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Going forward, a small change

After some recent events, I’ve decided to no longer give my stories away to markets and anthologies that don’t pay me [edited to add: I'm talking about genre markets, i.e. sf/f/h - literary markets are an entirely different matter]. I don’t think it’s necessary for me to do this anymore for a number of reasons, the main one being that I don’t feel like I’m respecting myself much when I work on something for hundreds of hours and then cave in to the idea that I should give to anyone who wants to read it simply because they don’t think I should be paid. Their reasons for wanting free fiction should not be reasons that concern me. I have bills and one massive student loan to pay, and no one is helping me except myself. If this makes me a cunt or a bitch, so be it.

I also am no longer going to work with any publisher or editor who develops what I like to call “Shockline’s Disease”. In other words, if you take on a massive project, take hundreds/thousands of dollars in money, content and art from contributors and customers, suddenly develop an incurable, terminal disease, continue to take money from people, and then seemingly spend your days/weeks/years (and document them online) in glorious pain-free, healthy comfort as you publish your projects and keep all monies, then you’re not someone I’m interested in having any kind of business arrangement with. I’ve seen many talented, beautiful people die of terrible illnesses – friends, relatives and close family members – and I’m also not interested in pretending it’s totally cool to go alone with the pretense of someone wasting away from cancer or a tumor, when they’re simply a pathological piece of shit who has absolutely no idea how to behave morally or with any kind of ethics or compassion. I don’t need to give you my fiction for free – for exposure, to help my career, or because I’m a woman and you’re doing me a favor because normally you wouldn’t publish women so I should be so lucky that you’re even considering me because we all know the bitches can’t really write. I don’t need to give anyone anything, ever. And starting today, I’m not going to, ever again.

******

In other completely unrelated news that in no way has anything to do with what I just spoke about: it would appear that the Aklonomicon anthology has been published, after all. I’ll update my bibliography accordingly, but I don’t feel inclined to link to the site where you can buy it, for reasons that have nothing to do with anything I’ve just said. Of course, if you have my email address you’re welcome to contact me, about, you know, stuff, like the weather and how I’m doin’ and shit.

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Originally published at Livia Llewellyn.

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Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.


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