Slaying the Slush Pile: Part 1 - The Belly of the Beast

Every aspiring writer that has ever thought about getting published has heard of the dreaded Slush Pile. It’s the dark place agents toss the manuscripts of unpublished writers. Those writers send their babies (the projects they’ve put so much time, love, and tears into) to agents in hopes of finding them a home. The unpublished know the odds are slim, but they also know that agents and publishers are the only hope of giving their little bundles of print a better life than they ever could on their own. And so the manuscripts keep coming. Day after day. Year after year. And the pile grows.
Some say the Slush Pile is a bottomless pit—a place where ceremonial biblio-sacrifice ceremonies are conducted by the high priests of publishing. Some say it’s a foul creature that swallows manuscripts whole. Other say it’s only a legend—a boogeyman conjured by the publishing industry to haunt the nightmares of aspiring authors.
In my quest for truth, I recently discovered an ancient text dated August of 1978. It was written by one of the few who saw ‘Slush’ and lived to tell the tale. The following is an excerpt from this chilling account:
“…I was forced to deliver my precious work in person as I hadn’t the money for postage. The receptionist at the agency leered at me as I approached. Her look told me she already knew why I was there. She glanced at the parcel I cradled lovingly in my hands and pointed me down a dark hallway with a sneer. I nodded meekly and did as I was bid.
The passage grew dark as I traveled on. I sensed the floor sloping increasingly downward. The air grew cold and foreboding, but I didn’t stop. Then, after what seemed an eternity, I found it. I knew this was the place. The inscription above the door read, “Abandon hope, ye who enter here.” Savage sounds echoed from somewhere beyond the portal. I almost turned back, but looked down at my bundle and forged boldly on, full of a parent’s pride.

I entered the creature’s lair, manuscript in hand, jumping at every echo. Then I saw it. Slush. It was a vile, enormous beast. It roared mightily, exposing a massive maw filled with bits of parchment and ink stained fangs. Its foul breath smelled of old paper and broken dreams.
The fiend held out a claw, its greedy eyes focused on my poor little bundle of papers. I back away. It followed, then snatched the manuscript from my trembling hands and sniffed it. I thought, ‘Maybe it will like my book.’ I watched ol’ Slush with expectant eyes as it contemplated my work.
A light appeared beyond the beast. It came from the other side of the dank place. A door had opened. Opened to a place so wondrous, I haven’t words to describe it. It shone so brightly I was blinded to the prospect of failure. Its rays welcomed me. They held such promise that I knew mine would be the one book in a thousand that got to the other side. I knew I was about to gain passage into the legendary land of the published.
The sound of gruel laughter broke the spell as the door slammed shut. I looked back to Slush and recoiled in horror as he gobbled my manuscript in a single bite.
And then it was gone. Years of work, hopes of seeing my book on the store shelf, dreams of quitting my day job…Gone. All gone.
And Slush laughed again…”
The fragile parchment ends there. The fate of the poor soul who wrote it is a mystery.
But don’t lose heart, brave authors. Slush’s power is no longer absolute. Thanks to Amazon.com, Smashwords, and other e-book distributors, this abomination no longer stands between us and publication…or does it?
To be continued.
Have you ever done battle with ol' Slush? How did it turn out?

I’d love to hear your stories.