Flash Fiction is Free

Let's face it, most flash fiction magazines are on-line, and most of them don't pay. There are some notable exceptions, like Flashquake, Bound Off, Vestal Review (recently became mostly print) or Cezanne's Carrot (pays a stipend to one author). I 'm sure there're more , one only needs to log into dutrope.com and check the needed criteria to see the whole list. But even the best ones, like Frigg, SmokeLong, elimae--they don't.

I'm not sure why I've embraced the culture of not being paid for my work, and why I think that it is okay to publish a flash for free, while not a short story. True, flash fiction requires, in most cases, less time commitment than a 5,000 word story, but it is not like I spit them out in minutes either. But flash fiction + internet is such a perfect marriage, and I've seem amazing quality of flash on-line. Most editors run those magazines in their free time with no reimbursement. And besides the magazines are free for their readers as well--which is marvellous and celebrates true accessibility.

But then there's The Toronto Quarterly. A new Canadian print quarterly edited by Darryl Salach. It doesn'te even have a web page--their communications are done through facebook, blogger, and my space. They boldly state, scream even, that they won't offer any compensation--not even a free contributor's copy (though pdf file can be uploaded from lulu.com for free). At first I wasn't quite sure what to think about it, but then I started to like the idea. I liked their honesty. They're certainly grounded in reality. Other non-paying mags might say, in a small print, at the bottom of their submission pages, that currently they don't offer any reimbursement. Some might add that in the future they hope to be able to do so. Right. It is not that they are lying, but they are certainly dreaming. Dreaming is great, I admire it. I also admire honesty. So I submitted a 500 word flash, and to an email yesterday that it is going to appear in the Fall issue of the Toronto Quarterly. It is called "No Memory of Rats." It is one of my "early" stories, and thus obviously the issue will become a collector's item in the very near future, so make sure you (YOU! And You, and you! ) buy a dozen copies. (Psssssst, and send me one).

Bunnies and Eggs

My children, despite of me keeping them in the closet (joking, joking, joking) found out about Easter Bunny, one of the "Canadian" traditions we haven't fully adopted. Until this year. Last week they came running into the house with the news the neighbourhood kids had told them--bunnies laid eggs. I mocked them a bit, and we all had a good laugh, but the damage was done. I told them, without the gory details, what Easter and Pesah really means, but the idea of an egg hunt was already planted in their curly little heads. As normally I am only vaguely aware of dates and holidays, I accidently told them that the hunt would be on Friday. Oops. So we did a mini trial sort of thing. It started badly--I had to tell them in the morning that the night before I didn't find the little chocolate eggs that *I* hid (on one of the upper-upper shelves).

Today , in a pouring drizzle (a very Halifax phenomenon) we went to a pharmacy to get more chocolate eggs. I think I was allowed through the crowd of other disorganised parents only because I had three wet kids with me and we looked pathetic. They all sighed with relief when I bought the most expensive brand name chocolates--I'm still worried about melamine in milk powder in more generic brands. The supplies on the shelves were very limited and the tensions were running high.

So maybe we are Canadians now. Happy Easter!

Row around the world

Today on the bus I met Sergei Morozov, a Russian navigator who currently lives in Halifax, who wants to row around the world. Now, that's inspirational!

He sat across from me. Sometimes we, "Russians" (i.e. former Soviet citizens), sense each other. There's something unidentifiable, ephemeral--in the eyes, or in the posture. I sensed he was one of "us," but wasn't certain until I heard him speak on his cellphone. I said hello, we talked for a few minutes. Just before I got off he gave me his card with a link to his web site.

A young man next to us asked if we were speaking German or Russian. Russian, I replied. He was close. I'm surprised how many people here think I speak French after hearing me speak Russian.

In conversation I got disoriented and almost missed my stop.

I'm humbled and inspired by this project. A writer can't afford much, but half of my Descant honorarium is going towards Sergei's project.

