Tag Archives: publishing

Bywords.ca – I’m In It! :-D

So, okay, yes, my submission to Room Magazine’s Queer Issue got rejected. (Alas! But also: Hey, fellow 98% of people who submit to Room, I just joined the club!)
BUT the poem to-which I alluded earlier is now up and published and I can therefore crow about it and post links all over the place, and so here we go. πŸ˜€
 

“Compass Rose” drawing by Seamus McGill


 
I am delighted to announce that my poem, Compass, has been published at Bywords.ca (and I admit I am weirdly chuffed that it’s up the week that VERSeFest kicks off, even though I know those things are not at all related).
Bywords.ca has published my work before, back in May 2011, and was both one of the first times my poetry got published AND one of that last times I sent my poetry out until this past December.
Oh, and kittens? It’s a paid market. \o/
So, y’know. Send them your stuff!
 
 
Cheers,
A.

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Poetry Is Dead: Coven Issue – I’m… not in it.

Alas.
I got my rejection letter this morning.
On the plus side, the editors let me know that the rejection wasn’t about the quality of my own work, which was nice to hear BUT I’m still a little sad about it.
 
It’s funny how getting an early rejection for Prairie Fire’s Love Issue was, like, “Meh. No big deal” but this is like “Oh… My heart is here tho…”
 
THAT SAID! I can now send those poems out elsewhere! πŸ˜€
I’ll find a home for my something-like-a-sonnet bottle spell poem yet. πŸ˜‰
 
AND, as I tweeted the other day, I did get another poem accepted for publication. I’ll post about that, with a link, when it launches. πŸ˜‰
It’s nice to be sending my work out again.
It’s nice to HAVE a volume of work to draw on for those submissions.
 
 
Onwards and upwards.
– A.

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Conjuration – I’m In It!

So. This charming (see what I did thar) little book of magical micropoems dropped last night at the Coven Editions launch party.
 

A pocket-sized book of magical micropoems with a shiny ivory cover and the word CON JURA TION in black ink. Also in the frame: A pen shaped like a broom, A 1"x6" print of my poem, "Pathworking" on the same cover stock with an intention paper backing, and a selection of polished stones: rhodochrosite, snowflake obsidian, blue lace agate, bloodstone, and rose quartz.

A pocket-sized book of magical micropoems with a shiny ivory cover and the word
CON
JURA
TION
in black ink.
Also in the frame:
A pen shaped like a broom, A 1″x6″ print of my poem, “Pathworking” on the same cover stock with an intention paper backing, and a selection of polished stones: rhodochrosite, snowflake obsidian, blue lace agate, bloodstone, and rose quartz.


 
It’s tiny! It’s shiny! And it’s packed with pint-sized poems conjuring love, loss, memory and magic (of course magic). And one of those poems is mine! πŸ˜€
As you can see, I’m more than a little excited about this. “Pathworking” is one of the poems I sent out on submission during December and January – my first crop of submissions since, like, 2011, iirc – and it’s pretty great to see it accepted somewhere, especially by a publisher that’s so in line with my… life in general, tbh. Witchy Lady Editors? Sign me up!
 
In the above picture, you can see a book-mark-sized strip of paper. It’s a single-print of my poem attached to a length of “intention paper”. Intention paper, for those who don’t spell-craft on the regular, is basically a sheet of paper that you write something on that you want to make happen, or make show up, in your life, and then you do something symbolic with the paper to put that spell into motion[1]. Magic, like poetry, is a language of metaphor. The hearts-ease[2] and geranium I brew is both a literal recipe and a story about how to heal a broken, anxious heart. Write your will on the scrap of paper, plant it, and let your intentions germinate and grow with the seeds.
 
