Author: Rebecca Cuthbert

“Horror allows us to safely explore fear,” an interview with Shadows in the Stacks editor James Sabata

James Sabata, horror author, editor, podcast host, and founder of Spirited Giving, agreed to give us the story behind Shadows in the Stacks, a great anthology that I get to be a part of (yay!). Read on for James’s interview, and see his bio and more information on Spirited Giving and Shadows in the Stacks below.

Q: So what is Shadows in the Stacks? Tell us about it and what it benefits. 
A: Shadows in the Stacks is a charity horror anthology that is a part of our horror-themed fundraiser Spirited Giving. Spirited Giving takes place May 29th at the San Diego Central Library and features author readings, live performances, and book signings, with ticket sales raising money for the Library Foundation SD and the Books Unbanned Initiative.
Shadows in the Stacks is an offshoot of Spirited Giving and another way to raise money to fight censorship and banning books.
Available through Shortwave Publishing and edited by Vincent V. Cava, Jared Sage, and myself, Shadows features short stories from twenty-one authors.
The Books Unbanned initiative is a library program that issues library cards nationwide in order to give electronic access to the library’s digital and audio collections to teens and young adults living in U.S. locations where books are being challenged. The initiative aims to support the rights of teens and young adults to read what they like, discover themselves, and form their own opinions, without being restricted by censorship or political pressure. Many of the books that are banned or challenged are by or about Black, Indigenous, People of Color (BIPOC), or LGBTQ+ people and explore their experiences, stories, histories, and movements. Reading these books can help teens and young adults understand themselves and connect to others, as well as develop critical thinking and intellectual freedom.
The Shadows in the Stacks anthology features themes pulling inspiration from the books that are facing censorship and banning throughout the United States.

Q: Why did you and the other editors choose this theme?
A: I don’t think there was ever a question on what the theme would be. I don’t even remember discussing it much, to be honest. We are running a fundraiser that is generating funds for the Library Foundation and the Books Unbanned Initiative, so it made absolute sense to lean into those social concerns.
At the same time, we left it very open to authors to interpret any way they wanted. We didn’t give them specific topics they could or couldn’t touch, and they kept it varied, interesting, relevant, and respectful.

Q: What is your personal take on horror writing? Why do these stories matter?
A: Horror writers deal in grief and trauma. I have this deeply held belief that the majority of people who write horror experienced a lot of grief and/or trauma in our lives and we were shaped by those experiences. But those are shared experiences. Horror allows us to safely explore fears, anxiety, grief, trauma, etc. while still being on this side of the screen or on this side of the page. We can turn it off or close it if it becomes too much but we’re also able to keep it open and safely explore the darker pieces of reality.
On another level, we are able to explore grief and trauma in a more communal sense. We can share the book or film with one another. We can talk about what we felt with it or what it brought out of us. We can learn how it affected someone else differently and see their side with this shared experience. There’s a whole level of emotion and shared secrets between an author and a reader.
But there’s another aspect that I find fascinating and that’s how much easier we make it for people to privately delve into these explorations without having to talk about it with others. Maybe you’re going through something and you don’t know how to talk to someone else about it or maybe don’t even know what it is to put it into words yet. You
might find something in a story that resonates with you or allows you to understand something about yourself.
That’s my overall take on horror as a genre. It’s also why I’m super lenient in my definition of “what horror is.” Horror is individualized while speaking to a full community. Putting labels on things discounts someone else’s truth. These stories are important because we don’t know who needs to hear them. Writers can reach people they will never meet in person. Readers/viewers can find common ground to start conversations with others. I fully believe that horror is doing a lot of good for people in a world that doesn’t expect that.
With Shadows in the Stacks, we’re hoping to start some conversations. We’re praying that we plant some seeds in the minds of readers and hope that they can’t let go of those ideas. Maybe they will start to see how much is at stake with how things are changing in the world today. Maybe they’ll see why censorship and banning isn’t good. Maybe people who think they aren’t affected will see that they absolutely are.

