Call for Submissions: Places to Stand

Saw Palm, the University of South Florida’s literary magazine, is calling for submissions for its series Places to Stand.

I found this call for submissions while working on my Submission Bonanza!, an attempt to submit work to thirty literary magazines in the month of July.

Since a huge part of my interest in writing and words is place-based, I am in love with this project and I wanted to share it with you all and encourage you to submit too!

Even if you don’t have writing about Florida, it’s a really lovely prompt.

 

What Is It?

Places to Stand is a literary map of Florida, using words instead of photos.  Each pushpin marks a point where a contributor has written a short nonfiction piece about what it’s like to stand at that particular place at a particular moment in time.  Some of the Places to Stand pieces are memories.  Some are written on the spot.  Some are written as poetry.  Click on the pushpins and take a literary tour through Florida time and space!

 

Places to Stand in Florida   (appears on sawpalm.org)
Please tell us what it’s like to stand at a specific place in Florida at a specific time of day in 500 words or less. While we enjoy the unusual, locations should be public and accessible (so not your bathroom!) Please include GPS coordinates.

Unlike other categories, current or recent USF students and faculty are welcome to submit pieces for the Places to Stand series.

Poems submitted as part of the Places to Stand series are welcome but should be justified left and otherwise not have complex formatting and spacing. This is due to technical limitations in Google Earth.

 

You can submit here!

 

 

 

Notches on the Bedpost: Unexpected Lessons Learned from Submitting Writing to LitMags Every Day

Notches on the bedpost - scratches on the back.

Earlier this summer, I was inspired by the devilish number 66 on a list of The 100 Best Ways to Become a Better Writer.  Rack up rejections.  The phrasing and sentiment behind the idea played over and over in my mind and I was captivated by it.  I started imagining pieces of my writing marching out into the world dressed to the nines in their Saturday night best, and returning home (accepted or not) to put another notch on the bedpost.  Perhaps they would have short-lived flirts with editors who didn’t want to take them home, or one night stands with litmags where they weren’t accepted but, hey, at least they were being read, even if only ephemerally.  Or maybe they’ll find the editors of their dreams and fall in love together, being read again and again, put into print to show the permanence of their mutual devotion.  In any case, they were going out, having a good time, and meeting some new people.

So, I encouraged myself to bring these absurd reveries to fruition by setting a challenge for myself.  In the month of July, I would submit work to one literary magazine every day.  I called it Submission Bonanza! (and yes, the exclamation point is quintessential – I’ll take it as one of my five) because it was by far the most submitting I’ve done, ever.  I’m a little more than halfway through my challenge and I’ve learned quite a bit from it. I’ve learned some basic, practical, and incredibly necessary skills, like how to write a cover letter for my work or what to include in my author’s bio (look out for posts on these in the future).  But I’ve also learned some things that I didn’t quite expect to learn.

1. I’ve been introduced to more contemporary writers and magazines.

In trying to decide which pieces to send to which magazines, I’ve been doing a lot of reading.  In this digital age, a lot of literary magazines have either full issues or teaser bits and pieces of issues on their websites.  Thankfully, I’ve not had to buy year-long subscriptions of every magazine I’ve submitted to (I am a poor grad-student-to-be, after all) in order to see what kinds of writing might be a good fit for the magazines.  The interesting thing about all of the reading I’ve been doing is that it is very contemporary.  It’s very now.  Though I love me some Pablo Neruda or Sylvia Plath, they have become quite canonized.  It’s incredibly interesting to read what people are writing now.  It’s also really useful to get to know the magazines and publishers that are working with these things.  You can see the magazines I’ve been submitting to at the original post about the challenge and read what they’ve been publishing.

2. I’ve become a better reader.

All of these pieces I’ve been reading, I’ve been reading incredibly closely and critically.  I don’t think “Gee, that poem makes me feel… (warm, angry, fuzzy, whatever).”  Because I am reading to find out what editors might like in my own writing, I have to ask myself a myriad of questions about everything I read.  What did the editors like about that piece?  What does it have in common with the other pieces that were chosen? How does it compare to pieces I’ve written?  Reading critically like this has forced me to turn the same discerning eye back on my own writing, which brings me to…

3. I’ve been motivated to edit more.

We’ve all heard the mantra again and again about how important editing is.  And yeah, I know it’s important.  But usually when I write, I become inspired and it takes off on it’s own.  It’s like I’m being filled with some spirit that’s vomiting words on the page that are beautiful and make me cry and the muse has me speaking in tongues and finally when I finish I am exhausted.  I feel good, sure.  But I also feel done.  Reading the works published in some of the magazines I’ve read feel so polished, though, so purposeful.  In some ways very different than the literary upchuck that I produce in my frenzied first drafts.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my writing as if it were my little children, but children need to be raised and tended, nurtured and loved.