Anyway.
All this being said, I went to the launch party last night. Had a glorious, soul-feeding time listening to lovely poets Conyer Clayton, Manahil Bandukwala, and Ian Martin strut their stuff on stage (I missed the open mic – dammit – but I hear it was amazing), and geeking out about poetry and also witchy-woo magic, and I feel so freaking good!
I need to remember that Poetry Is Self-Care for me and that getting out with my peers is important and good for my heart. ❀
To that end, more scribbling of magical moon poems for me. πŸ™‚ I've got a chapbook manuscript to finish.
 
 
Cheers,
A.
 
 
[1] Here's the non-secret secret of how magic works: It games the odds in your favour. You still have to do the work, and if you pick a bad target (like winning the lottery, to pick a common example) you're not going to see the results you want (because when the odds are astronomically against you, pushing them in your favour is not going to do much beyond make them marginally less astronomically against you). BUT it can help. Good targets for magic are: small enough that a single well-placed point of connection can actually make a big difference, broad enough that The Universe, your favourite deities, and the ancestors who look out for you actually have some wiggle room to work with, and are something over-which you have some amount of control, but not a lot. (E.G.: Do the work of crafting and submitting excellent applications to your top six MFA programs. Do the magic to push the admissions committees to really see your skill and potential, and to remember your applications favourably when it's decision time). Now you know. Go to it, kittens.
 
[2] Which, in my case, is another name for Motherwort, but which is also another name for Violet. Not surprisingly, the intention paper my poem has been connected with is, you guessed it, full of violet seeds.

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COVEN EDITIONS – Shiny New Small Press in Ottawa!

Coven Editions Launch Party February 27th 2018 Bar Robo - 7pm

Coven Editions Launch Party
February 27th 2018
Bar Robo – 7pm


 
Coven Editions is a brand new small press in Ottawa, specializing in broadsides and handmade chapbooks. They’re a woman-run press, though they don’t only publish work by women.
They’re having their launch party this February 27th at Bar Robo. There will be poetry performances (of course) and broadsides for sale, as well as a very short run of Magical Micropoems collected for the occasion.
 
As someone who write a LOT of magic-related poetry, I think it’ll be a good time.
 
See you there,
A.

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FIGURES: Impressions of a Professional Naked Girl (chapbook by me)

So, as-you-know-bob, I’m doing a reading with fabulous femme Amber Dawn Writes (home page) and bodaceous butch Kalyani Pandya (Daily Xtra article by Lukayo) this coming Saturday to celebrate the launch of Amber Dawn’s latest book, Where the Words End and My Body Begins. There will be a write-in during the show, and there will of course be merch. I mean, buy Amber’s books, clearly.
But there will also be this:
 

FIGURES: Inpressions of a Professional Naked Girl

FIGURES: Inpressions of a Professional Naked Girl


 
I’m rather chuffed about the whole situation.
It’s a limitted run of fifty (except that it’s currently a limitted run of forty-nine because the printshop and the other printshop and I Had A Miscommunication… But I’ll get it sorted out).
 
Anyway. That’s my wee bit of news. πŸ™‚
 
 
TTFN,
A.

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Chapbook – Gone to Print!

So, my chapbook is at the print shop.
 
There was rigamarole, but it has (fingers crossed) (probably) passed.
As of Wednesday morning I should have a stack of fifty chapbooks with bright red covers (becuase I’m opting for stereotypical, apparently) to call my own and, y’know, hawk at my upcoming show, where it’ll be available for $5 at the Merch Table.
 
This wee, self-published collection of fifteen poems focuses on my work as a model, and touches on the places where that work overaps and intersects with different areas of the sex industry. It is mostly new work, written in the past year, though a few older pieces are included.
 
This isn’t my first chapbook, but it’s the first one I’ve made with either a colourful cover OR the sense to make mention of its Limited Edition nature. Here’s hoping that the reading goes well enough that people in attendence will want copies of their own to take home.
 
Fingers Crossed.
 
 
A.

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Book Launch with Amber Dawn! I’m In It! :-D

Hey, folks!
 
