an we retire the term slush pile? When, many moons ago, I began reading for New England Review, manuscripts arrived by mail and were indeed stacked into teetering piles. Nowadays, it’s a tidier virtual queue tucked away inside our laptops. More problematic then and now is the word slush. Any winter-dweller is familiar with this undesirable byproduct of the season. “Let it slush!” said no one ever. If pile is obsolete, slush is offensive, plain wrong. Each spring and fall, New England Review welcomes submissions across genres. This welcoming is our lifeblood.
I don’t want to romanticize the submission process. NER—like all literary magazines—welcomes submissions but, by necessity, accepts very little of what we receive. Having to repeatedly say No to work—often good work—by hopeful writers is my least favorite duty as a fiction editor. The process can be rough on writers and on the readers and editors making decisions. Disappointments are frequent, cynicism lurks. (Since most of us are active writers ourselves, we understand the sting of rejection.) The harsh process—even if one strikes the condescending slush word—makes those rare acceptances special, and joyful. If the piece that stops us in our tracks is by a writer or translator who is relatively new to publishing, or even previously unpublished, that joy sparkles all the more brightly.
Which brings me to this issue’s theme: emerging writers. (For clarity’s sake, our definition of “emerging writer” is a writer or translator who hasn’t yet published a book or full-length collection.) NER published its first issue devoted to emerging writers in 2020 (NER 41.4). A second followed in 2021 (NER 42.4). This is our third. Why an entire issue dedicated to emerging writers and translators? Initially, we asked ourselves this question. After all, NER is always seeking new voices, diverse voices, voices we believe in and believe deserve a broader audience.
It’s hard to imagine an NER issue without emerging writers. Does separating out emerging writers imply their work wouldn’t hold up next to work by more established writers? No, we emphatically decided. Any of the poems, fiction, nonfiction, and translations in this issue would be at home in any issue of NER.
So, what is the point of an entire emerging writers’ issue? Limiting it to one word: celebration. We want, of course, to celebrate the excellent, singular, vital work itself, to share that initial buzz when we read it: Wow, where did this come from? But we also want to celebrate what it takes for emerging writers to get their work published. Writing is a solitary pursuit, and it can feel especially solitary—not to mention discouraging—when a writer is first seeking a home for their words. It takes grit and a pure leap of faith for a newer writer to send their work out to be judged by strangers. What better place than an emerging writers’ issue to celebrate both the work and the work behind the work? The sheer determination that’s required of any writer who wants an audience.
At NER—at any literary magazine, I imagine—there is a true sense of excitement when one or more people on staff fall in love with a piece and it winds its way through to acceptance. When the piece is by a writer or translator just beginning to receive recognition, the excitement is paired with a glow of discovery. One of my favorite tasks as a fiction editor is letting one of our dedicated readers know that work they’ve championed has made the cut. Inevitably, they are thrilled. Again, it’s a celebration of the work but also of the work behind the work, the sometimes agonizingly slow road from a place in the queue to a place in NER.
I see the work of putting together an issue of NER as akin to a barn raising, albeit a literary one. It’s a community effort led by NER’s editor, Carolyn Kuebler, and managing editor, Leslie Sainz, both of whom wear too many hats to count, and supported by our small staff, our invaluable readers, and—most of all—the writers who trust us with their work. If each issue is a barn raising, the emerging writers’ issue brings new materials to the construction, an inventive framework, a form we haven’t seen before. We invite you to discover what’s inside.
—Ernest McLeod, fiction editor
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With this issue, we’d also like to celebrate some transitions on our masthead. Our longtime nonfiction and drama editor J. M. Tyree—who has served many roles here since 1995, when he was a student intern—has stepped into a new position as contributing editor. He’ll continue to recommend work for publication and will occasionally edit special supplements for the magazine and website. Look out for the “Chungking Express 30” feature, which he is editing for next winter, in honor of the thirtieth anniversary of Wong Kar-wai’s iconic film.
We’d also like to introduce our new office manager, Mary Heather Noble. A creative nonfiction writer, environmental scientist, community volunteer, and mother of two, she brings great energy and creativity to the role and is happily immersing herself in the literary life here at NER. And, finally, special thanks to two of our outgoing senior readers: Greg November and Marisa P. Clark, who read for NER since 2012 and 2017, respectively. Between them they read 1,648 stories, flagging promising new writers for encouragement and recommending stories for publication. Which brings us right back around to the “emerging writers” issue, which begins with a turn of this page.
—Carolyn Kuebler, editor