Shitty first drafts

Zoetrope is a great on-line community and workshop. I've been a member since November 2005. Today I posted a 240 word flash--a rough draft. I was stuck and needed direction. I knew the story wasn't there yet--no edge, no spark, no cohesion. And yet I wanted the story to work, wasn't prepared to give up yet, and needed help. The story is a for a local newspaper contest.
In any workshop where you've been a member for a while, were rated high enough to be in the monthly "top three" several times, as a writer and as a reviewer, there's a danger of insincere reviews. It has happened to me before--a story I thought needed major work received glowing reviews and suddenly everyone was saying how great it was. Pleasant to my ego (in the first 30 seconds of receiving such a review), but overall, useless.


Today was a notable exception. The reviewer said my story had no structure, no meaning, was poorly written, and my sentences were awful. Good luck your writing, he added. Ouch. And very refreshing too.

I hope more inspiration comes to me before the deadline.

My story in Descant? Oh YES!

Come and pinch me! (Descant)

If the acceptance came on April 1st, I would've thought somebody pranked me. But it came on March 30 (Yes, it took me 5 days to start believing that it finally happened), and who would know I submitted there anyway? After all, even I almost forgot about it--they seriously can't expect a mom of three to remember something that happened 18 months ago (I'm estimating here, but I know I was still in Iqaluit then.)

My submission tracking system is obviously lousy, and every time I think I will start being organised and write everything on a little piece of paper, I lose that piece of paper. I have lots of information on my old laptop, but I can't access any of it. I need a fresh start, but I have a feeling many of my stories are still pending in my favourite Canadian lit mags.

Stern self-talk:

1. Hey, you! Get serious about your submissions tracking system! Or use duotrope, like everybody else. Starting NOW!

2. Try to reconstruct, from memory and saved cover letters, your submissions from the last 18 months! (Hey, who are you kidding? That's impossible.)

3. Start thinking of yourself as a real writer, starting NOW! (Really? Am I allowed? Okay.)

4. Tell someone who has no idea about short story writing and submissions about it, so that you can hear them say, oh, so you get ONLY $100? (Oh, I already did this, cross this out.)

Telephone safety--scam reminder from an absent minded writer

If someone calls you and tells you they are calling from your bank / credit card and wants to ask you some questions and these questions turn out to be personal information, they are NOT calling from your bank.

I was in the middle of cooking dinner last night, while also trying to mediate an argument between my kids. I was absent minded enough to give them my date of birth and postal code, but after that I clued in, and terminated the call. I felt like a total idiot, but that's life, I guess.

My credit card customer service told me that I didn't give out anything crucial, but they could still send me a new card for my peace of mind, because "this is what we are here for," so I feel marginally better about my stupidity.

The call sounded very "professional"-- but something was definitely off. I felt it right away, and hesitated before telling my date of birth and postal code. I actually paused for quite a bit, and considered hanging up, but somehow went with the flow.

My credit card people advised me that they would never ask for personal information if they were to call me. Also, if someone calls, claiming to be from your bank, and offers some kind of financial information or service, ask them to mail it to you.

Flashing and Blushing

My story Piercing Heat was accepted by Night Train! It was rejected by one of the Canadian print literary magazines, and after that it took me a while to submit it again. So even if it has been almost three years since I wrote it, it hasn't travelled much. I remember writing this flash, the moments of its creation. I remember thinking that it was an odd one. We just arrived to Iqaluit, the computers weren't even unpacked yet. I sat at the dining room table, in the furnished, but otherwise empty house, writing on my husband's legal pad. The truck with the hundreds of our boxes would be delayed for weeks, and the house felt bright, spacious, and not fully "ours" yet. I rarely hand write my stories. One story that comes to mind is Yevdokiya's New Name, published by the now defunct BuzzWords. The energy of the handwritten stories is different, I think. They end up being my favourite. Yet not every story is suitable for the medium. I love the fast typing and deleting and the conveniences of the computer.

I have a bad habit of submitting previously polished stories without rereading them. I reread this story just now, and wowza, it has the words "vagina" and "penis" right in the first paragraph. Though as I just told my friend Stacy, the story is not, I repeat, NOT, about sex. It is much more subtle than that. Despite its rather graphic beginning, It is about mysterious and gentle connections.