22 Places to Submit Your Fiction & Poetry

Now, some of these places have rejected me more than I can count, but that’s part of the game, chickadees. Am I really getting on this horse again? You betcha. I’m taking it bigger than it ever was before: it’s gonna get BROUGHT, bitch!

If you have red-hot poetry or short stories that need homes, here’s the list you need.

Did I leave anyone out? Let me know in the comments.

The list (not in any particular order)


Dancing Girl Press

The Diagram

Corium Magazine

Green Mountains Review

Booth: A Journal

Split Lip Magazine

Jellyfish Highway

Lockjaw Magazine

Alternating Current Press

Gigantic Sequins

The Pinch

Cartridge Lit


The Boiler

No Tokens

Spry Literary Journal

Nano Fiction



kill author

Smokelong Quarterly

Bridge Eight Literary Magazine


Happy News: A Poetry Publication!

Happy to announce that In Hindsight I Wish I’d Gone For A Storm Swim in Lake Michigan has been published by Blood Lotus, with commentary by co-editor Quinn Fairfeldt. You can read it in its entirety here.

The rain in America is hot,
and large,
and foreign.
We swam up through it,
creatures bred in wetter climes, slamming
the door to the room on the fourth floor of a hotel
in which we would live the latter part of our holiday
on a street I cannot name, in Chicago.

Connection Edit Writing Zine – #1

The cover’s been designed for Connection Edit #1, and YES it looks like it was done by a three year old but I love it!

The man in the drawing is supposed to be the late, great Alan Turing by the way…I can see a resemblance but it’s possibly just me:

The late great Alan Turing. Also, back  Enigmatic Patterns: The Life and Death of Alan Turing on Kickstarter.
The late great Alan Turing. Also, back Enigmatic Patterns: The Life and Death of Alan Turing on Kickstarter.

Connection Edit is my own little version of NaNoWriMo. I’ll post bits and pieces from it up here every so often.


There’s a few reasons why I’m putting my writing into a zine rather than a pretty, self-published collection.

  1. I like the informal quality of zine-making. It doesn’t have to look good or be edited and finished. I like mistakes
  2. I don’t really know how I feel about self publishing
  3. I don’t have to finish the stories I’m putting into this zine; they can be fragments and it’ll still be okay
  4. Maybe someone out there will like to read it
  5. At least I’m still writing.

And in case you’re not sure about what a zine is:

Zines are written in a variety of formats, from desktop published text to comics to handwritten text (an example being the hardcore punk zine Cometbus). Print remains the most popular zine format, usually photocopied with a small circulation. Topics covered are broad, including fanfiction, politics, art and design, ephemera, personal journals, social theory, riot grrrl and intersectional feminism, single topic obsession, or sexual content far enough outside of the mainstream to be prohibitive of inclusion in more traditional media. The time and materials necessary to create a zine are seldom matched by revenue from sale of zines. – Wikipedia

Two poems about what dogs think (probably)

Let sleeping dogs lie

I’m really excited to have found this because I was just wondering yesterday if our dogs think. Thanks to the two-time American Poet Laurete, Billy Collins, I’ve gained some more ideas about what dogs might think.

Maybe they’re meditating? Maybe they’re pretending they’re walking on grass? Maybe they’re just wishing you’d stop typing already or stop staring at that damn screen that sometimes has barking dogs on it and just go outside with them.*

Having thought about it for a while, I started talking about it (I never stop talking or wondering about stuff. This has led to questions throughout my life as to whether I’m on drugs. I’m not.). The conversation with my boyfriend about it went something like this –

Me: Do you think dogs think about stuff when they’re not smelling?

Him: Yeah probably.

Me: Like what…the meat they had that time and how it was great?

Him: Places they’ve been maybe.

Me: Maybe they don’t think at all. Maybe they’re like men; when they’re not doing something, they just don’t think much about anything.

14591364761_239cd53540_oWe have a dog called Feniq. We adopted him three months ago and he’s made great improvements in the relaxation department.

He came with his name but his passport says he used to be called Rambo. He’s nothing at all like a Rambo; maybe that’s part of the reason he was dumped at the dog shelter all stressed out and nervous and unable to deal with old men, people in wheelchairs, people with beards, women with shopping bags, or other dogs. He also freaks out when you hold something like a broom and for a while was afraid of bin trucks. Poor Feniq.

I’ve been watching him lying on the floor beside me as I type this, his eyes open but not looking at anything particularly interesting. Every so often he’ll look up at me and wag his tail two or three times. Come on, he seems to be saying. Come on.

Maybe he’s communing with the great dog collective consciousness that’s hanging around the earth or something.

Either way, I think he’d appreciate a walk right now. I’m gonna go take care of that, and you can stay here and listen to two poems by Billy Collins.

If you have any ideas or insights as to what dogs might think – are you a dog? – then don’t keep them to yourself (i.e. comment).

* Our dog is afraid of David Cronenberg movies. During Scanners he was looking behind the tv, restless and whining and then barking. We can no longer watch Cronenberg movies. I wonder if he’d be scared of Cosmopolis


Taking Charge of the Creativity Brainplosion

Drawing by Santiago Ramón y Cajal of two types of Golgi-stained neurons from the cerebellum of a pigeon
Drawing by Santiago Ramón y Cajal of two types of Golgi-stained neurons from the cerebellum of a pigeon

Cross-Disciplinary Creativity

I’ve been working on a number of different creative things in the past few days –

  • writing poetry
  • turning my novels over in my mind
  • starting a short story
  • how to depict myself in a comic strip.
Andreas Vesalius' Fabrica, published in 1543, showing the base of the human brain, including optic chiasma, cerebellum, olfactory bulbs, etc.
Andreas Vesalius’ Fabrica, published in 1543, showing the base of the human brain, including optic chiasma, cerebellum, olfactory bulbs, etc.

It struck me this morning that these are not all separate projects at all: these are all part of a larger work, and feed into each other. A larger, modular work. I’m creating the Ikea of creativity…or stories or something. If that makes sense.

I have no idea why it took me so long to realise this.

I have no idea how I didn’t realise before that I think in collage.

I’m always finding or making connections between disparate materials or scraps of information.

An ad on TV, a panel from a graphic novel, a topic to write for a client’s blog posts, a scene from my novel…the shape of the trees outside my window, someone’s photographs on tumblr, a piece of quantum mechanic theory, the shape of computer code with the visuals all stripped away. My mind moves at a billion miles a minute but that’s how it is and I’ve just realised that I should embrace this fact.

These constant connections and ways of making and of being make me and my work who I am and what it is.

And maybe that’s a great thing. Continue reading “Taking Charge of the Creativity Brainplosion”