Fringe Magazine seeks submissions for its fourth anniversary theme issue, “Working.”
To paraphrase a children’s classic, everybody works. Work crosses barriers between race, class, and gender, and sometimes (but not always) describes a person’s place in the broader social order. Now, with the economy just beginning to recover from its catastrophic collapse, working has assumed a great-than-usual prominence in national and international conversation, and not just because it helps people survive fiscally. People often define themselves through their jobs and, through useful labor, find value in themselves.
We’re looking for writing about how and why working—or not working—defines who we are, whether working brings dignity or humility to its doers, how it stratifies and sometimes defies our ideas about social class and who is or is not worthy of attention. We’re particularly (although not exclusively) interested in writing from a blue-collar perspective.
Submissions close January 1, 2010. Please send us your best work—see our guidelines on how to do so— and add “Working” to your subject line.
Fringe Magazine was founded in 2005 by an all-women group of editors dedicated to political and experimental literature. The quarterly online journal has published work by 120 writers and artists since its first issue in February 2006. Each... more »more »
Here’s my response to last week’s Meta Exercise. Since Julio Cortázar used a narrative piece of art, a novel, to construct his excellent short short. I thought I’d give myself a challenge and try to do the same thing with a less experiential sort of art, in this case, sculpture. Points to anyone who can identify the sculptor.
Inside the museum, she allowed herself to be politely interested in the art, the pale statues he loved so much, David twisting back his arm, a grim set to his mouth, Poseidon’s hand against Persephone’s thigh, hands sunk into the cool marble as if it were a marshmallow. He had arranged for this private trip to the museum; he had paid for their first class plane tickets to Rome, but that was to be expected.
At first, she’d found his attentions in the bar where she worked flattering but overwhelming. His lavish words and gifts masked a paucity of spirit, a blindness, an inability to admire things for anything more than the surface.
At his request, their guide left them in a small room at one corner of the museum. He had wanted to look at a particular sculpture, by themselves, in the quiet. Her... more »more »
All right, I’m no Margaret Atwood, but here’s my (somewhat belated) stab at last week’s Cubist Exercise. It’s a start.
Imagine a bar of soap lying by the side of your sink. It’s a flat, creamy beige block no bigger than a deck of cards, with edges that aren’t quite plumb, smoothed by hand and water. You made it from skin-scarring lye and olive oil in the pot you use to make soup, carefully weighing the ingredients on a postal scale, and whirring them together with a hand blender, watching carefully for the signs of miraculous alchemy, the puddingy texture, the marks on the surface that stay turgid for a moment before vanishing. You poured the soap into a shoebox mold, and cured it in the open air for a month, to remove its green bite.
This soap is anti-corporate. All its glycerine is intact, compared to the stuff so easy to buy at the store. In a stroke of marketing genius, companies sell you soap that robs skin of its moisture, then offer the the glycerin back to your dry hands in various lotions and creams.
Imagine the industrial soap used to clean up after suicides, the blood from a gunshot wound... more »more »
Now that Fringe has put a call letter out for Features, the pitch letters have been rolling in. It seems not everyone knows how to write a letter pitching a feature story or interview, so I thought I’d provide some handy tips that cover what Fringe looks for.
- Tell us what type of story you’re pitching. Is it a review? An interview? A feature?
- Spend a paragraph describing your topic, that includes a reason why you think it would be of interest to Fringe readers. This is the place to show that you’ve been to more of our site than just our guidelines page. Are you interviewing a first-time author published by a small press? Writing a feature on avant-garde poetry? Reviewing a small-press book that explores the intersections between literature and politics?
- Explain who you are and explain any relevant credentials you have. Are you a published freelancer? A first-time writer?
- Send the piece as an attachment if you’ve already written it. If you haven’t, send online clips of your writing, if you have ‘em.
- Write two to five paragraphs, but no more than a single typewritten page.
- Address the letter to a “sir.” The vast majority of us here at Fringe aren’t sirs, so... more »
For those of you who don’t know, a short short, also called flash fiction or micro-fiction is a short story of as few as 200 words or as many as 2,000. It’s bite-sized fiction or nonfiction. Fringe publishes them, as do many journals, but Quick Fiction is famous for publishing excellent flash fiction of 500 words or less exclusively.