Q: What would you tell readers who are thinking of picking up a copy of Shadows in the Stacks? What should they know about the stories in the anthology? 
A: The first thing I would say is that these are really good stories, even without the overall context of social commentary. I think you’re going to forget what the theme was and get lost in the lives created on these pages. These stories are all really different while somehow fitting together beautifully. Some are dark. Some are hilarious. Some walk a completely different path and make their own mark that won’t let go of you. When you add back in that context of social commentary and how it plays into the horror in twenty-one stories. These stories don’t hold back. They came to make statements and they did. That doesn’t mean they’re preachy, but they don’t shy away from anything. My buddy, author SA Bradley, always says, “If you want to know what society feared at any given time, look at their horror stories,” and looking at this many different fears really puts into perspective how worried we all are about the future.
As Laurel Hightower said in the introduction: “This anthology is a love letter to the human race. An offering from each of the talented authors who bled on the page for the stories you’re about to read. A dream of what could be, a nightmare of what is. A light in the darkness of a ban on books, hands joined to protect one another and our precious gifts of knowledge. Join them—join us. Hold tight and know the hands that hold yours, be they never so rotted or clawed or slippery with gore, belong to hearts formed of the same swirling nebulae of stardust. No matter how dire things look, be that flame in the dark.”

Q: What were the challenges and rewards of putting together this project? 

A: The single biggest challenge with anything like this is getting people to hear about it and hopefully take a chance on it. We’re relying on word of mouth. We’re relying on author to help us get the word out. We’re relying on people taking a chance and interviewing us on their websites. 😉 (Thank you, Rebecca). It’s rough though. We can’t be everywhere at once and share it with everyone. We know it’s a great book. We know the stories are some of the best you’ll find this year. It’s about getting others to know that. Most of the other challenges I expected never really materialized. It’s been a good journey putting this book together. As of writing this, the book is up for pre-order through Shortwave Publishers (http://bit.ly/ShadowsInTheStacks), but I don’t know how much it will raise for the library or anything at this point. I consider that a “future” reward… so I want to talk about the rewards I have gotten already from this book.

First up would be my relationships with the authors and my fellow editors and the amazing Alan Lastufka at Shortwave Publishing. I’ve probably made Alan insane with countless emails but he has been an absolute dream to work with. Incredibly professional, insightful, and creative. He designed the cover for the anthology and did a great job. I’ve become closer to several of the authors in the book. I have become friends with a couple I had never met or read before. That’s the big reward for me right now; increased community. And that’s what we shoot for overall at Spirited Giving, so it’s fun to see it handed back to me this way. It’s even led to further collaborations, as Vincent V. Cava and I are now launching a new monster book series called Midnight Monster Madness (coming in April). The other reward for me is as a reader. I got to read some of the best stuff I read this past year, read authors I didn’t know before, AND I got to talk to the authors about those stories. That’s a luxury we often do not get and I’m happy to have had it as one of the rewards.

More information:

James Sabata is a horror author, produced screenwriter, and co-host of TheNecronomi.Com, a weekly podcast analyzing horror films as social commentary. TheNecronomi.Com has over one million downloads. James is the founder and director of SPIRITED GIVING, a pop-up horror-themed fundraiser helping local communities. James has written several books and has three more coming out in 2024. His first feature film is reportedly currently in production. He lives in Phoenix, AZ with his wife, daughter, two cats, a tarantula, and the ghost of an older gentleman with a hilarious sense of humor. For more on James and his projects, click these links:

James’s website: JamesSabata.com

TheNecronomi.Com Podcast: TheNecronomi.Com

Sign up for James’s newsletter here.

Sign up for Midnight Monster Madness here.

Shadows in the Stacks releases on May 28th from Shortwave Publishing (http://bit.ly/ShadowsInTheStacks). If you’re attending Spirited Giving or StokerCon, you can have your copy waiting for you there and get it signed by many of the authors, who will be in attendance.

Learn more about Spirited Giving: http://spirited-giving.com
Learn more about The Books Unbanned Initiative here: https://www.bklynlibrary.org/books-unbanned
Learn more about The Library Foundation SD here: https://libraryfoundationsd.org/

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The Social Commentary of ROSEMARY’S BABY with Rebecca Cuthbert and Laurel Hightower

on TheNecronomi.com Podcast with host James Sabata

Rebecca Cuthbert and Laurel Hightower join us to discuss ROSEMARY’S BABY.  We’re deep diving into both Ira Levin’s novel and the 1968 film and looking at gender roles, mental illness, oppression of women, isolation, control, gaslighting, marital rape, and more.

Then we lighten the mood by learning one of Laurel’s hidden talents!

Listen here.

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CREEP THIS WAY has launched!

