Friday, January 28, 2011

Learn Your Lessons Well

People keep asking me if I've "posted" more work online. Because this is something that maybe needs explaining, online literary journals are not places you "post" your work. They are like print literary journals, only ONLINE. Writers still have to submit to them. Work is still rejected or accepted. Editors still edit. Readers still read. The words are still words. If I'm published in an online literary journal, I'm allowed to be excited by that.

In less defensive news, I made cornbread in a cast-iron skillet. Over Christmas, my grandmother told me I'd never really made cornbread if I'd made it in a baking pan. She swears by cast-iron. She's right about everything. If you're reading this, Nanny, YOU WERE RIGHT.

I have this desire to do lunch. I don't care who it's with. If you're attractive, I may develop a crush on you if we do lunch, but don't let that stop you. If I have a crush on you, you're likely to become the inspiration for many stories. You will be memorialized by my creepiness. You will learn important lessons about writers. You will learn to withhold certain information about yourself. You will be the envy of every man.
You may even see internet publication!

Speaking of creeping people the fuck out, writer xTx makes me squirm in my seat in the best away. Her story collection, Normally Special, will be released in March by Tiny Hardcore Press. Order it before it orders you.

Tell me a story about the time you got in trouble for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.


  1. The other day at work, I commented on how very brown a specific quilt was, and then realized that I was probably talking to the person who made it. So I had to talk for five minutes about how much I liked brown. It's a pretty uneventful story. Also, I have long harbored a desire to do lunch with you, but not because I want to be in stories. I'd rather not. Which will probably not be a problem. In any case, you should come over some time and we will have sammiches? Also, probably good you held your tongue bout Sissy Spacek, I can't imagine it would have gone down well.

  2. Oh, that's good. I've done that with food at potlucks. How did I not know you're only supposed to say nice things about the food? YOU NEVER KNOW WHO'S LISTENING.

    I don't know why that needed yelling capitalization. I DON'T KNOW.

    You told me to bring over mini quiches the other day, and I was on the edge of "let's make this happen," but then I thought you might have been joking. I've had people do that. Not that you're that type of person. I would never call you a tease. To your face. Also, I will never write about you. You don't have anything to worry about there. Who has the time to write about YOU, of all people? Certainly not this asshole.

    Are you free for luncheon on any weekdays? FACEBOOK ME, GIRL.

  3. RAWaH!

    Stories about regretful things said. I've had a few. Now I don't remember them but the anxious regretey feeling is still there. Like that feeling you get after electrocution. A deep vibrating numbness.

  4. Anonymous? Anonymous!? I thought that was you! It's been too long, so long. I can't remember the last time I saw your face, Anonymous. Such a face.

    I've been electrocuted only once, Anonymous, but I have indeed felt that vibrating numbness. I was trying to plug in a vending machine at school. Sparks flew, the hair on my arms stood up, and my friends thought I was having a seizure. The next morning, my friends told me they'd overheard maintenance talking to the faculty about the thousands of dollars worth of damage my attempted repair had done. I made an awkward confession to my teacher. She had no idea what I was talking about. Good one, friends.

    Later, I forgave them and we peed in a jar together and put it on a pedestal.


From the mouths of beasts.