So I may or may not have mentioned this back in, like, February, when this scheme was first cooked up, BUT: I’m in a show! With Amber Fucking Dawn! πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€
Be still, my little femme literary heart! πŸ˜€
 
It’s a free show at 7:30pm, on Saturday, June 13th (so a week from this coming Saturday) at Venus Envy in Ottawa. The occasion is the launch of Amber Dawn’s quite awesome new book of Glosas – Where the Words End and My Body Begins – and there will be a sex-positive write-in (audience non-mandatory participation, essentially) during the show.
 
There will be love-letters to queerdom, poetry about queer history, femme identity, modeling, & sexwork, short stories told and read, and, as the flyer puts it, a whole lot of “sex, sass, humour, and healing”.
 
In short, you should all come.
 

FREE show ft Amber Dawn, Kalyani Pandya, and ME!
Saturday, June 13th, 2015
7:30pm – 9:30pm
Venus Envy (226 Bank St, Ottawa)

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Actual Story Sale OH MY GAWD

So I wrote an age-play story and I actually got paid for it.
Seriously.
It’s not my first time getting a story published, but it is my first time getting a story published for money. And not, like, honurarium money, either. “Pays for a week of groceries (if I’m careful)” money. I’m all a-squee about it. ZOMG.
 
Anyway.
So that’s fantastic, and now I need to find more work like that because, hey, I can do this. CLEARLY I can do this. πŸ˜€
 
 
TTFN,
A.

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Interview Published

So I interviewed a local musician for an indipendent queer newspaper (actually an online thing). Definitely no pay, but still. My name is Out There in one more way.
 
Glad it went up in time to let their readers know about the musician’s album launch before it actually happens (it’s tomorrow night).
 
In other news, I have written a few new poems since my Dusty Owl Feature on the 20th, so I’m feeling a little better about my writing. I’m on the eve of Nanowrimo, though, so it’s just about time to dive back into the novel. None the less, I’ve been enjoying writing poetry – about brushes with The Numinous, among other things – these past few days. Here’s hoping I can keep it up. πŸ™‚
 
 
TTFN,
A.

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Insecurities and Magical Causality

So, I recently (like, minutes ago), reblogged this post from John Scalzi’s blog. In it, just to blow the ending for you, he points out that the only question that will determine whether or not you’re a professional writer is “Do you get paid to write?[1]”
 
In my case, the answer to that one is currently (and, sporadically, for the past two or three years) Yes. Not much. Not in any kind of a reliable way[2], but Yes. I do get paid (in money, no less[3]!) to write. Go me. πŸ˜€
 
I’ve written before about how I, as an insecure writer without a lot of non-blog-related publications to my name, tend to crave the validation of having someone else (A Publisher) say “Yes, You Are Worthy” to me and my creative output. I think that (somewhere… can’t find it) I’ve also written about my own internal, and somewhat weird-ass although probably not that unusual, Hierarchy Of Writing wherein the writing I’m paid to do (content writing for websites, which makes up the vast majority of my paid writing work) is lower on that hierarchy than the writing that “makes you (me) a Real Writer” (fiction and poetry).
My mental hierarchy may not look the same as yours, or as someone else’s. Maybe your hierarchy lists “chatty magazine article for international publication” far higher than “e-novella from a small press”, or maybe your hierarchy flips those two right around and the niche-marketted but globally available e-novella is your longed-for goal. Maybe you rank non-fiction above fiction by a significant margin. Regardless, I’m sure you get the drift.
 
I think that a lot of us who make our livings as swords scribes for hire – particularly those of us who aren’t scraping a reliable living wage out of our writing (yet) – are looking for ways to Get Results Paid.
I know I am.
I write for a living. I model for a living. I sell poetry-inspired jewelry on Etsy for a living. Remarkably little of what I spend my work-time on, in a given month, reliably translates into cash in hand.
I can do every damn thing in the world – write a thousand words a day; edit carefully; join a writers’ group for peer-editing exchanges and mutual support; subscribe to call-for-submissions news letters; participate in open mics; submit my work to every market I can find; scour craigslist for content-jobs… but, while this stuff will up my output, and up my *chances* of getting published or getting a paid gig[4]… it doesn’t directly translate into getting paid-published more frequently. That bit – the bit where my work is accepted for publications, the bit where the employer decides to hire me – is out of my control.
 