Today I am excited to share that CREEP THIS WAY: How to Become a Horror Writer with 24 Tips to Get You Ghouling, is officially out in paperback and ebook format from Seamus & Nunzio Productions.

If you would like to get a copy for yourself, here’s the link!

CREEP THIS WAY is half memoir, half craft text, with advice on how writers can get a foot in the door of the horror genre. Lots of the advice and vignettes are relevant to all writers, though, and Christopher Ryan (the publisher) and I hope that many writers at all levels will find something useful in the book’s pages.

As with my first book, In Memory of Exoskeletons, anyone who reviews CREEP on Goodreads or Amazon will be entered in a drawing to win a copy of my hybrid collection, Self-Made Monsters, set to be released this fall from Alien Buddha Press.

An in-person book launch celebration is planned for March 28th on the SUNY Fredonia campus, hosted by the Department of English. The event will include a reading and book signing, with copies of CREEP THIS WAY available for purchase, along with copies of In Memory of Exoskeletons, The Start (RebellionLit), Soul Scream Antholozine (Seamus & Nunzio), The Crow’s Quill (Quill & Crow Publishing), and poetry broadsides. Swag free with book purchase, of course!

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“Plea from the Ghost Haunting Your One-Bedroom Queens Apartment that You Clean this Place the F*** Up”

Published in Carnage House: a Splatter Friendly Web ‘Zine

***

Hey.

It’s me.

The ghost haunting your one-bedroom Queens apartment.

Yeah, so, I know I usually keep to the hall closet where you store the vacuum you don’t use enough; or to the inside of the walls, where I bang on rusty pipes and make sighing noises; or, that one time, to the medicine cabinet, so that you saw me in the mirror when you got out of the shower and wiped the steam away and screamed and then almost fainted. But I’ve materialized in front of you today for something much more important than parlor tricks, Patricia.

That’s right. Your utter lack of anything close to housekeeping. And I mean like utter lack.

This is a goddamn intervention.

…

To keep reading, visit Carnage House!

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Dark Poetry: What it is, what it can be

With thoughts from Jessica McHugh, Holly Lyn Walrath, Donny Winter, Marisca Pichette, and JG Faherty

Definitions

The term “dark poetry” is vague and amorphous—try to pin it down, and it will slip away. Some people may find that frustrating, but writers (like me, like those who shared their thoughts with me), love the freedom of the term. While details of our individual definitions may differ, we agree on the overall concept: dark poetry is, well, dark.

Jessica McHugh, a 2x Bram Stoker Award-nominated poet (The Quiet Ways I Destroy You), says that dark poetry falls into a few categories:

“The explicitly dark, which borders and blends with horror poetry, maintaining a scary or unsettling vibe throughout. The surprisingly dark, which lulls the reader into a false sense of security before pulling out the rug. The emotionally dark, which tackles rough but relatable topics like death, isolation, mental illness, etc. through chilling metaphors and imagery.”

“But,” she says, “they also intersect and borrow conventions from each other. I’ve found gothic poetry can often embody many of these themes and techniques in one piece.”

Holly Lyn Walrath, author of Numinous Stones and publisher at Interstellar Flight Press, breaks her definition into two categories:

“One is horror focused and draws on the tropes of horror, with a goal of creating fear/ick in the reader. The other draws on dark themes, like death, depression/anxiety, trauma, violence, etc.”

Like McHugh, though, she says “Betwixt the two is a lot of overlap.”

Donny Winter (Feats of Alchemy) defines it more as one large subgenre with a lot of sub-subgenres:

“I’ve always defined dark poetry as an over-arching genre possessing messages, themes, and imagery related to what many may consider the darker side of human experience. Some sub-genres may include dystopian, cyberpunk, sci-fi, horror, gothic, nature, and many others.”

Author of Songs in the Key of Death JG Faherty explains that for him, dark poetry “[…] focuses on creating an unsettling mood. The associated emotions might be unease, concern, depression, anxiety, and yes, even fear. Dark poetry can make you think (a science fiction poem about the dangers of AI) or make you weep (a gothic romance poem about someone losing their lover to a tragedy. Or being haunted by their ghost!). Some of my poems in my collection Songs in the Key of Death deal with evil dentists, brain parasites, suicidal thoughts, alien invasions, serial killers, body dysmorphia, and the end of the world. It is the subject matter that is dark in dark poetry, but there doesn’t need to be anything horrific or supernatural about it.”