My idea is this: on Tuesdays, I’ll read a short short and post an exercise intended to mimic that story. The following Tuesday I’ll publish my version. I should be writing a new short short every two weeks, and I invite you, dear reader, to read and write with me.
The exercises will be done Pam-Painter style. In the first graf I’ll explain how I think the story at hand works, and in the second graf, I’ll break down the assignment.
Here’s this week’s exercise, based on the Margaret Atwood story “Bread,” found on p. 198 of the book Flash Fiction, edited by James Thomas, Denise Thomas, and Tom Hazuka.
The Cubist Exercise
In “Bread,” Margaret Atwood takes a concrete object, bread, and views it through multiple lenses. The story has five different sections, each that asks the reader to... more »more »
Danzy Senna subtitles her latest book, Where Did You Sleep Last Night?, as a “personal history” rather than a memoir. The difference between the two terms is subtle but important–the book is as much a chronicle of her ancestors and a racially-divided world as it is a story of her own life.
Outwardly, the book hinges on the relationship between Senna’s parents: Fannie Howe, a writer from the prominent white Boston upper-crust, and Carl Senna, a black intellectual from fuzzy Southern origins. The unlikely couple married in 1968, full of hope and revolutionary zeal, only to divorce in 1975, their union a victim of alcoholism, domestic abuse, and the social pressures of an inter-racial marriage on the heels of the Civil Rights Movement. More significant, however, is the relationship between Senna and her father. At the book’s core is the author’s dogged search for information regarding her father’s roots–an often exhausting and heart-wrenching search that propels her on a journey through the South.
I found myself completely wrapped in the tangled threads of Senna’s family history, eager for her to solve the mystery of her heritage. However, there was something keeping me from becoming completely involved in the story–something in her tone... more »more »
“The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself.”–Joan Didion, from the essay, “On Keeping a Notebook”
My first notebook came to me as a Christmas gift from my sister when I was six. She had made it in a crafts class at the junior high, and it was pink, with multicolored paper pages and the word “diary” stamped in gold on the front cover. Though I wrote in it sporadically, I didn’t start keeping a faithful journal until the winter of my freshman year of high school. Writing in a notebook is a practice I’ve kept up with, more or less regularly, since starting that random February day. I keep twelve years’ worth of notebooks in a large red storage bin in my closet here in Boston. About once a year, on some rainy Saturday, I’ll pull one out and start reading. Half-forgotten memories can pull me in, sometimes for hours at a time, but mostly I tire of myself quickly and put it all away in disgust. But I would never throw them away.
In... more »more »
It started innocently enough. After a few weeks on the job, wanting to prove myself, I suggested including a blog on our Web site. My boss loved the idea. They had been wanting to “do more” with the site for ages, she told me, but no one had the time. Enter Julie.
So I set up our blog. Then our Twitter page. Then our blog feed. Now, I spend my mornings trolling the Web for other blogs related to what we do. I read post after post about the use of online networking and then blog about those posts. My tweets are links to other blogs and online articles. I’m blogging and linking and Twittering, reading and referring, commenting and responding.
And I have to say, though I’m using words to do these things, it doesn’t always feel like writing.
Granted, I’m not complaining. I have a job that I enjoy in a suicide-worthy economy. My co-workers are great, and my boss treats us to lunch most days.
But. Some days I long for the kind of writing you can sink your teeth into. You know, paragraphs... more »more »
NaPoWriMo has arrived! April is National Poetry Month, and Read Write Poem is celebrating with a thirty poems in thirty days challenge. Here’s my angle: write all the poems on a theme and have a draft for a chapbook. Yes, some days I might miss a poem, and on other days everything I write might frankly stink. That’s what good friends and revision are for. But that won’t be the case every day, and getting a few gems out of NaPoWriMo will be worth joining this big alliterative orgy of clever slant rhymes, puns, hypertexts, wit, and sharp social criticism.
An excellent place to look for inspiration is Poets.org’s Poem A Day e-mail list, which is also archived on the website. I could list my favorite online places to read poems, but I think it’s more fun to find your own. Start with the great work on Fringe and start following links. I always arrive to something cool, most recently Hit and Run Magazine.
