A Kvetch
We have now officially opened the twelfth year of Literally Stories UK. And as it goes in life we have faced a recent challenge after we were listed (unbeknownst to us) by one of those publications that do such things. I do not know why such services still exist in the era of Google, nor do I grasp why people rely on such services, but the situation exists.
Now, it may seem strange to read an Editor complaining about publicity. I am all for the site, but this situation has caused only a tremendous increase in submissions while the reader amount remains relatively unchanged. Since I joined the staff about five years ago, the rejection rate hovers around 90%. All time it is about 80%, but that includes an era in which standards were not lower, but let’s just say they were more generous, lest the risk of an empty space.
Regardless, we do encourage submissions but I, personally, do get a bit fatigued by the relentless push obvious in some attitudes. For me they want to get rich and do not give a fuck at a rolling donut about the art itself or of becoming in some small way a part of something larger than themselves. This is evident in the many naked attempts at “merchandise writing” and limited ideas that are mostly “tell” because the person discovered that “show” is hard to do well.
I am not saying that all submitters or most are soulless evil doers, but the percentage is enough to be noticed. And the huge increase of contacts as compared to the number of actual views supports the story.
And, sad to say, it is clear that some of the rogue submissions are heavily assisted by AI. No fooled publisher is at fault when anything like that creeps in, but the “writer” of such is a thief and a liar. I, Leila Allison, a human being, make that statement without reservation. And I bet they smell funny too.
But, as Sonny and Cher and one tree on a 1998 ski slope once said, the beat goes on. And here’s hoping that something great rises from a possibly ugsome trend.
Into the Breach, Breech or Breeches
The month of November is nearly over and the annual retail goosestep toward Christmas has achieved full speed. I find this to be the ugsome-most time of the year (ugsome is my word of the year) because my highly unwanted birthday arrives just after the end of the march and is applied like a cherry on top of a shit sundae (I hope Diane, another holiday birthday victim, notices “atop” failed to show its grimy face).
I believe that the concept of Christmas has taken the most damage since my mind flickered into “for keeps” mode sometime just before the Beatles arrived in the USA. My brother and I never believed in Santa; for that I thank my parents, who probably figured that life is tough enough without having to process and evict a needless lie (we have two half-siblings we’ve never met–I hope they got the same treatment). My Dad’s friend, Al Stotenberg, a very nice man, used to dress up as Santa, but he let us know that it was a disguise. Since Al was never seen without a bottle of Heidelberg in his hand when off the clock, we already knew.
We were painfully aware of the “Jesus thing” but our parents didn’t say much about it. Our father served in the Korean War, was wounded and saw people getting killed (apparently he was responsible for some of that action) and was an atheist because of it and had no patience for “Christers” (I was told he saw a group of Jehovahs coming up the walk once and answered the door holding his shotgun like a cane; probably a story, but I can see him doing that). Mom was unclear about matters of actual faith; she was an orphan ward of the Catholic church from her first month until she was about fifteen and was known to refer to nuns as “Evil Cunts of Jesus” and priests as their “boyfriends.” Not to us, but her voice did rise when she got into her second Canadian mist and RC cola, while talking on the phone with friends. Therefore we never attended church nor Sunday School and I, personally, do not feel cheated. And although I decided to read the Bible later on, and approve of the teachings of Christ, as a human being, not a ghost or whatever he was, too many violent people have gotten in the way of things.
Still, we did celebrate the hell out of Christmas because it was a party season. I loved the colors when the lights were dimmed and there were presents, advent calendars, candy and lots of days off from school. This was due to Mom because it was always the same no matter who she was married to that year (none of the other five were religious, either). But like most good things it wore off. Then there we’d be, me and Jack on a dreary January the third day morning, my birthday depressed as kids can get waiting for the bus to go to school. Yes, 3 January, the crappiest of birthdays.
But this year I am willing myself to take a kinder attitude to the season, although I cannot extend the same courtesy to my birthday. But instead of joining the mindless march I will endeavor to exalt the works of persons who know how to write well. And in the first act of my reclamation I present the six writers (actually eight, when you consider Sunday) who have improved the world to some small but welcomed extent.
Yes, aside from the Barbarians at the gates, we enjoyed another remarkable Week That Was at LS. On Sunday the married team of Bruce and Ju Chan Fulton again brought us a translation of a work of a Korean writer, Kim Yujǒng (1908-1937), the author of Jade Bunny, another fine talent claimed by tuberculosis. It is commendable that two modern persons are willing to go to such effort to bring back the work of a writer who lived a short life but had left a mark on literature.
