Month: February 2019

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Breathe and Push: My Humble Submission

By Hazel Kight Witham

It comes in nerve-frizzling, stomach-turning uncertainty. I scour every sentence, every phrase, triple second-guess myself. I ask my trusted readers to give me thoughts and cuts and end notes and validation before I submit.

It takes me months sometimes to craft and hone and spit-shine a piece until I deem it ready for world. I imagine the world will judge all the micro-choices, the thin premise, the overwrought vines of ideas I could not prune back. And so I draft, and revise, and put aside, pick up again, add some, cut more, trim, reorder, cut the opening, extend the ending, carve, whittle, sculpt. I workshop myself weary.

And even then, I am unsure, doubting, wondering: who will read, what will they think, is it as perfect as I can make it to be beyond reproach, likeable, no—loveable—to all. I want to engage with the world, and my people-pleasing bones make it very hard to do so without worrying what others will think of this collection of words.

My first published essay took a sizeable lifetime and an MFA program to create, excerpted from a still unpublished memoir I had spent years writing and revising. I loved that piece (“The Storm Between Us” at Bellevue Literary Review), but the work that went into chiseling it into diamond-sharp focus was months and months in the making.

a collection of notebooks with handwriting

I wonder if the chiseling was my worry. It was hard stone to handle. All the revising was procrastination of a sort. It was nerve-wracking offering this story to the world: a braided piece about the DNA I inherited from my grandmother, her hospitalization in Galveston, a dip back into the hurricane history of that seaside town that mirrored the storm of mental illness that threatened to crush us both.

When I told my father that I was writing about my own hospitalization a decade after the hell of it he said, “Why? Why would people want to read about that?” I want to say that he was trying to protect me, this man who talks about everything but the stories I most want to hear. I want to say he was not saying my story does not matter. That he was trying to shield me from criticism perhaps, or a lack of regard. I want to be generous in the face of his disregard.

But his question echoes across the years still. Even though I know now and knew then that my story matters—our stories matter—and are worth being well-told. Worth something not just to the heart of the listener or reader, but to the heart of the teller, the writer.

And yet. The question still dogs me as I try to help manuscripts years in the making find the light. As I become the advocate for my own story because sometimes your queries go unanswered, and emails from contests all start in apology and sometimes the agent shops a work and there are no bites and they quit the literary world for another one a bit more kind.

Still: I am learning to breathe and push the work out. I am learning to submit. Poems are easiest, bite-sized, not so demanding of working and reworking that prose and longer works require. Perhaps not so vulnerable to judgment. But still there are those jitters when I know a piece will go up, and someone might read it, maybe even my father, and I do not know how or if it will be received. I do not know what I am blind to in my own work, what I say that might offend. I do not know if you are even here with me still, holding on to the end, giving this a few minutes of your precious time.

There are many worthy words out there, and claiming space for my own is part of the writing life I have the hardest time with. But the words are worth it. And so: to submit is the precise word for this process. I submit despite the fear, I submit despite certain rejection, I submit despite the echoes of my father and the self-doubt and the uncertainty. I submit, I submit, I submit and every time, there is less apology and more clarity.

Hazel Kight Witham is a writer, teacher, activist, and artist whose work can be found in Bellevue Literary Review, Two Hawks Quarterly, Rising Phoenix Review, Angels Flight, Sixfold, Zoetic Press’s NonBinary Review, Lunch Ticket and Lady/Liberty/Lit. She lives and breathes in Los Angeles with her family. www.hazelkightwitham.com

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A WWS Publication Roundup for February

A laptop computer with an article titled "Submissions Made Simple" on the screen and a stack of literary journals sits on top of the laptop base, titles facing out

Congratulations to all the women who were published in February – a wonderfully long list!

From Carla Sameth‘s “Making Love to My Toes” at Anti-heroin Chic:

Girl glares sullen for a moment, thinks: this shit job, this hotel, these people make
so much noise about nothin’ and I bet no tip gonna be left 

in my room tomorrow. 

Also from Carla, “Mourning Morning” at Entropy Magazine:

I remember her breath quickening, holding her breast while she touched herself; I was too selfish to make love to her because I was already off and running, ruminating. As if I was on the ride: Soarin’ over California in Disneyland, California Adventure. I take notes like I’m already remembering the embrace I’ll never feel again when she’s gone. Something will take her away; I’ll think about how far away I floated, as she stroked my body in the morning, just behind me, as she leaned into my labia, my clit (I write these words as if I always had, but they come out awkwardly).

From Ava Homa, “Theatre review: A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts,” at Signal Tribune:

It is only in a musical that brings to life caricatures of British snootiness that the horror of several consecutive murders can turn into jolly entertainment.

One of the best examples of this comic portrayal of ignorance, in this reviewer’s opinion, was the lofty lady Hyacinth D’Ysquith, who was desperate to find “a place so low that hope itself has been abandoned.” 

