#this is actually something i made for a zine but it got rejected :(

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing of Amanda Young from the Saw franchise. She's wearing her outfit from the third film, but has her hair from the first. She's wearing the reverse bear trap, which leaves only the top half of her face visible. Her eyes are open wide and staring directly at the viewer. Eyeliner runs down her cheeks. In one hand she holds overflowing needles which are falling from her loose grasp. In the other she has a tape recorder. Her arms are stiff, as if she's a posed mannequin. Bandages are wrapped around both of her wrists. These bandages, the tape recorder, the needles and the reverse bear trap are all coloured a bold light blue. Amanda is coloured bright white with grey shading, while the background is a darker grey. It also has a subtle spiral pattern to it.]

[richarlotte]

How I got into University!

Demographics:

Gender: Female.

Race/Ethnicity: African-American

Residence: Michigan.

First Generation; Super Low Income.

Underrepresented Minority (and Woman).

Intended Major:

Psychology, Sociology, or Public Policy/Health.

Academics:

(UW/W) GPA: 4.0/4.75.

Large Public High School.

Ranking: 25/750 or similar.

0 AP classes, mostly honors.

I took 2 Gaps and applied at 20.

Standardized Testing.

I applied test optional to most but got a 33 on my ACT.

Extracurriculars.

1. President of Women in STEM Club.

2. I created my own zine promoting women’s health and wellness.

3. I interned and volunteered at a gynecology clinic for my last 3 years of high school.

4. I worked shifts in the labor and delivery unit at my local hospital.

5. I worked with at a low income women’s clinic for my two gap years.

6. I cheered and danced throughout all four years of high school.

7. I was a part of a few other groups in HS such as Science Olympiad and similar .

Recommendation Letters.

My School Counselor.

I read this letter and it was good! I ate lunch in her office a lot and felt that we had a connection and this letter showed that I wasn’t tripping lol. She celebrated my achievements, used quotes from my classmates and teachers to show who I am as a woman, and said I exceeded my own circumstances and was extremely capable. I’m happy that she wrote the letter and that she asked that I be given opportunities and given the chance to succeed in higher education.

My Boss.

This was a necessity. My boss went to Harvard Undergrad and Harvard Med and he has told me that I have potential since the day I started working for him. I wasn’t supposed to read the letter he wrote on my behalf but he was heartfelt, only spoke praises, and made it clear that he believed that my future will be bright. He wrote two long pages and described my emotional maturity, intellectual drive, and commented on my commitment and compassion towards people.

My Science Teacher.

He wrote the best letter of them all and made it clear that I’d worked my ass off to get where I am today and really pursued every path I’ve wanted to walk. He was kind, he wrote some of the nicest things I’ve ever read about myself, and he wrote about how I made Science Olympiad and STEM Club into a whole new world.

How I applied:

Major shoutout to the Coalition App.

Essay.

I wrote my personal essay on childhood illness and what it meant to me. I had a lot of experiences and I made a point of talking about how growing up poor and sick made me want to become a doctor and bring affordable healthcare to minority and low income women. It sounds convoluted but I promise it was a good essay and I was so proud of it. The only feedback I got was on my grammar and it took me two months to perfect each line.

Acceptances.

UMiami

Southern California

Columbia (+Barnard)

NYU

Brown

UChicago

Washington

UCLA

Princeton

Georgetown

Stanford

Dartmouth

(Foreign Schools)

Waitlists.

None!

Rejections.

Harvard (Elle Woods was wrong, it is hard lol)

It took me a year of really working hard to prepare myself to apply and then actually do it. I was terrified of rejection going in and really self conscious of myself when entering the process as I had minimal support as I was in foster care growing up and I’m happy to say that I will be attending college without having to worry about the price of where I’ll be going. I’m so excited to finally get to go somewhere fun and do something with my life; I feel like I’ve been waiting for this forever and I’m happy that move in day is so soon.

Richarlotte x

[magnus-sm-writes]

My Writing Journey: Currently

After university, I took a really shitty office job I hated and wrote a lot of angsty poetry. Some of it got accepted. I wrote a short story, “The Ghost You Left Behind”, and it was published in the graveyard zine. I got a lot of tattoos. Like, a lot of tattoos. I got really depressed. I did a lot of worldbuilding for Uuve and began transplanting my D&D characters into it. I visited my partner’s family in Las Vegas. Your typical postgrad shuffle.

2022 was the best year for me in terms of publishing. I actually have not been published in a long time, due to hitting a wall when it came to motivation to seek out publishers. That does not mean that I have not been producing work, though.

Dare I say that 2023 was one of my best writing years yet. I was writing for multiple fantasy projects at once. This was when a lot of them began to take shape. Tsarevna of the Horned Crown, Greenest, Double-Trickery, Of Valor & Honor, and the entirety of my Dragonworld stories began to really bloom. My characters became far more vibrant than I first wrote them as. They seemed to breathe on the page. The bonds they formed with each other felt organic and real. They made problems and solved them. 

I worked at Starbucks and let my characters do their thing on the page. Writing fantasy was getting easier every day. 

And I was beginning to get really weird with my poetry. 

I love a weird poem. Love them. Solar Trauma is one of my favorite chapbooks ever written. Based on one of my favorite movies, The Thing, Solar Trauma actually inspired me to begin writing my own hivemind poetry. And it has been a love affair since then. I have actually submitted a few pieces for publication, which I am still waiting on answers for.

The most wild thing I did in 2023 was submit Body to a publisher for consideration.

Literally all year afterwards, I was checking my personal email non-stop. Every single day. I eagerly awaited a response.

That response was a rejection that came last month, but I am still amazed that I submitted Body at all. Yes, it gave me anxiety the entire time. So what? I still did it. I’m becoming more confident in sending my works to publishers, and that’s a huge accomplishment for the neurotic mess that is me.

My partner and I left our city life to move in with my parents for financial reasons, and shockingly, I have become even more productive with my writing since then. It might be that I finally have set hours (my 40 hour work week is a blessing), or it might be that I’m not constantly stressed about money, but I have finally been able to write the weird shit I’ve been needing to get out of my system. 

I wrote several short stories in the tail end of 2023 and the beginning of 2024, as well as beginning to casually rewrite Hamish in February and even write a couple scenes of my Measure for Measure reimagining. 

Something I didn’t expect was that I began to keep a writing journal! I’ve always loved the thought of journaling, but never stuck with it. Something about it was difficult for me. Especially bullet journaling the way people online do it. I couldn’t keep up with all the pretty pages and keep it practical. Little did I know that, if I just changed the format to value function over form, I could be incredibly productive with one.

I’ve been tracking my word counts, the books I’ve read, the books I want to read, the poems and short stories I’ve written, poems that inspire me, my habits, and general goals for each month. It has been so incredibly helpful for keeping me on track. I made a post about it, and holy shit, if you’ve ever wanted to keep a writing journal, please let this be your sign. It’s been one of the best impulse decisions I’ve made in a while.

Currently, I’m going with the flow when it comes to my writing. Doing what comes to me. I’ve taken a marked interest in the Donner party (to the point where I got the year they were rescued tattooed on me), so I’m considering doing something with that. I also want to write some more about zombies, and to continue my casual Hamish rewrite. 

I think there are some fantastic things on the horizon for me. Not only has my writing grown in ten years; I have grown. I have become such a different person in all that time (thank fuck!), and I am so incredibly proud of how I’ve gotten better as a human being. I’m surrounding myself with people I love, doing things that make me happy (or at the very least improve my health/mental wellbeing). It’s been a fucking slog, and I’ve come out stronger.

Thank you everyone for coming along with me on my writing journey. If you have any questions you’d like me to answer, feel free to ask! This was a lot to get off my chest, and I’m feeling very nostalgic.

[wingsofimagery]

Seashells

㊊ Summary: Jyushi ran from Kuko's exorcism adventure and met a girl who calls him Kiddo. He's not very fond of the name but her request was a simple one he couldn't reject. ㊊ Characters: Aimono Jyushi, Original Female Character (unnamed), Harai Kuko, Amaguni Hitoya ㊊ Genre: General ㊊ Warnings: Mention of character death ㊊ Word Count: 2406 ㊊ A/N: I died... As per usual. I have something else coming up real soon too. I wrote this a while back for a zine application (in which I got into~ Please look forward to it!)

“I can’t do this! Noooooooo!!” Jyushi shouted as he ran out of the building.

Kuko had suggested they investigate this place where there a ghost was to be exercised. Jyushi, having been too spooked by the eeriness, ran off screaming on his own. Hitoya was not prepared for this and had lost sight of Jyushi by the time he chased after him. Kuko, who made it his mission to successfully take the haunting ghost to the afterlife, chose to stay back and furthered his search.

—

“Stupid Kuko-san. I don’t want to be here anymore… This is a scary place. Amanda, I’m afraid,” Jyushi muttered to himself while holding his pig plushie gingerly in his hands.

The tears collecting on the edge of his eyes slid down his cheeks. He kept them closed while he cried, sniffling every once in a while. Of all places to go, it had to be a haunted house. It was not even a theme park haunted attraction or anything created by living humans. An actual house haunted by an actual spirit of a dead person. Leave it to Kuko to play with his fears.

He did not notice the figure that wandered by nor did he realize the figure made a stop when she heard his cries. She walked up to him, squatting down to get closer to the crying teen.

“Are you lost, young one?”

Jyushi looked up with surprise plastered on his face. He had let out a yelp from the sudden interaction and his hands flew up to wave them away, Amanda clutched tightly in his hand. He did not know what he was doing but he was too spooked out to coherently think.

“Hey hey! Watch it! Your piggy is going to fly away! I won’t hurt you! Seriously, stop it!”

He finally stopped flinging his hands around, pausing mid-air to observe the stranger. She wore a dress, long enough to cover her feet. Her hair was half done up. From Jyushi’s observations, he noticed that…

“You’re not going to hurt me…”

“Correct, my child. Now tell me, what is wrong? Why are you in tears? Do I have to hurt someone?”

Jyushi did not answer her questions, instead, he spouted his own, “why are you calling me pet names like I’m an actual child? You look the same age as I do!”

“Looks can be deceiving. Don’t you know that?” She roared with laughter and gave his head a few pats.

“I ran from my friends. They were doing this expedition thing to exorcise some ghost. Said there was a haunting here, knowing fully well how I can’t handle the paranormal.”

She raised her eyebrow in interest. She could hear how exasperated Jyushi was.

“Well, I apologize. I can’t do much but I can tell you now, that you’re doing pretty good. The spirits won’t be messing with you tonight. Not while I’m around!”

Jyushi tilted his head to question her statement, “what do you mean?”

She merely smiled and offered her hand for him to take. Jyushi could tell that she was nice. She emitted a comforting aura; that was all he needed to trust her. He shyly placed his hand in her offering one. There was no warmth in her hands but he chalked it up to the decreasing temperature as night was cooler than day. There was also something else about her hand but he could not put his words to it. She stood up to her full height and the teen got up with her.

“Come on, buddy. Don’t slouch! Stand tall! You’re given your height for a reason!”

He quickly straightened his back, a chuckle escaped from his lips from her silliness. She knew how to bring the mood up. She was happy to see him lighten up a little as well.

He followed her on a walk. The breezy night on this hot day was welcomed. The walk was slow, not that Jyushi was complaining. Jyushi wanted to keep talking to her but he did not know how to start conversations, let alone hold a conversation with her. He opted to tug on Amanda in hopes of finding some extra comfort in her.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t want to return to your friends for the time being. Would you like to go to the nearby beach with me then? I have a task I need help with,” she smiled at him in hopes that he would accept the request.

He nodded his head, “Sure! I don’t know if I’ll be of much help though, but it’s better than being here alone.”

Her smile grew wider. She would not know what she would do if she could not convince him. She did not want to leave him there by himself. Grateful for his acceptance, she smiled even wider. Her steps were light as she hopped in front of him, looking back every once in a while to make sure he was following her and not straying away. The beach was not a long walk. Their quiet journey there was not awkward either. Jyushi does not usually warm up to people that quickly but with the light atmosphere she brought along with her, he felt the gloomy emotions disappear.

She stepped down onto the sand, turning around to spread her arms out. Jyushi stared at her in question. He stood close before her and awaited her instructions. She pointed to the seashells; some were completely intact, others were tarnished by nature and humans alike. She told Jyushi to pick up the cockleshell, informing him that she wanted shells that were pristine like this one.

“This shouldn't be hard but why are you not able to do this on your own?” he questioned. He meant no malice in his questions, he was simply confused. She was in perfect condition and nothing he saw physically looked like it could hinder her in any way.

She sheepishly looked away, “Well… My hands are unable to touch them. I can’t really explain it but I hope you understand… I really need your help.”

Jyushi knew he could not deny her request. He understood her nervousness, how some things could not be told, and he could tell she was being honest about it. He scratched the back of his head, nodding in reply as he knelt down to pick up the shell for her. She continued to instruct him on what to pick up and what to be careful of. As they moved around, stepped away, and stopped at multiple areas, Jyushi found his arms cradling a bit more than a handful of shells. He shuffled around to adjust them, careful not to drop any.

