The Best Damn Word Mixtape Of All Damn Time

We’re having a reading, in SF, TONIGHT. TONIGHT. TONIGHT. Go, listen to amazing writers, get your hands on PANK 5. The lineup? The elusive M. Bartley Seigel (hopefully wearing Frye Boots), Ethel Rohan, Lauren Becker, Ben Jahn, and Seth Fischer. Dog Eared Books, 7 pm. We are excited to meet you. We love you, in advance.

Also, we forgot to announce the January issue because we are weird and human so, there’s the January issue and it is wonderful and there’s some really interesting stuff in this issue like collage and violence and love and homes of red crystal and and and you will find writing from Andre Babyn, Jen Bessemer, Alec Bryan, Samantha Cohen, Ande Davis, Nicelle Davis, Janice Harrington, Micah Dean Hicks, Nina Feng, I. Fontana, Lincoln Michel, Erin Lyndal Martin, Laurence Pritchard, Katy Resch, Peter Schwartz, Christian Tebordo, James Valvis, and Bess Winter.

This is one of our strongest issues and we’re featuring some really long stories we hope you take the time to read.  You want to start with Katy Resch’s The Fawn Skull. It is a story reminiscent of Dylan Landis’s Normal People Don’t Live Like This and The Fawn Skull has a stunning ending. I have something gushing to say about everything in this issue. You’ll also want to pay close attention to the two poems from Peter Schwartz. They represent some of his finest work, which, given his personal canon, is saying something. Anyway, go, get started, tell us what you think.

In Randall Brown’s new Matter, a story by Jennifer Pieroni.

Scott Garson has writing in the new print issues of Carolina Quarterly and Redivider.

Lincoln Michel’s fiction in the January issue got a nice shout out in Black Book Magazine.

The first issue of Luca DiPierro’s art zine Das Ding is now available.

Three poems by James Valvis are featured at Black Heart Magazine.

There’s a new contribution to For Every Year by J. Bradley. He also has work at Wufniks.

The Winter 2011 issue of Sixth Finch includes poetry from Jensen Beach, Ricky Garni, twice, and other fine poets.

In Our House By the Sea, a story from Kirsty Logan, is available from Found Press. It looks lush and lovely. Check it out.

I’m really excited for new magazine Wonderfort; the design and aesthetic and approach is really interesting. Their first featured work is from JA Tyler.

This week’s Hot Opener at The Potomac Review is from Ryan Bradley. If you like this story and you’re a publisher, get in touch with Ryan. He has a full short story collection of wonderful Alaska stories ready for a fine home.

Forklift Ohio #22 has work from Bob Hicok, Matthew Lippman, Noah Falck, Elizabeth Hildreth, and Nate Pritts.

At Metazen, a story from Kevin Catalano.

It Hits Me by Nicole Monogham is featured at Camroc Press Review.

Nate Inomi interviews Adam Moorad for Trick With a Knife.

Dark Sky Books has announced several new titles including books from Ryan Ridge, JA Tyler, Jensen Beach, Dave Housley, and more.

Matthew Salesses is interviewed by Submishmash about The Good Men Project.

Short short fiction by Mark Budman is featured at the Sonora Review.

Artifice Magazine is allowing contributors to create mixtapes in celebration of their third issue. There are tapes from xTx, William Walsh, Daniela Olszewska, Tim Jones Yelvington, Janey Smith, Brian Oliu, and more.

Castles

Today the sun shines upon our cottage, the air outside is warming, and I canceled our cable television subscription. 

My son’s idea. “Mom, why don’t we cancel cable?”

Sure, yeah. Done. It’s all crap anyway. Television, gads, it’s Crack.

The only thing I still love about cable television is True Blood, and I must know someone in this town who can still afford HBO and will allow me to stick my head in the window an hour so I can drool over Sam Merlotte. Sam is my Crack. Oh. I like Pam too. I like Jessica. And R.I.P Talbot. We miss you.

I transmit from Republican country. We’re still surrounded. February 28-March 4 is “Ignore Sarah Palin Week.” 

Imagine you’ve generated so much attention you now drive thousands, perhaps millions, of people to actively attempt to ignore you as a nationally organized event. Holy crap.

A friend once referred to Sarah Palin as an opportunist. Of course she’s an opportunist. Everyone is. We’re all chronically desperate for attention. But one more time for the record, Sarah Palin doesn’t speak for me simply because she’s female and has a big mouth and knows how to garner notoriety. Sarah Palin is the anti-me, actually. Sarah Palin hates women.