From Antonia Crane‘s “Secret Life of a Stripper Who’s Also a Social Worker” at narratively:

It’s slow as shit at Showgirls. Summer in the Coachella Valley is a sadistic blow-dryer you can’t turn off, and business comes to a screeching halt because all my regulars leave for their other houses in colder places or go on fancy European vacations with their wives. I’m “Candy” here but my regulars call me “The Lady in Red.” Riley and I always work on Tuesdays, waiting for the rare drifter to pop in for a happy hour beer and a quick blast of AC so we can talk him into a twofer and pay our bills. Riley’s the best pole dancer here by a long shot — she can do the Running Man while suspended in midair. Right now, she’s a superhero perched to fly, but there’s no one to dangle upside down for, so she leans on her fists with her elbows on the bar and talks, while her long, toned legs drip off the barstool. She tells me about her recent relapse and her anxiety disorder while our buns stick to the vinyl barstools.

From Diane Sherlock‘s “The Inedible Footnote of Child Abuse” at The Manifest-Station:

There was no bodily autonomy in the house I grew up in. No privacy, no warm baths without ice water dumped from above, no agency over my body, and my brothers and I had no say in what we ate. Three seemingly random vegetables were force-fed.  Why those three? Why not? They were the favorites of the reigning narcissist of the house. They were our mother’s favorites. Reject them, reject her. The essence of narcissistic abuse.

From “Water Tank” (and other poems) by Sehba Sarwar at Paper Cuts Magazine:

we are fish
swimming
below the surface

in our aquarium
beneath broad
banana leaves

From Janel Pineda‘s “In Another Life” at wildness:

The war never happened but somehow you and I still exist. Like obsidian,
we know only the memory of lava and not the explosion that created

us. Forget the gunned-down church, the burning flesh, the cabbage soup.

From Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo‘s “‘A While’ Means January,‘” at The Acentos Review:

“It’s like you fell from the sky,”
he said mystified, but he didn’t know
I conjured him in a new moon.
Bees buzz in his ears ordering
him to work till callouses grow
into houses for their dreams.

From Soleil Garneau‘s “Shaking the Magic Eight Ball” at catheXis:

i went out lookin’ for something
like i go out every day
i walk
the broken concrete
and think of what else won’t be fixed

Congratulations to Ryane Nicole Granados whose “Kids Gym Provides Inclusion for Children – and Its Owners” was published at L.A. Parent!

Congratulations to Toni Ann Johnson whose story, “The Way We Fell Out of Touch,” was published at Callaloo!

Congratulations to Lituo Huang whose story, “The Climb,” was published at Bosie Magazine!

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Behind The Editor’s Desk: Janice Lee

When new WWS members ask, “Where do I even start? Where do I find magazines, journals and websites that might publish my writing?” I always direct them to Entropy Magazine’s Where To Submit list, which compiles a huge selection of presses and journals that are seeking submissions. Entropy is a community-centered online journal that has been really hitting the high notes for several years. From fiction to longform essays, from astrology to a series about the weather, they curate a unique and vibrant space for a diverse range of authors.

I spoke to founder and executive editor Janice Lee about how Entropy started, where it’s going, and why you should submit.

As founder and executive editor of Entropy, what was your mission in beginning the journal and community space? How did you build a masthead, readership, and a pool of contributors?

Peter Tieryas Liu and I started Entropy in 2014 seeking to create a new kind of community. We wanted it to be built on trust and diversity, and at first, that meant we wanted people involved that weren’t in our immediate circles. So I didn’t ask my close friends and collaborators and grad school buddies initially. We used intuition and sense and gathered a diverse group of literary citizens that we were in touch with through social media, and at AWP Seattle, we asked a bunch of them to be involved in this crazy project, and they said yes.

Peter and I too, by the way, didn’t know each other well. He had submitted reviews to me when I was Reviews Editor at HTMLGIANT and we immediately trusted each other but were also drawn to the fact that we were really different from each other in terms of the communities that we participated in and our own artistic and aesthetic inclinations.

This diversity was important. The people we initially asked to be editors were also scattered. Different genres, communities, geographic regions, interests, etc. Having diverse editors meant that we knew they would bring on contributors that were diverse and that we didn’t already know about.

Since then we’ve worked hard to build Entropy more of as a community than as a magazine. We take submissions and have features and sections and make curatorial decisions and publish work, so yes, we operate like a magazine. But part of the impetus of its creation was to have a community space for writers. When we started, many other literary sites that had acted as these kinds of community spaces had ended or were winding down, or were moving on to different projects.

There are tons of amazing magazines and journals publishing super high quality content that is highly curated and selected. Entropy is not that. We’re super proud of what we publish, but we don’t want to be an elite platform. It’s meant to be an inclusive space. All of our editors (over 50 of them now) all have direct access to the website and can schedule and publish content directly. They don’t need my approval. It’s a model built on trust and compassion. We want this to be a safe space. A welcoming one. A place for dialogue and collaboration.