“Maybe we should stop now. Follow me!” she beckoned with her hand, walking ahead of him again.

He scrambled to his feet and brushed off the sand on his pants before he ran up to her. He followed her as an obedient pet would. Once again, the walk was quiet but this time, she began asking him questions.

“I never got your name, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kiddo. I look your age and you look my age,” he huffed, “and my name is Aimono Jyushi.”

“My apologies, Jyushi.”

He was about to ask for her name but their conversation was halted before he could talk again. They stood before a tombstone. There was a jar with some shells in there. It looked dusty and old. As if no one has been around to take care of the grave for years. Jyushi watched her squat down to caress the tombstone.

“This is the place. Could you replace the shells in this jar with the ones we picked?”

He immediately went to work on the request. The sadness she emitted made him feel compelled to help her even further. He made haste with exchanging the shells with the new ones. He also dusted off the jar with his sleeve. Once done, the jar sat back where it was, right in front of the tombstone to the right.

“You helped a lot; thank you for helping me out on my silly request.”

Jyushi shook his head as he nervously laughed. He did not understand why she was so happy about this. It was just a small task that anyone could have done. It was not like it was going to do him any harm. It also felt good to have been useful. Jyushi liked the feeling of being appreciated. He basked in the feeling with a smile.

“It seems it’s time for me to go,” she said, her eyes looking up at the sun that was slowly beginning to peek out from the horizon.

Jyushi looked over at her. He could see the sorrow in her eyes. They looked bittersweet. He wondered why but something else caught his attention instead. Her body looked translucent, the light from the rising sun made her look angelic. She looked nothing like a human would.

“Thank you so much for everything tonight. I can move on thanks to you now. Nobody really ever came around so I didn’t know how long I’d have to wait to finally be able to accomplish my last wish. I just wanted to be remembered one last time… Nobody seemed to care after my funeral,” she looked down bashfully, her fingers fiddling with a necklace out of nerves, “I can’t thank you enough, so please take this as a token of my appreciation.”

She placed the necklace with a closed fanshell in his hands. Jyushi stayed confused on the ground while she stood up. Her eyes closed as her body became more transparent. His eyes widened at how she was slowly disappearing before his eyes. The realization had dawned on him a little too late.

“I hope in my next life, I’ll find someone as kind and cute as you to live for,” she laughed.

He stood up in a panic. He never asked her for her name. He needed to know before she was gone. Was this her grave? Was she here to take care of another person’s grave but could not because she had passed away as well? There were so many questions that swirled around his mind, none of which were able to make it out of his mouth. Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes. Jyushi was overwhelmed by the turn of events.

His arm shot out to grab for her, “What’s your name?”

His limb phased through her. She was barely there anymore. Jyushi was speechless, gasping for air while hoping and praying that she would at least give her name to him before she left for good. The suspense was killing him. He also wanted to thank her for keeping him company. He would have been alone if it was not for her presence.

Her reply was only a tap on the shell necklace she had given him and, then, she was gone. He looked down at the necklace, debating on whether to open it or not. He was broken from his train of thoughts by Kuko and Hitoya who came searching for him.

“Man, you ran so far, Jyushi. What in the world did you think you were doing?” Kuko complained.

“We were worried. Are you hurt?” Hitoya stopped in front of him to take a once over Jyushi, who stood there with sadness in his eyes. His posture was slumped over while his hands clutched tightly to the fanshell.

“What are you holding there?” Kuko looked at the item with confusion. He was sure Jyushi did not have that when they first arrived here. Hitoya glanced over as well to have a look.

Jyushi opened the shell. In the trinket was a photo of a family of four. There stood the lady he met, a pair of older people (whom he assumed was her parents), and someone else who looked around the same age as her. On the other side of the shell was a name. The same one as the tombstone.

“She was the one I was here to exorcise!” Kuko exclaimed, “The villagers here told me about how restless she was and they didn’t know what to do with her. They knew she was supposed to have moved on. She sounded like something was preventing her from passing on from what they were telling me. How did you get this?”

The visual kei singer went on the spiel about his mini adventure with the girl in the photo. How it was a comforting experience and how he wished he could see her again in the future. His second wish, he knew, would not come true any time in the future but he held onto it. Kuko made a face after his explanation, his eyes darting to Hitoya with a knowing look.

Hitoya held his hand up to prevent Kuko from saying anything at all. The monk frowned upon that but allowed him to take care of it instead. He crossed his arms while watching the older man. He thought this was going to be amusing.

“Jyushi… the girl you were with was the one Kuko was assigned to exorcise. The people around this neighborhood knew her and wanted to help put her to rest but they didn’t know how to. So they enlisted Kuko to assist them in bringing her to the afterlife but I guess you did it instead.” Hitoya glanced carefully at Jyushi. He hoped that did not break the boy’s spirit.

It did not. Rather, he was smiling to himself while staring at the necklace. He finally gazed at Hitoya.

“I had a feeling… She felt cold and didn’t touch anything. I wonder why she was able to touch me though,” Jyushi looked at Kuko for an answer.

Kuko shrugged, “Beats me. Wish I could give you a proper answer but I got none.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” Jyushi replied, “she’s in a better place now. That’s all I could ask for. Although, I’ll miss her company. I’ve never felt something so comforting before.”

“Yeah, you don’t usually warm up to people quickly,” Hitoya also commented, having noticed how fondly Jyushi was speaking of this person whom he had just met.

The three wrapped up their conversion as they left the scene. Jyushi held the necklace close to him, as it was a memory of the nice moment they spent together. A moment he would never forget.

[quietnqueer]

Asexual Identities & Feminist Her-Stories

This is a blog for Ace Week 2020 @asexualawarenessweek​, inspired by this year’s theme: ‘Our History’.  

I recently came across this talk on You Tube: ‘Ace and Aro Zines as Community Building and History’ which was delivered by Olivia Montoya at the 2019 WorldPride Ace and Aro Conference. It’s a fascinating insight into the history of ace zines. What got me particularly excited though was when Olivia started showing quotes from feminist speeches and publications from as far back as the 1970s which mention asexuality; and Riot Grrrl zines from the ‘90s and early-2000s which also discussed ace-ness.

Coming across this talk has led me to take a look back at my own involvement with feminism and how it informed the way I thought about my sexuality, prior to realising I was asexual.

I was involved in feminist activism from 2005-2008-ish, when I was in my early/mid-twenties. I was of the feminist generation that protested ‘raunch culture’; the objectification of women and the marketing of Playboy pencil cases to pre-pubescent girls. The activism I was involved in was very much underpinned by radical feminist theory and ideas; including that of the ‘woman-identified woman’. The ‘woman-identified woman’ rejects sexual/romantic relationships with men and instead prioritises relationships with women; these relationships can be sexual, but they don’t have to be.

This concept of the woman-identified woman, along with the radical feminist critique of compulsory heterosexuality, and just patriarchy in general really, definitely influenced the way I thought about my sexuality during this time. I didn’t identify as straight. But this wasn’t because I knew I lacked sexual/romantic attraction towards men (I didn’t really get to grips with this until I discovered there was such a thing as asexuality);  I did know on some level I wasn’t interested in men; I couldn’t imagine myself settling down with a man; but my rejection of heterosexuality was more an expression of my radical feminism: “I’m not dating men because patriarchy, grrr!” type-thing.

I didn’t identify as bi or lesbian either, though (the only other sexualities on my radar at the time). I couldn’t imagine myself with a guy; but I couldn’t imagine myself with a girl, either. In fact, the way I thought about my sexuality is summed up perfectly in one of the Riot Grrrl zines Olivia shows in her presentation. In an essay entitled, ‘Your Revolution Will Not Happen Between These Thighs!’, its author, Lauren Jade Martin, writes: “I wasn’t straight, bi, or a dyke - I just thought of myself as nothing.”

Looking back now, I see how much I thought about (my) sexuality in the abstract. This way of thinking was certainly influenced by my exposure to radical feminism; however, I wonder whether it was also a sign of my asexuality. 

Although I was in my twenties, I’d never had sex and never been in a relationship; I’d not experienced any of the fleshy, squishy-squashy feelings that (I’m told) constitute sexual/romantic attraction, and therefore a person’s sexual identity/orientation. This therefore probably made me more receptive to the radical feminist idea of sexual orientation being a political choice you can make.

Today, a decade on, I no longer think about my sexuality in this way. And that’s because I discovered (my) asexuality. 

Over the past 12 months, I’ve been exploring (my) ace-ness, which has involved lots of self-reflection and examination of my past experiences and feelings in relation to all things sexual and romantic. This process of self-exploration has meant I no longer think about my sexuality as this abstract thing; now I know I’m asexual, I think about it as something more innate; as an orientation; as something I can’t help but be.  

So, it was interesting to come across ‘The Asexual Manifesto’ (again, via Olivia’s talk, and available to view here). This was a feminist pamphlet published in 1972 and is very reminiscent of the radical feminism I was immersed in years ago, such as it talks about “reject(ing) any possibility of sex” (with men or with women), “unless our conditions are met… thereby prevent(ing) ourselves from being sexually exploited and oppressed.”

If I’d have come across this manifesto back in my activist days, I might have embraced its definition of asexual.

Reading The Asexual Manifesto now though, I find it more problematic; because the way it defined asexuality is different to the way asexuality is defined today. The manifesto says asexuality is something a woman can choose; that it’s an “efficient ‘alternative lifestyle’ for revolutionary women”. It does not talk about asexuality in terms of experiencing little/no sexual attraction.

And whilst it could be said, ‘yeah, okay, this is a definition from the past, so let’s not worry about it too much’; check out the Wikipedia entry on ‘feminism and asexuality’. It conflates asexuality with political lesbianism – another version of that ‘woman-identified woman’ radical feminism I was talking about above.

This conflation of asexuality with radical/political lesbian feminism troubles me because it distorts and negates what asexuality actually is. I don’t want my asexuality to be construed as a choice. Yes, I’m a feminist who has issues with compulsory heterosexuality; however, I don’t have relationships with men because of that; the reason I don’t have relationships with men is because I’m simply not attracted to them. 

My asexuality is something innate to me; that’s how I experience it; how I embody it. It’s not something I’ve chosen. It’s who I am.

There’s definitely potential for an ‘asexual feminism’; but it needs to be rooted in an understanding of asexuality as experiencing little/no sexual attraction, rather than as a political/lifestyle choice. 

[purrincess-chat]

Rejected Heroes Club CH2 (Adrinette Zine)

I got kinda busy yesterday, and I was out of town, so here is chapter 2 of my @adrienettezine fic. If you’re impatient, you can read the entire work right now in the full zine as well as a ton of other really awesome fics ;) Chapter 3 will be posted this Wednesday. 

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

A breath passed Marinette’s lips as the last picture from her wall landed in a bright pink box. She trailed her fingers along the rim, staring down at the pile of photos smiling back at her. Adrien was coming over to be measured for his hero costume, and even though he knew she kept them up, something about having him around all of them made her nervous. 

She closed the lid on the box and moved it to the chest beside her chaise-lounge, stacking it neatly atop several others just like it, and found herself reaching for the Miracle Box. It felt different. Foreign. Wrong. Wayzz and Tikki assured her that Master Fu had always intended to make her the next guardian, but she never imagined the price that came with it. 

“Marinette! You have a visitor,” her mom called up the stairs, and Marinette tucked the box back into its hiding place and shut the lid. 

Her allies might have been taken from her, but she could still be a guardian to them through this club. She could still give them hope. After everything that happened, she was in need of some herself.

Grabbing her sketchbook and a tape measure, she braced herself as the wooden stairs creaked until blond hair popped through her trapdoor. His face lit up when he saw her, and she willed her heart into slowing its pace to no avail. 

“Doesn’t your dad have your measurements already? Couldn’t you have just sent them to me?” She asked, and Adrien averted his gaze with a smirk.

“Well, yeah, but this gives me an excuse to get out of the house for a bit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Besides, I wanted to hang with my new partner for a while.”

She didn’t even try to stop the butterflies in her stomach that time. Why did he have to be so perfect? 

“I guess I can show you what I designed for you,” she said. “I’ve never seen your costume before, so I drew up a few designs. If you don’t like any of them, we could try to work up one that’s close to what your actual costume looked like.”

Adrien looked over her shoulder, standing closer than necessary as she flipped through the pages. His arm brushed hers as he moved to get a better look, green eyes devouring every pencil stroke. Marinette did her best to keep her breaths even, resisting the urge to reach out and trail her fingers through his silky hair.

“These look awesome! They’re way cooler than what I had. Now I kinda feel lame,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No, no! I’m sure your costume was cute. I mean- I’m sure it was fine,” she said, and he trained those gorgeous eyes on her.

