A Short Story About Short Stories

By Jonathan R. Rose

Starting Out

In 2015, my first novel, Carrion, was published by Montag Press. After that, wanting to maintain momentum in my writing career, I turned my attention to short stories. From 2016-2019, I wrote dozens of short stories and had nine of them published. One of those stories was A Night Out, which nine years later saw a revival in interest after I republished it on my Substack page.

Prior to the publication of my first short story, A Crying Dog, I researched all of the literary journals in Canada and the United States. There were dozens, many of which still operate today. Some examples include One Story, The Three Penny Review, Word Riot, Granta, Puritan (now Ex-Puritan), and many more. 

Rejected

I was excited at the abundance of options, naively thinking that the odds were good that I could get some of my stories published. But as the rejections piled up, that enthusiasm started waning.

Receiving rejections is part of being an author– a big part – and if you can’t handle that then it’s probably best to find a new passion. However, it wasn’t the rejections that bothered me, but the growing practice of having to pay to submit my stories. 

A New Industry Standard

Initially, it was just a few journals that charged $3USD per submission. But that number swiftly increased until it became normalized. That amount of money might not seem like much. But when you are submitting a short story to twenty journals per month, every two months, that can cost between $60USD per month, and $360USD per year. That’s a lot of money for an aspiring writer just trying to get their work out. 

This charge was justified by most of the journals as a means of covering their administrative costs, along with the payment to the authors whose stories they chose to publish. However, when considering how much administrative costs are really needed for an entirely online literary journal, how modest writer payments were (usually around $50USD), how few stories were actually being published, and how all of the journals proudly declared in their submission pages that they received hundreds of submissions a week, I couldn’t help questioning the accounting.

Moreover, despite paying to submit, there was rarely any feedback in the rejections. Instead, I just received a basic form email telling me the story wasn’t for them. In time, even those form emails started disappearing. One would think that sending a form email rejection, which allows a writer to then submit to another journal – since many journals demanded an exclusive window of consideration time – would be covered in the freshly funded administrative costs. 

Masters of Fine Arts Gatekeepers

I read many of the stories these journals published, and I didn’t like most of them. That doesn’t mean they weren’t good, but I found the style too academic for my taste. This wasn’t a surprise, since the majority of those journals were based in universities, while many of those stories were typically written by MFA students.

As I continued my mission to get stories published, it was becoming obvious that most journals operated on a “by MFA for MFA” basis. Where did that leave writers like me? Autodidactic writers who focused on clear prose and relatable stories that while often challenging in theme, were always accessible in style. I strived then, and still strive today, to write stories that my mom, who only graduated high school, could fully understand, while never dumbing down the narratives I created. 

I grew frustrated and resentful. I was being charged for the “privilege” of submitting stories to these journals. And it was clear that despite promoting themselves as being welcoming to emerging writers, the majority of journals were not interested in publishing work from writers who didn’t fit the mould of what they believed a real writer should be. 

Community Based Alternatives

Fortunately, I was able to find local options that didn’t charge to submit, didn’t pay writers for their stories, and yet still managed to operate for years. One of these journals, The Spadina Literary Review (which ceased operations for a few years after 2019, but was recently revived in 2025), ended up publishing 8 of my stories. However, the journal, run at the time by Ian Allaby, also rejected at least twice that amount (while often providing helpful feedback with each rejection). 

Far from discouraging, I thought that was a great thing because it let me know that when my stories were chosen for publication it was because they were genuinely considered good enough. That validation (along with the exposure of publication), especially for a new writer, was all the compensation I needed at the time. Another local journal that didn’t charge for submission or pay for publication, The Danforth Review, also published one of my stories in 2018, but sadly ceased operations not long after. 

After 2019, I stopped writing and submitting short stories for a few reasons. First, I focused more of my attention on writing more books, several of which have since been published. And second, many journals’ submission fees got even higher, while the stories they chose to publish got even more academic.

I will always be grateful to The Spadina Literary Review for their support, and the genuine accessibility they demonstrated (and I hope they still demonstrate in their revival). It meant a lot to me, and I’m guessing it meant a lot to many other writers during that time.

A New Life for Stories

At the beginning of 2026, I republished all of those aforementioned published short stories, along with several of those that weren’t chosen to be published, in a new – free to subscribe – Substack that I call The Conversation Club. I couldn’t be happier with the interest and feedback I’ve been receiving for many of those stories, most of which I thought would never see the light of day.

I chose not to charge subscribers out of respect for those few local journals that prioritized getting good stories out there for people to read. And I chose the name because I enjoy writing stories that spark dialogue from people of every walk of life, not just those attending over-priced institutions of learning.