I’m in the middle of doing a stretch of market research. For me this involves reading or re-reading a lot of the zines I like. Checking out what zines have had a staff change, sifting through old rejections to see if I want to take another run at any.
As I’m doing all this I’m checking out new things as well. I keep running up against “women’s fiction”.
…so I am a woman. I don’t write for men or for women in my head. I try and it doesn’t work out well for me.
I think, I think that I am not really the kind of woman they are talking about. Perhaps my lady audience isn’t that lady audience.
I get annoyed because I hate that I get this internalized misogynistic rant going in my head, always turning on the fluffy pink nature of a lot of the “woman’s fiction” (you must imagine saying that in a very serious tone of voice) and subsequently all of the times I’ve heard about how much women writers don’t have to say.
I fucking hate that narrative. I hate it. Of course the next voice in my head that starts screaming is pissed off because while yes I am in fact a fancy ass lady, I am not that lady. Inevitably I feel weirdly left out of a club I never wanted to be in.
It’s a weird thing.
Thus I tend to avoid reading or submitting to lady fiction, lady zines etc. I don’t feel like I belong in that place. I’m babbling.
That is what happens when I try too hard to fit things in ways I think I am “supposed” to.
So I will just write my shit and hope someone reads it and likes it or hates it.
And the words will be out of my system.
How about some things I have found in my internets travels?
An artist I’ve become familiar with via some friends on FB (facebook is good for something it turns out) Monsanto Leyba is doing some commission work. I will tell you I want to be a SEXGOBLIN.
It should probably go without saying anything arty I post is not always going to be safe for work.
Next. Go look at the photos in this tumblr. I won’t tell you who is doing it, just do it.
If you’ve read this blog for more than five minutes you probably already know how much I love visual art. It is one of my long standing wishes that I had more gut level know how as to how to create visual art.
Recently my partner and I watched a documentary about Bob Ross and I think I can blame him for my long standing lust to paint. I watched him paint when I was a kid, I tried really hard but was unable to do it to my own satisfaction.
See the theme? If I try too hard I fuck it up.
I also dabble a little in photography. This is another of those things that I am somewhat afraid of, the same way I was afraid to start trying to get my non-fiction published.
It always boils down to what if I fuck it up? Or in the case of photography what if I fuck up my fancy* camera?
I want to get my partner a camera so we can (weather and his mobility permitting) go out on photo explorations together. I love doing that. I love it when I take a picture of something and someone takes a picture of the same thing and we see two completely different things. That makes me unutterably happy.
Now that I have a smart phone I have been dabbling in some street/things I find beautiful photos. I’ve taken a few I am quite fond of.
I took this one while I was walking home the other night. I love how it came out, this is how I imagine my neighborhood would look at the beginning of a horror movie.
Now I have work to do.
Yesterday I cleaned up the work I have out, I withdrew a few pieces that languished for so long (over 100 days each) I couldn’t stand looking at them.
I got several pieces back into circulation after some tinkering. I submitted more poetry. The rejection I got from Camroc was so nice I went ahead and put those back out.
In my quest for 100 rejections I am officially up to 21. I’ve kept track since September. I’m quite proud of myself.
Here are my current stats:
Note: These statistics only include fiction and poetry submissions sent within the last 12 months.
Pending responses for last 12 months: 10
Submissions sent last 12 months: 63
Submissions sent this month: 6
Acceptance ratio for the past 12 months: 17.86 %
I think that’s all for now. Back to the grind.