Still not fired up? Read Charles Bernstein’s satirical Against National Poetry Month. He’s right perhaps about what the aim of the corporate sponsorship of NaPoMo is about, but that’s no reason to ignore perfectly good free poems a day,... more »more »
Are you a Calliope fan? Get down with Melpomene? Or does Urania do it for you? Not sure what I’m talking about? All the more reason to find your muse at Grub Street’s eighth annual The Muse & The Marketplace April 25-26 in Boston. Expect a weekend jammed with networking opportunities with literary agents and editors, workshops, lectures for veteran and newbie writers, and—for an additional fee—the chance to park your keister and manuscript down with an agent at Manuscript Mart for a twenty-minute critique. For a bit extra, you can also have lunch with Grub National Book Prize Winners. Don’t forget breakfast and lunch are included with registration! (One can’t learn and schmooze on an empty stomach, right?) This year’s keynote speaker is Ann Patchett, among a slew of participating authors (30!).
Strapped for cash and not sure you can make it both days? A friend who went last year recommends going Sunday for the keynote speaker and said that one day of workshops should do the trick. Keep in mind that the “casual” lunch with the GNBP Winners is on Saturday. For more info visit museandthemarketplace.com.more »
What to do with all those rejection slips? I know—bathroom wallpaper, bird nest offering, papier-mâché craftastic something-or-other, ugh. Or, you could send ANY 10 of those hoarded rejections (I know you’re saving them for some sadistic reason because I am too) to Marginalia with $1 and receive an (almost free!) issue of Marginalia Magazine for your perusal. It’s like positive publishing karma. Thanks to Brevity for the tip.
For your Sad Bastard discount send (10) rejections and $1 to:
P.O. Box 258
Pitkin, CO 81241
Over at Slog they’re keeping the spirit of poetry alive by publishing bus-related poems written by their faithful readers in a new column called, Midnight Bus Poetry. Check out posts by Paul Constant for poems—which may not be highbrow but certainly are highly amusing!—about the bus riding experience. And if you’re inspired, why not submit your own? Poems need to be 50 words or less and should be emailed to firstname.lastname@example.org. Winners appear here and on the Slog Blog. Enjoy!more »
Ah, the rollercoaster world of The Writer; perilous, torturous, and (hopefully) gifted with the occasional smattering of giddy, sentence-spinning glee.
Being a hideously lazy waste of space, I’m not, nor ever will be, a ‘writer’. At best, I’m ’someone who sometimes writes things that I don’t have to’. Every now and then I’ll wonder how I managed to spend all of Saturday’s glorious daylight hours in front of my computer, churning out what only amounts to a couple of pages worth of shite, but most of the time I’m engaged in far less noble endeavours, like, I dunno, reading the paper, or the back of a cereal packet (good god, that’s a lotta sugar).
Today I stumbled across yet another fascinating Guardian piece (they should probably start paying me for all this unsolicited promo): ‘Writing for a living: a joy or a chore?’ and thought it might be nice to share it with you all, just in case anyone else out there might feel vaguely heartened that it’s okay not be overwhelmed with frantic ecstasy with every word they type.
Here’s someone else saying what I was trying to say, only with a lot more eloquence and authority:
“I get great pleasure from writing, but... more »more »
Since you Fringers seem to quite like your writing and your writers, I’d thought I’d share a piece of my Gurdian-centred perusing with you all:
‘The trusted friends who steer novelists away from cliche‘
I recently started a new job. It’s the exact opposite of my previous job: creative, collaborative, lots of work to do, friendly people. Hell, I’m not even in a cubicle, and the walls, they’re not tan. I spend my days feeling challenged and inspired and motivated. Granted, it’s only been two weeks, but so far, I kind of love it.
And yet. Every time I begin something new, every time I commit to doing something that isn’t The Exact Thing I Want to Be Doing With My Life (writing full-time, and for myself), whether I find myself enjoying it or not, I worry that instead of helping me, it will take me further away from my ultimate goal.
What if I love copywriting so much that my unfinished book continues to collect dust? What if “I’ll work on it next month when I have more time and energy” becomes next year becomes next decade becomes never? Liking my job has the potential to become an excuse, a way to justify complacency, a reason to not take the risks I need to take.more »
I was thinking, of course, of another profound loss last September.