“Thanks,” he said. He sat on her chaise, his countenance deflating. “My costume was probably the only good thing about my time as a hero. I wasn’t exactly successful, so Ladybug ended up picking Luka instead. I feel like I really let her down.”

“I’m sure Ladybug appreciated your help. She wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe in you.” Marinette sat beside him. 

“I guess. I feel like such a failure,” he sighed. “I don’t even deserve to be in this club.”

“No, no!” She waved her hands frantically. “I-I think you do. Maybe this can be your second chance to show the world that you can be a hero too.”

His face softened at that, “Thanks, Marinette. I guess I just really want to do a good job.”

“That already makes you a hero, Adrien.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Having superpowers and a mask aren’t what makes someone a hero. Doing the right thing and trying your hardest to help are, and I’m sure Ladybug understands that.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, shifting his gaze to his feet. “I know you’d probably rather have Luka as your partner, but I hope you’ll settle for me.”

“No! I’m happy that you and I were paired up. Now we can spend more time together,” Marinette said then quickly added, “-helping others! I mean. We can spend time together helping others.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m glad we’re friends, and I think Alya was right to pair us up. I really needed to hear that.”

“No biggie,” Marinette said, cheeks hot. “Now, about those measurements.”

***

“The costumes you made turned out really awesome, Marinette,” Adrien said, examining the detail work on his new suit a few days later as his bodyguard drove them home. “Those kids at the library really thought we were superheroes.”

As cute as Aspik’s original suit was, Marinette wasn’t technically supposed to know what it looked like, and once she started designing new versions, she couldn’t stop. Adrien was just too handsome for words, and her brain was running wild with possibilities. Should she use this time to try to get closer to him? What if he didn’t like her? Why did he look so gorgeous in a green mask?

“I’m glad you like it. I was nervous when I designed them because I’ve never seen your suit, but I think it turned out okay,” she said, trailing her fingers along the stitching in the shoulders as an excuse to touch him. 

“You’re really talented, Marinette, or should I say, Multimouse?” He said with a wink. “By the way, you look really cute with your hair up. You should wear it like that more often.”

“Y-You think?” 

“Of course. I think it’s pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” she said with a dreamy sigh before snapping herself back down to earth. “I mean, uh, you’re so handsome- I’m just me, and you’re you, and-”

Adrien chuckled at her blundering, seemingly unbothered by the sentiment. The fact that he’d gotten used to her stammering should have been incredibly embarrassing, but somehow it gave her comfort.

“This club was a really good idea. Having heroes to look up to meant a lot to those kids we read to today,” Adrien said. “And I think it means a lot to Alya and the others too.”

“Well, after their identities were exposed, they all seemed so sad, and I was hoping that they’d realize that just because they’ll never get their Miraculouses back, that doesn’t mean they aren’t still heroes,” Marinette said. 

“You did all this just so your friends wouldn’t be sad?” Adrien asked, tilting his head to the side then shaking it. “You really care about everyone. If any of us deserves to be a hero, it’s you.”

“I-I dunno, I just want to help my friends, that’s all. I’m no Ladybug,” she said, waving it away.

“I think you could be Ladybug,” he said, and Marinette held her breath. “I mean Ladybug is smart and kind and always thinking of others. You two are a lot alike—always trying to solve everyone’s problems. I know I’ve said it before, but you really are our everyday Ladybug.”

Marinette relaxed, a smile curling on her lips. “I just always lookout for my friends and the people important to me, and if I can do anything for them, I try my best,” she said with a shrug. “If I can be a hero for them then…that’s enough for me.”

Adrien’s bodyguard slowed to a stop in front of the bakery, and Marinette reached for the door.

“Today was really fun. I think Aspik and Multimouse make a pretty good team,” she said, holding out her fist. 

“Definitely,” Adrien agreed, touching his fist to hers. 

“See you tomorrow at school,” she said, and Adrien nodded.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow…”

[queenangst]

(here we go again/?) Oooh it's Annie appreciation hours. I'm the anon who sent that six string ask forever ago. Like I said back then, you are directly responsible for me finally delving into the content-creator side of fandom, and it was one of the best things I've ever done. I also mentioned that you had inspired me to write my very first fanfic, remember? Well, (I hope) you'll be proud to hear that I've kept writing since then and I even applied to some zines

(2/?) (got rejected from most, but that's okay! I'm improving every day!) and I got accepted into one I was really hoping to get into. I'm working alongside so many talented artists and writers (and mods!) in this zine and it's honestly a dream come true for me. Like, genuinely such an honor to work with them, I can't even describe it. And literally the only reason I made it to this point is because of you. Because I read your work, and I followed you on tumblr, and you would

(3/3) always post such positive and encouraging messages that even little old me felt like maybe I could write too. You're still reaching me. You continue to be an inspiration to me every day. I really mean that. Your writing never fails to amaze me, and I aspire to write even half as well as you do someday. Thank you for all you do for us, and thank you for sharing your wonderful writing. You are a constant source of happiness for me so I seriously can't thank you enough

can I just say again, first of all—thank you for taking the time not just once but twice to share with me. 

when I was just starting, I never set out to write for anyone but myself. actually, reading this ask made me think of something from a long time ago. back when I was just starting, and I was a bright-eyed and excited kid exploring fandom, I really admired the work of the first writer I really fell in love with. she's older than me by a couple of years, and her work (and when she talked about her work) inspired me to write. because i thought... she’s a person. look at her writing, look at how cool she is. maybe i could do that. 

i guess what i mean to say by that is i never expected to be to anyone what she was to me, back when i started. i think last year or so i sent her a message without expectations, just to express to her how much she meant to my journey as a writer. so genuinely—i continue to be humbled, and touched that i can do that for you. 

and yes! i’m so excited and proud to hear about the news. it’s no secret that i’ve been in, run, and been rejected from many many zines, and it’s such a wonderful and varied experience. i am SO happy that you decided you wanted to do that and that you DID. that’s incredible, and i wish the best for your experience, and many more events for you to participate and contribute to if that’s what you’d like to do <3 keep going and trying! i’m sure you’re amazing and you deserve it

don’t stop believing in yourself nonnie! i’m cheering for you, i know you’re an incredible writer and you’ve got more good things to come

[bryanastar]

I Got Two Short Story Acceptances in One Day: Writing Update 11

Howdy Tumblr! So, here’s that promised post on how I got TWO short story acceptances in one day. It’s not a very long one, but I think it’s a fun one. Besides that, it’s also a very general writing update talking about what I’m writing right now and my plans for the future. There probably won’t be much to talk about on the second front since I’ll probably be on vacation when you’re reading this but that doesn’t mean there won’t be anything to update ya’ll on and plan for.

Enough waffling. On with the post.

Novels:

I mentioned in my last post that I’m working on a book for this creative writing summer camp. By the time this post is made public, I’ll have a little over a thousand words finished and workshopped. I don’t want to say more than that since I don’t want to hype up my followers for a project that may not ever come to fruition. It may be something I keep working on in a creative writing class though, so stay tuned for that!

Short Fiction:

Just like the title said, this update will be mostly focused on how I got two short story acceptances in one day in late July. It’ll likely already be August when you’re reading this but I’m only writing this a day after the fact. With all that rambling out of the way, let’s jump right in!

So the day before I got the acceptances, I on a whim decided to submit a story that I wrote back in Freshman year of high school BC (before Covid) cause it was a piece I was still really proud of and that really meant a lot to me since it was complimented by an English teacher I really liked who was also one of the few people outside my family to really read and review my work. I’d already submitted the story to two different magazines two days prior, but I felt like this magazine vibed more with the piece. So, I submitted the piece and didn’t think nothing of it…

Until later that afternoon when the itch to submit was still scratching my back.

Randomly, I decided to finish and hastily edit a flash piece I wrote for the TYWI discord young writer’s camp and submitted to two different magazines. Neither were teen magazines—both run by and for adult writers. I didn’t expect much from either considering I was competing with more experienced adults. I submitted mostly because their vibes sorta fit my piece and their max word count was a thousand (mine was 890). I didn’t expect that hear a response at all, and if I did, I expected rejection.

I heard back the very next day.

The first magazine I got accepted by was The Graveyard Zine, to whom I submitted the story from Freshman year. I did kinda expect this acceptance since they were a teen run magazine and kinda new kids on the block in the literary world. They don’t have that many pieces on their site yet, so I think they were more willing to take a chance on a story that was just as new and rough around the edges as they were (in a good way—seriously, please support this magazine!).

I’d gotten that acceptance in the early morning, so I was still pretty groggy and made a post about it on my Instagram without much fanfare (besides the magazine editors adding me to their story which was really sweet :3).

I didn’t really expect any more good news that day. Then, at exactly 9:05 AM, I received an email from Rhodora Magazine (one of the magazines I submitted the second story too).

This acceptance letter may just be the NICEST acceptance letter I’ve ever received from a literary magazine, ever. I’ve never received such high praise of my work from LITERAL STRANGERS who have no reason to exult me or keep my feelings in mind. I have a snippet of the email itself in the actual post I made on this story, which will be coming out when the piece is actually published sometime in September, but—to give a quick sneak peak—they call my story emotional, wonderful, and impressive.

So yeah, I was both celebrating and in complete disbelief, especially when I realized that, because I submitted this story in the evening and I received my acceptance at nine, the editors of the magazine for the second story didn’t even wait half a day before sending me my acceptance. It was wild!

A day later (which is actually when I’m writing this) after having finished both short story introductions, I decided to take a quick looks at the bios of the people submitting to Rhodora Magazine. All of the writers were adults. The youngest was literally eighteen. That wasn’t surprising, nor was it what stood out to me. What was surprising was the content of the bios themselves. Most were college educated, either majoring in creative writing or a related field, with many having MFAs. Most also had previous publications as well. Many were also editors themselves, or winners of important-sounding writing awards (or at least nominated for them).

Reading this, you might expect me to say that it made me feel major imposter syndrome, but it was actually the opposite. Reading also those bios and seeing all those accomplishments… it made my heart swell with pride. All these amazing writers with all these amazing stories… and the editors of this magazine think I’m good enough to be among them. Me, some random teenager from Florida whose barely about to be a Junior! I’m somehow already good enough to be among them!

To anyone who ever submits to a literary magazine and ends up getting published, never get intimidated by the bios or feel any sort of imposter syndrome. They don’t mean you aren’t good enough to be there. They mean that you’re about to rise very high in the world very, very soon.

You are a pre-successful rockstar (to quote Jason Mendoza)

That’s all for now. See you next week Tumblr!

[halberdierminister]

January 2021 Goals Check-In

Oh wow it’s already the end of January and I never even posted about what my goals for 2021 are. Okay let’s go.

Year Goals

1. Move Out I did not do this in January. In order to do so, I will need to find a job with either

1a. Better Pay or Different Location I applied for one job in January. That was not many. I kind of networked. A bit. Guh.

2. Get a Car I did not do this in January. I did take a preliminary look at the online inventory of the Carmax in Madison. That will require a GREAT deal of money. In order to do that I will need to make a

2a. Tighter Budget I am actually doing pretty well at this. What am I doing? Well for starters I have to

2ai. Make lunch at home I cannot keep eating out every goddamn day. In January, I only ate out maybe two or three times. The rest, I successfully brought lunch from home. I also am allowing myself a

2aii. Weekly nonsense allowance Every monday, I add a certain amount of money to my nonsense budget. If I do not spend the whole budget, it rolls over into the next week. I can also add to this budget by selling things I already own. I can then -- and ONLY then -- spend that money on nonsense. At first I considered buying lunch nonsense, but I figure that the lunch goal and the nonsense budget goal are two separate things, and as long as I break rule 2ai very rarely, I do not have to consider doing so as dipping into the nonsense budget. In January, I did not exceed the nonsense budget, which was so very hard to do because there are so very many frivolous things that I wish to buy. God I want to buy so many frivolous things, you guys. Oh yeah, I also need to get a

2b. Credit Card If I'm going to have a car, I should really have a credit card for emergencies. I've never had one. It will not be easy to get one, considering my credit score is the sound of crickets chirping uncomfortably. I did not make moves to get one in January.

3. Find a Publisher for the Poetry Manuscript I have a poetry manuscript. I submitted it to a publisher last year. It got rejected. This year, I intend to get it accepted. Except this month I also decided that it needed more poems in it. So I did not take any steps in January toward shopping the manuscript around, because I instead have been working on adding to it. It is still a work in progress.

4. Get Something Published Every year, I've gotta get something published. In January, and specifically today, the fifth issue of Fuckit: A Zine came out, and with it, an essay I wrote. So I did get something published this month! I also have been working on self-publishing physical copies of the two short collections I made back in 2018. Today, I finalized changes and ordered new proofs. Hopefully, these are the last edits I have to make.

5. Second Draft of either A Legitimate Businessman or Life and Love along the Fourth Wall Last year, I finished writing a novel-length fanfiction that I started writing in 2012. Coincidentally, 2012 was also the year I finished writing the first draft of a play called Life and Love along the Fourth Wall. This year, I want to write the second draft of either of these. In January, I took no steps toward this goal. Kind of forgot about it. Ah well.