Conventions

As for qualifications, poet Marisca Pichette (Rivers In Your Skin, Sirens In Your Hair) says they’re pretty simple: “I think the qualifications for dark poetry are very basic: make the reader uncomfortable, lead them into shadow, and craft an image that disturbs in some way. There are the obvious themes of death, trauma, grief, and anger—but dark poetry can really take any form. It can be an empty room, whispering of something that was. It can be a throat raw from shouting, eyes red from crying. It can be a question posed without answer. That’s what I love about dark poetry.”

As for myself (Rebecca Cuthbert, In Memory of Exoskeletons), I think the vastness of the subgenre of dark poetry makes it difficult to call out necessary, or even likely conventions. Some of my poems in my first collection are about the topics mentioned: grief, depression, body image issues, trauma. Other topics are the pain that comes with hope, the disappointment a former self may find in a current self, and the unfairness of “No Dog Walking” signs in cemeteries.

Inspiration

As for why I write it, my thoughts align closely with McHugh’s. She says dark poetry is “[…] simply what tumbles out when I’m trying to articulate a certain subject or feeling. That said, I do find the vocabulary of the dark and terrifying provides colors I enjoy painting with most. Evocative, visceral verses. Poetry you can hear and smell, even when you don’t want to. Scenes with teeth that scrape and gnaw the brain long after you’re done reading. It sounds demented, but that’s what sparks artistic joy in me.”

Pichette suffers from the same wonderful condition.

“I can’t seem to write about something without showing the darker nature lurking under the surface,” she says. “Whether real or imagined, you can find horror in just about anything. As for reading dark poetry, I gravitate to it for much the same reasons. Poetry is often confrontational, and I love when a piece sends a shiver through me, or creates that tingling realization that more is being said than I originally thought. Layers are so important in poetry, and darkness is one of the best to explore.”

Winter writes dark poetry because he’s able to share his story, the good parts and difficult parts. “Additionally,” he says, “I think dark poetry is a more powerful vehicle for creating social commentaries about societal atrocities, considering it roots itself in that vulnerability.” And from the other side, “[R]eading dark poetry [is great] because experiencing the vulnerability can be incredibly cathartic, especially if you’ve experienced similar trauma. Other peoples’ healing experiences, including the darker aspects, can act as roadmaps for our own healing.”

Misconceptions

“I think people imagine all dark poetry as Edgar Allan Poe-esque descents into madness and self-loathing, which is obviously not true,” says Pichette. “The best dark poetry grapples with something very real, and doesn’t settle for shock value. In all writing, we’re striving to go deeper, view problems from new angles and imagine other solutions. Rather than simply offering a known horror, the best work spurs some kind of epiphany. What if Poe’s Raven wasn’t a bird, but a manipulative partner, orchestrating the narrator’s downfall? Such a revision can shed light on modern issues and give the reader a different thrill as the truth is revealed.”

Me again (Cuthbert). I’m going to say something here others may very well disagree with: I think dark poetry can be kinda happy, and not just for those aspects like catharsis and connection. Some dark poems are farewell letters, and there’s joy in saying goodbye. Others are funny—in my next hybrid collection (Self-Made Monsters, 2024), I have a feminist horror poem called “Mistress Meg O’Malley,” about a vampire sex worker who definitely eats people, that sort of cracks me up. But, I guess one person’s emotional disturbance is another person’s sick joke.

You don’t have to take our word(s) for any of this, though. If you’re interested in dark poetry, read a bunch of it. If you like it, emulate what you see, then revise it to be something entirely yours.

A few recommendations…

“The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe

“Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti

“Rainy Night” by Dorothy Parker

“Voices of the Dusk” by Fenton Johnson

“The End of Little Dreams” by Julia August

“History of Orconectes” by Dyani Sabin

“Crow Daughter” by Gabriela Avelino

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Submission Etiquette for Writers & Editors

Most writers and editors have received more than their fair share of less-than-polite treatment: from getting ghosted to being cursed in social media posts to finding angry email replies in their inboxes. Recently, I have been stunned by a mean rejection email and disappointed by the sound of crickets in the wake of follow-up queries. I thought it would be helpful to ask seasoned writers and editors for their thoughts, in hopes that this little blog post can help us all be kinder to one another. (Also, reading this is better than learning through trial and error, as I have!)

