If you've been looking for a place to share your queer creative voice, checking out foglifter submissions should be at the top of your to-do list. There's something special about finding a journal that doesn't just "accept" LGBTQ+ work but actively seeks out the most daring, nuanced, and intersectional versions of it. Foglifter isn't your average literary magazine; it's a San Francisco-based powerhouse that has become a vital hub for queer and trans writers to tell their stories without having to filter them for a mainstream, heteronormative audience.
Sending your work out into the world is always a bit nerve-wracking, but there's a certain comfort in knowing your "foglifter submissions" are going to be read by people who actually get the context of your life and identity. You don't have to explain the slang, the trauma, or the joy—you can just let the writing speak for itself.
What Foglifter Is All About
Before you even think about hitting that upload button on Submittable, you've got to understand the vibe of the journal. Foglifter was born out of a need for more space—specifically, space for queer writers to be as experimental or as traditional as they want. They publish a biannual journal that features everything from poetry and short stories to personal essays and cross-genre pieces that defy easy categorization.
The name "Foglifter" itself is a nod to their San Francisco roots, but it also works as a metaphor for what they do: lifting the fog of erasure and silence that often surrounds LGBTQ+ lives. They want work that is "transgressive" and "urgent." If your writing feels like it's pushing a boundary or saying something that hasn't been said a million times before, you're on the right track. They aren't looking for "Queer 1001" content; they want the deep cuts, the complex emotions, and the stuff that keeps you up at night.
What They're Looking For in the Queue
When you're prepping your foglifter submissions, it helps to know exactly what the editors are hungry for. They generally have two main reading periods a year—one in the summer and one in the winter—but you should always double-check their current status before getting your hopes up.
Poetry and Prose
For the poets out there, Foglifter is a dream. They love sets of poems that show range. Usually, you can send up to five poems at a time. The editors seem to appreciate work that plays with form just as much as it plays with language. Whether you're writing gritty realism or something more lyrical and abstract, the key is authenticity.
Prose writers have a bit more room to breathe, but you still need to keep it tight. They typically accept fiction and creative nonfiction up to 5,000 words. If you have a longer piece that's absolutely undeniable, you might get away with it, but generally, staying within that limit is a safe bet. They want narratives that feel lived-in. Whether it's a story about a first date gone wrong or an essay about the complexities of gender identity in the workplace, it needs to have a pulse.
The Cross-Genre Sweet Spot
One of the coolest things about this journal is its openness to "hybrid" work. If you've written something that's half-poem, half-essay, or maybe includes visual elements or experimental formatting, Foglifter is one of the few places that will actually give it a fair shake. They appreciate the "indescribable" because, let's be real, a lot of the queer experience is pretty hard to categorize anyway.
Navigating the Submittable Maze
Almost all foglifter submissions go through Submittable. If you've been writing for a while, you probably already have an account, but if you don't, it's easy enough to set up. It's the industry standard for a reason—it keeps everything organized for the editors so your masterpiece doesn't get lost in a messy inbox.
A quick heads-up: Foglifter usually charges a small submission fee (often around $3 to $5) to help cover their administrative costs and pay their contributors. This is a big deal! They are a "pro-pay" journal, meaning they actually compensate their writers. While it might not be enough to retire on, getting paid for your creative work is a huge mark of respect and a sign that the journal values what you're bringing to the table. If the fee is a genuine barrier for you, they often have "fee-free" windows or options for those in financial need, so keep an eye out for those.
Why Being Specific Matters
The biggest mistake people make with their foglifter submissions is trying to write what they think a queer journal wants to hear. There's a temptation to lean into tropes or write something "universal." Don't do that. The editors at Foglifter are looking for your specific, weird, wonderful, and perhaps messy perspective.
If you're writing about a specific neighborhood in a specific city, use the names of the streets. If you're using specific cultural references, keep them in. The more specific you are, the more universal the emotional core of the piece becomes. They want to feel like they are stepping into your world, not a sanitized version of it.
Making Your Bio Count
Your contributor bio is another part of the submission process that people often overthink. For Foglifter, you don't need a three-page CV of every award you've won since third grade. Just keep it professional but human. Mention where you're from, maybe a few recent publications if you have them, and a little bit about who you are.
It's also a good place to mention your identity if it's relevant to the work, though you don't have to offer up a "trauma resume" to prove you're queer enough to be there. Foglifter is an inclusive space, so just being yourself is usually more than enough.
Dealing With the Wait
After you've sent off your foglifter submissions, the hardest part begins: the waiting game. Like most high-quality literary journals, Foglifter gets a lot of entries. It can take anywhere from three to six months to hear back. It's tempting to refresh Submittable every five minutes, but honestly, the best thing you can do is start working on the next thing.
If you get a rejection, don't take it personally. Most journals have an acceptance rate of less than 1% or 2%. A "no" doesn't mean your work is bad; it just means it wasn't the right fit for that specific issue or that they already had three other pieces covering similar themes. Many writers get rejected by Foglifter three times before finally getting a "yes" on the fourth try. Persistence is 90% of the game in the literary world.
Final Thoughts on Hitting Send
At the end of the day, Foglifter is a community. By participating in foglifter submissions, you're becoming part of a larger conversation that's been happening for decades. You're helping to build a record of queer life in the 21st century.
So, polish that draft one more time. Read it out loud to make sure the rhythm is right. Check your formatting (double-spaced for prose, please!), and then just go for it. Whether you get in or not, the act of putting your truth on paper and sending it to a journal that cares about your voice is a win in itself. Good luck—you've got this!