Tag: Writing

  • Thinking Out Loud (Online Lit Zine Idea)  

    I’m still kicking around the online lit magazine idea. I haven’t made any plans yet, just thinking it over. I did ask one editor a question about submissions, but other than that, haven’t made any progress on it.

    But I thought today would be as good as any day to put out some ideas and see if any of them stick.

    First, I still don’t have a name for the thing, and knowing me, it will be the last thing I do. What I have been thinking about is calling the project an “online lit zine.” Calling it a “magazine” sounds too ambitions and serious. Now, calling it a “journal” is a bit too pretentious, even for me. And then there is “zine” which feels a bit closer to the spirit of what I am attempting; which at this moment is not a whole lot, but “zine” does leave the door open to being funky and eccentric. Also, the first professional thing I ever got published was in a Dallas music zine, so it’s like an ode to my beginnings.

    I have also been thinking about the format of the thing, and publication in general. My first idea was to publish a flash piece a week, you know, and email it out to subscribers – like most online magazines do. I would like to get away from publishing an issue once, or several times a year. I prefer the idea that someone would submit something, I like it, it goes up right away. I prefer the idea of speed and immediacy. I am sure if and when I do this, I will come to understand why you should take your time and wait months and months after accepting a piece, to publish it. But as of right now, let’s get’em up! (Shoot now, ask questions later!) It would be cool to post five days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, and give around 260 writers a slot.  

    And I have to sell schwag on the site. I mean, is there any other way for an online lit zine to stay afloat? This does go back to needing a catchy name, co-opting an appropriate attitude. Then I would have to make runs of products limited, and over charge for them. Unless you get published on the site, then you would get it for free.

    Okay, I’m going to roll this over in my head now, and see what sticks.

    This might be a mistake, but feel free to drop a line sharing what you think works or doesn’t work when it comes to online lit magazines.

    And while I’m at it, like and subscribe you freeloaders.

  • Short Story Review: “The Spit of Him” by Thomas Korsgaaed (Translated from the Danish by Martin Aitken.)

    (The short story “The Spit of Him” by Thomas Korsgaaed appeared in the March 4th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Henning Wagenbreth

    “The Spit of Him” by Thomas Korsgaaed is a competent story. I believe that it accomplishes what is was created to do – fulfills its purpose of being – puts forth an idea and illuminates on it. Yet, it just didn’t feel like it came together.

    In short; Kevin, a ten-year-old from the wrong side of town, walks to the right side of town during a rain storm to sell stickers door to door. Kevin comes to a home wherein the couple that lives there knows who Kevin’s father is, a local drunk, and what Kevin’s father has done, had some sort of accident with a car while eneberated. The man plays and toys with Kevin, insulting the boy, which Kevin doesn’t fully pick up on, while the woman tries to shield Kevin from this form of shaming. In the end, the man gives Kevin a large amount of money for the stickers and sends him on his way.

    I say that the story accomplishes what it was after, as it makes it’s points about class, money, generational shame, moral superiority, the lack of understanding, and societal bullying. How some people think they can get away with abusing others, and then pay them off and all is forgiven. I even understand the shame that Kevin feels, and the conflicted emotions with being given money by someone who insulted him. I see all of that, and those issues are important.

    But I am still left with the feeling that it didn’t all come together, and that’s what I am still puzzling over. I think the short quick answer is that no one learns anything in the story – the status quo continues. The man doesn’t change, he still feels morally superior. The woman, though annoyed at the man’s actions, isn’t going anywhere either. That leaves Kevin, and though he contemplates how much rain makes a flood as he waits out the storm in a graffiti covered bus shelter, he doesn’t display gaining a new understanding which would allow him to return home changed.

    That just makes this a story about a “happening” between characters.

  • The Nap Backfired!

    I just want to sleep forever somedays.

    I just took a fifteen-minute power nap, which normally does the truck of zapping me back to normal. But today, my nap back fired in my face.

