New Yorker

There's been a lot of controversy this week about the balance of male to female writers. Women appear to be tragically underrepresented by the literary magazine, and some subscribers are returning their editions and requesting refunds or extensions until a more equitable mix is found.



I've never considered myself a New Yorker caliber writer, but last night, over a bowl of mussels and after a vodka and cranberry, I decided I would give it a shot. I thought maybe they'd be in the market for female writers once they see the error of their ways.



I started on the story today. I'm not sure exactly where it will end up, but I think I have a fairly good concept that will fit in with the fiction of the magazine I've read in the past.



My chances are not good. At Duotrope, out of 201 submissions, 0.5 percent have been accepted, so roughly one. I don't see that as awful. Maybe I'll write two hundred stories. They've have to take one of the eventually, or at least the odds would have me believe.