Nashville Review
They accept submissions of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and translations during the months of February and August. Please note, they have a submission cap and may close early if volume demands.
Deadline: 31 August 2023, or until filled
Length: Up to 7,000 words for fiction, up to 8,000 words for nonfiction, up to 3 poems
Pay: $25/poem, $100 for prose and art
Details here and here.

Upbeat Tales
This is a new podcast magazine for upbeat and/or comedic fantasy, science fiction, and horror stories. Submission is via a form, and they say you can ask any questions about their submission process on Twitter.
Deadline: 31 August 2023
Length: 100-6,000 words
Pay: $0.01/word
Details here.

Orion’s Belt
This is a speculative flash fiction magazine, and they have also expanded into speculative poetry. Please see their detailed guidelines, including the kind of work they want, and what they do not want.
Deadline: 1 September 2023
Length: Up to 1,200 words for fiction, up to 1 poem per submission
Pay: $0.08/word
Details here.

Cast of Wonders
This is a young adult speculative fiction podcast; they have extensive guidelines, including, “Stories that evoke a sense of wonder, have deep emotional resonance, and have something unreal about them. We aim for a 12-17 age range: that means sophisticated, non-condescending stories with wide appeal, and without gratuitous or explicit sex, violence or pervasive obscene language.” They also accept translations and reprints. They will open later in August for submissions. Their submission portal will open for stories during their reading period.
Reading period: 15 August to 7 September 2023 (see schedule)
Length: Up to 6,000 words
Pay: $0.08/word
Details here.
(And their sister magazine, PseudoPod, will open briefly for horror stories during 11^th to 21^st August 2023; see their schedule here and guidelines here. They pay $0.08/word for stories up to 6,000 words.)

Poetry Ireland Review
Their guidelines say, “We welcome unsolicited submissions of poems, and proposals for articles and reviews, from Ireland and abroad, in Irish or English.” Do not send unsolicited articles or reviews. The current guest editor will read submissions through November 2023. Writers can take payment in cash or magazine subscription (see guidelines).
Deadline: 30 November 2023 for the current guest editor
Length: Up to 4 poems, totaling 8 pages
Pay: €50 for poetry, €100 for articles, or subscription (see guidelines)
Details here and here.

Bio: S. Kalekar is the pseudonym of a regular contributor to this magazine. She can be reached here.

They say that you can just send them an email with the basics of your project if the proposal sounds overwhelming, but that they mostly want to see the following information included in your proposal:

• Summary of Your Book. Describe your book.

• Outline. Provide a detailed outline listing at least chapter titles and first level headings.

• Audience. Who is your target audience and how will your book meet their needs?

• Competition. List any competing titles. How will your work compete?

• Market. Discuss the market for your book.

• You. Who are you? What are your goals in writing this book?

They also ask that you submit any writing samples for your project, if available, and they stress that a clear description of what you want to write and your table of contents are the most important factors.

Unlike most publishers they are very much upfront about royalties and the editorial process, which are both disclosed here. Also on that page they link to a sample publishing agreement, which they appear to always use, and is not up to negotiation. So before submitting to that, review it carefully.

Please only submit a proposal if they feel like a good fit for your work.

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.

Now through September 1, The Acedia Review is seeking submissions for their first issue. Each issue will be themed, and the theme of this first issue is “Trace”: “What artifacts (objects, people, feelings, places, traditions, etc.) have ancestry? How do we identify the past by its roots in the present? How do things grow or erode over time?” All submissions for their first issue should respond to this theme.

The Acedia Review only accepts poetry; they do not accept any other genre of writing. Poets may submit up to five poems in any form or style. Submissions should include a third-person bio, 50 words or fewer. Submitting poets can expect a response within one week.

Poets should submit only once per issues. The Acedia Review is open to submissions year-round, though they have deadlines for submitting to each themed issue. They accept poetry from authors of all ages, and they especially encourage students to submit.

The Acedia Review accepts submission via email, not online or by post. They accept simultaneous submissions but ask that authors withdraw poems published elsewhere. They do not accept previously published work.

The Acedia Review only accepts submissions that follow the guidelines they’ve posted online. Please review these guidelines, including the specific formatting instructions, before submitting.

If you would like to learn more or submit to The Acedia Review, 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.

Lockdown was good for me. Suddenly, everyone seemed to be in a fervour of baking banana bread and online workout groups. I’ve always hated baking and exercise, so I took a writing course. Until that point, writing had been a hobby. I’d already written three novels, and self-published them because, why not? Well, the ‘why not?’ would be because they were first drafts, and first drafts are, as we all know, shi— Not the finest of fine dining.

Until I took that course (a fabulous online offering from Jericho Writers) I didn’t understand what editing meant. At that point, in the summer of 2020, I’d just finished a first draft and thought that meant I was nearly done. That first draft was 50,000 words. A year later, my eleventh draft was 80,000 words, of which at least 60,000 were entirely new. My characters had deepened; my plot actually had a middle, not just a beginning and an end. For the first time, I looked at my writing and thought, ‘People deserve to read this.’

I got an editorial assessment of the first section of the book (all I could afford at the time). The editor was encouraging about the writing, but said she thought it was unlikely that I would find an agent or publisher in England because I had a non-binary protagonist and the market wasn’t open to that. I thought she was sure to be wrong: I was at the crest of a wave! Gender identity was the next big thing!

She was right; I wasn’t. None of the British agents I submitted to were interested; not even a request for a full manuscript. So, I sent it out to small indie publishers, and it was a Canadian press that wanted it. They were a tiny, grass-roots operation. Would they take my book to the bestseller lists? Absolutely not. Would they help me on my own writing journey? Well, I hoped so. I signed the contract.

Finally, at the end of 2022, the book was published. Six months later, it still hasn’t sold many copies; it’s with a small publisher, so that’s about what I expected. If you’ve read anything about the publishing industry, you’ll know that the odds of a book being a commercial success are low. Astronomically, even.

As authors, we have to redefine what success means. Finishing a novel is a success. Having it picked up for publication, even by a micro-press, is a success. Touching readers’ lives: that’s the real measure. And I may not have many readers yet, but the beautiful feedback I’ve had from them is an inspiration and makes it all worthwhile.

Even more, deepening my own writing skills and learning how best to let the stories in my heart take flight has been the real win. I define success principally by the personal satisfaction and growth that the writing process brings me—and I think it’s essential to maintain that perspective, because even greater commercial success won’t mean any guarantees or stability.

So, was signing that contract a good idea? I don’t know. It didn’t bring any conventional measure of success. But it’s possible that just having that in my bibliography will help me get noticed by agents; I’m about to go out on submission again, so we’ll see. Publishing is a long game, and I’ve only just begun. I certainly won’t let this put me off.

Bio:  Writer of YA fantasy with depth. Buddhist. Believer in the imagination. www.akadler.com