7/1/2026 Submissions of “After Making Landfall”:
And of “Pieces About A Small Indiana Factory Town, 1861 – 1984”
Today's rejections:
Thank you again for submitting 'The Unintended Consequences of Art' for consideration by The Future Fire. The editors have read this work and after some discussion we have decided not to take it for publication.
We'd like to thank you again for thinking of us with this piece, and wish you the very best with your writing in the future.
Djibril
Press Blog: http://press.futurefire.net/
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Thank you for sending us "Pieces About A Small Indiana Factory Town, 1861 – 1984." Unfortunately, we do not have a place for it at this time. However, we appreciate the opportunity to read your writing and your interest in Peatsmoke.
We hope you find a good home for your work elsewhere, and wish you the best.
Cheers,
Wendy & Bess
--
Wendy Wallace and Bess Cooley
Editors, Peatsmoke: A Literary Journal
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We are grateful that you trusted ANMLY with "After Making Landfill," however, our readers felt that this particular packet was not a good fit, and we will be unable to publish it. We wish you luck in placing this elsewhere.
Sincerely,
The Editors
http://www.anmly.org
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Thank you for submitting to Ploughshares. We have decided not to include your submission in an upcoming issue, but please be assured that "After Making Landfall" was carefully read.
Editorial decisions at Ploughshares are often informed by our vision for future issues, and as a result, we unfortunately must reject quality submissions more often than we'd like. Thank you again for the opportunity to consider your work.
For future submission opportunities, please note that our Emerging Writers' Contest is open each year from February 1-March 31 and our Regular Reading Period is open from June 1-November 15.
Sincerely,
The Ploughshares Editors
Good advice: Advice for older writers. Nathan Bransford has a newsletter, I think it is useful and educational about the publishing process.
The Creative Resistance - by Joe Ponepinto ( Beyond Craft) pokes back at my AI bias. Having found much to my benefit from this Substack, I paid attention.
He noted, “Based on my experience teaching and lecturing across the world, the Creative Resistance is strongest in North America, much less dominant in India, and still less in China and Korea, with Europe somewhere in between. When I taught a class on AI and creativity in Seoul last summer, with students from across Asia as well as Latin America, they had a single concern: please teach us how to use these tools effectively. The only person calling for creative resistance was an American student who had strayed into the class.”
That seems pretty typical of American politics as well.
Maybe that’s the real debate. Many people in the US tend to look at social issues through the lens of politics, and since our politics is so divided, there is little to no middle ground, and no attempt to compromise. The Creative Resistance seems to mirror the us-against-them mentality that dominates our national discourse.
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The above opinion of AI by people in other countries is closer to my own. I see it as a useful tool to enhance my work. It allows me to do research much faster4, and it occasionally offers input that augments my thinking, much like a human work partner. Its errors are annoying, but I believe I have the experience and judgment to weed them out of my work process.
I don’t use AI for writing. I don’t use it for planning or to brainstorm. I don’t use it to edit my work5. I am not tempted to use it for those purposes, partly because I have what I consider a very strong imagination, as well as decades of experience in creative writing and just don’t need it, and mostly because LLMs are tools that rely primarily on compilations of standard, mainstream literature, and I don’t want to write like that. They mimic writing styles, rather than attempt to create anything imaginative or original. They are useful as writing tools mostly for people who do not really know how to write.
I do not see it useful for my writing, and after too many years of doing my own research (and still regretting two errors), after letting one other person, someone I trusted at the time, I do not outsource my research.
Something a little different: On the Mark by Florence Hazrat review – a fascinating history of punctuation ( The Guardian ).
Writers themselves, of course, have always guarded their own punctuation ferociously. (“I absolutely insist on this comma,” wrote Baudelaire, putting a removed one back in on a page proof of Les Fleurs du Mal.) Editors remove commas or dashes at their peril; equally, Hazrat shows neatly how, in adding a ton of commas to Jack Kerouac’s draft of On the Road, his first editor did violence to the breathless dynamism of the prose. This is all evidence for her admirable insistence that punctuation is part of writing itself, an essential component of style and of the architecture of thought.
Ivy Compton-Burnett's forgotten genius (Engelsberg ideas). A short piece about a writer I do not think I had heard of but the site turns up interesting items of all sorts. From what I read, complicated and distinctive, with the possibility of fomenting some ideas.
Ivy Compton-Burnett’s literary method is quite unique, relying almost entirely on dialogue to drive the action. There is very little exposition, scene-setting or character drawing, and plot, as such, is perfunctory, often drawing on creaky devices from Victorian fiction. ‘As regards plot’, she wrote, ‘I find real life no help at all. Real life seems to have no plots.’ Compton-Burnett’s dialogue is quite extraordinary – it has to be, as it has so much weight to carry. Her characters talk endlessly in long, formal, finely nuanced conversations which seethe with dark subtext, unspoken motives and fierce passions. These have to be read with close attention to discover – gradually or, often, explosively – what is really going on. It could be anything, up to and including murder. You have to be on your toes even to keep track of who is speaking, as these conversations often involve several people, sometimes talking over each other or aside. It’s rather like listening from outside a door – something Ivy’s characters frequently do, in the course of uncovering what is really going on. They also have a habit of suddenly materialising from nowhere, like Jeeves.
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It is unlikely that these novels will ever again have a wide appeal – they are too challenging, in too many ways, for a modern readership – but it would be a sad loss if they were forgotten. Ivy Compton-Burnett is a true one-off, and her novels are like nothing else in fiction: others, including Henry James and Ronald Firbank, have written novels in dialogue, but they are nothing like Ivy’s. She even, it seems, defeats AI’s mimetic abilities: I recently challenged a chatbot to produce a passage in Compton-Burnett style and the result was thoroughly unsatisfactory – whereas Firbank came out well. Ivy herself once said, ‘Anyone who picks up a Compton-Burnett finds it very hard not to put it down.’ It is well worth resisting the urge.
And a cautionary story, the despicable treatment of a female writer: She Wanted to Be Seen as a Writer. The World Saw Her as a Sex Worker. (The Walrus )
Arcan’s untimely death forced a re-evaluation of her work and persona. Posthumously, she was transformed from a frivolous, middlebrow enfant terrible into a subject of serious erudite study. Critics have been perturbed that Arcan embraced conventional scripts of female beauty and sexuality. Feminist critics have had a difficult time figuring out what to make of her contradictory politics, her obsession with death, and her grim view of female subjectivity. For others—like the Tout le monde en parle panellists—her manicured, surgically enhanced good looks were evidence of hypocrisy, given the biting assault on beauty culture she levelled on the page. Their absolutist logic is unable to parse the messy reality that a person can be intellectually critical of the same norms in which they are psychically invested.
sch 7/6