I can tell myself that my job is to put words on the page. I can, and I do, and then I go and do my job. But I’m also constantly, painfully aware of that fact that me doing my job and me getting paid to do my job are two very different things. (See: Waltzing with the broom in the Hall of Writers’ Anxiety, if you’re wondering if that’s just me). Reminding myself that my job is to create the creations… that’s helpful when it comes to standing up to (internal) questions about whether or not working on my novel, or my next collection of jewelry, or a new batch of soap, or a new poem, is “an apporpriate use of my time”. It’s not so helpful when it comes to staring down the spectre of “I can’t even pretend that my income is within my control, why am I doing this again?”.
 
Sometimes I think that’s why we do this stuff – make lists, like talismans, of “If you do these things, you will get X result” even when there isn’t actually any causal link between them. I think, maybe, we’re looking for a spell.
 
And maybe that’s just me. (Or not). Maybe I’m drawing this particular connection between (A) treating obsession as if it meant being worthy of survival; (B) a list of alleged proof of professionalism[5] that is really proof of obsession; (C) a desperate need for control in a situation where we don’t have a lot of control; (D) a desperate need for external validation in a situation where we are frequently told that our work has no value until it has a dollar-value attached to it (and people are willing to shell out); and (E) the anthropological finding that the use of magic is inversely proportional to the amount of control a given potential magic-user has over a given situation[6] because I’m also an anthropologist (of sorts) and a witch.
But it feel like we’re doing Internet Magic when we tell the world (the internet) “I Am A Professional Writer Because: Unrelated Reasons” we are offering an exchange on a magical, or magico-religous level: If I do X, Y, and Z, you, Universe, will provide Q, R, and P. Spirit workers make deals like this, negotiating with gods and spirits, setting terms, offering payment, in order to gain knowledge, or a favour, or whatever it is we’re trying to get ahold of or get done. Catholics with their novenas do the same thing. And I think this is related.
If I pour all my energy into writing, forsake my friends, starve in a garet, forget to eat… you, Universe, will honour my dedication with a two-book deal / a published manuscript / a syndicated column / a royalties cheque
 
I’m not sure what to make of all of this. But it’s sitting in my head and making noise, so I thought I’d write it down. πŸ™‚
 
 
TTFN,
A.
 
 
[1] This is rather like what a friend said to me, once, when I was having one of my “am I really a writer” freakouts. She said: “I think writing makes you a real writer, and getting published makes you a real writer who’s been published”. Admittedly, I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gyst of it right there.
 
[2] I actually have to send a note to my Australian employers to discuss how (when) I’m going to be paid going forward. That said: There’s a “going forward” involved in this, so Hey! πŸ˜€
 
[3] I’ve also been paid in store credit and, occasionally, contributor copies. Both are nice. Neither buys me groceries. (Unless I want to subsist on chocolate body paint, anyway). I count that stuff as compensation because, well, it is. But I don’t think of it as “getting paid”.
 
[4] In-so-far as you get more chances of publication every time you submit another piece of work to this or that magazine/anthology/etc.
 
[5] And that’s interesting in and of itself, because “professional” means “I get paid to do this” but “professionalism” means “I behave like an adult I’m worth paying to do this” and, what’s more, the bahviour in question frequently winds up meaning “I will volunteer more hours than I’m paid for” and “I will work overtime on no notice” and “I will make this task the center of my identity”. And that is some messed up thinking, dolls, even when I catch myself doing it. :-\
 
[6] Baseball Magic.

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