editorial

Hello and welcome to issue 82 of The Interpreter’s House.

It’s a corker, packed with carefully crafted, thought-provoking poems and stories. Please do linger with each of them and enjoy. Our Featured Poet this issue is Lisa Kelly, who was recently shortlisted for a Forward Prize. As I type, I’m sneezing, wheezing and coming down with what promises to be a heavy cold. So, before I take to my fainting couch with hot lemon and ginger, I’m going to get something off my chest. 

Submissions emails. My stance is unequivocal and unapologetic: if you are submitting to The Interpreters’ House, you need to write something in the body of the email. A small but increasing minority of submitters just send blank emails with their stories or poems attached. If X is anything to go by, I’m not the only editor out there who is irked by this. I appreciate that in a world of online submission portals, people may have fallen out of the habit of writing submission emails. Or newer writers who have only really encountered Submittable etc, may not realise that emails are an important component of the email submission process.

Why?

1.      It is polite. Yes, that may make me sound 100 years old, but politeness can smooth our interactions in the virtual as well as the ‘real’ world. None of the editors at The House (or most online literary journals) receive any pay for their work on the magazine. Yes, it’s our choice to volunteer our time and expertise, but a considerately worded email helps us to feel valued.

2.      If you send an individualised email, it is far more likely that we will approach your submission without an underlying suspicion that it is AI. We do not accept AI-generated work; if somebody can’t be bothered to write their own submission, then we can’t be bothered to read it.

3.      An email makes you look professional. While unfortunately we can’t currently afford to pay anybody for their contributions to The Interpreter’s House, it is in everyone’s best interests to appear professional. If your work is selected, you will need to respond to acceptance and proofing emails. Not replying to those emails can delay an issue or prevent your work being included, and it creates more work for the editors. Can you see why, if choosing between two equally good submissions, we might be more inclined to accept the one written by a writer who has evidenced a certain amount of professional behaviour?

So, what should be in a submission email?

Here’s the good news. It can be short. Some submitters send beautiful and considered emails. These are people whom I imagine sitting down on 27 December to write thoughtful and specific thank you letters which will make their grannies feel deeply treasured. Their emails to us reference previous issues that they have read and mention particular poems or stories that they have enjoyed. However — although much appreciated — this is not necessary. If you are busy, keep it brief. Greet us by our names (they’re in the submissions page). Then something like, Please find attached my submission to The Interpreter’s House. I look forward to hearing from you in due course. Put a nice sign off with your name. Remember to attach your Word document or PDF, and tell us in the title whether it’s a poetry or fiction submission.

You can, if you like, include your bio. It’s not necessary to do so, but I for one enjoy reading them. If you are at a nascent stage of publishing your work, don’t worry; the bio does not affect your chance of being selected. Do not, however, only send a bio in your submission email without greeting us or including any other text. This makes you look like a narcissist. It’s the written equivalent of walking into a party, standing in the middle of the room and shouting your various achievements to all and sundry without so much as a hello. Nobody wants to hang out with that guy.

That’s it. Simple and quick to do, but a submission email is important. And if you are someone who has submitted to us before and sent a beautifully worded message — some of which even say ‘thank you’! — we are deeply grateful.

Right, I’m off to drink that honey and ginger and snuffle on the couch. Happy reading to all.

Georgi