6. Finish Writing The Knight out of Space This one shouldn't be too difficult. It's a longer short story I've been writing for the Archive of Our Own based on Homestuck. I have most of it outlined. There is no reason why I shouldn't have it finished by the end of this year -- ideally sooner! But I didn't do anything about it in January.

Month Goals

1. One Poem I wrote MORE than one poem in January!

2. One Short Story I TRIED to write a short story in January. Got a good distance through it too. Might have done more today if I hadn't needed to shovel. But I don't think I was going to finish it, even by first draft standards. I think I will consider finishing this first draft of it to be an additional goal in February, alongside writing February's short story. February's short story can be pretty short. Just gotta find a good short story that wants to be written.

3. One AO3 Post In January, I posted a couple times on the Archive of Our Own! These were pretty short posts, but posts nonetheless. I've got a lot of active fics on there. I have lots of options in terms of posting.

4. Promote My Writing I posted a little bit about it on my book Instagram, which I also promoted to more people. I have been more active on my author page on Facebook. I shared posts about Fuckit and my upcoming chapbooks. So I would consider that, in January, I succeeded at this goal.

[techworkerszine]

Call for Work: Workers in Tech Zine

I spent a lot of 2018-2020 thinking about driverless cars. I wrote about them. I taught a course about them. I wrote a novel about workers in Pittsburgh’s driverless car sector that will be published [ TK ].

While working on these projects, I talked to many people in and around the AV sector (you, dear reader, are likely one of these people). In these conversations I heard solutions to fixable global problems. I heard frustrations about unfixable company-related problems. More than anything, I heard stories from workers who felt 1) incredible scrutiny and pressure at their jobs 2) incredible social scrutiny and pressure the instant they left their workplaces. Yes, I endured conversations with some true A1 Tech Assholes, but far more frequently, I spoke with employees from all levels (think after-hours employees to directors) who were incredibly self-aware about their privilege, their skill, their replaceability, the shockingly entrenched and ascendant power of their company, the shall-we-say clumsy treatment of workers at said company…

Me, an artist and writing instructor: “you should write something about all of this!”

Worker: “yeah, but where would I write for? Plus my NDA really frowns on this sort of stuff.”

I made multiple offers to look at work, of any sort, whenever they wanted, if only as an exercise in self-reflection. The more work I saw, the more I thought: it would be so beneficial for this all this work to be in conversation in some way.

So, I’m seeking writing and art from tech workers to be published in a zine alongside the release of my book in [ TK ].

_____________________

So um, I’m just supposed to write? About working in tech?

Your prompt, which you are welcome to reject or reframe in any way you see fit: what is it like to be a worker in the tech industry?

How exactly am I supposed to tackle this prompt?

It’s up to you. Visual art, short written narratives, a comic, a poem—I am big believer that artists need space, not direction (though I can certainly help provide the latter if you find yourself in need).

The only constraint is that you get two pages--think 8.5ish x 7ish. Consider those two pages yours.

Do I have to work in the driverless car sector?

No. I’m fine with loose definitions of ‘tech’ and ‘worker.’

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that my very first two thoughts are: oh I would love to tell story ‘X’, and oh I could totally get in trouble for doing this. The risk-reward is too imbalanced.

Authored pieces are welcome, as are anonymous ones. I would be the only person to know which piece was yours, and I would ensure that there’s no identifying details or information of any sort. If you doubt my commitment to protecting workers, consider: when my teachers’ union went on strike, the state education system briefly terminated our healthcare. My wife was 8.5 months pregnant. So, I picketed, without healthcare, while my wife was on the verge of labor, all because she and I believe in protecting workers’ rights.

What I’m saying is: you’re safe with me. We can talk more if you’re concerned.

So like, why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?

To the extent my novel has a thesis, it’s that blue collar work ethic is an insufficient personal credo in the face of enormous social problems. This is not some flimsily chosen notion. For years, I have burrowed into my writing well, eager to ‘work hard’ and ‘uphold familial blue collar values’ and ‘something something steel industry something something.' Meanwhile, the world outside this writing well of mine has grown tragic-comically worse seemingly every hour. It is destined to deteriorate further without a continually replenished spirit of collaboration and organization. These notions are, in part, what my novel is about, and I hope this project can put this idea into more tactile action in some small way.

Come on, be real, what’s really in it for you? Aren’t you just trying to sell more books?

Fuck yes I am, though I would revise that sentence: I am trying to help my publisher sell more books. One of my primary goals is this: I want my publisher, the heroic small press outfit Propeller Books, to break even on my novel. This is very, very important to me. Breaking even will not earn me any financial reward. It will very much reward my publisher, the heroic Dan DeWeese, who has run Propeller Books and Propeller Magazine for ten years. I very much want the press to continue for another ten (and more).

I also very much want to help ___[cause TK]______, which is why I am building upon a ‘book launch’ model my wife concocted for her own book release in January of 2021 (read more here). Whereas she created her own zine for her Level 2 perk in her Indiegogo campaign, our zine will serve as the Level 2 perk. In our (not my, our) model, Level 1 contributors would receive my novel. Level 2 contributors would receive a Book and our Zine. Level 3 would get some yet-to-be-determined benefit.

I’m looking at your wife’s page and it seems like she’s making some decent money. Do I get any of that $?

That’s the goal! The biggest cut will go to Propeller Books. A second cut will go to ________. I am working on acquiring grant funds to pay for zine printing costs, and my hope is that once zine costs are met either from grant funds or from Level 2-and-up purchases, zine contributors will split funds earned from the sale of the zine.

Seems very complicated.

Collaboration often is.

What if I just want the zine?

Spoiler: there will be many zines left over after this project. Before we sell them individually, I’d like to try and maximize the launch campaign as much as possible. I imagine you will get plenty of zines in the end.

So what is really, actually, truly required of me?

Make something. Send it to me. And, if you want, maybe participate in a launch event at White Whale Bookstore in Bloomfield when the novel comes out and vaccines are aplenty.

All this talk about ‘pieces’ and ‘comics’ and ‘anecdotes’….I’m just a freaking tech worker! I’m not an artist! Even if did want to submit, I’d have no idea how to go about it.

Look. Someone (me, a colleague, a friend) thinks you have a story to tell. That’s why you have arrived to this page. Don’t get caught up in the form. Think about your experience. What do you want people to know about you? What do they not understand about working in tech? What does your family not understand about working in tech? Your friends? Your bosses?

I know someone who would be oh-so-interested in this.

Give them my email—patrickmmcginty@gmail.com—or send them the link to this page. The more the merrier.

I’ve got to confess: I’m a little leery about making it seem as though tech workers are this incredibly disadvantaged group. I don’t want to come across as whiny.

This is a very self-aware concern, and I actually think there’s a way to invite this discomfort into whatever you submit. I also think that the best stories arise from tension, which the tech sector has quite a high supply of at the moment. It might be helpful to consider this advice I once received from a very, very smart organizer: “labor learns best from labor.” I won’t explain that quote away. Instead, I’m going to try and collect work for a zine that puts that advice into practice. 

When is this due?

Let’s say May 31st.

[memnonofarcadia]

Remembering Joey Bruno

Originally published in the Sacramento Jazz & Blues Quarterly Bedtime is sometime around dawn. Dinner is usually whatever you want it to be. Shall we go to Iceland? Festivals, fliers, wristbands, Sharpies on skin, smoke, grass, hash, molasses, sky, blue, crisp, clear sky. And yet I’m still writing all this within a grey airport terminal, locked into some kind of strange Druid-esque ritual with pen and paper. Deadline is tomorrow, where were you when you were supposed to be working? Don’t have any answers for now, just that I need to write and get it out to my boss within the next day. Or two. It wouldn’t have been the first deadline blown. But think, distract myself with the McDonald’s coffee and keep putting down adjectives and phrases from places I’ve been, things I’d seen, dreams I’d never have again with people I’ve never met and music I had. 40 minutes till boarding starts, I’ll be last, of course. It pays enough to fly but not enough to enjoy it. Been getting harder and harder to deal with the travel, at any rate. Starting to notice the spell everyone is under, the sleepwalking nature of the corporate employee. It had only been noticeable after it had been broken, which I had no problem doing, ever. When your home is a hotel you take your shots however you can get them, besides it wasn’t like you have to live in any particular town past a few days at most. Half-heartedly started keeping a list of rejections and their professions, making sure to note that there was only one waitress on the list, most were from bookstores or places where there was an escape for all parties. Don’t need to make it more awkward than it has to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean, then the words fade off into the ocean. On the edge of nowhere, like a little seaside town. Maybe that’s where I’d like to end up, like a lifeguard in the post-apocalypse, no responsibilities, just looking cool for the seagulls. How many life guards had I asked out? Not many, either way. Concerts didn’t go well with water, not in my experience. Can’t seem to find a way to write about anything other than something on the present times, life and times. I struggle, already flipped through the notebooks to jog the memory with some tit and tat that had to be discarded for the sake of length from another article. Or two. Or four. Or 12. Throwing yourself to the wolves, towards and into the meat grinder that one might just pay the bills with the right amount of ink in the right places on a blank piece of paper. Who cares about music festivals and pop culture when there’s McDonald’s coffee and the cold inside of an airplane to look forward to? Four times I’d attempted to ask about an airline attendant’s relationship status, thrice I’d been rejected. Once she’d pretended not to hear me and instead moved to the opposite end of the plane for the remainder or the flight. Understandable, no harm done. No harm done. By anyone, right? Who said this was ever going to be a love story, you and I?

College had been a breeze, not that I’m bragging. State schools were like that, at least then, and Californ-I-A’s were no different. No doubt now there’s better options available for where I was at when I had to decide where to go to school, but there you are. A degree in journalism is a degree in journalism, and I had little else to go on other than my love of music, substances, travel, female company, and a shocking talent at being able to string together sentences. In a way it’s always given me a bit of a guilty feeling. I never sat down and really worked at learning or improving with regards to writing, I just sort of could do it. That’s the short version of how I found my niche of a career, one I thought I could exploit anyway. Turns out I was right, and in a way it was everything I could (and did!) hope for. Except everybody’s got to grow up sometimes, and I did, regrettably. There’s only so many hungover mornings a human being can take before they’re permanently reduced to a shambling, sickly mess of what used to be a humanoid organism, and I had certainly put myself on that path. Got off of it, thanks to the countless AA meetings I made myself go to, but I digress. That had been the first mark on the wall of things that I could no longer enjoy about the gig, the fact that now I had to do the whole thing sober. The hardest substance I have confidence I can enjoy responsibly now is coffee, and even then the ugly demon of acid reflux put me back in my place before too long. Suddenly all the kids were much more annoying than usual, the travel a hassle, the food revolting, and the music itself just kind of bad, which was the real heartbreaker. Some days before it had been all to keep me going, minus the women, which were always a constant. “Festival sluts” is the term you’ll want to Google (or DuckDuckGo) if you’re curious about what I mean, also colloquially known as upper middle class girls whose parents were too busy working to devote anything past a friendly “hullo” to their children, and thus succeeded in raising a bunch of hedonistic, attention-desperate, and morally naïve young people with excess income and too much time to spend it all in. Nasty ain’t it? But it kept me coming back for more, like the good-natured animal that I am. We all are. That’s the secret that I learned more than anything from the beat, we are all more simple and pleasure driven than we could ever articulate or realize. It’s what keeps the lights on at home, for everything and anything. Probably. Or maybe I’m just bitter. Most of the friends I made during college or were colleagues in my escapades writing about indie rock et al. around the globe are gone now. Burnt out, some burnt up, most just couldn’t hack it anymore and left to go get real jobs at real newspapers. The circus, or pirate ship, as is probably more accurate a nomer, is not for everyone, and rarely does it last forever. Bet you’re wondering where that leaves me. Still bitter, but still coming back for more, just like I was always going to. Always. So why don’t I quit? You tell me. Because I know why.