Meanwhile, Stephanie Meyer pretty much hates vampires.

Not so long ago my son suggested I write Twilight, and I responded, “Honey, somebody already did.” A story like Twilight wouldn’t occur to me in a million years. It wouldn’t grow from me organically. I’d have to force it, which is too bad. Stephanie Meyer tapped something. She tapped something huge.  Still, she hates vampires.

Historically vampires represent sexuality in literature, in all the stories, so ask yourself what Stephanie Meyer says about sexuality with her vampires? What did Bram Stoker say with his, and Anne Rice with Lestat? 

Interesting. Stephanie Meyer bugs a lot of writers. For one thing she does everything in her novels Stephen King warned us not to do in On Writing. Like adverbs. Oh. She does everything all my writing teachers said not to do, and all my mentors in graduate school too. Like adverbs and adjectives and over wrought narrative and ridicules characters. Oh well.

One of my favorite quotes about writing is one from Lillian Hellman, which goes something like, if I had to give advice to young writers I’d say never listen to writers talk about themselves or writing.

So there. I think Susie Bright said there’s freedom in never worrying about what other writers say about writing. Actually, I think Susie said there’s freedom in never publishing anything you write because of course once you publish, people will judge what you wrote. And if you write memoir, people will judge not only you’re writing but your life. That hurts.

But here’s another reason not to listen to writers talk about writing. Writers lie. Yeah. Writers who say they never revise are liars. Or if they say, “Oh I only revise once then I’m done.” Bullshit.

Thing is, as writers we talk about ourselves too much because what we do, write, is solitary drudgery. We’re alone for hours at a time. And if you’re me, you have no social life. Also, for most of us, there’s no money in writing; there aren’t any awards or fellowships. For most of us, no one will read much of what we write or care.

Only a few of us live in castles. But I might be buying a manufactured home soon. It’s true. The world would be a giant cesspool of ugly without writers. People would commit suicide fives times more often. Books. My granny had them all over the place. Summers I went to  stay a month with her in junior high and high school, I remember books. I read Gone With the Wind and The Sheik and The Stone Carnation.

My granny sent me her copy of The Stone Carnation a couple years ago. She said, “I know you liked this.” I loved it. She still reads a little through her one good eye, my granny, if the nurses prop her up on pillows. I just wish I could curl up with her.

Breeding and Writing: The people I can’t be

Full of water, dry in bed.–by Tracy Lucas

 

I’m having the hardest time being a wife lately.

I don’t have creative energy and love at the same time. They seem to be mutually exclusive.

Either it’s dishes or dharma; laundry or literature. I can’t seem to (pardon the pun) marry the two women I intend to be.

I have a good husband. Not in that serf-ish, settling, he’s-the-practical-guy-to-partner-with way. That’s not a weak disclaimer or pathetic cop-out, either.

I actually like him. I picked him on purpose. We’ve been friends the whole time, which has been a while now, and there’s no one I’d replace him with.

I don’t regret.

It’s just not smooth.

I turn out all of the lights and dig out my favorite old Oasis tune to get me in the mood. I poise my virtual pen, head swimmy and universal, and I feel the back of my neck swell with tingling veins of…

See?  Fuck. He just snored.

Mindset gone.
Words, vanished.
My head’s fallen off again for the company I keep.

And the kid wants something to drink.
And the cat’s crying for food.
And practically speaking, I should be asleep.
I have work to do tomorrow.

Electricity will have to wait.

Meanwhile, I’ll grow another day older, another day away.

Breeding and Writing: The people I can’t be

Full of water, dry in bed.–by Tracy Lucas

 

I’m having the hardest time being a wife lately.

I don’t have creative energy and love at the same time. They seem to be mutually exclusive.

Either it’s dishes or dharma; laundry or literature. I can’t seem to (pardon the pun) marry the two women I intend to be.

I have a good husband. Not in that serf-ish, settling, he’s-the-practical-guy-to-partner-with way. That’s not a weak disclaimer or pathetic cop-out, either.

I actually like him. I picked him on purpose. We’ve been friends the whole time, which has been a while now, and there’s no one I’d replace him with.

I don’t regret.

It’s just not smooth.

I turn out all of the lights and dig out my favorite old Oasis tune to get me in the mood. I poise my virtual pen, head swimmy and universal, and I feel the back of my neck swell with tingling veins of…

See?  Fuck. He just snored.