4. I feel part of the writing community.

Ok, I know. My work is not being published alongside Billy Collins and I am not sharing martinis and discussing themes of displacement in literature with Salman Rushdie (yet).  But there’s something about just having your writing out in the world (even if it’s not being published – just having it out), that makes me feel like I am part of the community of authors trying to make sense of the world in words.  If all literature is in conversation, I feel like just by submitting work to magazines, I am becoming part of the conversation.

5. I am more inspired to write.

Perhaps most importantly, the more I read and submit, the more I want to write.  In this exercise of trying to get something out there every day, I find myself wanting more writing that I can put out there.  It’s been like a soaring spiral on updrafts of wind.  I am reading more, I am editing more, I am thinking more, and I am writing more.

I haven’t heard back from the literary magazines yet.  That should come as no surprise as some of them have reading periods of up to six months and so far, it’s been a measly seventeen days since my first submission.  So, I don’t know yet if this Submission Bonanza! will be a successful endeavor in terms of getting published.  But I do know it has been incredibly successful in furthering my development as a writer.

And to think, I’m only halfway through.

Thanks so much to http://debitch.tumblr.com/ for the incredibly apropos photo.

Submission Bonanza!: Racking up Rejections, or 30 LitMags in 31 Days

I found this thought-provoking post the other day about The 100 Best Ways to Becoming a Better Writer on thecopybot.com.  Some of them are interesting ways to meet characters, such as “74. Sell insurance, cars or newspapers face-to-face for two months.”  A lot of them are imaginative and funny.  Some of them are just things you know you need to do, like “3. Write over a thousand words a day.”

But the one that really stood out to me and inspired me most was Number 66.

Rack up Rejections.

I haven’t been doing a lot of this.  I haven’t really been doing any of it.  In the past 10 years, I’ve maybe submitted work to 5 literary magazines.  At this rate, all my writing will sit quietly on my computer and collect digital dust until I die or my computer dies, and either way it will be lost forever. (Note to self: remember to back up hard drive.)

That’s not really how I’d like it to go.

I write because I care about inspiring people, about connecting with people in a more meaningful way than normal day-to-day conversation allows.  That’s not gonna happen if everything I write remains for-my-eyes-only-on-my-measly-little-laptop.

So, I’m challenging myself to rack up rejections this month.

So, self:

Put yourself out there, knowing that you will get lots of rejections.  Not everyone likes to read what you like to write and that’s ok.  Think of each rejection as a battle scar, a symbol that you’re fighting the good fight, getting closer to being who you want to be.

So here’s the plan:  I’ll be submitting work to 30 LitMags this month, one for each day (with one day off, just to make the number round!).  To try to keep myself honest, I’ll be posting them here as I go.  Feel free to join me!

Aaaaaaaand, we’re off!

1: Fourteen Hills

2: Flash Frontier

3: The Round

4: Bat City Review

5. Swine Magazine

6. The Minetta Review

7. Camroc Press Review

8. Black Warrior Review

9. smoking glue gun

10. The Journal

11. The McNeese Review

12. Mid-American Review

13. Front Porch Journal

14. Exegesis

15. Columbia

16. Yemassee

17. Clarion

18. The Southeast Review

19. Silk Road

20. The Portland Review

21. Reed Magazine

22. The Louisville Review

23. The Coachella Review

24. Rio Grande Review

25. Saw Palm

26. Switchback

27. Camera Obscura

28. Northwind Magazine

29. Slice Magazine

30. Post Road Magazine

Cicadas (Thailand. Rewrite)

 

 

 

She could hear his abdomen, even from eight stories above. She knew he waited for her, dressed in new skin holding the bark of a mango tree. For thirteen years, she had dug and hid, dug and hid, a pale pearl of a nymph sheltered in flooding clay. Prematurely buried. She had fed on rootjuice and waited.

And now, the time for burying herself had gone. She no longer wore the tough soil skin of the past. The brightness of being was nearly unbearable. She was green and larger than herself.

She sat exposed, mesmerized by the equatorial sunlight and the sound of his clicking ribs. She could see him from here, just a speck, but she could tell even at this distance that he looked back at her. Through her ten eyes, he was a kaleidoscope of rounded cicada flecks, mirrored and moving in unison, calling her to the ground.

And then a closer sound. Behind her, ten of the same dark-haired girls with lightning eyes and cloud-colored skin reached a catastrophic finger in her direction.

She heard him again, dry-fly ribs rubbing together to blot out the sounds of metropolitan traffic and children. The vibrations called to her.

She looked down at the expectant mango tree and imagined the future she would create: millions of shimmery nymphs sprinkling from the branches, raining onto the soil below, christening the ground with their sparkling selves.

There was nothing for her to do now, except let go.

 

 

Back in the day, I wrote about submitting some of my flash fiction to Flash Frontier.  This rewrite of my original post was published in Flash Frontier’s November Issue, Eye Contact.

 

Also, I’d like to reiterate my Creative Commons love to Flickr user Roger Smith for the amazing photo!