Manners for Writers:

–Follow submissions guidelines. Yes, we all make mistakes, myself included–overlooking a detail or not double-checking the news from one of those submissions round-ups–but do make an effort to read the rules and follow them.

From Leon Perniciaro, Editor of Haven Spec Magazine and reader for Uncanny Magazine: “[M]ake sure you follow our guidelines, whether for Uncanny or Haven Spec, and make sure that the cover letter is addressed to the right person and that you get people’s names and pronouns right.”

–Do not respond to rejections, unless it’s a “Revise & Resubmit” situation. Take the R and move on.

From Alexis DuBon, co-editor of No Trouble at All by Cursed Morsels Press: “Please don’t respond to rejections. Don’t ask why. Don’t ask for feedback that wasn’t offered. Once a story is rejected, the interaction is over and your story is free to send back out. If you’re curious how it could be improved, seek out beta readers who will give you honest and helpful suggestions. This is not the job of an editor who has rejected hundreds of other stories that they also haven’t given feedback on. It’s only fair.”

From Evelyn Freeling, editor of Les Petites Morts by Ghost Orchid Press: “[Responding to rejections with] demands about why your story was rejected, why it took so long to get a response, etc.–isn’t okay. At the end of the day, most editors also have day jobs so be respectful of their time and energy.”

–And if you do get an R&R, appreciate it for the opportunity that it is.

Perniciaro: “If you get a rewrite request, work through the story in good faith (editors can always tell half-assed edits!) and don’t be afraid to ask clarifying questions.”

-Do not tweet (X?) or post about a specific editor who rejects your story. I admit it was super hard not to publicly post the name of the press who told me writers like me are a dime a dozen. (I absolutely told my friends in a closed thread!) By the next day I didn’t feel so bad about it, and I would have regretted a public tantrum.

DuBon: “Authors, please don’t tag publishers when tweeting about story rejections. It’s super awkward.”

–Be patient. If the press or publication states that the wait time might be eight months, give them eight months. Give them nine. Then send a polite query if you still haven’t heard back–and to make it easy on them to answer you, include the title of your submission, its genre, and the date on which you sent it.

From Julie Stevens, editor of Deathcap & Hemlock: “I suppose just being a bit patient with us is my favorite thing. I have batches of acceptances to publish and so sometimes people scheduled later on don’t hear from me for a bit.”

–Include reader advisories if and where the editors ask for them. Lots of folks call these “content warnings,” though at work (I teach college creative writing classes) I learned that the word “warning” is problematic, as it implies readers may not be in control of their own feelings and reactions. The word “advisory” is neutral and acknowledges the reader’s power of self.

–Send only edited, proofread work. Mistakes and typos distract editors and slow down reading. Swap drafts with writer friends so they can catch what you didn’t.

–Ask before announcing. This is another thing I had to learn along the way. Sometimes editors want to make their own big TOC announcements, or perhaps they haven’t made it through all the subs yet, so putting the news out there yourself can step on their toes.

Perniciaro: “[I]f you get a story accepted, shout it from the rooftops as soon as the editor gives you the go-ahead! They are just as excited to see your story out in the world as you are.”

Manners for Editors:

–Communicate with authors. Fortunately, many editors are already great at this. Those who aren’t might find good advice here.

Jonathan Gensler, author (stories in Cosmic Horror Monthly, Soul Scream Antholozine 2, etc.): “I appreciate it when they notify you that your submission has been received (not all do that, even in this digital age); I appreciate knowing if/when a first reader has passed a story along for a second round of consideration; and if a story doesn’t quite make it to publication, but was close, I appreciate any notes about what might have made the story a better contender.”

Freeling: “Because I’m a writer, I did try to provide generalized feedback [for rejected Les Petites Morts submissions] on why the piece was being rejected–typically it was pacing, atmosphere, or not meeting the call somehow–not erotic enough, not directly or obviously inspired by a fairy tale/myth/folklore. I also tried to name something I did enjoy about the piece in every rejection because again, I’m a writer and I know rejections sting.

Perniciaro: “For Uncanny, we try to respond to every submission within 30 days, either with a hold notice or a pass. For Haven Spec, we try to reply within 10 weeks, and at this point, we manage that for about 95% of submissions. Some months are tougher than others, though.”

