Justice

by Amanda L. Andrei

As we continue to feature Women Who Submit writers from our Gathering anthology, we welcome our first publications in drama. This monologue from Amanda L. Andrei sheds violet light on our loves, losses, and how we carry those burdens.

JUSTICE

by Amanda L. Andrei

A liminal space shifting from Hecuba’s LA Filipinotown bakery to her memory and dreams. Violet light.

HECUBA

All of my lovers, I named Priam. I don’t remember any of their given names, they are all Priam to me. Men have so many faults, it’s best to collapse all those lovers into one man, one ideal, and hope that their faults will cancel each other out and only the good memories will remain.

Of course, you could go the other way, remembering only their faults and none of their good qualities. 

I remember one Priam, who kissed me on the hand as he left my house, only a few minutes late after martial law curfew. I never saw him again.

I remember one Priam, who climbed the top of a coconut tree when I was thirteen, just to bring me a green coconut with the freshest juice.

I remember one Priam, so dark he was almost blue, with an accent I had never heard before, who then left on a ship a week later.

I remember one Priam, who worked with me in the newspaper office, who laughed every time I edited his articles, but made the corrections anyway.

I remember one Priam, so kind when I first arrived to this country, who didn’t even touch me during our sham marriage, and quietly divorced me with my new citizenship intact.

I remember one Priam, pale and freckled, who thought I was crazy and still loved me for it. I wish he had rejected me instead.

I would tell my unborn daughters, your fathers are all one father – one Priam, a king among men, and you are princesses, each of you – not because your father is a king, but because I am a Queen, and I am so much of a Queen that even when battered and pulled apart by the spirits of war and fury, I can give up my crown and still be royal. 

A knock on the door.

HECUBA (CONT’D)

There is no justice in this world.

For more powerful words from Women Who Submit, preorder Gathering: A Women Who Submit Anthology here!

author photo by Rachael Warecki

Amanda L. Andrei is an award-winning Filipina Romanian American playwright residing in Los Angeles by way of Virginia/Washington DC. She writes epic, irreverent plays that center the concealed, wounded places of history and societies from the perspectives of diasporic Filipina women. Her work has been developed with Echo Theatre, The Vagrancy, Pasadena Playhouse, Playwrights Arena, Artists at Play, La MaMa, Relative Theatrics, Parity Productions, Bucharest Inside the Beltway, Southeastern European Film Festival, and more. She is currently working on a new commission for the Golden Tongues project and a new play for Echo Writers Lab. University of Southern California (MFA). www.AmandaLAndrei.com

Writing on a Budget: The Cost of Self-Promotion

By Lisbeth Coiman

Self-promotion is a full-time job. Large publishing companies have entire PR teams to promote an author’s work. If the writer signs with a small press the weight of promotion falls on the author who can chose one of three options. A. Do not promote at all. Bring the book into the world and allow the universe to do its thing.  B. Hire the services of a PR company which can go anywhere from $1800 to $3000. C. Blow your own horn and blow loud. 

Bird eating a butterfly with book title
Available at FLP

After all, books are like children. We conceive them. We care for them when they are gestating. But once they are born, it is our responsibility as word artists to nurture their growth. I am proud of all my children: the two human and the three books. As much as I have been/am a committed mother, I refuse to just put a book out and abandon it to its luck. 

The cost associated with self-promotion can skyrocket. It will cost a couple of hundred dollars to learn to design a website. Li Yun Alvarado does an excellent job. There are fees associated to purchasing and keeping a domain. You will need a few author pics to use for submissions, events, and social media graphics. At minimum that would be another $250. Melissa Johnson offers budget sensitive photo shoots.

Then there is the issue of advertising on social media platforms. Pay anywhere from $15 to $30 to boost a post. Pay fees to store graphics in Planoly or any other social media friendly archive. There is also the opportunity of paying somebody just for the task of posting on social media, which is not cost effective but can take time off your shoulders. I have temporary hired designers to do this for me, but only for short periods of time. Camari Hawkins and JT have helped me design graphic concepts and update my website. Graphics must meet social media constrains, which will require fees if you want a sophisticated job.