The finest writer I ever met was a journalist by the name of Joey Bruno, a guy I came across one of the many late nights I spent at the pathetic office of my college’s newspaper. I was editing a freshman’s piece about how the White Album was actually really bad, sighing uncontrollably the whole time, when Mr. Bruno walked in and struck up a conversation with yours truly. I happily engaged, as any activity that didn’t involve that stupid piece of writing was fine by me. He explained that he was friends with the real Editor , who was at his parents’ in Wisconsin for the weekend, and would drop by periodically when he got off work to help out where he could. “Why spend your time working on bad writing by dumb college kids?” I’d asked him. “Free beer, plus it can be fun sometimes. There’s been plenty of stuff come through here that I rewrote beyond all recognition just for fun, and nine times out of ten the original author doesn’t even notice. Good times.” Maybe so, I’d thought. In any case every other Friday or thereabouts I’d get a late night revising buddy to help cull the newspaper’s intimidating stack of submissions. It was in those early morning hours that I came to the conclusion that I wanted to become a music journalist, mostly from talking to Mr. Bruno about his own adventures. But I don’t think I listened, not really. Maybe if I had I’d be off this conveyor belt by now, but then again maybe not. Maybe I’d never have started. One night in particular while we were enjoying our cigarettes, coffee, and beer (all courtesy of the newspaper of course), he retailed me with a story of his long lost love, a girl he’d known briefly in the California punk scene of the late 80s. I was instantly entranced. “It was a magical time,” he’d said to me while stroking his magnificent beard. “But I’m glad it’s over now. It was getting messy there at the end,” I brought up how those little parts of the world, at that time were being romanticized an awful lot in contemporary media then. “And for good reason, too.” He’d responded wistfully. “A lot of great things happened for a lot of good people. It was about as close to the 60s as anyone came since then, I think. That much hope,” And this is where he began to tell his story, the story of “the rebel known as ‘Justine,’” as he’d put it. However it had happened, the two had come into contact through the various zines they’d each produced and sent out to the other punks in town. The closest thing to an internet forum for back then was to just be louder than everyone else, apparently. That was the only real way to get heard, to start a dialogue of some kind. That or take your chances at the shows, which they did anyway, but there wasn’t much talking going on there. Joey had written to Justine complimenting her on “Pop!,” which was her way of pushing her radical politics and militant-feminist views out on to the unsuspecting public behind the thin-façade of a bubblegum periodical. The art had been good, and the writing made everyone Joe showed it to laugh out loud, so he made a point to let the author know, whoever they were. There was an address included in the back for people to write in, so he did just that. He also included a copy of his own creation, the somewhat popular (in those circles anyway) “Buzz ‘n’ Stuff.” “What was it about?” I asked as my friend rolled himself another cigarette. “Nothing really, I just sort of made stuff about interesting things I found at the library then slapped it together in that. It seemed to work. I remember the one I sent her had something about how to get popped bubblegum out of your hair without cutting it all off, so I think that’s what got her interested. There wasn’t anything of value or substance in there, let’s be real,” Joey took another swig of his beer and reached into the cooler below his desk for another, being sure to throw me one too like a sport. “Thanks, boss. But continue, you got me interested now,” So he did. It had started slowly, really, with the trading of zines and letters, the occasional patch or pin by mail too. Eventually after a lengthy correspondence they made a plan to meet up at a concert, The Vandals to be precise. Joey had taken painstaking measures to show up in the most hip clothing of the day, studded leather jacket, combat boots, the whole nine yards. “I looked like a freak,” he told me with a chuckle. “But then I saw her,” Justine had arrived looking like everything and nothing Joey had expected her to. She had the familiar punk gear, Doc Martins and an army jacket covered in patches and safety pins, but the rest of what she had on departed from the norm drastically. It had been some bizarre cross between a punk, hippy, and cult leader all in one, macabre golden jewelry offsetting the “meat is murder” t shirt underneath. “It was great,” said Joey. “People were afraid of her at that show. She looked really scary,” They hit it off and had a jolly old time watching The Vandals play, and later they found themselves alone on a hill overlooking the suburbs, talking about the issues and passing a joint back and forth. It was all music to my ears, as it would be for most any young person, I suspect. “Tell me more,” I’d implored. These were fantasies that I needed fulfilled. Joey paused and rocked back and forth in his chair contently for a few seconds before he complied. My heart sank before he spoke. “We were inseparable after that first time. It really was something. We could go anywhere, do anything, and we would always end up on the same page somehow. It was easily the deepest spiritual, emotional, whatever you want to call it connection I’ve ever had with another human being, let alone girlfriend. But then a year or two later her Mom moved her and her brother up to Connecticut to be closer to the rest of their family. Last I heard she went to school in Maine, but that was it as far as we were concerned. Finito,” He smiled through all this as though recalling some rosy-cheeked memory but I was aghast. “What do you mean that’s it? You didn’t try to follow her or anything?” Joey just laughed. “Yeah, that was really an option at 17 without a car or money. It was just something that happened when we were kids, nothing really. I’m glad it happened at all, now.” Well then. What do you make of that? The conversation drifted pretty heavily after that point, as it always did when Joey and I got to jabbering and drinking, and as usual it was stories of the times he’d been on tour years later with Ozzy Osbourne or The Stooges or someone, then got to interview them endlessly and write about it. The usual vices were there as well in his stories, the drugs, the travel, the women, the glamor, the romance. But it all left pretty quickly once the novelty wore off, hence why Joey had quit after a few years and moved back home to Sacramento. When I knew him at the college newspaper he was a jazz correspondent, if you can wrap your head around that, for several of the snootier publications in the area. “I skipped to the fun part,” he told me. “The shows never get old, now. Plus jazz cats have the best shit,” he said with a wink. I probably just laughed, I don’t know, maybe downed the rest of my beer. I’ll be bound to have another once I get on the plane, off to Finland this time. Apparently it’s festival season in Scandinavia and its surrounding territories. Guess I’ll be writing about that all then though, from a different airport terminal that looks just like this one, with coffee and food and cigarettes and beer that shortens the life as much as the ones that came before. I could go on, but I won’t, for both our sake. There’s no moral to be gleaned from all this just a simple explanation of the reality, and how I’m passing the time in the airport by writing this, because I said I would. I promised. It’s my group now, and I have to go.

[bnha-kokoro-zine]

Tips for first-timers in Zines

Hello! I hope you don’t mind if I show your question like this @angel-of-darkness-217 ; this is something I would’ve loved to know when I started applying to zines myself, and that I’m sure it will help more people who are thinking of applying to this one.

There are many different types of zines out there; free, for charity, for profit, only for artists, focused on writers, focused on merch (like tarot projects), and with all kinds of contributors working in them. Every zine is unique, so their applications may vary, but there are a few essential things you always need to take into consideration if you want to be a contributor to one of them.

I will divide this answer into the different stages of a zine for a better organization.

Getting interested in a zine

When you first bump into a zine, all zines look like shiny little jewels you want to get your hands on asap. However, a lot of zines sadly fail through in their earliest stages, so you need to take into consideration a couple of things before thinking of applying:

Who’s the mod team? Try to find a list/post with some information about the mods of that project. See if they have prior experience in modding a project like this one. If they have experience, there are more chances that the project will follow through until the end. Be careful, though! Zines with heavily experienced mods can also fail for multiple reasons, and people without experience can also produce a really good product. It all depends on the next points.

Check their FAQ and guidelines. A properly structured FAQ including details of the project shows very well the organization of the team. A good FAQ makes a good project. I’d also advise you to read through the FAQ to make sure you’re really interested in the project.

Is the mod team communicative? Do they answer questions regularly? Are they clear in their answers? Are they polite? Do you think you’ll be comfortable working with them? Have they answered all the questions you’ve left in their ask box? (check if it has been answered before or that you’ve left them enough time, though) If you have answered with “No” to one or several of these questions, I’d rethink my wishes to apply to that project.

Remember, if a project doesn’t follow one or two of these points it doesn’t necessarily mean the project itself is bad. However, this is what you ideally need to find in a project like this.

Applications

Now it comes one of the most nerve-wracking parts of a zine: applications. You really want to get into this project, and you want your application to knock the mods off their feet. Applications may feel daunting, but they’re pretty straight-forward once you get the hang of them!

Follow the guidelines carefully. Mods usually leave some rules for applications, like the number of samples, the maximum word count, the theme, etc. Make sure you follow all these rules, or else you risk your app being disqualified.

Make sure your work is easily accessible. Make sure the mods will have no issues viewing your samples (for example, that the links you’re posting aren’t restricted only to your followers, that the link is still active until the end of the applications period, or that you’re sending the correct link). Mods can’t give you a score if they can’t see your work. 

Answer all the questions as clearly as possible. Make sure to read them all carefully before submitting your app. Don’t worry if you have to take a while to write a proper answer, or if you need to ask the mod team about clarifications for some questions -- Mods will gladly answer any doubt you have. 

Make sure your application fits the theme. Normally, it doesn’t matter much if your samples stray a bit from the theme of a zine, but some zines ask specifically for samples that fit a certain, general theme, like nature, love, fairy tales, etc. For zines like that (and essentially all zines if you want to get more attention from the mods), it is nice to make a bigger effort to find samples that fit the theme. A very important note! To all artists who also apply as a merch artist, please don’t apply with the same samples you used for your artist application. It shows a lack of care and it might hinder the mods’ opinion on you. Including actual designs for merch in your samples and/or portfolio helps a lot.

Offer pitches if they ask for them. Sometimes it’s not obligatory, but well-explained pitches really show how interested you’re in the zine. It will leave a good impression on the mods! Again, don’t worry if you need to take some days to think about them, and get feedback if you need it. Just make sure you submit it before apps close.

Have a good portfolio. Our dear Mod Dev has written this post about what makes a good portfolio. It’s a very interesting read, so I recommend you read it, guys!

Again, if you don’t follow one or two of these rules it won’t affect your application much. Mods are pretty flexible, and they can adapt to most situations without hindering their opinion on the application. However, it will look really good if you do follow them.

And remember the most important rule of them all:

Don’t be discouraged if you get rejected. Sometimes zines get too many applications and have very limited contributors spots. Mods see themselves in a situation where they have to choose between several really good applications and discuss for hours to see who they accept and who they reject. 

Being rejected doesn’t mean you’re bad; sometimes, someone else’s application fits the theme better, they explained themselves better, or they were just very lucky and were chosen over you. So, please, don’t let a rejection email let you down and keep trying! 

Most of the people who have participated in a zine sometime have been rejected heaps of time before. I have been rejected dozens of times before (at this point it’s part of the zine experience*). However, if you keep trying and learn from your mistakes, it’s only a matter of time until you get into one yourself.

You won’t get in if you don’t try.

*And please, remember not to bring someone else down if they have been accepted in the zine you wanted to get in, and never, never say they got accepted because of their popularity. Most mods score blindly or know they can’t be influenced by someone’s popularity, and that someone has already been rejected dozens of times before, just like you.

They have tried just as hard as you, and they were lucky enough to get in, so make sure to congratulate them.

Creation process

You’ve finally gotten into a zine, cool! However, there are still a few things you need to take into consideration while working in a zine.

Follow the zine guidelines. Be it dimensions, standardizations, limited word counts, etc., make sure you follow them. Every contributor has a limited space assigned to them in a zine, so make sure you can stay within those limits and ask for help if you need it.

Be communicative, ask questions and be patient. Don’t be afraid to ask questions to your team -- mods are there to organize the project, and they will gladly answer any question you may have. But remember to be patient; modding a zine is a hard job, and sometimes the team needs to discuss the answer to your question before they can give you an answer. Don’t worry; your answer will come eventually. Feel free to remind them if they haven’t answered you in a while, though; they may have forgotten about it!

Follow check-ins down to a T and in time. Check-ins are there to help you go through your workload seamlessly while letting the mods see what you’re creating. It still shows the mods that you’re still very interested in the zine - they won’t know if they have to find someone else for your position if you don’t answer. Don’t be afraid to ask for an extension if you need it.

If you’re a writer, find a beta. Some zines offer betas for their writers, but some don’t. However, that doesn’t mean your work doesn’t need to be anything less than the best (after all, it gets to be in a zine!). Try to find a beta to spot any mistakes you could’ve missed before submitting the final piece.

If you follow all these points, I’m sure the mod team will love you forever. 

Preorders/Shipping

All the final pieces have been submitted and the zine has been assembled, so now preorders start. You obviously want this project you’ve worked so hard on to succeed, and you can actually help to make that happen if you follow these little tips:

Reblog the Preorders open post in all your social media. And if you have social media where the mods don’t have accounts for, post the link yourself! You want to attract as many buyers as possible, and that will only happen if we spread the word.

Make sure you post a preview of your work if the mods ask you to. Previews help hesitant people to finally decide to buy a zine. If you like the concept of a zine but you don’t know if you really want to pay $X for it (remember, zines are usually quite expensive), some cute art and snippets can convince even the most stubborn of buyers!

Ask for updates. See how things are doing and help promote preorders and events like giveaways if necessary. You can also ask for photographic proof when the physical zines get to the mods in charge of shipping; who doesn’t love to see shiny, beautiful products all of you have worked so hard for?

Sometimes, zines don’t make enough money to provide their contributors with a free copy of the zine. It’s really sad, but it happens. And if you’re sad, believe me when I say that the mods are absolutely devastated; they’ve made their biggest effort to lower the expenses as much as possible, but math sometimes just laughs at them in return. If it comes to this, be supportive and, if you want a copy of the zine, try to find alternatives; see if you can buy the zine at production cost, or if you can pitch in with the shipping/fees expenses.

And that’s about it! If you follow these points, I’m sure your experience in the zine scene will be very enjoyable! If you have any questions about them, feel free to ask. Our ask box is always open :D

Lots of love,

Mod Lie

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game: Rounds 24, 25, 26, and 27

Tagged by the wonderful @corsairesque, the lovely @azawrites, the stellar @sunlight-and-starskies, and the incomparable @inexorableblob - thanks!

