I only pass along submissions from Scorpios. And don't bother telling me your birthday in your cover letter. I can tell whether or not you're a Scorpio from your damn manuscript.

I am pleased to discover that I have no friends. Yes, it is true. In the quaintly tortured terms of this particular Internet backwater, I have yet to be "friended." As if I really want someone to turn what is properly a noun (kicking and screaming, no doubt) against me in the form of a transitive verb.

But it's fine with me that no one is reading this. You wouldn't pay any attention to me anyway, even if you were. Not that I've written much to speak of -- which is, by the way, one characteristic in which I wish you sniveling scriveners would emulate me. Do you realize I have to sort through hundreds of piles of your arse-wipings every month? My editor should by rights issue me rubber gloves before sending me in to deal with your refuse. Please cut down on the volume! It's like you ate Multi-Grain Chex, Milk of Magnesia, and a thesaurus for breakfast.

Which brings me to my first real piece of advice: what kinds of stories I want to see. None, preferably, but if you must send me something, for God's sake stop sending me shit that's never been done before.

What do you think -- people actually want to read shit that's never been done before? What insane planet are you living on? People want to read what's familiar. Save the innovative crap for the flyspecked journals those sweaty-palmed freaks with nothing better to do than argue about how many monkeys it would take to make angels dance on a pinhead slap together under some fancy moniker because they and their friends can't write anything real readers give two figs for. "Slipstream"? Sounds like you farted and got more than you bargained for. "Interstitial"? Stuff that lodges in the cracks? When I used to get that in high school, it was called a wedgie, and I didn't like it any better then than I do now.

So let me say it again: we don't want stuff that's never been done before. And stick this corollary in your pipe and smoke it:

There ain't nothing that's never been done before.

When you figure that one out, write me back.

Hello. I am your Slushkeeper. I work for a Publication in the pages of which you may yearn to see your own Byline and deathless Prose. Bow down before me, Sniveling Scriveners, for if you wish to enter this Hallowed Kingdom, you must first pass the Gate I tend!

I'm not inclined to let you through.

But if you are to foil my defenses and enter this Demesne, to storm the very Ramparts of Littature, you must be Prepared and Armed with the proper foreknowledge. Be warned -- I am ancient, crafty, wily and sly. Better writers than you have perished without my Gate.

I will give you clues, foolish Scribbler, as to how to slip my Breeches and enter my Nether Realms. But know this -- you will misunderstand them all, and you will misunderstand to your Soul's red Peril.

Don't go complaining to the Whirled White Web that you Weren't Warned.

Are you the Storymaster? Are you, Punk? Then piss off!