Boston dormitories and beaches, old kitchens and classrooms, South Florida cafés and storefronts heavy with incense. Their geography is specific, but the territory is interior: the strange compromise by which people continue to live near shame, grief, lust, resentment, love. The sacred and the profane are not opposites here. They are neighbors. In certain families, they are sisters.
These are stories of mortality, memory, and moral compromise told without sentimentality. They ask how much harm can be done in the name of love, how much mercy can survive in a damaged person, and whether any ritual can prepare us for the final silence. The answer, mercifully, is not simplified. The stories look hard. They do not look away.
— from the front matter of Mia Bambina and Other Stories (draft · in progress)