How To Get A Short Story Published In Magazines?

Reading fees. Ugh. Some magazines, especially for contests, charge a small reading fee ($3-$5). This is a hot-button issue. Proponents say it helps fund the magazine and pay their editors. Critics say it creates a pay-to-play barrier. My personal rule: I'll occasionally pay a fee for a contest with a substantial prize or a magazine I truly, deeply admire and want to support. For general submissions, I prioritize the many, many excellent magazines that don't charge. It's a personal calculation. Don't feel like you have to pay to play, but also recognize that for some small presses, that fee is what keeps the lights on.

Getting your novel published in a magazine or anthology is a journey that requires patience, persistence, and a bit of strategy. I’ve been submitting my work for years, and the first step is always research. Look for magazines or anthologies that align with your genre and style. Websites like 'The Submission Grinder' or 'Duotrope' are goldmines for finding open calls. Once you’ve identified potential markets, read their guidelines meticulously. Editors appreciate submissions that follow their requirements to the letter. Next, polish your manuscript until it shines. Beta readers and critique groups can provide invaluable feedback. I’ve found that even the smallest tweaks can make a big difference. When you’re ready to submit, craft a professional cover letter that’s concise yet personable. Include a brief bio and any relevant publishing credits, but keep it focused. Rejection is part of the process, so don’t let it discourage you. Celebrate every acceptance, no matter how small, and keep writing. The more you submit, the better your chances of getting published.

I'm drawing a blank on regularly publishing free magazines, but I can recommend a few anthologies that are permanently free on sites like Project Gutenberg or the Internet Archive. Collections like 'The Ladder' from the 60s or more modern indie anthologies that have gone out of print and been released for free. It's historical browsing, not new content, but reading those older stories provides an amazing perspective on how lesbian fiction has evolved. You get to see the concerns, the coding, the bravery of writers from different eras. It's not the 'regularly' you asked for, but it's a deep well of free content that's incredibly valuable for any fan of the genre.

I'm the sort of person who carries a ridiculous stack of magazines to cafés and times my reading by espresso shots, so thinking about story length feels like second nature to me. If you want a practical rule of thumb: flash fiction usually lives under 1,000 words (often 300–1,000), while what most people call a short story sits anywhere between 1,000 and 7,500 words. Many general-interest and genre magazines tend to favor the 1,500–4,000 range because that's a comfortable reading time for an evening commute or a coffee break. When I submit, I tailor length to the market. Literary mags like 'The New Yorker' or certain university journals will lean longer and more lyrical; genre markets such as 'Clarkesworld', 'Asimov’s', or 'Fantasy & Science Fiction' often publish tight, idea-driven pieces and commonly accept 1,500–5,000 words. If you want to maximize your chances, aim for the sweet spot of about 1,500–3,500 words: it’s short enough to read quickly but long enough to develop character and plot. Always check each magazine’s guidelines (and their usual story lengths) via resources like 'Duotrope' or the 'Submission Grinder'. Finally, think of the story’s rhythm. If your premise is a single striking moment, flash or short-short is perfect; if it needs character arcs and reveals, give it room up to a few thousand words. Keep your prose lean, open with a clear hook, and trim anything that doesn’t serve theme or tension. Personally I bring down manuscripts with multiple passes and a timer: if a clean, shaped story reads under ten minutes, it’s probably magazine-friendly. Try a couple of markets with matching length and see what lands — every rejection taught me how to tighten, and that’s half the fun.

I get a little giddy talking about submissions—there’s something about polishing a piece and sending it out that feels like mailing a tiny, hopeful letter into the world. My process starts with research: I read recent issues of magazines I like (I keep a little stack of print issues and a folder of PDFs) so I know their tone, length preferences, and whether they publish the kind of weird/quiet/hard-boiled things I write. Then I check the submission guidelines on their website or Submittable page—this is sacred. If they want double-spaced 12pt Times New Roman, that’s what they get; if they want single-spaced or a particular file type, I follow that exactly. When it comes to formatting, I treat the manuscript like a professional artifact: title centered on the first page, word count at the top or in the file name if requested, no name on the manuscript if they ask for blind submissions, and I usually upload a .docx unless they say otherwise. My cover letter is short—two to four lines. I say hello, give the title and word count, mention a relevant previous credit if I have one, and thank them for considering it. If a journal uses email, I paste the story into the body only if they explicitly ask; otherwise I attach. I always declare if it’s a simultaneous submission and withdraw promptly if it’s accepted elsewhere. Practical tools keep me sane: I track submissions in a spreadsheet (title, date sent, response time, simultaneous allowed?), and I use Duotrope or The Submission Grinder to find markets and estimate response times. Rejections burn for a second and then I revise or send elsewhere. After a few rounds you learn to match story to journal better, which feels like leveling up. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, but every accept is the best kind of caffeine.