In the end, the only low-cost option is a DIY approach. My choice is always to go for the most basic. But even when spending the minimum, the time spent in advertising your forthcoming or just released book takes a toll on the individual. I do not wish to exhaust my readers with a mile long to-do list of items required for a book release campaign. Know that it requires hours of careful planning. These include but are not limited to: writing press releases, sending letters, contacting reading series, calling radio stations, organizing events, contacting libraries, getting a zoom account, purchasing your own books to sign to readers, writing emails back and forth, designing graphics for social media and cross posting everywhere possible to avoid boosting fees, or updating a website that is far from perfect. It is unpaid time in a long process that can last a whole year leaving even the most committed writer with no space to develop new content. 

Don’t get me wrong. It is gratifying too. I feel proud knowing that I have done this on my own, with the help of friends who retweet/repost, or encourage me, or offer their venues to host an event, or simply offer fresh ideas. Even when three people show up for an event, I am happy to know that I reached new readers, and they are now aware of my work as a poet.

I am nowhere close to be an established writer even when I can no longer claim to be emerging. But in the last five years, I have worked day and night learning, writing, and making myself known. Yes, I am grateful for all the support I have received along the way from the extraordinary talented community of Women Who Submit and others in LA for they have have welcome me and my craft. But I thank me first for the hard work I put raising my babies. 


headshot of Lisbeth CoimanLisbeth Coiman is an author, poet, educator, cultural worker, and rezandera born in Venezuela. Coiman’s wanderlust spirit landed her to three countries—from her birthplace to Canada, and finally the USA, where she self-published her first book, I Asked the Blue Heron: A Memoir (2017). She dedicated her bilingual poetry collection, Uprising / Alzamiento, Finishing Line Press( Sept. 2021) to her homeland, Venezuela. An avid hiker, and teacher of English as a Second Language, Coiman lives in Los Angeles, CA.

September Publication Roundup

September has ended, bringing us even closer to the end of 2021, a year that has felt as unreal, uneasy, and unresolved as 2020. Yet our WWS members continue to send out their work and publish in amazing places.

This month we’re celebrating the WWS members whose work was published during September of 2021. I’ve included an excerpt from their published pieces (if available) or a blurb if the publication is a book, and a link (if available) to where the pieces can be purchased and/or read in their entirety.

Let’s celebrate our members who published in September!

Continue reading “September Publication Roundup”

Writing on a Budget: How I Became a Budget Whisperer

By Deborah Edler Brown

I have a confession to make: I am in love with my budget. Yes, my budget. Those five letters that usually spell constriction, that have always sounded like a stern math teacher glaring over her glasses growling “No,” have become an exciting almost magical portal to possibility and peace of mind.

As a freelance writer, budgets always scared me. They took the long view: what do you make in a year and what do you spend? Because I didn’t know the answer to the first question, I was afraid to look at the second. 

Then a poet friend announced that she had eliminated $10,000 of debt with a program called YNAB (You Need a Budget). Interest piqued, I jumped in. More than a budgeting program, it was a philosophy. It was also an educational system & community. The key questions were how much money I had now and what were my plans for it. Forecasting was discouraged (what if that check never comes?). The goal was to stay current, clear-eyed, and flexible because life happens. My first goal was total awareness…which suddenly felt doable and kind. I started to understand my finances, what they could and could not do. I now only budget money that is actually in my account. I give every dollar a job and only one job (because, unlike me, my money can’t moonlight). The sheer sobriety of this approach washes over my financial fires like spring water. I can’t wait to allocate my paycheck each month, and I breathe easy when I pay bills because I know the money is waiting.

So, inspired by the elegance of clear numbers, I turned the budgeting lens onto my overwhelming schedule. I opened a new file and named it “TimeNab.” Every day, I deposited $24 and, for a few weeks, tracked where I “spent” it. Total awareness struck again. With travel and prep, my four-hour teaching assignment ate up eight full hours of my workday. Sleep took another eight, which left the remaining eight to cook, clean, write, exercise, socialize, watch TV, shop, and attend medical appointments, not to mention driving there. I was not lazy! I was trying to pack three weeks of clothing into an overnight bag; it just didn’t fit.

