Over the years, I've read a lot of essays, blogs, and articles about how to write, how to submit, and how to get published in one venue or another. I've occasionally had thoughts about writing something similar for ChiZine. With all of my years of experience reading and editing fiction for the magazine, I figure I might have something useful to say on the matter. Alas, I've never been able to find the time to put something like that together.

Until now.

I will now reveal the whole and total god's honest truth of how to get published in ChiZine: a market so tough to crack that we reject 99.5% of all fiction that comes in. I will draw back the curtain and expose the grey-haired gentleman who pulls the levers and pushes the buttons that make the gears of the Chiaroscuro turn, then tell you what his favourite flavour of ice cream is.

The secret of getting published in ChiZine is:

Nothing.

There is no secret. There is no magic elixir to drink nor incantation to invoke to get yourself published in ChiZine.

We do have submission guidelines, of course. We ask for stories that are dark, and well-written. Simple enough, right?

But what do we mean when we say that? Like all art, its meaning is nebulous. It changes from issue to issue. There are no set parameters. No blueprints to follow. No commandments to adhere to. It is, at its essence, a gut feeling that comes over you as you read a submission. A prickling up the back of your neck that has you saying, “Yes! This is a ChiZine story.”

Remember that ChiZine is an abbreviation of the magazine's full name: Chiaroscuro Magazine. Chiaroscuro is the treatment of light and shade in art. Chiaroscuro Magazine is a study of the treatment of light in shade in words.

A Chiaroscuro story finds the beauty in the vulgar. It speaks of dark things in beautiful ways. It takes a moment to notice the fireflies merrily dancing within the savage wood. It is a harbinger of the apocalypse who sings of your death with such a lilting voice that you find yourself overcome with joy in the final moments of agonizing death. It is a beacon of hope—sometimes futile, sometimes not—shining through the darkness.

A Chiaroscuro story is focused and taut. Pluck it, and every last syllable vibrates in harmony, echoing the author's every intent.

A Chiaroscuro story explores the dark passages in the mind, the heart, the soul. We go places others are afraid to. We go in bravely, holding our heads high. We shine a light on the darkest bits, saying, “Look here. See? Yes, it's frightening. But isn't it also beautiful?”

That is what we mean when we say:

Dark. Well-written.

At least that's what we mean here, in this issue. The meaning will subtly change again come October. Then again in the new year. It's part of what makes ChiZine such a great magazine to work for—and an even greater magazine to read.

So, please, enjoy this issue. It was a joy putting together the fiction contained herein. I hope you find as much enjoyment in reading it.

And if you take nothing else from this rambling diatribe, then please remember this:

Words are important. Words are sacred. Use them sparingly. Choose them well.

From the Desk of the MFE,

Gord