What Genres Does The Paris Review Accept In Their Submissions?

They've got it all laid out on their site, but the main thing is they only accept submissions through their online manager, Submittable. No email, no paper manuscripts mailed to the office. You'll need to create an account there. The reading periods aren't year-round either; poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have specific windows they announce, so you have to watch for those. I missed the last fiction window by a week and had to wait months for the next one. It's a bit of a patience game. They're clear about wanting previously unpublished work. Simultaneous submissions are okay, which is a relief, but you have to withdraw your piece immediately if it gets accepted elsewhere. The formatting is pretty standard: double-spaced, readable font. No crazy experimental formatting in the document itself, I'd guess. The response time can be long, like six months or more sometimes. I submitted a short piece last fall and just heard back a 'no' this spring. It's not a market for quick turnarounds, that's for sure. Still, getting something in 'The Paris Review' feels like a real milestone, even just trying. The bar is astronomically high, but you can't win if you don't play, right? I just keep my expectations realistic and my submission tracker updated.

Submitting to The Paris Review feels like trying to get a nod from a very discerning, slightly mysterious bookish relative. I've never had luck, but a friend who placed a piece there years ago gave me the only advice that ever felt concrete: read the magazine cover to cover for at least six months prior. Not just skimming, but really absorbing the rhythm and the kind of emotional space their fiction occupies. It's less about fitting a theme and more about aligning with a specific literary sensibility—the sentences in 'The Paris Review' often have a particular weight and texture. Beyond that, your cover letter should be utterly minimal. They already don't pay much attention to it, so a long, gushing bio about your MFA or your dreams just adds noise. Name, title, word count, a single-line publication credit if it's truly notable, and that's it. The work has to stand completely alone. And for god's sake, follow their submission guidelines to the letter, even if they seem fussy. Using the wrong font or file format is an easy, avoidable reason for a quick pass. I think the biggest mistake is sending something because it's 'good enough' or technically proficient. They're looking for a voice they haven't heard before, even if it's quiet. So workshop it until it's undeniable, then wait another month, revise it again, and only then hit send. The slush pile is Everest-sized; you need every atom of that piece to feel essential.

Those submission windows feel like they shift a little each year, honestly. I just keep an eye on their website around late summer and early fall. It seems they've often opened for prose and poetry around September, but I'd swear it was August a few years back. I missed it once because I was polishing a story and looked up in October to find it closed. You really can't set a calendar by it. The best move is to sign up for their newsletter or follow them on social media. That's how I caught their last fiction window. They gave about a month's notice, which was enough time to get something in decent shape.

I've sent short stories and essays out into the wild more times than I can count, and when people ask me about 'The New Yorker' and simultaneous submissions, I usually give the same practical scoop: yes, they accept simultaneous submissions — but it's an honor-system affair that rewards courtesy and good record-keeping. In my experience, editors at top-tier magazines expect you not to ghost them; if another place accepts your piece, you should let everyone know immediately. That means if you have a handful of simultaneous sends, stay on top of your inbox and be ready to withdraw a submission the second another outlet says yes. What I do now is treat simultaneous submissions like a careful juggling act. I limit how many places I send to at once (I aim for a small, prioritized list rather than blasting everywhere), keep a simple spreadsheet with dates and any promised response windows, and put a reminder in my calendar to follow up after a few months. For 'The New Yorker' specifically, they'll want exclusive rights once they accept, and they move slowly sometimes — so if you're impatient, be mentally prepared for long waits. Also, never enter a piece into contests or submissions that explicitly forbid simultaneous sends while you're submitting elsewhere. Beyond the logistics, there's a tiny etiquette layer that matters: a short, polite withdrawal email when something else is accepted goes a long way. Editors are people, and I've been on both sides — the grateful submitter who got their dream placement, and the embarrassed one who forgot to withdraw a story promptly. Either way, managing simultaneous submissions well keeps relationships intact and your reputation tidy. For me, the small extra effort in tracking and communication is worth the peace of mind and the chance to land in a big magazine like 'The New Yorker' — it still feels like a little win every time.