Sometimes time is money…although what it’s worth will vary by who is paying me. Sometimes money can buy time, like paying someone else to do something I hate or can’t do. The value in both is in the life they allow me.

As writers, we negotiate time to write, to edit, to research, and submit. And while writing is one of the least expensive arts, we still pay for supplies, submission fees, and workshops. Having both as realistic budget categories puts us in the driver’s seat.

This month’s destination is the 8th Annual WWS Submission Drive, so it’s time to check my budget. When will I polish my pieces? When will I research target markets? How much can I spend on submission fees while respecting my other goals? Those questions are like gas in my tank: they tell me how far I can go. But they do more than that. Each decision I make with time and money is a decision about where I want to go, where I plan to go. It’s like casting a spell to make it happen. Who could not love that?


Woman holding a face maskDeborah Edler Brown was born in Brazil and raised in Pittsburgh. Her poem “Cubism” won Kalliope’s Sue Saniel Elkind Poetry Prize, her fiction has been nominated for the Pushcart, and she was 1998 Head-to-Head Haiku Slam Champion. She lives in LA, where she teaches reading to adults and dances daily.

August Publication Roundup

It’s the end of August and the heat is kicking in here in Southern California, with more hot weather through at least September, if not longer. But the heat isn’t slowing down our WWS members, who continue to send out their fabulous work and publish it.

This month we’re celebrating the WWS members whose work was published during August 2021. I’ve included an excerpt from their published pieces (if available) or a blurb if the publication is a book, and a link (if available) to where the pieces can be purchased and/or read in their entirety.

Let’s celebrate our members who published in August!

Continue reading “August Publication Roundup”

Writing On a Budget: Artists Do Not Work in Isolation

By Lisbeth Coiman

How do you grieve for a homeland that no longer exists? 

Uprising / Alzamiento, my upcoming bilingual collection with Finishing Line Press,  is my answer to that question. It’s a vehicle to process the pain of watching the land of my birth transform into something for which I don’t even have a passport for a safe return. 

As a teacher and poet, I asked myself what words should I write to inform about the tragedy in my homeland. How could I paint a clear picture of the conflict to inspire a shift in perspective in those who oversimplify this humanitarian crisis with memes on social media? 

Original art depicting a bird and butterflies
Apuntes Para Una Pesadilla by Francisco Itriago

The English language has a name for this kind of writing: Poetry for Social Justice. Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo was the first to point that out to me: “Detach from the subject to convey the tragedy you are experiencing.” 

In her class, Poetry as Survival, Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo taught me to create symbols and to change the point of view in order to separate myself from my pain. Thus, Uprising / Alzamiento began. Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo inspired me to transform my emotions into images, to show my working class neighborhood in its splendor so that others could see what was lost.

A year ago this week, I started collaborating with a poet I admire and respect, who lent me his wisdom to weed out the unnecessary language and move my craft  away from ideological dialectics. He also encouraged me to focus on the faces of the Venezuelan crisis to bring to life the images of the struggle on the streets of the once wealthy nation. During the first few months of the pandemic, between March and May 2020, Peter J. Harris and I became conversation partners over long hours on the telephone to polish the English manuscript.

By then, the book included several brief poems by a young Venezuelan artist, Felipe Itriago. When it was ready, I translated each poem into Spanish because I wanted my siblings and childhood neighbors to understand what I wrote for them. Another poet, Mariano Zaro, helped me edit the Spanish version. And so the book was finished and ready to submit. Then the Women Who Submit did what they do so well: showed me the discipline of the submission process.

When I read the acceptance letter sent by Finishing Line Press, I announced my joy to the world in social media and private messages to my family. Francisco Itriago, donated the art for the cover. I am beyond thankful to all those who held my hand all the way through. 

The whole process reminds us that artists do not work in isolation. Uprising / Alzamiento is the product of intense collaboration with artists who believe in my ability to relate emotions into images and for my art to become a vehicle for change. What matters is that my poems inspire others to take action.