    I didn’t get a great night of sleep, and I was up early as the kid needed to be at school early. Then there was alt side parking, and grocery shopping, and I made lunch for me and the wife.

    As I sat on the couch to eat with her; WOOSH! All my energy just sloughed off and out the door.

    Thus, I thought the power nap would do the trick.

    Now, I’m just sitting on my bed, forcing this out because I will stick to my… Habit? Routine? Goal? I can’t even think of the word that I want to use…

    Anyway… I just have the foggy head, and everything seems a little far out of reach.

    I am beginning to see that Mondays and Tuesdays are difficult days for me to do all the chores, blog, journal, write and read. Something has to give, and I always pick working on fiction as the disposable one.  I’m not sure what that says about me? Or if maybe it says nothing about me and I’m just over thinking everything? Should I forgive myself, and try again tomorrow? Or is this one of those “you only got one shot at this life, don’t waste it,” moments?

    I should do dishes and pick up the kid from school.

  • Nothing in Particular

    It would be easy to write something about Valentine’s Day. I could put something down about my amazing and wonderful wife. I could write a quick whim about my daughter and her excitement this year of buying cards for us, and her school party. That would clearly be the easy choice.

    I could also talk about the anniversary of the Pale Blue Dot photograph, but honestly, there is no way to top let alone approach what Carl Sagan already wrote about it.

    I even thought about working on something about a couple of new bands that I have started listening to of late: The Hails, Sure Sure, and Kid Bloom. But I have never felt very confident in writing about music.

    What I am is wishy-washy today.

    I spent a good hour at a local coffee shop this morning after dropping off the kid at school, just writing in my journal, and that kind’a zapped me. Which sucks, because I have a good bit of free time today, and there are several things I want to work on. So, I need to push through this block. I’m at 186 words before I started this sentence, and I aim for at least 250 for a post, which means I’m closing in on my goal.

    And I have a storage unit project that I need to start on. That’s just finding a new, cheaper unit that’s closer to our apartment. But I have to look, and make phone calls… That feels like a Thursday thing.

    Anyway, this post is clearly going to be a part of my Greatest Hits Blog book.

  • That Was A Fast Rejection

    So, I had a flurry of submissions that I sent out at the end of January. On the 31st of January to be exact. The month had flown by, and I had fallen behind on some projects, but I made a promise to myself that I was going to get submissions out before the end of the month. I sent out a handful, all to lit journals that I felt my work complimented. Just playing the game like a million other writers.

    I do appreciate that the readers and editors of these journals can get inundated with submissions, and though they try their best, it can take time before they are able to respond. (I once got an email from an editor apologizing for taking so long on my submission, and then a month later they rejected me.) Everyone wants an answer sooner than later, and I do like that some journals says that you should expect a response after three months… if not sooner.

    This afternoon I just received a rejection, after only nine days.

    They were fast; I do like that.

    It was substantially shorter than three months; I don’t like that.

    In all fairness, it’s a rather odd duck of a flash piece.

    See, I want to believe that there was a little bit of a debate over there. Like the reader is fighting for my piece, but the editor is holding strong that there really isn’t a place for my story in their publication, even though it is well written. Then other editors and readers start weighing in. The debate starts getting tense. Voices start rising. People are getting mad. Resignations are threatened; accusations of favoritism are made; mass chaos envelopes the office!

    But, then cooler heads prevail. Drinks are had; apologies given; laughs are shared; everyone starts talking about why they got into publishing in the first place; the power of words and ideas; given people opportunities to share their voices and insights. It’s a thankless job; always on the verge of collapse; no one makes any money.

    “We do this because we love it.” Someone says.

    Everyone agrees, and smiles.

    Then the managing editor adds, “But we got to reject that story.”

    “That’s true,” the reader agrees.

    “Send him the form letter of death!”

    They all start laughing…

    I guess what I’m saying is that if they would have held onto it for at least a month, then my ego wouldn’t be so bruised.

    But, rejection is part of the game.