Mindset gone.
Words, vanished.
My head’s fallen off again for the company I keep.

And the kid wants something to drink.
And the cat’s crying for food.
And practically speaking, I should be asleep.
I have work to do tomorrow.

Electricity will have to wait.

Meanwhile, I’ll grow another day older, another day away.

Potty Mouth

Strangers in public restrooms lend to memorable moments, which sometimes inspire my writing. While relieving myself at a supermarket urinal today, a gentleman’s phone conversation echoed from a stall:

Did you return that movie I left on the table? Damnit! Redbox is gonna keep charging the card…. I thought you were picking her up. I’m working over today and tomorrow. I told you that! I. TOLD. YOU. Do I have to send a goddamn text?!

My friends are well aware of my affinity for making calls on the toilet, but perhaps he should have sent a goddamn text. Scolding spouses must ease bowel movements because things sounded smooth thereafter.

I have heard of Republicans and truck drivers who use foot-tapping techniques to solicit sex in stalls, so I walk softly in rest areas. I don’t shake it more than twice. Once at a truck stop, a guy sounded like he was two-steppin. I left without washing my hands.

I wonder how many quarters there are in condom dispensers, if the rulers attached to gas station bathroom keys have measured anything.

People become uninhibited in these places. The anonymity sets people free to piss on the floor, to scatter Christian literature, to scrawl confessions, phone numbers, rants, snot. Bathroom walls are like the ancestors of YouTube commentary.

What are your experiences with public bathrooms? What have you seen, heard?

Huckster: What It Takes

If you’re like me, you’re probably asking yourself right now, What does it take to get into advertising? Certainly, some qualifications depend on what department you want to work in, but there are some general traits that are not department-specific, and it’s important to learn what they are. In fact, it’s vital.

Maybe you’re wondering if you need to be good at math to get into advertising? It’s a good question, but also a pointless one, as nobody needs to be good at math for any job anymore, thanks to calculators.

If there’s a question I hear the most it’s, “Are you feeling okay?” However, more relevant to this article is the question, “Is advertising as stressful as people make it out to be?” Indeed, it’s important you have the ability to cope with things like stress, tight deadlines, eternal sadness, and different personalities. Regarding the latter point, consider this: You might have a Type B personality, but account executive Jasmine—the brunette with blue eyes who has the same sense of humor as you but seems to want to keep your relationship on a platonic level—might also have a Type B personality. As you can see, the ability to cope with personalities is important.

Or, to put it another way, vital.

Can you manage multiple projects at one given time and still meet deadlines? If you want a job in advertising, your answer better be “Yes.” If you don’t want a job in advertising, I would still say answer “Yes” and then find a way to nonchalantly slip away from the question, that way you don’t feel embarrassed about the fact that you can’t handle multiple jobs and meet deadlines. For example, I have a friend who sometimes visits J. Crew and, when he sees a shirt he likes, he checks the price. And when he sees that the price is too high, he doesn’t just make a face and bail out of the store—no, that would be a dead giveaway that he can’t afford the shirt. No, instead, he spends some time looking at the other shirts on the rack, as if the one he originally looked at wasn’t his size. You know, it wasn’t the price, but the size that was off. Then—and this part is vital—he walks around the store for, say, another fifteen minutes, at which point he’ll check out that one shirt one last time, like he’s thinking about buying, then acts as if the shirt is not good enough for him. And then, after spending five more minutes looking at the selection of sweaters next to the shirt, he slowly walks out of J. Crew, integrity intact.

Thick skin is another vital necessity. Sometimes people can get awefully critical and, while it can occasionaly sound personal, it never is. “Nothing personal, just business” is a phrase I coined late last year, a phrase that’s really caught on due to its relevancy to so many people. A hypothetical example of something that might seem personal but isn’t would be when your high school guidance counselor calls you “worthless” or tells you that you should “drop out.” Lets call this counselor Mr. Van Warmer and say he has a brown hair-helmet and thick mustache. Maybe he drives an old Datsan, although, before seeing the car, you had never heard of a Datsan. Well, when Mr. Van Warmer calls you “life’s big joke,” he doesn’t hold you personally responsible for being a joke. It’s just his business to label you as such.

Remembering this point is as self-assuring as it is vital.

But if there’s one qualification you need above all else, it’s a good grasp of the English language. After all, advertising is the business of communicating, and communication is so important. In fact, I can’t even find the words to express just how important communication is. But if I had to pick one word, it would probably be ‘essential.’