Stevens: “My very first submission as a writer a few years ago was one where I got no response, and only found out when I saw the TOC on Twitter. I can’t do much about the sting of rejection but I absolutely would never want to put someone in that position–it did not feel like my work had been valued. I read every word, I’m thankful I’ve been sent what I’ve been sent.”

Christopher Ryan, editor of Soul Scream Antholozine: “I explained all of my intentions [to Soul Scream contributors], and then I repeated them in our contract that expressly says I am buying one time rights to publish, and they own the copyright and everything else. I’ve researched several different contracts to make sure I had fair and very clear contract language that would protect the writers and, of course, protect my company and myself.”

–And provide updates when possible. Writers know time is limited, but even a quick mass email of “We haven’t forgotten about you; we’re still reading!” is great. And if it’s a contest, let readers know where they can find results as soon as they are posted.

Perniciaro: “For Uncanny and Haven Spec, everyone who submits gets a receipt acknowledgement, with Uncanny having a system for letting people know where they are in the queue (and if their piece is under review, if rewrites have been requested, if it’s been rejected, etc.).”

Stevens: “One thing I think that has helped communication is that I now send a note after the contract is signed to let authors know what to expect next. I’m sure some more seasoned writers get that email and wonder why I am over-explaining but I think it helps newer writers not feel like they’re missing something!”

Ryan: “[W]hen adjustments were made [in the Soul Scream publication timeline], I sent out emails so that people could stay current with what the situation was.”

–Avoid publicizing impossible timelines.

DuBon: “[D]on’t advertise timelines you can’t adhere to. Don’t set dates that you might not meet. Only announce when people should expect something to happen once you are certain. […] I say that because it creates unnecessary stress on both sides.”

Ryan: “I was very careful not to give a specific timeline, because I know that it is easy for small independent companies to run into difficulty with, for example, Amazon or other platforms. I needed to have that flexibility.”

–Please accept simultaneous submissions. Unless you are promising to have responses out within a week of submission (see above), it’s crummy to tie up people’s work and hold them back from other opportunities. Responses take a long time and rejection is the most likely result: Allow writers to cast a wide net.

DuBon: No simultaneous submission is archaic and unreasonable and unless you’re The Dark, no one is taking it seriously.

–If you can, pay authors, and be upfront about that information.

Gensler: “[T]he biggest thing I appreciate is when a publisher values your work enough to pay, even a token rate. Publication for free copies, or perhaps even for mere ‘visibility,’ seems to devalue the whole writing process, and helps contribute to the situation we are in, where even the most financially successful creative outlets in the world feel empowered to devalue the creations of writers. Even a token payment [goes] a long way to establishing the inherent value in our work as writers.”

–Don’t send mean rejections. I won’t explain more; adults should know better.

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How the word “NO” made me a writer

Advisory 1: These thoughts are based on my own experiences; I am not a mental health professional. But if any of this sounds familiar, I encourage you to get professional help.

Advisory 2: This is a long story.

I’m a recovering people pleaser.

For those who don’t speak therapy, that means that I put others’ needs before my own, had a hard time saying no, and felt guilty when I did. I was overcommitted, but not to things I actually wanted to do.

I was miserable. And I came to resent the people around me.

Still, it took therapy to help me see this, and then, to make changes.

#

People pleasers are the way we are because long ago, often as children, we learned that our value (to others) came from being “good,” from not making trouble, and from helping whenever possible. It got us attention and recognition and love. Our self-worth came to depend on others being happy with us, and the way to make others happy with us was to smile, say yes, and never complain.

But what happens after decades of living this way, every day?

Negative returns.

I felt like a doormat. I WAS a doormat. I had trained people—friends, coworkers—how to treat me. Of course everyone asked me to do favors for them—I always said yes! And it’s important to note here, because friends might be reading this: they didn’t mean me harm. What’s a favor request here and there? To them, no big deal. But when ten of your friends are asking, it becomes a really big deal. It ruins your fucking life.

I’m not being dramatic.

I was ruining.

My own.

Life.

#

I don’t have my doctor’s permission to mention her name, so I’m going to call her Dr. Smith.

Dr. Smith asked me how saying yes to every request made me feel.

My answer? Used.

I resented my friends and coworkers. I resented the constant asks, even the invitations. I had very little time to myself, or to do the things I really wanted to do—hang out with my husband. Garden. Write.

“So why do you keep saying yes?” Dr. Smith asked.