And @inexorableblob, thank you for letting me rewrite the end of The Great Gatsby. It was very cathartic.

Rules: Answer 11 questions, write 11 questions, tag 11 people!

Bilbo Taggins: @aurumni-writes @quilloftheclouds @aslanwrites @starlitesymphony @writingonesdreams @waterfallwritings @cataclysmic-writer @ren-c-leyn @timefirewrites @minusfractions @ink-flavored - and if you like the questions and aren’t tagged, feel free to answer them! And tag me so I can see! 

My Questions:

How many licks would it take for your OCs to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?

What are your favorite smells?

What’s the book you’ve read most recently? What did you think of it? What impressed you? What would you have done differently?

What are your thoughts on mugs?

If your OCs had a comic book series/graphic novel about them, what would it be called? What would be on the cover? What would the art style be?

Can you draw a bear?

Do you do any other kinds of art? Are you ever influenced by other kinds of art? What about other areas like science or mathematics/other disciplines?

Have you read any craft books or writing advice books? If yes, how have the helped or hindered you? Which would you recommend? If no, would you ever consider reading them?

What are your favorite kinds of narratives? What narrative structures do you prefer to write and what do you prefer to read?

What’s your favorite recipe?

What are some signs that make you consider setting a project aside vs continuing with it?

As always, answers under the cut!

@corsairesque‘s Questions:

1. Do you create playlists for your stories or characters?

I do! 

Here’s a detailed post about how I make them.

This is Mel’s from H2H.

This is Gemma’s from H2H.

This is one for the story I recently posted.

And I have one for each WIP on my WIP page! (Mostly, I’m still working on Fish Food’s.)

I actually have folders in Spotify for my characters and stories. Each one gets a playlist.

2. What is your stance on endings that don’t end with some hope?

Sometimes a story needs to have a certain ending to have an emotionally satisfying conclusion. I don’t think hope is absolutely required for an ending. I’ve ended stories without hope because that’s how the story ends. If I wrote it to conclude with an upturn, it would’ve been disloyal to the narrative. Like life, not everything ends happily, or with a positive outlook.

If you want it from a more technical perspective, there are three sorts of endings: positive, negative, and neutral. They can mix and match, but these are the three base ones. I tend toward neutral or positive-neutral endings. The best story I’ve written so far has a negative-leaning neutral ending because it concludes with a loss that does not promise hope. Positive endings are not necessary for a narrative, or for a conclusion. 

Sometimes you need to write a hopeful ending. Sometimes you need to read a hopeful ending. And sometimes you need to read or write something that ends on a down-note. I know I have. 

So, TL;DR, there is no ending hierarchy. It all depends on the reader and the writer, what they need, and what the story demands.

3. What author would you love to hear feedback from on your WIP?

Of literally anyone? Dead or alive? I mean. I’d love to hear what Flannery O’Connor would have to say about my short stories. I try to do a remix-version of her moments of grace in each of them.

4. What is the genre of your WIP(s)?

I mention these on my WIP page!

Most of my short stories are literary and contemporary fiction. My longer projects tend toward low fantasy.

5. How do you come up with new ideas for your WIP(s)?

I don’t have a method or anything for idea generation. My brain works in the background while I’m doing other things, so I’ll be washing dishes, or brushing my teeth, or writing something else, and an idea goes HI HELLO WHAT ABOUT THIS HUH? and I scramble to write it down.

Most of the time, my story ideas come from cool sentences I think of while observing. That sounds super weird and nerdy, but it’s true! When I’m bored or need to occupy my brain or just sorta feel like creating something spontaneous, I’ll look around and figure out how I’d write about a certain thing in the vicinity. 

Some examples of this from my phone notes:

“Laughter echoing through a cave, bouncing off the walls, the gift of hearing it over and over until it fades like gentle waking”

“Cheeks baked pink from the flush of her modesty”

“The last remnants of home, the dirt hidden beneath their fingernails”

“Headlights flicker between the gaps in the barrier like a slipstream of stars”

Ya know, stuff like that.

Sometimes, if I’m stuck while writing and need a thought, I look at the plot and think up complications for my characters to face. That’s how I figured out how to make Lithium 100% more plot relevant. I thought, okay, so she has this role right now, what can I add to make her stand in the way of X plan while also being an asset to Y? And boom, idea generated and problem solved.

6. What do you use to keep all your writing on? (Scrivener, Google Docs, good old pen and paper…)

I use Scrivener for all my main writing. I have a ton of phone memo notes for ideas on the go. I have a notebook full of random stuff for when I’m blocked and need to hand write something.

I also answered this further down!

7. What gave you initial inspiration for your WIP(s)?

H2H: There was a publisher who had a call for shapeshifter stories, and then I missed the deadline so I decided to try for a zine instead, then I got rejected, so I made it into my own thing.

AOPC: I needed to flesh out a piece of my homebrew DnD world, so I started worldbuilding, then it was my turn to turn in a story to be workshopped in my writing class, so I wrote a thing set in the village about the tribe and it all spiraled out from there.

FF: I had an errant thought about the script that hero and villain stories follow and wrote a thing about what would happen if one of them decided to deviate from it and BOOM the plot hit me like a semi truck.

Almost all of my short stories start with a sentence I think sounds really cool, a tone I want to try to capture (ex. the feeling of standing inside an old cathedral), or the ending moment of a character arc (I tend to work backwards).

8. How long have you been working on your WIP(s)?

I’ve been working with Heart to Heart since November 2018. I started thinking about Fish Food like 3 months ago I think? And I got the idea for All Our Painted Colors 3ish years ago, but it started as a short story that I thought about expanding about 8 months ago.

My writing process starts with a long period of thought percolation before I write anything definitive down.

9. What was the first thing you came up with for your WIP(s)?

H2H: The fact that the main character is an apothecary who uses recipes from historical documents to brew things and lives in a small town, and that their love interest changes shapes in some way.

AOPC: That the tribe is a society based around body paint, art, preserving their personal history, and stories. But mostly paint. 

FF: The hero danging over a pit of hungry piranhas and asking the villain a question that throws off the whole “death threat” vibe.

10. Have you considered Hogwarts houses for your characters? If so, what are they?

Answered this for the H2H cast here.

As for the Fish Food cast:

Iron Will - Hufflepuff

Overseer - Ravenclaw

Nightmare - A Hufflepuff who asked to be in Slytherin and the hat said “yeah okay”

Lithium - Gryffindor

Babylon - Slytherin

Sparkplug - Gryffindor

11. What do you find easiest to write? (Description, dialogue, etc.)

Interiority! Free indirect discourse! Unvoiced character brain thoughts! Which I guess means description? 

Writing dialogue sucks old car tires!

@azawrites‘ Questions:

what’s the best part about your writing style? I like how I build up to emotional punches. It’s like walking up a ramp, but in a literary way. And at the top of the ramp you either get a gut punch of feels or an ice cream cone.

do you write on the computer or on paper? I do most of my writing on my laptop because my hands can’t write fast enough to keep up with my brain. My typing is way faster. If I’m having trouble getting an idea down, or the tone of the writing lends itself to being handwritten (idk how to describe this, but sometimes words just gotta be scribbled, ya know?), I’ll hand write it in pen. I don’t use pencils anymore because I wasn’t allowed to in college and it kinda stuck.

what are your favourite books and why? Oh, no, there are too many. So I’ll just say my top book: The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien because of how it deals with stories and grief and remembering, the fact that it’s a story cycle (which is very cool), and the way he writes - it’s beautiful and sad and messed up and poignant. I love it.

why did you start writing? I’ve answered this before, but there was never really starting point for me. It’s just something I’ve always done. 

why did you continue writing? Because I had too much fun to stop! I also get creatively constipated, I guess is how I would phrase it, and need to have some sort of narrative outlet or my brain gets really mad at me.

where do you usually write? Pretty much anywhere, but most often at my desk. I think I need a taller chair, though...

can you describe your favourite piece (written by you) in one sentence? Let’s get authory with this one: The teacher hands out the tests, multiple choice this time, but when the stapled packet slides across your desk, there’s something odd about it, something that brings the war to life inside your head, a long-forgotten voice that speaks the souls of the soldiers and tells their stories from the annals of history. Or: A multiple choice test about WWII that tells the story of 4 men from Company B from enlistment to the end of their campaign.

what’s one cliche/trope you overuse, but still like anyway? It’s a trope when it comes to my own writing, actually. Person Sits Alone in the Dark and Contemplates. I love it, I abuse the hell out of it, and I will never stop.

what music do you listen to when working on a WIP? Depends. I have a go-to Writing Flow State song, playlists to help me get in the right head space when writing certain characters, and playlists that help guide the tone of a story. I can never listen to movie or video game scores because the association of song and cinematic moment is too strong for me.

have you ever dreamed of a fictional character? Uh, I have the occasional nightmare about Kokopelli? Does that count? 

what’s one thing that makes you automatically dislike a book? Overly pretentious first person POV prose (and I don’t mean purple. I mean a character who - honestly and without a hint of satire - thinks like a writer from the 1920s who just discovered what “paid by the word” means and believes they’re the wisest human being in the universe and everyone who doesn’t agree with them is the basest of idiots - barf). Gratuitous female violence. The use of the word “loins” outside of an animal context. Everything about The Beginners by Rebecca Wolff. 

@inexorableblob‘s Questions:

Which of your characters could you write as twice their current age? Oh, man, I think writing Iron Will in his forties or fifties would be really cool. It’d certainly give the story a new commentary twist.

Which of your characters could you write as half their current age? (I’m not gonna cheat and say Mel, I promise.) I think writing a 30yo Treena would be very cool. However, writing a 13 or 14yo Lithium who is just learning how to use her super powers would be WILD. 

What big city would your characters do best in?  London?  New York? Tokyo?  Mexico City?  Rio? The Fish Food characters would all do best in New York or London, since they’re very close to Conover. Lithium would prefer Rio, though, and Babylon would lobby for everyone to move to Tokyo.  The H2H characters would do best in Mexico City or London, depending on who decides to take charge and teach everyone the local customs. 

What would your characters do if they were in a small rural community that was attacked by underground worms? This is giving me too many ideas for H2H. Gemma would be a little bit furious, since she hates having to get rid of animals, especially when they’re invasive. If the worms just minded their own gosh dang business then everyone could live in peace.  If we’re talkin’ normal sized worms, like worm-sized worms, then Gemma would develop a pesticide that wouldn’t kill them, but force them to the surface where they would then be stunned by whatever weird solution Mel comes up with. Then the town would have a Worm-Off, where the person who collects the most worms wins free pie for a year, courtesy of Harry’s.  If we’re talkin’ DnD-style Purple Worms, like Beetlejuice worms, then Mel would take over. She’d help organize an evacuation and steal Oz’s gun, just in case. Then she’d do some spoilery things with Gemma assisting.

What is the worst place where you’ve ever wanted to write? Probably while I was taking the math section of the SATs. Kinda inconvenient, brain, thanks for that. Other terrible places: mid job interview, in the middle of an empty street at midnight, anywhere I’m sitting where I have terrible posture, watching a slam poetry event in a very crowded bar, etc.

What’s the most uncomfortable subject you’ve ever written about? I’ve written a little bit about hate crimes and loathed every second. I’ve written a character actively contemplating suicide (he was a WWII soldier) and that was not fun at all. I mean, I also wrote a paper about sexy (somewhat graphic) wlw poetry for my Sexuality class, which a lot of people would be uncomfortable with, but I thought it was a very good collection. Go read Marilyn Hacker’s stuff, it’s good.

If you had to change the ending of any famous novel, which would you pick? The Great Gatsby. We don’t end with the green light, screw the green light.  Gatsby wills all of his possessions and wealth to Nick and Nick becomes the next James Gatz. But this time around, he pines for the man who was killed in the pool just below his balcony while pretending to love Jordan, who finds out and amicably marries him because 1920s. She then uses Nick/Gatsby’s money to purchase an automobile manufacturing company and makes cars in every color but yellow. (Gotta maintain that color symbolism for F. Scott, I guess.) Nick discovers Gatz’ old bootlegging and illegal activities buddies and starts up a criminal empire. He and Jordan become the biggest, queerest, most spiteful and angsty crime bosses in New York. Nick makes it his life’s mission to take down false accusers, vigilante style. The car manufacturing company is what they use to launder money. Daisy divorces Tom because they’re both terrible people. Daisy takes her daughter and moves to California. Jordan sends Daisy’s daughter money secretly, about a hundred dollars a month. The last line is something about how Gatz was always reaching out and chasing green, but because of him, Nick is steeped in dark, bloody red. I would then write a sequel about Nick and Jordan and their crime empire that spans the East Coast. God, I hate this book.

If you had to change your life, what would you change without regret? Start therapy way earlier, 100%. That would have saved me a lot of nonsense.

