The Bellingham Review accepted a very short story of mine for their new online short forms venture. Very exciting.
Also, The Cincinnati Review is going to publish a set of four prose poems from The Rusted City! Very happy about that. I just hope it will be published as a book soon. Everything feels contingent upon a book. Contests, contests.
Speaking of contests, this article sort of pissed me off, especially since, as pointed out by a few people, the author himself has entered contests. Yes, there are problems with the world of book contests, as there are in the publishing world at large, but without contests, isn’t it all about having a name, having connections, alliances, etc.? I don’t know anyone, and that makes me feel hopeless enough as it is (the book contests aren’t blind from the beginning). I don’t share my life story with every potential mentor I meet. Some people do, and often, it helps their career. But it pleases me to know (or to harbor the illusion) that some things (some book contests) are open to everyone, that people can be judged by their work.
Can one’s work be visible even if she (as a personality, as an ego, as a name) isn’t?