Monday brought us The Finger by Joy Oden. In most parts of the world receiving “the finger” on a Monday morning is a far from friendly thing to see. But here, Joy creates a wonderful set of images that are beautifully constructed and hard to forget.
Downstream by Sean Cannon is a rippingly good thing. The terror builds and crosses time. The descriptions are wonderful and you find yourself agreeing that maybe it is time to leave at the end.
On Wednesday a good sharp turn in the real world was had. Get Yourself a Hotplate, Pal by Daniel Crépault artfully shows what can happen to almost anyone of us, soon, after only a handful of things go wrong.
I think “Site Legend” is something we should begin to call David Henson. Again he displays imagination, wry humour, satire and a degree of sadness with his latest Deadheads. David is also a generous reader and comments on every post we send up. I do hope that he rates the same in return.
We closed another fine week, as we marched–headed into December. Seeing Jerry by Susan R. Weinstein covers familiar ground in a highly original way. We see lots of illness, family problems and the passage of time in submissions, but rarely do writers get it right, as Susan has here.
And there we go, let’s hear if for everyone involved and we do hope that you feel as good about this week’s group as we do inside the castle walls.
And Now For the Finish: Ten Songs I Cannot Hear Anymore.
This strange list is composed of songs I like, hate and have never felt anything about. These are those songs that had a (seemingly) predetermined amount of plays that my mind could accept then not hear anymore. Whenever these songs come on my mind blanks them out and it is as though nothing played. It is a strange phenomenon and I wonder if it occurs for others. If so, please leave your “empty tune” at the end of the list. The year in parenthesis is the year I began unhearing the tune.
- Stairway to Heaven, Led Zep (1977)
- Knights in White Satin, Moody Blues (1979)
- Hey Jude (1976), (a few sha na nas too many.)
- More Than a Feeling, Boston (1980)
- Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen (1978) (My favorite group from high school on, but that song was never my favorite. Still can hear older stuff like “Killer Queen” but not this one.)
- Theme song to Cheers (1982)
- Feels Like the First Time, Foreigner (1980ish) (a hated song I associate with vomiting beer after a kegger.)
- Wake Me Up When You Go Go, Wham (1985) (this one was deleted out of my instinct of self survival.)
- Happy Birthday (uncertain, 1990, maybe) Only when “Leila” is the third word
- Yours
The recent death of Ian Lees of Moving Pictures reminded me of a song from the opposite end of the spectrum memory-wise
Leila
literally stories 
Hiya,
It’s very disappointing to read that you’re getting flooded with AI submissions. I read that there are tools used by universities to screen student assessments for AI, but I imagine that those programmes aren’t freebies. I’ve always marvelled at the speed with which the three of you respond to submissions, so personally I’d hate you to feel pressure now to keep up the same speed of response. Is it too naive to hope that the flood is temporary and lack of acceptances may lead to the flood receding?
The ‘Empty Tune’ list made me smile, especially the theme tune to ‘Cheers’. I was tempted to suggest the theme tune to ‘Frazier’, but instead I’m going for Barry McGuire’s ‘The Eve of Destruction’
vbw mick
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Hi Mick
We get onslaughts every so often, usually the same causes. This one has peaked and the village is again safe.
Thank you for your encouraging words. Yes, that Eve song is brilliant but I too have had my fill (especially since the lyrics are just as relevant, chaneless in sixty years). Another I failed to mention is “Layla”–not for personal reasons but because 900 times has been plenty.
Take care,
Leila
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Leila
Perhaps the best revenge for all the thoughtless souls who think they’ll get rich quick by creating the next best-seller is the hard fact that it ain’t gonna happen. DO they know that Tolkien worked on the Lord of the Rings for almost fifteen years before even trying to publish? And that then he almost didn’t find a publisher? No, unlikely they do know it, because they haven’t done their homework. Writing (and poetry) are, by far, the most universal and longest-lasting art/s but they are also the hardest to do for the same reason. People should write because they like (or love) writing. Having other goals can be a good thing but should never be the main thing. The exceptions are so rare it’s ALMOST like they don’t even exist.
Using AI to try and turn yourself into the next John Grisham is even more pathetic!!!!!!! (worth at least seven).
Thanks for this memoir about holiday memories. And for dealing with all the useless submissions still hell-bent on finding the good ones. The artistic integrity of yourself, Diane, and Hugh is the key feature making Literally so unusual and therefore valuable.
