My Future Shock Hell! (Chapter 2 of 4)

How to survive the submissions process (whether that's comics, novels, shorts, or screenplays) by rejection-proofing your soul

Art by Rob Davis

In Chapter One of My Future Shock Hell! I revealed how the legendary British sci-fi anthology 2000 AD became my first port of call when I decided that I wanted to ‘break in’ to comics.

READ: My Future Shock Hell! (Chapter 1 of 4) How I broke into comics and why there's no such thing

Almost twenty years on and still making cold submissions or pitches to various other outlets in various other media, I’ve realised that my experience of submitting those first Future Shocks has taught me how to cope with submitting just about anything.

The truth is, cold submissions never get easier; you just get better at coping with them.

Whether you’re submitting poetry or a short story to a literary magazine, a novel or screenplay to a prospective agent, or planning on writing a pitch for a Future Shock ready to throw at the next 2000 AD Talent Search, it’s always a good idea to do a little recon.

Get the lay of the land, figure out what you’re up against, and - for the love of Zeus - READ THE SUBMISSION GUIDELINES!

Before I started submitting my first Future Shocks, I examined exactly why they are so notoriously tough to write. Here are my findings.

1. You’re trying to surprise the reader with a final-page twist that they know is coming the second they see the title ‘Future Shocks’. Regular readers know these things contain twists and will have rounded up a list of possible punchlines by the time they've reached the bottom of the first page. “I'll bet this main character's a ghost, or they’ll have been on Earth all along, or they’re the killer they’re searching for, or...”

2. You’ve got only four pages in which to build a sense of character or consequence, so the reader actually cares about what you’re writing.

3. It’s hard to avoid what’s been done before. Never mind what Future Shocks have been coming up with since they first appeared in 1977, short-form sting-in-the-tail sci-fi stories have been doing their thing since at least the 1890s, when H.G. Wells was writing War Of The Worlds. Over a century later, even the most seemingly original ideas have likely been done to death.

4. Competition is fierce. Back in 2014, I asked Tharg himself, 2000 AD’s almighty alien editor, how many Future Shock submissions does the Nerve Centre receive? I was told approximately two a day. That’s 10 a week, around 40 a month and almost 500 a year. And how many Future Shocks actually got published the previous year? Seven.

So what’s your best chance of getting anything accepted amid a scrum like that? Like I said, I can’t say for certain, but here’s what happened with me. I started submitting Future Shocks in January 2007. At the time I’d had a lot of film journalism published, but had no creative credits. I’d written plenty of short stories but had nothing published outside the indie press. Once I’d decided to target 2000 AD, I submitted relentlessly and got rejected half as much again. So the first thing I learned about writing Future Shocks was…

WRITE PLENTY OF SCRIPTS!

When you’re submitting anything to anyone for the first time you’re submitting ‘cold’. You’re submitting ‘on spec’. The editor, agent or producer is under no obligation whatsoever to accept what you’ve been sweating over. My cold submission Future Shocks, therefore, quickly become a war of attrition in which scripts became my ammunition. We’re talking World War Z tactics here, whereby you get over that castle wall by clambering up a pile of dead scripts, each one better than the last. Which leads me onto the next thing I learned…

REJECTION IS A CERTAINTY!

After getting hit by several of these horrible little form letters, you’re going to feel as though you’ve been feeding all your hard work into a shredder. I coped by telling myself…

WRITE LIKE YOU’VE ALREADY BEEN REJECTED!

So here’s some good news: All you need to care about is your writing. You can’t control what happens once you’ve emailed your pitch or your script. You can’t control whether it gets accepted or rejected. With my Future Shocks, I had no control over which artist might work on it. I had no control over whether the readers would love it, hate it or dismiss it as ‘filler’. Hell, I couldn’t even guarantee Royal Mail could get my submission as far as Oxford! (This was back in the day before anyone could trust email submissions.)

So don’t distract yourself by worrying about the possibilities. Focus on the project and your writing. Don’t worry about failing or succeeding. Keep a clear head. This allows you to bring all your experience and ability to bear, and this will help you write as well as you possibly can.

THE NEED TO WIN

When an archer is shooting for nothing

He has all his skill.

If he shoots for a brass buckle

He is already nervous.

If he shoots for a prize of gold

He goes blind

Or sees two targets –

He is out of his mind!

His skill has not changed. But the prize

Divides him. He cares.

He thinks more of winning

Than of shooting –

And the need to win

Drains him of power.

The Way of Chuang Tzu, translated by Thomas Merton

While struggling to maintain this enlightened state, I knuckled down until I had a stack of scripts on file - around six or seven. So, as soon as that rejection arrived I could fire off a replacement straight away. Of course, if the editor had included any feedback with that rejection (e.g. “there are too many panels on the page”, or “you need to dramatize the story rather than just narrate it”) then I’d review the script I was about to send out, just to make sure I wasn’t making that same mistake twice.

IMPLEMENT ANY EDITORIAL FEEDBACK!

This went on for about three years, in between other writing jobs, including film journalism and subediting, until I got to a stage where Tharg let me pitch ideas straight to him instead of having to write the entire script. By now I’d been regularly writing film and comic-related reviews, articles and interviews for 2000 AD’s monthly sister-publication the Judge Dredd Megazine. It's perhaps safe to assume that the fact my copy always met the brief, the word count, and the deadline, went some way towards convincing Tharg that I was a safe pair of hands.

Soon after, I ventured a pitch for my first original series (Age of the Wolf), which got accepted, after which I was ‘in’.

Art by Jon Davis-Hunt

However, ‘in’ means whatever you want it to mean.

No one gives you a certificate. Tharg didn't invite me to the Nerve Centre and dub me a script-droid.

But I did learn two fundamental principles that have since helped me approach any creative market for the first time, and which I’m more than happy to impart…

Until then, stay weird.

READ: My Future Shock Hell! (Chapter 1 of 4) How I broke into comics and why there's no such thing

READ: My Future Shock Hell! (Chapter 3 of 4) Why on Earth would you want to write comic books?

READ: My Future Shock Hell! Chapter 4 Why your best shot is all that will ever matter