Because this imprint is so new, it is hard for me to get any feel if their identity will become separate at all from Orbit as a whole. Their imprint page, as it is now, is very focused on Orbits reputation and the books they’ve published, so I do believe they are seeking books along the same lines.

Orbit Works will publish every author in both eBook and audiobook format. They stress that that their audiobooks are “produced by the award-winning Hachette Book Group audio team.”

They say that when possible, the book will be available in print through their print-on-demand program. It’s a little confusing, because print-on-demand books are most often not distributed to bookstores, and on their website they also say “Our global distribution channels and relationships with major retailers will ensure your book is available to readers everywhere in the world. And with regular metadata updates, your book will always be presented in the best way, and at the right price.” I’m assuming that they are only talking about this in terms of digital stores/availability. It’s also not clear which books will be selected for the print-on- demand program.

One word of caution, is that while Hachette is one of the big five publishers, and Orbit is one of their major imprints, in my experience, digital imprints of the big 5 that are open to direct submissions tend to not last very long at all. Which isn’t to say that it is a risk to go with them, if they accept your book and you sign a contract with them, they will publish it, and if the imprint closes, it in all likelihood will be absorbed in Orbit and your book will continue to be published. But as a reviewer of manuscript publishers, I would not be surprised if I had to mark this imprint as closed within a few years. For a brief period 6 years back, I had a list of over 10 digital imprints of the big 5 that were open to direct submissions, and not one of them is still open.

I would also like to add that if Orbit Works expresses interest in your work, you should try to find an agent at that point to negotiate on your behalf. Digital imprints of major presses sometimes take advantage of unagented authors, and if you have found a publisher already, agents are often happy to represent your work, even with a limited timeline.

That being said, their eBook royalty rate is 50% of net revenue and the audiobook royalty rate is 25% of net because of the production costs.

They are not open to AI-written submissions and they try to respond to all submissions within three months.

To learn more, go here. Please read their guidelines carefully before submitting.

Emily Harstone is the author of many popular books, including The Authors Publish Guide to Manuscript Submissions, Submit, Publish, Repeat, and The 2023 Guide to Manuscript Publishers. She regularly teaches three acclaimed courses on writing and publishing at The Writer’s Workshop at Authors Publish. You can follow her on Facebook here.

Foxes Dancing Around was founded earlier this year by Jamie Lammers, a student at the University of Colorado Boulder.

Right now, Foxes Dancing Around is seeking submissions for their first issue on the theme of grief.

Authors of fiction may submit stories about grief, between 500 and 10,000 words. Poets may submit poems about grief, between 4 and 200 stanzas. It’s worth noting that Foxes Dancing Around accepts longer poems and stories than most literary journals.

Although Foxes Dancing Around is an English-language journal, they encourage and accept submissions in all languages. Writing in languages other than English will be published side by side with an English translation.

Foxes Dancing Around accepts submissions using a form on their website, and via email. They do not accept submissions by post. They do not accept previously published work; however, they do accept writing originally published in journals that are now defunct and inaccessible (not available in print or online).

Foxes Dancing Around only accepts submissions that follow the guidelines they’ve posted online. Please read these guidelines in full before submitting.

If you would like to learn more or submit to Foxes Dancing Around, please visit their website here.

Bio: Ella Peary is the pen name for an author, editor, creative writing mentor, and submission consultant. Over the past five years, she’s written hundreds of articles for Authors Publish, and she’s also served as a copywriter and copy editor for a wide range of organizations and individuals. She is the author of The Quick Start Guide to Flash Fiction. She occasionally teaches a course on flash fiction. You can contact her at ellapeary@gmail.com.

When a book I’d written chronicling my spiritual and healing journey was accepted by a publisher, I didn’t expect the process of publication itself to hold further spiritual challenges. Choosing a title, for example, proved to be unexpectedly fraught with emotion. From the other side of this trial, I now see that it was a good opportunity to practice speaking up for my personal truth, while respecting the perspective of others, and staying mindful of a creative will greater than my own. In fact, it encapsulated my whole journey in a nutshell, and what could be more appropriate?

My book was structured around 18 poems I’d written based on the healing stories in the Gospels, along with background essays and memoir sections that complemented each poem. I hadn’t given much thought to a title — for most of the writing I called the project “Gospel Healing Poems” — but added a working title, Word and Flesh, when I started getting ready to send a proposal to a publisher.

When the manuscript was accepted by Floris Books, I asked if my title would be kept, and was told that was still to be decided. A few months later I received their proposed title: To Be Made Whole: A Personal Journey Through Healing Stories in the Gospels.

That seemed fine, except that on looking into the Floris catalogue, I discovered a similar title: Wilt Thou Be Made Whole?