Uprising / Alzamiento will be published by Finishing Line Press in early June 2021. I am happy to announce that it is now on pre-sales on their website at Finishing Line Press .

Order today and help me call attention to the faces of the Venezuelan crisis and pay tribute to those who have given their lives to restore democracy to my homeland.


headshot of Lisbeth CoimanLisbeth Coiman is an author, poet, educator, cultural worker, and rezandera born in Venezuela. Coiman’s wanderlust spirit landed her to three countries—from her birthplace to Canada, and finally the USA, where she self-published her first book, I Asked the Blue Heron: A Memoir (2017). She dedicated her bilingual poetry collection, Uprising / Alzamiento, Finishing Line Press( Sept. 2021) to her homeland, Venezuela. An avid hiker, and teacher of English as a Second Language, Coiman lives in Los Angeles, CA.


Writing on a Budget: Writing Alone Together

by Lisbeth Coiman

Writing Alone Together is a community of writers who share the need of time dedicated exclusively to their craft. We are writers needing accountability in the long hours of a pandemic, when days melt into each other like a plastic spoon left unattended sticking to the metal edges of a hot grill.

By the end of March 2020, I couldn’t tell night from day anymore, the constant rain in those early days of the lockdown, and the grey sky, thick like a sun-blocking curtain, added despair to the two weeks of silence and solitude inside my apartment in Inglewood.

As usual, I reached for structure, the backbone of my sanity, blocking time for exercise, nourishment, chores, and work. But the lack of accountability to meet my writing goals put in jeopardy my ambitious plan to complete a bilingual collection of poetry before summer. Without the pressure of a concrete deadline, or the constraints of time spent on traffic and work, I ran the risk of retreating into my mind and surrendering to the overwhelming weight of the pandemic anxiety.

As a desperate selfish act of reconnecting with people who share my interests, I threw the idea of meeting daily for three hours in the morning in the abstraction of Zoom meetings to write in silence with fellow women writers. And just like that a community was born: Writing Alone Together (WAT). Initially four women joined me. WAT has now 40 members, and keeps growing slowly, with several small independent groups stemming from the idea.

A simple concept, WAT offers a safe cyberspace, structure, and a maximum of 15 minutes to chat before we silence our mics and write our souls out.

WAT is dependent of Women Who Submit, and accepts only WWS members who are committed to write. We meet now twice daily from 10 to 12 pm and from 4 to 6 p.m. That’s four hours of uninterrupted writing for women who are used to steal time from domestic and professional duties. We have already learned from the constrains of  life outside cyberspace to optimize time, and therefore, have become incredibly productive with these extra hours of work. Regular attendees have shared their success stories and make us all proud of what we can collectively achieve when we join forces.

WAT is building a community of women and non-binary writers exposed to the overwhelming conditions of 2020. We support and hold space for each other. We sometimes shed tears and try to reassure those who seem to be given in to the weight of our current common circumstances. And we write, silently in 2 hour segments, daily from Monday to Friday.

The unprecedented circumstances of the pandemic with its potential of killing so many of us, together with racial tensions stemming for the contemporary lynching of people of color, protests, the threat of our country turning to totalitarianism, the effects of global warming destroying our landscape, homelessness, unemployment, all post a high risk to our physical and mental health, to democracy and way of life. But 2020 has also been a year of relearning life, learning to live, study, teach, communicate, and perform in cyberspace. Thus, we survive.

This is not the time to judge ourselves for selfish attempts of survival. Not all selfish acts are altruistic, but true altruism is in itself a selfish act, especially when in doing so, we reach for the nearest hand to survive with us. Selfishness knows no moral. It only turns bad if it causes the destruction of others. It turns good when a selfish act benefits those around us. Today, I am proud of the community created from my desperate attempt to survive writing during the COVID19 pandemic of 2020.

Thank you to those who co-host when I cannot open the room: Colette Sartor, Cybele Garcia Cohel, Thea Pueschel,  Deborah Elder Brown, Sakae Manning, and of course to the 40 other female writers who have come regularly or occasionally to join us in our adventure. Thank you to all who continue to hold each other in this cyber space.

