A WWS PUBLICATION ROUND UP FOR JUNE

Another month, another inspiring list of publications. Congratulations to all!

From Carla Sameth‘s “I Do Exist” at Hometown Pasadena:

It’s hard to hear my mom talking baby talk.
I’d rather go to sleep than think of this.
It seems so fast—from craziness of raising a child alone
To carrying a diaper bag for my mom.

From Shawna Kenney‘s “How the Fiercest Warrior in ‘Wonder Woman’ Kicked Her Way Into Hollywood” at Narrative.ly:

Madeleine Vall Beijner woke up face down on the floor. A strange metallic noise rung in the 29-year-old’s ears as her eyes slowly focused on the edge of a black and white striped rug. Yes, I know this place… It’s my boyfriend’s apartment, she thought. She saw she was wearing the tracksuit of the Swedish national kickboxing team, with her gym bags stacked next to her – but she couldn’t move. Am I injured? Have I had a stroke? Am I dead? Continue reading

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A WWS PUBLICATION ROUND UP FOR MAY

April showers bring May flowers and lots of wonderful publications from Women Who Submit. Congratulations, all!

From Shawna Kenney‘s “The Best Vegan Skincare Products for Summer” at Paste:

We slathered and lathered in our home testing and came up with these winners. Bonus learning that each of these companies is eco-friendly and independently owned. And knowing no one was harmed in the making of these skincare products makes them feel even better going on.

From Lauren Eggert-Crowe‘s “Heaven Make Me a Warrior to Slay All the Bad Magic,” a runner-up for the 2016 poetry contest at Black Warrior Review:

your voice in me

and then the ghost

of your voice

in me

Spent my last nickels

on your pretty blues

Congratulations to Lauren whose chapbook, Bitches of the Drought, was released this month by Sundress Publications!

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Why Write About the Hardest Things

by Antonia Crane

My mom’s aggressive cancer returned the same week I got into an MFA program for writing— a terrible idea considering the recession of 2008. Mom insisted I “Get that degree!” so I enrolled even though I had no way to pay for it. I’d lost my personal assistant job, and my sugar-daddy-once-removed, a stout, Mexican man who was missing part of his thumb, suddenly disappeared for good.

A few weeks into grad school, I drove up the California coast to Humboldt where redwoods cast long shadows and the icy ocean raged silently while I euthanized my mother. I immediately plunged back into sex work. There’s no pamphlet on how to keep showing up for class when your favorite person dies. It’s like waking up without arms or feet. I floated in the fog of her absence and I wrote about her frail limbs and her moans of pain when I took her off the morphine for a few hours those final days. I wrote about her peeing the bed. Spilling milk on the floor. Choking on water. I wrote about her writing her own obituary and her cobalt blue vases filled with her orange azaleas. I wrote about meeting men in motels off the 405 to jack them off—how I was usually one hand job away from being homeless. I wrote about my mom’s feeding tube and her pastel fuzzy socks I slid off her feet before they took her body away. In my mind and on the page, my mom’s dying body merged with mine going through the motions of sex work. I couldn’t separate the two because they were braided in my mind. I kept Cheryl Strayed’s essay “The Love of My Life” (The Sun, # 321) close at hand because it gave me permission to write about my specific raging body grief and how I hurled my pussy at the world and dared it to keep me safe. Continue reading

A WWS PUBLICATION ROUND UP FOR APRIL

April showers bring May flowers…and Women Who Submit publications! Congratulations to all the women who had work published this month.

From “Cliff Side” by Arielle Silver at Jet Fuel Review:

Echoed against the cliff walls of the ragged coastline, the bark of two elephant seals. Aaark, one calls, then moans like the creak of old redwood. Even through closed lids: the periwinkle grey of dawn. I open my eyes at the fifth cheer-up-up from a nameless bird in dialogue with its mate. A moment later, my husband opens his.

From Antonia Crane‘s “Three Financial Dominatrixes on How Their Clients Get Off From Simply Handing Over Cash” at MEL Magazine:

“…a man has to have a lot of power to squander it away on the findom playground: an appendage of BDSM that caters to educated, successful guys who yearn to be coerced into parting with their cash by a draconian mean-girl they will likely never have sex with or even meet in person. It’s an emotionally complicated erotic transaction with real financial consequences — a guilt hangover in the form of blood-curdling debt.”

From Muriel Leung‘s “This Is to Live Several Lives” at Nat. Brut:

Once, when I was very, very young
I studied the curious
lives of bees –

Congratulations to Muriel who was also accepted to the VONA/Voices Workshop! Continue reading

A WWS PUBLICATION ROUND UP FOR MARCH

Congratulations to all the Women Who Submit who have had work published in March!

From “The Iridescence of Our Sins” by Ashley Perez at Lost Balloon:

The children appear from the edges. Their faces set. Their bodies are covered in iridescent powders that shimmer in hues that could only be seen in dreams. We have been gathered in the square to wait. Our kin have been gathered to watch. The children walk around us in a pack, sniffing, running towards us and back again to their circle. Worn, brown leather pouches hang around their necks, swaying with their movement.

From Lisbeth Coiman‘s “Abundance Guilt” at Nailed:

Along the wide corridors of the wholesale store, I look for the basic ingredient of my favorite dish, Pabellón Criollo. Flank steak is a piece of lean meat that once cooked can be shredded like strands of yarn. The refrigerators burst with a large variety of large meat cuts. My shopping cart bumps into others. The shoppers mutter apologies; try samples of hot tamales, Italian sausage, and Indian curry. Hips of fresh fruits and vegetables seem to smile from across the vast space. It’s almost repugnant to see so much food. Continue reading

Cover of My Mother's Child, by Pamela L. Taylor. Art by Jolmar Miller

Behind The Editor’s Desk: Margaret Bashaar

By Lauren Eggert-Crowe

I first learned about Hyacinth Girl Press in 2011 when I was looking for a place to submit my first chapbook, The Exhibit. I was floored and elated when HGP accepted my manuscript. That’s when I began corresponding with founder and editor Margaret Bashaar. She and I even collaborated on a poetry manuscript together that, three years later, became our chapbook Rungs, published by Grey Book Press.

From the website: “Hyacinth Girl Press is a micro-press that publishes up to 6 poetry chapbooks each year. We specialize in handmade books of smaller press runs. We consider ourselves a feminist press and are particularly interested in manuscripts dealing with topics such as radical spiritual experiences, creation/interpretation of myth through a feminist lens, and science. [. . .] The ultimate goal of Hyacinth Girl Press is to bring feminism, mysticism, and scientific inquiry together with awesome poetry.”

Continue reading

How to Do AWP

Please excuse this repost from March 23, 2016 as we are traveling to DC at this moment, but we felt this article can still be helpful to those nervous about how to do AWP “right.” Be sure to visit WWS at booth 975 for “I submitted!” buttons and a chance to win a free WWS tote filled with goodies. And you can find all three WWS cofounders–Ashaki M. Jackson, Alyss Dixson and Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo–at the Submission as Action panel 9am Thursday, along with Kundiman’s Cathy Linh Che and moderator, Desiree Zamorano. 

For more panels and events with WWS members check out our WWS at AWP17 guide.

By Lauren Eggert-Crowe

I had no idea how to explain where I was going. “It’s this conference in Baltimore,” I told my professors when I explained why I’d be missing class. “It’s for writers, or something.” All I knew was that it was called AWP and that my creative writing professor would be presenting a panel on imaginative teaching methods. She suggested I check it out, and that’s how I ended up driving six hours from Western Pennsylvania to Baltimore one grey Wednesday evening in February, 2003. Continue reading