Embarrassed by this oversight, Floris asked if I had any other ideas. I suggested The Wisdom in the Wound, a more poetic variation on “word and flesh”. But after conferring with the team, my editor came back with another suggestion: Balm for the Soul.

I did not like this at all, because it was too nice-sounding. My book was not about soothing the soul with some kind of panacea, but getting body and soul back together, often a painful process. I asked if there was any other option.

The next offering was Words That Make Us Whole. This also struck me as wrong, because it sounded like magic words that fix people, something I did not want to encourage. I suggested Made Whole by the Word, which at least pointed toward the Logos-Word rather than “words,” but the passive construction was awkward.

In the next round, I was given two options: Fragments That Make a Whole and The Wisdom of Failure. I preferred a title that was about healing, rather than failure. So, eager to end a discussion which had already taken longer than anticipated, I agreed to Fragments That Make a Whole. My editor was thrilled to be able to move on, and congratulated me on choosing an excellent title.

But over the weekend I started to have a sinking feeling, a dread that I had missed something important. Something was not right, when I could not feel excited about this title.

Over the next week, I sent other variants: Fragments That Make Us Whole? Broken into Wholeness? Fragments Can Make a Whole? Long emails flew back and forth, as I tried to work out what my issue was, and my editor tried to reason with me. I fought with feelings of being unheard and disrespected that called up difficult moments from my past. I knew this was no one’s intention; rather, I’d made an over-hasty decision and then had to pull back, a habit I thought I’d overcome. I struggled to find my center and think clearly beyond the triggering phenomena.

At last, my editor said I simply had to make a choice between Fragments That Make a Whole and The Wisdom of Failure. The book had to move on to the next stage in order to meet their planned publication schedule, and I’d already agreed to what everyone else sincerely thought was a great title.

Choosing between two options that both felt wrong was no choice at all. Should I have opted for self-publishing, with full creative control? But no, I knew I wanted to work with a publisher to get this book into the world, because it was not just about me. It was about a healing message that went beyond my personal needs, and I wanted to connect with others who found my story valuable to share — even given all the challenges that involved.

In frustration, I said I’d go with my former choice. Only, I plaintively wrote, I couldn’t understand why Broken into Wholeness was rejected — I’d thought it a brilliant solution.

The explanation came back that this had been found too strong for my book, which was about a more subtle kind of trauma. I could understand that objection, and found I agreed.

Suddenly, with this opening of understanding, I had one more idea: When Fragments Make a Whole, which made the title about a process rather than a thing. Believing I’d be much happier with that, I dashed off one more email on my way to work. Even if the title had gone to the cover designer, I argued, surely this change couldn’t be that difficult. It even had the same number of letters and words!

I felt as though I’d been through a process of labor, with a warming-up phase, a confusing, disorienting transition, and a painful final push. For a moment, I was flooded with a joyful conviction that I’d found the answer at last.

I had to wait, though, for the results of my labor to be accepted, and in the meantime I was cast into doubt again. Had I made a terrible mistake? Maybe the other title really was better. Not to worry, my idea would just be shot down again.

To my surprise and some dismay, my editor emailed later that day that she agreed, my new title was marginally better. But now the discussion had to stop. The trouble with changing a title that had already been entered into their system was not the word count, but the fact that two titles could easily get assigned to the same book, and cause problems down the line. It was just early enough to make the change, but later it would really not be possible.

I was still not sure I’d done the right thing, and wanted to write more emails about my doubts, but I knew I had to quell that urge and accept reality. I was proud of myself for daring to speak up, and in fact I’d gotten to play more of a role in the titling process than many authors do. Now I needed to get some sleep, let go of my fears, and trust that whatever happened next was for the best.

After a few days, my uncomfortable feelings had subsided. I was comforted by the sense that I’d made the right choice after all.

Choosing a title can be a very confronting process, my editor acknowledged. It is a moment when an author faces the fact that her book will be out in the world, in the hands of other people, who may have a very different experience of it than she has. While an author’s title emerges from her experience of being “inside” the book, the publisher’s choice of title gives it an “outside.” It reflects the publisher’s understanding of the readers the book can reach, a sense of what will intrigue and attract them. Somehow, an author has to grow into this consciousness, and it’s not always easy.

Inside becomes outside in the process of birth, while a name bridges the two. I grew a step further myself in the course of naming my book, and I can now look forward with joy toward the day when it’s ready to be launched into the world.

Lory Widmer Hess lives with her family in Switzerland, where she works with adults with developmental disabilities and is in training as a spiritual director. Her first book, When Fragments Make a Whole: A Personal Journey through Healing Stories in the Bible will be released by Floris Books in Spring, 2024. Visit her website and blog at enterenchanted.com.