Dale
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Hello Dale
I honestly believe if something is meant to be it will. That is not a cover for laziness, but a good reason to do what you feel is best, and if something more comes from it, well, great.
I cannot imagine Shakespeare even dreaming about the legacy he left. Such things, as we see them for playwrights and novelists didn’t even exist in his time, but I also believe that he had to know he was pretty damn good, which I hope gave him happiness and satisfaction.
Leila
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First, thanks for the kind words, Leila. Deserved or not, they make my day.
A song I never want to hear is Stayin’ Alive, especially if being hummed by someone doing chest compressions on me. I think that tree on the slope also said the beat stops here. Hmmm…this comment has turned a bit gruesome. Maybe the foot of snow in our forecast has something to do with that!
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Hi David
Somehow my Rock and Roll High School mind has been able to rub out everyhting from the Disco era except that dreadful Rod Stewart tune.
You are a Site Legend, like Tom and Mr. Foote.
Sorry about the ugsome weather forecast
Leila
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Hi Leila,
Oooo! May I please aspire to becoming a soulless evil doers? Are there online classes?
Congrats to everyone on 11 years. That’s amazing! W00T!
My song is “Hallelujah,” any version, not because I hate it, but because I have a musician friend who goes third-degree-apeshit when I play it within range of his hearing. Great fun!
Very Best Regards,
Marco
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Hi Marco
Thank you.
I should point out that any being with an IQ beginning at slightly higher than the pack (and on up to the highest) is most likely a soulless evildoer, and that sensing that particular darkness within is not a bad thing.
Ah, the Cohen classic. I can still hear it but it is getting covered way too much, soon there will be an Alvin and the Chipmunks version, if not already.
Thanks again, all the best to you, Liam and whoever else has your DNA
Leila
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Hi Leila
I enjoyed the behind the scenes of LS. This publicity mechanism sounds slightly devious. Increasing submissions but the readership staying even does seem strange.
“Writers” that use AI scheming to “bank” must be annoying from an editors perspective. They are shits for sure. lol.
It’s so true… “tell” is easier than “show.” Chekhov wanted to see the moon reflected on the shards of glass, instead of the moon’s bright. Every sentence or at least a paragraph should say, “Show don’t tell.”
‘the annual retail goose step toward Christmas has achieved full speed. ” Great line! Heart attacks and relapse are on the horizon. It’s a little too much. The more products made only makes the landfill get bigger. Micro Plastics are in our bloodstream.
I remember one blurry Christmas riding around drunk with my friends. Our swerving carload greeted by the slanting snow and the empty streets, looking for an open liquor store. That one stays with me for some reason.
Christopher
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Hi Christopher
Indeed, every word should tell. I once read that Chekhov wanted a witty person in a tale and waited until he had the right wit for the character. That is the dedication that separates writers from the herd.
I have been on similar Christmas joy rides. Usually unplanned stuff is the best.
Thanks again
Leila
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I break all of the writing rules to the extent that I know them. Telling is quicker than showing, and I like short. The Bible is popular and has a lot of telling.
No problem with ignoring disliked songs since I got itunes. I just play 5s. No more radio so I can live in the 50’s and 60’s when music was OK.
My rating for publishers is easy.
Good ones publish me.
They have art
They have a comments section.
My Duotrope is ordered by Status. Now and again I go down past acceptances, never responded, and pending to get to the many rejections. That lets me glory in the number of rejecting publishers that are out of business. Besides telling not showing, I’m bad in so many ways.
Have a great winter, get some egg or other nog, keep on mocking in the freak world, mm from Sunset City / God’s Waiting Room
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Hello Mr Mirth
Some tell is needed, but lazy tell like “he was a wit” (or twit) without example glares.
No rules in making stuff up, but the crappy things are almost always the same. They have a smell.
No over-heard songs? You can endlessly listen to something like “Short Shorts” by the Royal Teens and still hear it?
You continue to amaze and have earned an “!”
Leila
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Who likes short shorts? We like short shorts. Ba bumma bum bumma bum.
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Hi Leila,
Maybe we should have a list of ‘Don’t do’ in the guidelines but to be honest, the ‘Do do’ is ignored more times than not so what would be the point.
I’ve noticed something about Christmas. The more I hate it, the quicker that it comes round. Why does society expect us to be all jolly, put on a stupid jumper and reflect? Reflecting is what would make you not so jolly, burn the jumper and sleep until after the 1st January!