While most industries are nothing but gloom and doom these days, the literary field has taken quite a few beatings as of late. There’s the demise of the publishing industry; the technological take-over of books; the ongoing crisis of the short attention span; the destruction of quality literature; the downsizing of newspapers and columns; the influx of dirty, lying memoirists; and the harmful deluge of more creative writing MFA programs. Hell, even Toni Morrison’s latest book was met with little to no excitement and so-so reviews.
The way I see it, in times such as these, writers have three options: (1) Drink yourself into oblivion to numb the pain caused by the demolition of your dreams, (2) Throw in the towel and finagle your way into an industry that isn’t dying, like, say, fundraising, or... more »more »
Several weeks ago, two days before my twenty-fifth birthday, I was struck by a case of appendicitis and had to undergo an emergency appendectomy at Maimonides Medical Center in Brooklyn. I had never been hospitalized before, had never even broken a bone before (though I suffered a nasty sprain resulting from a too-spirited game of Wii Tennis).
Before you get all freakily concerned, I’m fine. Appendectomies are like the bean burrito of surgeries: you can’t really mess one up, and the professionals have probably done thousands of them in their careers. Going under the knife (or rather, the tiny little instrument they now use) didn’t bother me as much as the fact that everything was taking place, in my mind, in sort of an abstract sense.
I experienced it not as, I think, a normal person should experience an illness. Or maybe it is and I just never had a chance to find out before now. But my mind was stuck seeing things as if I was jotting down mental notes for Chapter Five of a best-selling memoir. I couldn’t remember for the life of me what the name of my nurse was or who I had given my insurance card to... more »more »
Beat the slush pile! It’s every unpublished writer’s dream, no? The world is changing: get ready to wake up to your new reality…
We’ve all heard the horror stories of bored work-experience kids being handed your masterpiece – what if they overlook your skill? What if they’re so overwhelmed and overburdened that everything they read disintegrates into mediocrity, or, even worse, utter shite? Well, in this wonderful age the aloof and inaccessible world of publishing is opening its iron doors and letting everyone pitch in. Thomas Nelson started gifting books to bloggers willing to write a review, and now, Harper Collins have created their very own online slush pile, available to anyone willing to create an account whore out their wares.
The premise is simple: upload your novel and let the masses decide whether it’s worth printing. This is more than delegation, my friends; this is a community. Never feel alone and unloved again; build up a snazzy fan base; get people talking, bask in the buzz.
So will it work? If the public get to play an active role, I suppose it’s publishing gold; after all, the people get what they want, and the publishers get their money. I’m not sure why I’m not thrilled by Authonomy (in spite... more »more »
Most of my writing friends decry the internet as a huge time-waster when they should be focusing on their writing. But Cory Doctorow of BoingBoing recently wrote a column about how one can write in the age of internet distraction. (By the way, if you have taken my advice and set up a feed reader, you should add BoingBoing, as it is the repository of all that is right and wrong online.)
Here’s a little snippet from the column:
The single worst piece of writing advice I ever got was to stay away from the Internet because it would only waste my time and wouldn’t help my writing. This advice was wrong creatively, professionally, artistically, and personally, but I know where the writer who doled it out was coming from. Every now and again, when I see a new website, game, or service, I sense the tug of an attention black hole: a time-sink that is just waiting to fill my every discretionary moment with distraction. As a co-parenting new father who writes at least a book per year, half-a-dozen columns a month, ten or more blog posts a day, plus assorted novellas and stories and speeches, I know just how short time can... more »
If you’re a writer or editor who’s ever applied for a job, you know about The Hoops. The hoops you have to jump through in order to obtain a full-time gig. As you listen to your friends’ simple stories of success—the one and only interview that landed them the job at the consulting firm or engineering lab—you know that this will never be you.
“So, what are they making you do?” one of my friends asked when I explained that before I could come back in for a third interview, I’d have to conceptualize and write the text for an advertising campaign.
In all of my combined months of unemployment, I’ve probably written or edited my way through the equivalent of one year of work for employers who chose not to hire me. I’ve edited scholarly articles and doctored stories, written text for travel guides and marketing materials, and laid out pages using desktop publishing software, among countless other projects. And this was usually after I had already submitted 2-4 writing samples.more »