Writer Lisbeth Coiman from the shoulders up, standing in front of a flower bush

Lisbeth Coiman is an emerging, bilingual writer wandering the immigration path from Venezuela to Canada to the US. She has performed any available job from maid to college administrator, and adult teacher. Her work has been published in Hip Mama, the Literary Kitchen, YAY LA, Nailed Magazine, Entropy, and RabidOak. She was also featured in the Listen to Your Mother Show in 2015. In her self-published memoir, I Asked the Blue Heron (Nov 2017), Coiman celebrates female friendship while exploring issues of child abuse, mental disorder, and her own journey as an immigrant. She currently lives in Los Angeles, where she teaches ESL and dances salsa.

WWS Publication Roundup for July

This is my first post as the new publication roundups editor. Thank you, Laura Warrell, for being such a fantastic editor for the past four and a half years.

For many of us, it’s been difficult to stay focused on writing during the ongoing crises that define our everyday lives. Time and again, Women Who Submit has been a touchstone, a reminder that creativity matters; that our words make a difference in the world.

To witness WWS members continue to submit their work and publish far and wide is an inspiration. So let’s join in celebrating this month’s literary successes of our community members!


Congratulations to Donna Spruijt-Metz, whose poem “Pebbles Along the Labyrinth- Psalm 31” was published by The Cortland Review, along with an audio recording.

Listening for mercy – 
           I place                           pebbles

along the labyrinth  –  smooth

           in YOUR hand

against
           the cutting nets
                                   of trust

Congratulations to Amy Shimshon-Santo, whose chapbook of erasure poems, Endless Bowls of Sky, was published this month by Placeholder’s Press’s Flashbulb!

Check out Li Yun Alvarado’s poem “To the White Parenting ‘Expert'” published by La Parent as part of “LA Parents Weigh in on Racism:”

My naivete: the
presumption
that your concern

for designing presence
& peace included

peace for black babies.

For Tammy Delatorre, her essay “I Want to Fuck Your Poem” appeared in the Los Angeles Review.

Everything you said about poetry, I wanted to get naked with. You quoted the immortals: W.H. Auden saying we’re making a “verbal object,” Carl Sandburg claiming a poem was “an echo asking a shadow to dance,” and Howard Nemerov stating that poetry was “a means of seeing invisible things and saying unspeakable things about them.”

Check out Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo’s essay “Forget About the Rap Star and Choose Me,” out now in PANK.

At 32 I fell for a man I met through OK Cupid. Still a couple of years before the dating app deluge, I joined the site determined to end my history with short-lived, non-boyfriends.

Congrats to Tanya Ko Hong, whose poems “Journey (여행)” and “What I Really Want (내가 간절히 원하는 것은)” were published this month in The Global Korean Literature Magazine (Anthology 3).

Congratulations Arielle Silver, whose musical album and companion book, both titled “A Thousand Tiny Torches,” were released this month.

From Colette Sartor, the interview “Excerpt & Q&A: ONCE REMOVED by Colette Sartor” was published by Angels Flight literary west.

Now, more than a century later, I find myself amidst a deadly pandemic, worried about keeping my family safe while staying afloat financially. I dread that we will wind up where my grandmother’s family did: ravaged by loss, fighting to rebuild in the outbreak’s aftermath.

Also from Colette, the interview “Cultural Attunement and ‘Otherness’: A Conversation with Aimee Liu” appeared in The Rumpus.

Liu’s novel succeeds not just as fine-tuned historical fiction but also as an insightful portrait of individuals determined to understand and embrace the humanity of all. The book is set within the context of the British colonial system’s arrogant dehumanization of anyone perceived as “other.”

Congrats to Soleil David, whose poem “Xyliphius sofiae” appeared in Coal Hill Review.

I, a human being with eyes that swim
in aqueous humor, hold a hand out

in absolute darkness and cannot see it.

From Désirée Zamorano, her short story “Norma” was published by PANK.

