Keep Your Masthead Clean, or: Just Say No to Literary Incest

Keep Your Masthead Clean, or: Just Say No to Literary Incest



Nepotism is a dirty word. That’s exactly how I’ll begin this piece of well-articulated bitching. And yes, I just used the word “bitching” because it’s the age of the Internet and, well, we can get away with those kinds of things now.

There are many things that chafe me in regards to the literary world, or rather, the “literary machine,” which is what I’m going to call it because it sounds way cooler and more science fiction-ey. There’s constant name dropping, but that’s no biggie. There’s the incessant self-promotion, which (and don’t lie) we all do to some degree. And we have to, right? Who else is going to promote our work for us? And then there’s even the certain select few that seem to have a stronghold (or stranglehold, depending on how you look at it) on several of the magazines I consider “top dog” – or, in my opinion, my favorite places to read literature and all the relative commentary and culture about the literary machine. (See? Sci-fi! Dystopia!) But even that I can get behind, because generally, that small handful of folks who’ve got their hands in everyone else’s business are there for a reason: they earned it. They work hard. And even if you don’t like it, on some level, you’ve got to respect it.

But that’s not what I’m talking about. In my view, one of the biggest lit sins is shitting where you eat. It takes the form of promoting or publishing your work within an avenue that you’ve got high stakes in. If you’re part of a journal’s editorial staff, it doesn’t seem right that you’d submit work for consideration in that journal. If you’ve ever been a part of said journal, the same applies.

The obvious reason is that it’s the polar opposite of classy, a word used to describe something that’s done in good taste. It stands at the top of my “literary faux pas” list, which only has about three or four items on it, but still. It shows you that for the most part, I am a reasonable, calm person who lets others do their thing without interruption or intercession. You want to self-promo? Good for you! You want to name-drop? I’m impressed! (Chances are, you’ve kind of earned it.) But when it comes to items on “The List,” as I’ll call it (because “The List” sounds much more sinister and scary and way more important than it probably is), I’m not willing to compromise. Not only that, but I’m not even willing to consider. I’ve never been a black and white kind of chick (I’m rather gray and murky myself), but when it comes to my cardinal lit sin, that’s where I stand.

I could quote Tom Petty here and offer up a line of “I Won’t Back Down,” but that’s cliché. Or I could offer you the age-old saying that reads, “If you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.” But then that might make me sound a little melodramatic, and sounding melodramatic is not optimal when you’re trying to make a point.

So instead, I took the high road (obviously) and employed the method of articulately bitching on Twitter (I was laughing as I typed that, in case some of you don’t understand sarcasm). Here’s what I said:


Plenty of writers jumped into the conversation (see the Storify below). A general consensus? Nepotism is bad. Journals and magazines publishing work from the members of their editorial boards is bad.

Of course, there were a few exceptions.

1.)   Consider the way that the magazine or website is set up. Many literary magazines and/or websites have grown into their own communities, much like HTMLGiant, PANK, The Rumpus and Specter, even. These places have developed a diverse reader and have real appeal because they subscribe to a few key ideas. They believe in having a stable of writers who contribute regularly, the editors solicit work from awesome and/or relevant people, and they accept pitches or general submissions. I believe this is the trifecta of awesomeness (and it really is awesome, because these elements seem to add up to some magic formula that can turn air into gold in an impossible feat of alchemy), because these magazines/websites/journals have taken what we think of as a “literary community” to a whole new level.

2.)   You were published in the journal/magazine/website before you joined the editorial staff. This happens frequently, and it’s pretty cool. I am a fan (it’s happened to me). It makes sense, too. (This point was brought up by the lovely Aubrey Hirsch.)

But then there is the point where there are not or shouldn’t be exceptions. If your name is on the masthead of a journal that has been known to publish reputable work, stay classy – publish it elsewhere. There are thousands of avenues for your work, and if you believe in the integrity of the one you’re working for, you shouldn’t want to dilute it. Editors, you should know better. Students, staffers, and alumni, so should you.

And before you all jump on how insignificant my ideas and/or opinions about this are, and how I “don’t know anything” or am just plain crazy, know that pretty much 80% of the literary world would agree (okay, to be fair, the statistics were a rough estimation of my own).

My writer friends Colin Rafferty, Elizabeth Wade and Brian Oliu seconded this via Twitter, offering the example of the University of Alabama’s Black Warrior Review. As Elizabeth said, “We knew we couldn’t be up for BWR, since we’d been in/around the program at UA.” A lot of programs and their corresponding journals have policies in place to address these issues – which seems to me like a good idea. I can honestly say that when the masthead and list of published authors begin to look a little too similar – or, say, when it happens more than once – I get a really icky, icky feeling. Followed by boiling rage (in case you hadn’t noticed). It feels incestuous and, well, wrong.

And now, to reinforce my point, I’ll leave you with a video of Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down.” You’re welcome.