Author Bios or Bias?

I have a lot of bad habits. Cheeseburger love, for instance. Starting projects and never finishing them. Over-consumption of Diet Coke. But here’s a new one that may be bad or may be good, depending on you (editor/reader/writer/innocent bystander) and what your predilections are.

So here it is, the great disrobing - I’ve started a habit of flipping straight to the back of every lit journal I get and reading all the contributor bios before I read the journal. Last night, as I was digging into the latest Burnside Review, I became aware of my ritual for the first time.

Why do I do this? After mulling that one out in the bath tub, I present to you two conclusions:

1) How they roll. Contributors’ Notes can tell you a lot about the journal and its editors, not to mention its aesthetic. If you’re new to a journal, there’s no better way to tell what kind of pool you’re about to dive headfirst into and whether or not you’ll break your neck or resurface invigorated, ready for more. This goes for the reader and the writer—as a reader, you know if you’re headed into the jungle of nepotism or the hip back alley of art. Journals that exclusively cater to impressive CV stats or brand names are journals I typically don’t enjoy, let alone read self-aggrandizing cover to cover.

2) Curiosity. I want to know how my publication credits measure up against the contributors and whether or not there is a snail’s chance of crossing the street without getting flattened that my work may perhaps possibly have a 1% chance of acceptance there. If the contributors’ notes are each a paragraph long, studded with grant recipients, writer’s colony credits, and laden with multiple book titles and impressive professorships, I know where I stand.

What does this mean for the journals themselves? All that hard work, editorial decision-making, all that paper, that ink, that money, that distribution, contribution to the literary ether, and the readership ignores the front matter first and goes for the bios instead. Does skipping the poetry and prose detract from the journal experience? By reading the contributors’ notes first, am I peeing in the pool, so to speak?

As a reader, what are your habits? What do you read first and last, and why?

UPDATE: After more inner musing, I've discovered this particular bad habit doesn't extend itself to online journals, only print. I know I've already discussed my love for online journals here more times than I can count, but I'm wondering if there isn't a hidden correlation here...