Regarding the ignored song, I’d say there are two that I shut off to:
‘Uptown Girl’ by Billy Joel and ‘Five hundred Miles’ by ‘The Proclaimers’
Excellent as always!
Hugh
‘
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Good day, Hugh
Maybe a “reverse psychology” guideline page is in order. So many folks are determined to do the opposite as asked, I think it could work.
Oh I hated “Uptown Girl.” I recall the video and felt sorry for Christie because it was painfully clear she could not dance. The “twins” are truly blank-out performers.
Thank you as always!
Leila
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hello. First of all thank you for kicking that slimy little non-word into touch. Wee beastie is ubiquitous. Even after my countless turns around our big star I keep hoping for a wonderful Christmas. We have had many but apart from when we had small children the best ones were mostly in the Middle East. There is an extra buzz when you have to whisper carols in darkened rooms for fear of the thought police. I think the best ones were in Jordan for many reasons. That blithering Titanic tune is my choice of song but I think I blank it deliberately. Also I just called to say I love You. My brain won’t give that room anymore. Great post. Thank you. dd
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Hello Diane
Oh yes, let people sing what they feel. Inclusion means everyone after all.
Christ, I hated that Titanic so song that it actually prevented me from seeing the film. I have seen bits and pieces of it on TV over the years, but I much prefer the English film from the 50’s (A Night to Remember (?))
There are wonderful things about Christmas, but the grubby money people are at their worst during the season.
Thank you as always–and may a star shine on top of your tree
Leila
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All –
Inferior minds (such as mine) can disagree. I will stick to my ignorance about good writing partly because it has worked to write like a mathematician, a niche which I don’t need to share with many. The slings and arrows from those that want writer writing don’t bother me.
Mr. Mirthless from Sunset City
Hope all have a good remainder of 2025 and thrive in whatever comes next
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Leila,
“The First Noel.” Or “Holly, Jolly Christmas”
No, all Christmas songs.
No. all songs of any kind.
No, nothing, whether sang or unsung, can be tolerated.
Me, intolerable.
I hope to sleep through December. Goodnight, everyone. — gerry
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Hi Gerry
Ah yes, the annual assault of “Chipmunks roasting on an open fire.” Every goddam store has its own Xmas reel from hell. I was an employee at such places for years and developed a special hate for all middle of the road non religious Xmas tunes.
I am with you on wishing one and all an “expidient” Christmas since merry has been off the table for a long auld lang syne.
Thank you!
Leila
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I must not have gotten to this in a timely manner. Can anyone find a worse song than Dan Hill’s “Sometimes When We Touch” the honesty’s too much. It was ubiquitous in 1977 when I still listened to radio. Two or three minutes of pure cringe. Bad enough for me to blame his country (Canada).
Have not gotten it published except at a very easy publication, but I have a very nonsentimental true story of an unpleasant Christmas story including thousands of miles of white knuckle driving in the snow and ice “Unmerry”.
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Hi Doug
Although my list has less than loved tunes on it, the thing is mainly about songs that the pattern on my mind will no longer listen to due to over exposure, good or bad.
But you are dead on about that song, 1978 I think, when Manilow clones came out of the wood work.
Unmerry, I think I have seen that or in an earlier reference.
Thanks again
Leila
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Great week of stories.
The lack of integrity when submitting, and the subsequent lack of care or interest, genuinely staggers me. As you say, it’s easy enough to detect AI, but more than anything what possible fulfilment does an individual get when using it? It baffles me.
As for Christmas I too love it, but my worship is for the food, drink, and guaranteed packs of new socks and Jesus has nothing to do with it!
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Hello Paul
Yes, I know many fellows who depend on Christmas for their yearly supply of neck ties, socks and aftershave lotion.
Take care and thanks for dropping by
Leila
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Sorry to hear about the AI submissions, I have heard this is becoming quite common to writing magazines and can slow the process down considerably, I can bet it’s frustrating. As time goes on maybe no one will be able to tell the difference, and that’s downright scary! A song that I do not like to hear is “Puppy Love” by Donny Osmond, and that song by Foreigner I shall not mention. Yes, and Doug’s right… Dan Hill, “Sometimes When We Touch.” The honesty’s too much, all right.
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Hello Harrison
Your mention of Donny O reminded me of seeing Marie on TV recently. She has made the conversion from wholesome Mormon girl to Plastic Daytime Talk Show guest over the last half century. People are free to do whatever, but I’d be afraid that my nose might break off or be the target of other such unnatural calamities.
Thank you
Leila
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