What are some of the ways that Entropy has evolved over the years and have you seen your day-to-day work as editor change along with it?

Entropy has grown in a way that I never could have predicted. Its reach still surprises me, and it means so much to me when contributors come say hi at events like AWP and thank us for publishing their work. A lot of these contributors are students, for many it is their first publication. We also hear from writers who have careers who appreciate the support that Entropy has shown them, and the important community space that it creates.

In this way, I’ve learned more about the capacities for intimacy through editing. Both in my writing and editing and publishing, I’m interested in asking questions, I’m interested in the vulnerability of language that allows for an honest attempt at expression and a way to investigate complex questions. This might be about life, seeing, existence, race, gender, politics, love, depression, relationships, food. I believe that writing exists because language fails. Because language fails, we keep doing what we do. That is the exciting part. Writing is an attempt to articulate the inarticulable. I’ve gotten to meet a lot of new people or hear from people because of things I’ve personally written or pieces I’ve published or books we’ve put out. Writing and editing and publishing and reading and sharing and dialoguing and thinking, all of this is about existing together as part of a larger community, and this larger community is where the work exists. It allows us to share what we see and to see what others see.

This is also a political act. How marginalized voices get to articulate their everyday, their reality, how all these realities can exist. An exchange. Various levels of intimacy are important for radical change. I’m constantly asking in both my writing and editing: how do we hold space open while maintaining intimacy?

What distinguishes an excellent submission from an okay one? What are you looking for?

We look for honesty, we look for diversity, we look for sensitivity, we look for thoughtfulness, we look for engagement. We are open to almost everything. We keep creating new sections as people take the initiative to create them. Readers are welcome to write and pitch their own ideas for a series to curate or column to contribute. What we’re looking for is what benefits our readers or the community in some way.

Speaking of submissions, I’m really interested in the new Subversions section in Entropy and I think a lot of interesting perspectives about the submission process will come out of it. What was the inspiration behind starting that section?

Justin Greene, our Where to Submit editor, dreamed up that new series. He wanted to complement the Where to Submit list and create a larger dialogue around the logistics of submissions, and look at everything from the questionable power dynamics implied in the term “submission,” and the practice of submitting as it intersects with identity. We want to make the submission process easier and more transparent, but we also don’t want to buy into the commodification of writing and publishing. We provide the lists as a resource for the community, but wanted to be more open in creating dialogue around different vantage points and perspectives, including taking into account the problematic hierarchies that submission systems create. At the same time, it’s an opportunity to feature non-standard publications like zines or experimental publications.

Entropy is doing something unique and exciting in partnering with Civil Coping Mechanisms and Writ Large Press to form The Accomplices. Can you talk about anything that partnership has planned for this year?

Yes! So The Accomplices LLC is a literary arts partnership and media company dedicated to amplifying marginalized voices and identities, particularly writers of color, through traditional and new media publishing, public engagement, and community building. It consists of the entities Civil Coping Mechanisms, Entropy, and Writ Large Press. We wanted to combine our various strengths (Civil Coping Mechanisms: publisher & promoter of kick-ass independent literature, Entropy: a magazine and community of contributors that publishes diverse literary and non-literary content, and Writ Large Press: an indie press that uses literary arts and events to resist, disrupt, and transgress) to work towards creating more resources for marginalized writers, and doing this by more than just traditional publishing.

We just launched our new website and we have a whole bunch of new books slated for this year. I’m especially excited about Entering the Blobosphere: A Musing on Blobs, a book of speculative theory by Laura Hyunjhee Kim that is coming out this summer. We’ll be at AWP for the first time as a single entity and have a huge event planned for Thursday March 28, called Center Justify (and are partnering with AAWW, The Operating System, De-Canon, White Noise Project, and PSU Indigenous Nations Studies for an extravaganza of readings and lots of delicious food.) We have lots of new events planned in LA and elsewhere. We’ll be announcing some more partnerships. There are also rumors of a new podcast series and other new projects. We’ll be announcing updates on our website and our Twitter (@the5accomplices).

Janice Lee is the author of KEROTAKIS (Dog Horn Press, 2010), Daughter (Jaded Ibis, 2011), Damnation (Penny-Ante Editions, 2013), Reconsolidation (Penny-Ante Editions, 2015), and The Sky Isn’t Blue (Civil Coping Mechanisms, 2016). She writes about the filmic long take, slowness, interspecies communication, the apocalypse, and asks the question, how do we hold space open while maintaining intimacy? She is Founder & Executive Editor of Entropy, Co-Publisher at Civil Coping Mechanisms, Contributing Editor at Fanzine, and Co-Founder of The Accomplices LLC. After living for over 30 years in California, she recently moved from Los Angeles to Portland, Oregon where she is an Assistant Professor of Fiction at Portland State University.