If the end of the world where scheduled a week from tomorrow, what would you do?  Would you tell anybody? Everybody?  Keep it a secret? Assuming this was legit and the end of the world was actually happening, I’d probably try to tell some big-shot geologist or something, hoping they spread the word. Other than that, since debt won’t be a thing, I’d take the people I love on a killer trip around the world.

What would you do if a wizard offered to cast one spell for you, but your worst enemy got the same spell? Hmmm. I’d ask them to cast the Self-Realization spell, so they would instantly become aware of the effect their actions have on others and know exactly how terrible they’ve been to other people their whole life. Maybe then they can be a better person. My anxiety makes this spell ineffective on me, since it’s already there! Thanks, brain! 

Which would you choose, never eating in the same place, always eating the same meal, always eating with the same people, or never eating with the same people? I’d choose always eating with the same people. I like frequenting restaurants I like and eating different things. I don’t think I could deal with only eating the same thing/off the same menu forever. And I have bad social anxiety, so constantly eating with new people would probably short-circuit my brain eventually.  A good meal in good company is pretty great, though. 

@sunlight-and-starskies‘ Questions:

What is your favorite genre of music? I’ll always be a rock fan at heart. Right now, I really like folk rock and any kind of music that sounds like it has history behind it.

What are your favorite words? Illustrious, shimmer, soliloquy, incarnate, bound, and many more. Also most Yiddish curses.

Describe your ideal vacation. Somewhere cozy where I can explore and chill at my leisure. A week of artsy events in the city. Exploring landscapes in the country.

If you could have any fictional creature for a pet, what would it be? Why? Pegasus! I can ride and they can fly. We’d make an excellent team, and where we’d go, we wouldn’t need roads.

Which fictional universe would you live in if you had to live there for the rest of your life? Logic dictates the Star Trek universe, since I’d probably be an average civilian. Post-scarcity society? Sign me the hell up. My heart, however, is screaming ROHAN.

Favorite childhood toy? Uh... I honestly can’t remember. 

What is your aesthetic? Good smelling old books with doodles and notes in the margins, a pile of unfolded clean clothes on a chair, a stack of handwritten papers perched on the corner of a desk, the smell of breakfast cooking when you wake up, the immediate “woops” shock the moment you trip over something you should’ve moved earlier.

Tell me a random fact about your current project or you. About me: I have a birthmark that kinda sorta looks like an elephant. About Fish Food: The Coalition knows what happened to Hydrophase. So does Sparkplug.

Are you an early bird or a night owl? Night owl, all the way. I like the idea of being a morning person, though. 

What is your favorite food? Pasta! Or any kind of Asian food. 

What is your happiest memory? Oh, geez. Ummm. When I was little, I would curl up in my grandpa’s armchair and eat Burger King breakfast sandwiches on Saturday mornings. 

[kumeko]

three square meals

Characters/Pairings: The Fellowship, Eowyn

A/N: written for the @lotr-zine, Twilight and Shadow. I got assigned fluff and tried to include everyone. XD

Summary: Even separated as they were, they all had to eat. Had to rest. Had to laugh.

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Breakfast:

“You were serious about the second breakfast?” Boromir stared at Merry and Pippin as they sat on a rock, divvying up sausages and fruit. They had already made four piles of bread, unpacking whilst everyone else was gathering their belongings. It was a mess and not for the first time he wondered if there was any wisdom in bringing such small, impulsive creatures with them.

 Despite their supposed ages, they looked and acted like children at times. Such as now, with Merry grinning cheerfully and holding out an apple. “Should we set some aside for you too?”

 “No.” Boromir frowned, rubbing his forehead. They had been traveling together for the span of a few days and he had a feeling his headache would be a daily thing. “How many breakfasts do you normally eat?”

 “Four.” Pippin said confidently.

 “Five,” Merry replied just as firmly at the same time and the pair stared at each other.

 After a moment, they chorused together, “Three to five.”

 “That’s…that’s a lot of breakfast.” Boromir glanced at their bellies. They didn’t look portly, like some of the nobles in Gondor did when they’d spent their days feasting and nothing else. Though, he couldn’t say the hobbits were particularly fit either. Merry and Pippin often complained about the hike, asking for breaks on an hourly basis, even if they were soundly rejected every single time.

 Though they did keep walking despite their whining, so maybe they were sturdy at the very least.

 Merry shrugged, returning to spreading jam on a piece of toast. “Not really. It’s normal. What, do you only eat two?”

 “One.” Boromir, crouched, glaring at the pair. He was starting to feel like a baby sitter. “And you need to pack, we’re leaving.”

 “Oh, come on!” Pippin crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks and Boromir could not shake the image of a child out of his head. “We’re setting things so we don’t have to stop for breakfast. We can eat while we walk.”

 “Yeah, do you want to hear our stomachs rumble?” Merry swished a butter knife in the air dramatically. “We’re hiding in a bush, away from the dark lord, and then all of a sudden there’s a loud awrrrrgghhhh because someone wouldn’t let us eat?”

 “We won’t hide,” Boromir stated, his hand on his hilt. Despite all the uncertainties of their travel routes and methods, of that he was positive. “We’ll cut past them.”

 “Sure, you say that now.” Merry snorted. Both hobbits were quickly bundling up their food piles and when had they finished preparing? They were surprisingly sneaky little things; it was no wonder Boromir had never seen one before this day.

 “I’ll say it then too.” Boromir got up, looking toward the sun. Toward home. It would miles yet before they were near Gondor, before he could even dream of Gondor, but they would get there. No matter what the elves or Aragorn had said, he was sure he could convince the group to stop by when they were closer.

 “There. Set.” Pippin leaped off the rock, his bag packed. “See, no trouble at all.”

 “Right.” Boromir laughed as the two hobbits puffed their chests with pride. All this over breakfast. “When I take you to Gondor, you’ll see why one breakfast is more than enough there.”

 Merry furrowed his brow, a challenging smirk on his face. “Do you really think you can satisfy us?”

 “You’ll be rolling home.” He ruffled their hair, ignoring their protests. “It’ll be a feast unlike any you’ve ever seen.”

 -x-

Lunch:

“What is your home like?” Eowyn asked, rolling her shoulders back as she straightened her posture. Long rides were nothing new to her; the horse was almost an extension of her body at times, and she could move him through his paces in her sleep. The problem was the tedious pace, the days upon end where they trotted slowly across the kingdom. It was a long trek to Helm’s Deep and they couldn’t go any faster out of fear of outpacing their walking subjects.

 It did not make it any less tempting to squeeze her thighs and urge her mount into a gallop. The wide fields ahead of them almost seemed to call for her.

 Gimli twisted on his seat uncomfortably, his expression dour. His arms crossed as he failed to find any position he liked, and it spoke of his strength that he didn’t fall of the horse like that. “We do not use horses.”

 He’d been like that for the past hour but she was pretty sure it was the elf sitting in front of him that was the real reason for his discomfort.

 “That’s because you can’t reach high enough to sit on one.” Legolas smirked, glancing over his shoulder at his companion. “Don’t worry, the ground won’t be too far when you fall.”

 “When?” Miffed, Gimli’s hand curled around his axe for what had to be the tenth time this morning.

 Eowyn failed to suppress her chuckle in time and Gimli turned his glare to her. With a placating smile, she patted her horse’s neck. “They aren’t too bad, when you get used to them.”

 “If you say so, lass.” Gimli still frowned, looking entirely put out.

 “Why don’t we give him a dog; the ponies the hobbits have might be too big for him,” Legolas suggested, and she wasn’t sure at this point if he actually meant half his insults or he said them only to get a rise out of his comrade.

 Either way, it always ended the same way, with the pair glaring at each other. Bloodshed seemed almost unavoidable now and she glanced at Aragon hopefully. When he merely shrugged, unfazed by the threatening atmosphere, she bit back a sigh. It fell to her then. Tapping her chin, she tried to find a neutral topic. It was close to lunch and her stomach grumbled softly. “What is food like in Erebor? You said something about a feast.”

 “Aye!” Finally, Gimli grinned, wide and full of teeth. He puffed his chest proudly. “Come under the mountain, and you’ll see a dwarven feast. Piles of meat, all cooked to perfection. Goblets of overflowing wine. Nothing is lacking.”

 “Burnt food,” Legolas listed off, counting his fingers. Somehow, even that simple movement looked more graceful than anything Eowyn had done in her life. “Sour wine. Lack of vegetables. No wonder you’re always in a foul mood.”

 “And you’re a bloody rabbit,” Gimli shot back, leaning back to look up at the elf. Some miracle kept him on his seat; any further and he would fall. “All leaves and grapes and your meat’s undercooked.”

 “Or maybe you just don’t know what proper cooking is.” Legolas raised a brow, looking over his shoulder. “You know it isn’t supposed to be black. Even charcoal has move flavour.”

 “You…” Gimli growled, setting off a tirade of proper fire techniques and maybe food wasn’t as safe a topic as Eowyn had hoped. To be honest, maybe nothing was—she had a feeling that even a discussion about the sky would somehow end up in an argument.

 At least it was entertaining.

 “You got them started,” Aragon sighed as he urged his horse next to her, clearly used to the argument. He clicked his tongue as the pair squabbled. “It’ll be hours before they shut up. Even then, only for a few minutes.”

 The amused smile on his face said otherwise. There was a wild rush at seeing that, like racing her horse across the plain, like winning her first sword fight. She looked away. “And what about you, my lord? How do your people eat?”

 “…nothing to talk about,” Aragon admitted slowly. A hand rubbed his neck slowly as he considered the question. “We live in the wilds, so it’s just wild game and herbs. We’re not really known for our cooking.”

 And what are you known for? she wanted to ask. A king who was not king, a man who lived freer than she ever had. Even with her uncle safe, with her brother back, she felt just as trapped as she did back in that cold castle with Wormtongue leering at her. But the words were caught in her throat and she tightened her grip on the reins. “Neither are mine, we spend too much time in the saddle. Oh, but my mother, her stew was delicious.”

 “Stew?” Gimli tuned back into the conversation, interested once more. He leaned toward her and there had to be something supernatural that was keeping him on his seat. “Would that be a meat stew, lass?”

 “Of course.” She brushed a stray hair behind her ear nervously, before blurting out. “I’ll make you some for lunch.”

 Gimli looked delighted and though she wouldn’t look, she hoped Aragon was maybe half as interested.

 -x-

Dinner:

“Keep your hands from the pot!” Sam ordered, slapping Faramir’s hands before they could touch the ladle. The sound echoed in the night air, drowning out the crackle of the fire. “It’s not ready yet.”

 Faramir blinked. It was rare that anyone treated him with such familiarity. Even out here, in the marsh lands, he was still considered a lord, a de facto prince, since few believed the king would return. “I was merely going to stir it.”

 “Oh.” Sam coloured, embarrassed. He twisted his hands nervously. “No offense meant, sire. Just that…well, my friends, they’d often steal bites while I cooked and I…old habits.” He offered a timid smile.

 It was interesting to observe Sam. One moment fierce and protective, the next self-depreciating. Faramir could see a little of himself in the hobbit. “It’s fine.” He sat next to Frodo, who watched the affair with a tired smile. “Are you one of those friends?”

 The hobbit looked exhausted, almost as dead as the land they threaded, but at this a small flush of colour returned to his skin. With a mischievous grin, he confessed conspiratorially, “When he wasn’t looking.”

 “What?” Sam dropped the ladle, staring at him in surprise. A hand reached up, clutching his chest. “I could understand Merry and Pippin. But you too?”

 Looking entirely unapologetic, Frodo shrugged. “Well, I was hungry.”

 “Frodo Baggins!” Sam frowned, disappointed. Sternly, he pulled the ladle closer to him as though some mysterious had would steal it away. “Well, not this time.”

 “Of course not,” Frodo blinked innocently, a beguiling smile on his face. He clasped his hands in front of him, looking troubled by the very thought. “Your stew is safe.”

 Not buying it, Sam shook his head with a distrusting scowl. Lifting the ladle, he took a small sip and rolled the liquid around his mouth. He reached into his pouch, pulled out a pinch of some mysterious powder, and tossed it in. “Ok, this should do.” He grabbed a bowl and poured a spoonful of a steaming hot broth inside. “For you, sire.”

 Faramir took the bowl and inhaled. While it largely smelled like any other rabbit stew, a few unfamiliar herbs flooded his senses. Whatever they were, it was a pleasant scent. “Smells good.”

 “Thank you. Made it just like my gaffer did, a family recipe.” Sam smiled proudly, his hands on his hips. His smile dropped as he swivelled his head over to Frodo and squinted at him for a long moment. Grabbing a second bowl, he mused, “I think I’ll give this to Gollum first.”

 Aghast, Frodo stood up in horror. Clearly, he had not considered the consequences of his admission. “No!”

 “Yes!” Considering how much Sam hated the creature, this was clearly a sore point. With a sniff, he filled the bowl to the brim. “And then maybe for Faramir’s men and if anything is left over, then you.”

 Faramir cracked a smile. “I doubt there is enough in there for all of my men.”

