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I don’t really use this Tumblr anymore though.
If you want to keep in touch here’s where you can find me:
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RMH

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@midorizine
Hey there!
If you found me because you bought one of my zines: awesome!
I don’t really use this Tumblr anymore though.
If you want to keep in touch here’s where you can find me:
Etsy
Website
the glue that held us
dried
until we could no longer stick
together
I woke up each morning feeling
the inevitability
choking me
slick and viscous
the thing about fear is that
it feels like a premonition
and with you
prophecy
How to Be a Contemporary Writer
1. Read diversely.
2. Write.
3. See items 1 and 2.
4. Accept that there is no one way to make it as a writer and that the definition of making it is fluid and tiered.
5. Accept that sometimes literary success is political and/or about who you know and that’s not likely to change. Yes, celebrities are going to keep publishing terrible books. Yes, Lisa Rinna’s Starlit is an actual thing. I read the book and… I’m scarred. But. You’re not getting better as a writer, worrying about the system.
5a. If you’re a woman, writer of color or queer writer, there are probably more barriers. Know that. Be relentless anyway. Strive for excellence. Learn how to kick the shit out of those barriers. Don’t assume every failure is about your identity because such is not the case.
6. Accept that sometimes cream actually does rise to the top and hard, consistent work will eventually get noticed, maybe not in the way you envisioned, but some way, some how.
7. Understand the actual odds and learn to love the slush pile. The slush pile is not your enemy. It’s actually one of your best friends.The truth is that a significant percentage of the slush pile, which I prefer to call the submission queue, is absolutely terrible because people are lazy and will submit any old thing. If you can write a good sentence you are already heads and shoulders above most of what is found in submission queues. You’re not competing against 10,000 submissions a year a magazine receives. You’re competing against more like 200. Those are still intimidating odds but they’re also far more reasonable.
8. Be nice. The community is small and everyone talks. Being nice does not mean eating shit. Being nice does not mean kissing ass. Being nice just means treating others the way you would prefer to be treated. If you’re comfortable being treated like an asshole, then by all means.
9. Know that more often than not, editors have your best interests at heart. Stand up for your writing but be open to editorial suggestions. A good editor is giving you feedback in service of your writing.
10. Ignore most of the atrocious writing advice that proliferates at such an alarming rate.
11. Stop listening to conspiracy theories about publishing.
12. Stop listening to doomsday predictions about publishing.
13. Don’t talk yourself out of the game by listening to conspiracy theories, doomsday predictions, and bad advice.
14. Make note of the distinction between writing and publishing. They are two very different things.
15. Know that you can get an agent through the mystically fearsome slushpile. It may be hard. It may take more time than you want but it can and does happen. I found my first agent through the slush pile. She’s great. My second agent found me because of essays I wrote. Sometimes people find agents at conferences, or through friends of a friend, or other such connections but you absolutely can go the old fashioned route.
15a. Do your research. Know what agents are interested in. Spell their names correctly. Have a book you give a damn about and make sure it shows. Know how to talk about your book.
15b. If you want to see a sample query letter, just ask a writer who successfully signed with an agent through the slush pile. They will probably share.
15c. This is an interesting take on navigating the business of agents.
15d. But don’t be so discouraged!
16. You do not need to live in New York to be a writer, though New York is great (dirty bathrooms aside) and it might be better if you live elsewhere and visit New York for a few days at at time.
17. Perspective is everything. Someone getting a book deal is not taking yours away. Success is not as finite as it seems–it’s a matter of luck, timing, and hard work. (Or sometimes, yes, who you know).
17a. You are neither as great or terrible a writer as you assume.
18. Know that sometimes you simply need to work harder and sometimes you’ve done the best you can do and there’s no shame in either.
19. Participate in the literary community in the ways you are comfortable participating. What matters is that you contribute. That could be subscribing to a magazine, attending a reading, volunteering at a literary magazine, and so on. (See #8)
20. Have an online presence or don’t. It’s shocking how much time writers spend stressing over this that could be spent writing. Yes, an online presence helps but only if you actually use it with some regularity. Plenty of writers don’t have a significant online presence and manage to still be writers. If you feel like having an online presence (Twitter, Facebook, Blog, Tumblr, whatever), is a pain in the ass, it’s going to show and it’s not worth having.
21. If you’re going to have a website, don’t have an ugly website. There’s no excuse anymore. If you cannot afford a designer, no problem. Use a content management system like Wordpress or Tumblr and a nice template.
22. You will probably need a job unless you’re fine with financial stress. Yes you can have a job and be a writer. It happens all the time. I used to be fine with financial stress because I was young and my fantasies were exciting. I am not anymore because I am old and I love my apartment and health insurance and buying stupid shit. A job facilitates these things so keep it in mind. There are worse things than a job.
23. Learn to deal with rejection. You don’t have to like it. You can sulk and whine and cry. You can blog about it. Just know that publishing involves rejection far more than acceptance. It’s easier if you can process that early on.
23 a. Maybe don’t write editors who reject you to call them names. That doesn’t ever end well.
24. Have other hobbies. Don’t be one of those people who only writes and can only talk about writing. My hobbies are embarrassing but I do have them and am grateful to have them.
25. Ignore all of this as you see fit.
Do what Roxane says.