She could not stop being his mother; he made his own decisions. That was how it should be. What she needed to do was sip and enjoy the wine, his presence, their shared meal. She did not need the addition of the locura in her mind. Calmate, she told herself. To be a parent was to have expectations. To be an adult was to release them.

Congratulations to Laura Warrell, who published her essay “Writing While Black” in the Los Angeles Review of Books.

To write as a Black person in America is to sustain a barrage of gut punches from a community and industry that don’t do a great job transcending the larger inequities of the culture surrounding them. Writing is difficult and publishing hellish, but the path for Black writers is laden with unique indignities.

Congratulations Lisbeth Coiman on publishing her poem “A Rosary for Venezuela” in La Bloga.

I am a radical atheist relearning to pray.
Kneeling to conjure devotion, I hold my motherland between the palms of my hands, to protect her against all evils. My words, the beads of the rosary slipping through my fingers.

Also from Lisbeth, the poem “Allyship,” published by Cultural Weekly.

Identify the hair root-cause of self-hatred
Mother washing my hair with chamomile tea
To make it blonde
But she only made me a “bachaca”
“Yellow”
All throughout my childhood
I never understood why
A woman who despised Black people
Married the son of a Black woman

Congratulations to Melissa Chadburn, who published “The Archive” in The Paris Review Daily.

One quiet spring morning, as a plague engulfs America, I awake, brew coffee, and shuffle to my computer. Outside my windows, a cordillera of snow-thatched roofs. I feel rooted, glooming in grief and rage. The need to stay in place. In the place of our wreckage. In other homes, I imagine children in nightshirts, and daddy flipping pancakes, and some things still good. Meanwhile, the world continues to break in the ways that it has always been broken.

Storytelling in Action: Quarantine Edition

In light of the current state of affairs surrounding the COVID-19 virus, I’ve opted to switch out my original idea for this month’s post for my personal take on self-isolation, self-quarantine, and social distancing during this pandemic. As someone who has been practicing all three for a while (for various reasons not to do with communicable diseases), I’m experiencing this shift in social consciousness along with everyone else, and have observations – not necessarily solutions – that I hope can be helpful. Because one of -if not the – biggest reason I’ve been drawn to writing/storytelling since I was old enough to read, was to add another (my) perspective to a larger conversation.

* * *

I saw the pictures before I experienced it myself – first in Twitter and Instagram feeds, then from a friend of mine who lives in the town just north of me. I’m single, without children or a partner, and have been dealing with a spinal disc protrusion / sciatica issues for the past six months, so I’ve not been able to be in a rush to get anything from anywhere.

Photo credit: Nadia Tedmori
Photo credit: Nadia Tedmori
Continue reading “Storytelling in Action: Quarantine Edition”

Storytelling in Action: the World of Audio

Still from Saturday Night Live January 25, 2020

by Ramona Pilar

About this Column:

When I was about to graduate form Graduate School, I realized I had no idea what I was supposed to do with an MFA in Creative Writing. 

I was born and raised in the second tier of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, a survival mode of sorts: living moment to moment, reactive instead of proactive, ready to put out fires, real and imagined. That level of “readiness” without an actual crisis transformed into debilitating anxiety. I learned I lacked the mental space, energy, and experience to plan. Having that buffer is a type of privilege I’m only now learning to understand and practice. Hence going to grad school under the assumption that there were career answers there. They may have been, but I knew not where to look or what questions to ask of whom in order to build a career.

The initial intention was to teach, but the MFA program I attending didn’t really provide TA-ships or other teaching opportunities. Again, proactivity was not a strength I’d developed or a muscle I even knew I had; It was mythical.

At the end of it all, with fat debt and fatter doubts in my abilities, the time came to take my skills into the professional realm. I had just enough skills and aptitude in certain areas to be hyper-aware of how unqualified I was for everything remotely related to my interests and training.

I was a playwright, essayist, arts & film critic, and novice marketing/PR copywriter with no big-name bonafides and a drought of confidence. There was no “fake it ‘till you make it” for me. 

Continue reading “Storytelling in Action: the World of Audio”