I don’t know who just up and gave me a baby. BUT now that I’m approaching a year (a-whole-entire-year, GUYS) of being a mama and having a wee one around, I’ve come to some life lessons and realizations about the miracle of life. And being the sharer that I am (and
Good people, hear my editing updates – As of this Tuesday I have successfully edited 100/208 pages. Now, please note this is not a thorough, kill-your-darlings type of editing; it’s more of a fill-in-the-gaps, continuity, make-sure-the-gun-used-on-page-five-matches-the-one-used-on-page-55 type of thang. So far, it’s not as bad as I thought. I will be
Lately I’ve been accosted by numerous co-workers trying to entice me into reading the latest crazy “50 Shades of Grey”. They look at me with glazed eyes, talking about some person named Christian as I slowly back away. And no. No, I will not read this book. I will never ever
(It’s helpful to have the John Lennon soundtrack of Starting Over while reading this intro. If you don’t, well that’s fine too). My book From the Umberplatzen was published this month, December, one year ago. I had big plans. Lots of readings had been set up. I was psyched because I love
The guest blogger for the month of December is Berit Ellingsen, a writer I’m very fond of and lucky to know. Berit Ellingsen is a Korean-Norwegian writer and science journalist whose work has appeared in various literary journals and anthologies, most recently or forthcoming in Thunderclap, Pure Slush, SmokeLong, Metazen and decomP.
With much fanfare and joyous occasion let me brag that I am in PANK.
My piece Guerilla Drive-In is ready to be read HERE. Or you can listen to my melodious tongue warble out the words.
But before we get all overexcited and squirmy, let me tell you why I am oh so very pleased.
Roxane Gay (among others) runs this show. And I know there are many more fab folks behind the scenes that I am not familiar with but the one that I am is Roxane Gay. This woman is a glossy dream. Her words stir me. She makes me want to be a better writer. I read a piece of hers and I have to catch my breath. Seriously. Go see what all the fuss is about. Here is a goodie: http://www.fwrictionreview.com/post/3619416071/girls-with-eating-disorders-by-roxane-gay
The other reason (besides her writing) is that she is coolest, most badass writer chick I have the pleasure of following (and sometimes interacting with) on Twitter. She loves movies; she doesn’t discriminate (The Will and Kate Lifetime movie or Fast Five) and often gives the most entertaining movie reviews I’ve ever read.
She reads deliciously cheesy books. Case in point: Sweet Valley High Confidential.
So when I got the email, late one night and read the words –We would like to publish your work in the May 2011 issue of PANK online. This was so strange and so fantastic. The ending disturbed me in the best possible way – I yelped, jumped off the couch, forgot about the horror movie I had been watching and spread the joyous news to my husband and cats.
PANK liked me. And you better believe I love them.
Which brings me to my next point. As a writer it’s fun for me to set goals. Everyone needs something to aim for, kind of like Tara Reid trying to become a respected actress. It’s fun for a while but then all you want to do is pass out over a toilet seat with your skirt above the waist.
Luckily, I am not there yet. Luckily.
And so what I did in my own passive-aggressive competitive style was make a list of highly regarded lit mags I love to read and would love to write for and I said, Yes, yes, I will conquer you. Then I drank some Captain Morgan and practiced my shimmy.
I had submitted to PANK a few times before Guerilla Drive-In and each time my submission was turned down. I vowed I’d find the right story. It was hard; they take excellent work that has an odd edge to it. Right up my alley yet I couldn’t seem to get there.
Then one bright, glorious day I wrote about a girl name Violet who lets her toes get sucked. And when I named my flash Guerilla Drive-In PANK was the first on my submit list. I crossed my fingers and danced a jig. And in the end, here I am.