Wishing you all a day of internal sunshine
Today is a whimper rather than a bang. It’s the kind of day where the muggy, oppressive air has infiltrated my psyche slowing me down. Last night I was thinking about how serious everything has been. How that carefree, confident person who could laugh her way through everything has been replaced. Now this new person is constantly worried, stressed, anxious. No matter how hard I try it seems like this new person is here to stay. There’s this sinking feeling in my gut that this is it. That I’ll never get to the other side. I feel like I’ve been kidding myself the last little while, maybe even years. I’m so tired. Of being scared and anxious. Of feeling defeated. Of not knowing how the hell I’m ever gonna get away from this place in my head. Some days I can’t make the effort. I can’t go to the networking event and talk about my business. I can’t do the job applications. I can’t submit my poetry. I can’t do shit that matters. I just turn things over and over in my head. I can’t hustle. I’m mentally and physically tired and and I don’t know how not to be. Because if I’m not out there going for it nothing gets done. I stay stuck. It feels like it’s never going to happen for me. That the barriers are too strong and I’m too weak. I’ve been fighting my entire fucking life. I wish I was happy working a job 9-5 going home at the end of the day eating dinner watching tv and doing it all again the next day. Life would be so much easier for me.
Shoelaces
I jump through hoops
for you
as you tighten
the reigns
I support you
without thanks
I soak up
the dirt, water, air
so you are
safe, clean, dry
you only pay attention
when you’re tripped up
and even then
only for a minute
as long as I’m around
you move forward
while I wait
for acknowledgement
a tender touch
I take care of myself
for you
but I am
coming to
the end
of my string
Hope.
This is beautiful. And true. Thank you for making it, Chris…
A Twitter list of all existing and defunct zine fest, zine fairs and zine symposium around the world. If we’ve missed any, tweet us @FANZINES
Thank you for this! This is essential.
Word of the Day: alba
n. a poem involving the dawn or early morning, typically lamenting the parting of two lovers who have passed the night together
Image Credit: “ E Bowen - Day 2 sk.bk resize” by Paul Ryan. CC BY NC-ND 2.0 via Flickr.
Heyo! If you're in Bristol on June 6 I'll be selling these babies at the Full Moon Market. Otherwise I'll get my online shop up and running again soonish.
six hundred and thirteen: one of thirty
my love is responsible. my love stays up late, waits for you to text that you’re home. my love doesn’t get tired, just blinks at the phone and then my love tucks us both in.
my love doesn’t take any of your shit, knows exactly what your dark days look like, calls you when it’s getting bad again. my love is tough, can’t be swayed or convinced. my love tells you to eat all your vegetables, and then my love watches you eat all your vegetables.
my love knows you are every bit as powerful as a tornado. my love just wants you to hurt a little less. my love wants all your revolutions to feel like revolutions.
when you’re reckless and forgetful, my love is at your doorstep, ready to make you a cup of hot chocolate and give you the lecture of your life. my love is patient and expectant, the way god is patient and expectant. my love hates that you go to the club and my love is always watching out for you at the club.
my love is not a killjoy. my love is not mean. my love isn’t always thinking, but when my love is thinking, it is thinking about you with absolute reverence.
my love is not taking you for granted. and my love is not taking any chances. if you need to be walked home, my love is there, looking both ways before crossing the street.
my love is telling you the best way to finish a project. my love is answering a phone call on the first ring, sending out an email reply in minutes, paying all your bills on time, and always remembering to walk the dog.
isn’t it strange how so many things can sound like “i love you,” once we start paying attention?
my love, with its focused promise, quietly rubbing vapor rub on your chest, not saying a damn thing.
WHAT BEING A GIRL FEELS LIKE
-Being in a room with a wounded animal you want to help who could probably kill you.
-Watching someone you are fairly sure you do not like loudly & drunkenly sing a song you once loved.
-Sitting in an unfamiliar parking lot with no money or transportation while waiting for someone & not knowing if they are coming. Not knowing if they know you are waiting.
-Touching a rock on a beach & feeling an overwhelming sense of affection toward & connection with that rock. Remembering a time when you had no concept of property.
-Burning down the tallest bank in your hometown. Helping people escape.
-Arson in general.
-The sound of far away dogs through an open window.
-The shape Christmas lights make when you aren’t looking at them directly.
-Some clear nipple discharge can be normal. See your doctor immediately if discharge is milky or dark.
-A flock of turkey vultures taking turns throwing their bodies against your window at night. Hearing the glass start to crack.
-Shaking a tree branch after the rain’s stopped.
-A persistent tiny sharpness on your scalp at the crown of your head. A type of pain that feels very, very cold.
-Filling a pillowcase with a million tiny pieces of paper.
-Long baths.
-A flower large & heavy enough to crush a building.
-Crushing buildings in general.
-Flowers in general, especially having bees feed from you often.
-Something is happening with the crows in this place. I don’t know what. Something.
-The place at the base of your spine where you can feel a physical sensation when hearing sounds underwater.
-A large red boulder in a clearing in a forest that has been filled with 2 feet of human hair. Also it is raining.
-A wax museum of people you have met but don’t remember.
-How many people do you not remember?
-Waking up to find five sea lions staring at you. One is on your bed. They sit perfectly still. They all have pink eye. Deciding to pretend you are asleep.
-Pretending to be asleep in general.
I chose you
from the shelf
I picked you
for all of your perfections
From the shelf
you were the best option
for all of your perfections
I claimed you
You were the best option
I thought I had
I claimed you
everything I could never have
I chose you
I picked you
everything I could never have
but in the end never needed
#NaPoWriMo #30
I hesitate over the word cycling. There's always a pause before I say it, my brain switching over between biking and cycling. Canadian and British. And I wonder if people think I'm adjusting or just putting it on. I'll never forget when my sister said "Oh you think you're British now?" however jokingly. And I often wondered myself. If my choice was a sign of embracing my new home or rejecting the old.
#NaPoWriMo #27
cold
hands blue
warm themselves up
#NaPoWriMo #22
already half full
sticky sweet fate
way bereft
of the
unstable
narrated
dateline
a quarter mile late
the craft creates
an irate state
that drives the empty
sugar fruit
to the traitor
#NaPoWriMO #19
Brown spotted banana, nearly the end