Well, it's time for some straight dope. No lying. No cutting corners. This is what it takes to succeed writing short fiction in the spec fic genre marketplace. Follow the steps, and you'll be delivering your Hugo acceptance in no time.
1. Locate the nearest crossroads. From my house, I'd probably pick the on-ramp just west of the Ross Island Bridge, where Highway 26 touches I5 southbound. Another good alternative might be the intersection of Powell Boulevard (Highway 26) and 82nd Ave, since that street is also Highway 213.
2. Locate a living chicken. That's easy. My neighbor has three and they're usually eating birdseed underneath my birdfeeder.
3. Bring chicken to crossroads. This is tricky, since I don't have a pet carrier, and all animals need to be crated to ride the bus. But no serious problem--I'll just borrow one from my sister.
4. Wait until midnight. Luckily, Carl's Jr here on the corner is open until pretty late. I can probably keep myself awake drinking Mt Dew and eating french fries. The chicken would probably appreciate the fries a lot, too.
5. Call upon the powers of darkness. There are plenty to choose from. Satan's always a good choice, as Beezelbub is really into flies, which have those dirty little feet, and the Elder Gods are just really slimy. But if you're willing to put some research into it, I'm sure you can find the right evil demon or underworld-dwelling god to fit your own needs.
6. Light a candle. Or better yet, a bonfire. Evil gods like fire. So do good ones. Pyromania goes hand in hand with omnipotence, I think. It explains why so many men enjoy barbequeing.
7. Sacrifice your chicken and surrender your soul in return for literary success. Ahh, crap. I'm a vegetarian! I can't kill a chicken! Take my soul, please--I don't need it. Wait! Elder Gods! I didn't mean what I said about the slime. Come back!
Damn it. Well, it looks like I'm going to miss out on next year's Hugo ceremony. On the plus side, though, my neighbor still likes me, and I'm totally wound up on caffeine.