 Sam pursed his lips disapprovingly. He stirred the pot three times, considering it, before conceding. “Fine. But Gollum first and then you. And if you steal a spoonful, that will be your last spoonful.”

 Looking contrite, Frodo nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I won’t touch anything.”

 “I’ll watch him,” Faramir offered, chuckling as Sam trotted away in a huff. Meals with his brother used to be like this, warm and full of conversation.

 Boromir. His eyes lowered, staring at the bowl in his hands. His brother, dead. His brother, gone. It was a strange thought, to know that his brother would never return to him, would never again stride through the halls with a laugh and a hearty wave.

 “Faramir?” Frodo cocked his head, looking up at him in concern. He crouched next to Faramir, his hands on his knees. “Is something the matter?”

 Shaking his head out of his thoughts, he stirred his bowl. “It’s nothing.” He took a small sip and his lips parted in surprise at the warm broth. It seemed Sam wasn’t all talk. “It’s delicious.”

 “He’s a good cook.” Frodo sat, hugging his knees. Staring at the fire, he commented softly, “I don’t think I would have made it this far without him.”

 Ah. The hobbits really did remind Faramir of himself. He had seen that exact look before in the mirror, while thinking of Boromir. “He’s a good companion.”

 “More than he realizes.” Frodo added with a quiet smile. His fingers played with the folds of his pants. “He’s my best friend.”

 His brother was his best friend too. No, Boromir had been his best friend. A dull ache came at the correction, at the realization that he had a lifetime of it. Faramir took another sip, the liquid carving a hot path down his throat. “Did my brother ever tell you about Gondor?”

 “Yes, he wanted us to come.” Frodo nodded, chuckling. He glanced at Faramir. “He told us about your feasts. He said you’d have to roll us home after breakfast.”

 Faramir shook his head. That sounded exactly like Boromir. Always terribly proud of Gondor, even in the smallest of matters. “I’m sure he made us sound grander than we are.” He looked at the bowl in his hands, warmer than any meal he’d had in Gondor since his brother left. If a trace of this could return to the halls, perhaps his father could change.

 Perhaps they could all change and become the Gondor his brother was proud of once more.

 “It might not be as filling, but I’ll make breakfast tomorrow,” Faramir offered.

 “Really?” Frodo snapped his head to stare at him, excitement crossing his face. “Ohh…Merry and Pippin will be jealous.”

 Faramir could almost hear his brother’s guffaw.

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | Q&A with DETH P. SUN

Influenced by the works of Richard Scarry, Charles Schultz, and the likes of Tove Jannson, artist Deth P. Sun’s interest in art and zines started early on–from drawing everything in an encyclopedia to creating his first zine in high school. From that point on, Deth has been a prolific painter, zine maker, and doodler, focused on making his art on his own terms. With his central hero– a genderless cat – Deth explores various  natural and strange worlds through a subtle narrative, created by his brushwork, ambiguity, and color palettes. 

Find out more about Deth’s art, his wordless storytelling, and what inspires him by taking the leap below. 

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself?   My name is Deth P. Sun, I’m an artist living in a tiny coastal town in Northern California, but most of my adult life was spent in the Bay Area, primarily in Oakland and Berkeley. I tell people I’m Cambodian, which is mostly true.

When did you begin having an interest in art and painting? How or why do you think you gravitated towards this profession? I’ve always enjoyed drawing, I think I kind of like getting better at it and learning about new things that are centered around that. It’s one of the cheaper hobbies to get started in as a kid. It’s not really a thing I think about too much these days. Mostly I wonder how my life was set by my 17 year old self.

How do you describe your work to people who maybe unfamiliar with it? Until I moved to this town I live in now, I kind of never had to. Mostly because I don’t meet new people outside of my circle. I just tell people I’m a graphic artist. If they want more info I just stare at them blankly because I think it’s kind of rude to ask strangers what they do for a living.

There are various aspects to your paintings from being narrative and storytelling to those that feature various painted objects and natural things. Can you tell us a little bit about the narrative elements of your works and how that came about? Yeah, I just like suggesting that there’s a narrative with my work, which isn’t that hard as long as you don’t stray too much from your pallette or reuse images to find in each painting. I kind of like seeing a whole set of paintings, that’s when you sense that there is a story.

When did you protagonist character start to take shape? How did that evolve and come-about? I’ve just always drew a character like that. Probably in high school. It’s been so long I don’t really remember. It probably came from my sketchbook. Most of my sketchbooks are kind of boring because it was just me repeatedly drawing the same stuff until I got better at it. I think I was trying to draw a cat and I drew something else that I liked.

In some of your other works, you paint collections of items from food, mushrooms, crystals to swords and old style cell phones. How did these paintings originate for you? Were you finding yourself sketching certain things that you read about or were you just obsessed with a certain object that week? My parents taught themselves English using Richard Scarry books so they were the first books I had my hands on. It’s just pages and pages of him drawing things with words describing what they were underneath. When I was younger I had this project where I’d take an encyclopedia and try drawing everything in it. I think I only got to M. Also when I was kid while drawing in my sketchbook I would just run out of stuff to draw so I’d go room to room drawing everything in each room.

It was just a thing to kill time.

How has where you live and its landscape influenced the work you create?  What’s your favorite thing about residing there? I guess it does a little, but I think I drew the stuff and then when I got here, I liked it a lot, so I ended up on this tiny coastal town on the bluffs. I started drawing weird epic landscapes after watching a bunch of Swedish films a few years ago.

What was your last adventure or walk through your neighborhood that showed up in one of your work, thematically or just visually? One time a friend invited me to a barbeque. They lived near the train tracks a couple of miles from me, so I walked up the tracks passed the cemetery and over a few tressel bridges. It was really nice walk. Met a turtle. They had to come down and get me because I didn’t know the path to their house, and it was getting dark.

What IS your favorite thing to draw or paint? Do you have an UNfavorite thing to draw or paint? I like drawing pineapples. I hate when strangers ask me to draw them. I want to punch them in the face.

When did you start picking up the paint brush and taking your works to the canvas? What do you enjoy about painting vs. drawing? The first time I painted was in my high school art class, I think like most other Americans. I was using tempera, so it sucked. But I started buying acrylic soon after. I think painting and drawing is kind of the same thing, or least I just paint like I’m drawing. I don’t think it was a strange transition.

What’s a typical day like for you at home and in the studio? What’s your process like? I fill out internet orders sometimes, or a wholesale order. Sometimes I draw. Mostly I get up and look at my email and go, “I have a lot of stuff to do and this is gonna suck”. I don’t really multitask, so it’s usually me filling out orders for 8 hours and trying to get to the post office before 4:30 while watching dumb shit on the internet, or me helping a friend screen print in my garage, or if I have a show just ignoring everything else in life and painting for two months.

A few years ago I kind of got burnt out of making a living with just painting. So I was like maybe I should make more t-shirts and prints. So I ended up moving to Fort Bragg and screenprinting more stuff and making more drawings toward that. But now my days are filled with me screen printing and filling out small orders or hanging out on my computer photoshopping all day. So now I’m in some other kind of hell.

What are your go-to art tools? A Pilot Hi-Tec C (They’re called G-Tec 4s in other places) pen. I use the .4, but should probably switch to .5. You have to have a light touch with them or else they’ll jam. 

Right now I enjoy using Mitsubishi pencils, but the cheap Mirado Black Warrior pencil you can get at most stationary store is just as good.

Been filling a sketchbook using Opaque markers. Posca’s are pretty good, but the color choices are limited, so I started buying Molotow. The Molotow’s can be refilled so they might end up being a better value.

Lately I’ve been painting with cheap $2 craft paints mostly because I don’t like mixing colors. Just bought a few of the Martha Stewart’s at Michaels. I still buy Golden and Liquitex, but it’s nice to mix in other stuff.

Not only do you draw and paint, you are always printing and creating zines of your works. Do you remember your very first zine you made? Are you working on a new zine? The first zine I made was pretty horrible. It was staple at the top corner, and I gave it out to my friends when I was in high school. I put everything precious in a box before I left for college and when I came back my dad had threw it out. At the time I was pretty bummed, but now I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that. I’m always working on something. Sometimes things take a really long time. I drew everything I ate while in England and Scotland several years ago and just now getting it all together. I’ve gotten rejected from a bunch of zine fairs, so there really isn’t a urgency to get it finished. I’m thinking of making one for the tiny town I’m in, and other that’s like a newspaper, but filled with just my gibberish drawing of words.

Do you have a favorite zine maker out there you’d like to share with folks? I’m pretty excited to  be tabling at Comics Art Brooklyn. Last year  I sat nearby Evan Cohen (http://www.evanmcohen.com) who I had just bought zines online from a few weeks before so that was kind of unexpected. He makes rad work. There was a few other artists there whose work I enjoyed. I came home with a lot of nice prints which I never really get from strangers. Stuff from Natalie Andrewson, Tiny Splendor, most everything Peow Studios publishes, and Jen Tong. I like this zine called Terror House by Sammy Harkham that I’d buy a few to give out to friends and the zines my friend, Evah Fan makes.

What are you constantly inspired by? And who are some of your early and current art influences? I think what keeps me going is random problem solving with how I paint. Or maybe the natural world. I don’t really know if I’m being totally honest.   I grew up reading Peanuts. It has it’s good moments. I think I became comfortable with not always having to be in the up. I really like Tove Jannson’s work.. I’m not a fan Tintin, but I like the way Hergé uses color and lines. I was lucky enough to come to the Bay Area while the Mission School was around and Yoshitoma Nara had a few shows, so it made it okay for me to make paintings the way I do.

What do you do when you are not painting, drawing or making zines? How do you find yourself unwinding? I watch a lot of dumb shit on youtube and take long walks. Each week I go to a game night where I do board games (Catan, Ticket to Ride, Dixit, Pirates Cove are in the usual rotation). I like to cook and have people over. I actually unwind by drawing and watching a lot of basketball while listening to basketball podcasts.

What advice would you offer to an aspiring artist who might wanna follow in your footsteps? Be nice to everyone you meet ever. Always try to learn. Don’t get caught up in what people think of you or your work. Know that if you keep on doing something you’ll get better at it. Pick up different hobbies. Make friends with other artists. Be open to all opportunities. Get used to rejection.

What’s your best Art School tip that you want to share with folks? Some random wisdom you learned through your personal journey or just while making art? You know I don’t know if I’m the best person to get advice from since I sort of carved out this weird existence. When you’re young, it’s easy to get caught up in weird things and maybe a person should just get caught up in those things. I do meet old school mates who have regrets about how their time in art school was spent, but I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way of doing it. I think there really isn’t any rush, and also if you feel like you “failed” you can always just get back up because no one is really paying attention.

I think I hear a lot from folks who worry that they’re too old to try painting or doing art for a living. And I’d hear this from someone who’s like 25 or 30. But there really isn’t a deadline to any of this stuff and also no one really knows how old anyone is. I think everyone’s trying to get to some sort of finish line, but really just existing and making work is all there is.

What do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t an artist? In an alternate universe, what career would Deth find himself doing? I’d probably be working in tech if I’m being honest with myself.

What’s a question you never get asked in an interview that you wanna ask yourself and answer? There really isn’t.

What are your favorite style of VANS? My favorite Vans were the slip ons with a grey herring bone pattern on them. I had 4 or 5 pairs, but I think they switched to a smaller pattern because I couldn’t find them again.

What’s coming up for you the rest of the year or into the next? Comic Arts Brooklyn (http://comicartsbrooklyn.com), a solo show in January at Spoke Art (https://spoke-art.com) in San Francisco. I’ll have stuff at a print fair in Oakland (https://www.oaklandprintfair.com), and an art book fair in Berlin (http://www.friendswithbooks.org/content/about) through Vanilla Studios (http://vanillastud.io).

FOLLOW DETH | INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE | SHOP

[missionclearzine]

✨APPLICATION Q + A!✨

Thought I’d organize the questions we got through the applications so far! I’ll be updating this post as we get more questions~

-- Mod Pilot

Q - I was wondering how fast do the mods respond to emails, and if we get rejection letters.

A- We usually respond to emails within 2-3 days if not sooner! We will be sending out rejection letters and will give critiques to those who ask for it after the rejection emails are sent out!

Q - I’m a minor, is that okay?

A- Yeah that's fine! Keep in mind that if you will be contributing to the zine, we may ask you to send us your address so we can send in the merch (and the physical zine if we get enough interest)!

Q - Is it limited which generation we can draw?

A- Nope! We won't limit the zine to just the Pokémon that were actually in the game, so feel free to have fun and add the newer generation Pokémon!

Q - I was wondering when the decision will be made for the project to be purely digital or both digital and print? I suppose I'm thinking about if the merch artists design something to be printed, but then the project remains purely digital?

A- Regardless of whether or not the zine itself will be digital or both digital and physical, the merch will be physical! We'll probably make the decision once the Contributor Applications are over and get the opinions of those participating in this project! Hope this answers all of your questions~