“Because I feel bad saying no. Because I don’t really have anything else I have to do. Because he/she/they need me. Because he/she/they have no one else to ask. Because it’s only an hour/two hours/a day/the weekend…”

“But is there something you’d rather be doing?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then say no.”

Easier said than done. But I worked at it. We role played. At first, I said no with excuses or hedged my responses. Dr. Smith said no excuses—I needed to learn to say “No” or “No thanks” without feeling like I had to justify my response.

She taught me to give myself permission to have my own priorities. That not just my needs, but my wants, were more important than doing whatever other people were trying to get me to do. That the life choices they wanted my help with were not my life choices.

I worried people would like me less if I said no. I worried they would be mad.

“So?” Dr. Smith said.

Because, she explained, if they liked me less for having my own life, they weren’t my real friends to begin with. Also, if they were disappointed when I said no to favors and invitations, that was—and this blew my mind—okay.

I’ll say that again, for you and for me: It’s okay if people are disappointed.

And what she said next changed my life. It was like a thousand pounds fell off my shoulders:

“Your friends are allowed to have their own feelings,” Dr. Smith said. “But it’s not your job to manage those feelings for them.”

I cried then, mostly with relief, and with a little bit of sorrow for myself, too: at all the years I spent carrying what I didn’t have to.

#

Now, a little warning: If you have never had boundaries, and you start establishing them, there will be pushback. Some folks will be not just disappointed, but mad. Why are you saying no to everything all the sudden? Why don’t you want to do this or that favor, or go on this or that social outing? Why are you “ditching” them to just stay home? Ugh.

But, keep to your course. Do not give in to this pressure. Doing so will put you right back where you started.

(Oh! Know what I found out? Yes, I’m an introvert—which means while I like people, and can have fun out and about with others, it exhausts me—but I’m not antisocial. I socialize plenty. But these days, a lot of that socialization is online, through chatting with my writer friends in message threads or on group pages, or attending virtual workshops and classes with other writers, or exchanging feedback. These interactions give me energy rather than taking it away.)  

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Saying no became easier and easier, and my life got better and better.

With encouragement from my husband (“Why not? Do it. Go.”) I applied for membership into the HWA in March of 2022 and got in, then went to my first StokerCon two months later, where I met a ton of fabulous people (who accepted me wholesale) and found so much inspiration.

So. Much. Inspiration.

So much that, on the plane ride home, at about midnight, realization hit me like a blessed punch to the face: If I was going to be a writer, I needed to prioritize that; to prioritize writing, I needed to quit my (stressful) part-time editing job.

This was a little scary, but I knew it was the right decision. I’d worked two or more consecutive jobs since I was a young adult, and money would now be tighter. (I grew up in a household that struggled with financial security, but that, and “class jumping,” is another topic.) It took me a few months to extract myself for a number of reasons, but in August of 2022, I was free.

And I threw myself into my craft. I took online classes, independent studies, and virtual workshops. I wrote and wrote and wrote (and revised and revised and revised).

It’s now July of 2023, and here’s what I have to show for it (since March ’22):

-Eighteen stories accepted and published/to be published in magazines, journals, anthologies, and read on podcasts

-Four Poems published in magazines, journals, and anthologies

-Two nonfiction pieces accepted; one published on a website and one read on a podcast

-A poem nominated for a Pushcart Prize (“Still Love,” by Nocturne Magazine)

-A win for Story of the Week (“Emissaries,” 50-Word Stories)

-A story chosen for a “Best of” anthology (“Falling to Pieces,” Defunkt Magazine; We’re Here: The Best Queer Speculative Lit 2022, Neon Hemlock Press)

-A collection of poetry (In Memory of Exoskeletons) accepted and published by Alien Buddha Press (My first book!)

-A second hybrid collection (Self-Made Monsters, fiction and poetry) accepted for publication by ABP in fall of 2024

-Plans for a co-edited anthology in the early stages (more news on this when I have it!)

-A novel more than halfway written (the first of a planned trilogy)

-A genre-blending, trope-celebrating novella manuscript written that’s now out on submission (Forgive Us Our Trespasses)

-Another novella halfway written (I’ll get back to it after I sell my other one)

-Two writers’ trips taken

-Two StokerCons attended

-Tickets bought for VoidCon and AuthorCon

-& more in the works!

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None of these things would have happened if I hadn’t (with Dr. Smith’s help) taken a hard look at my life, realized what I was doing to actively harm myself (and what I was doing to allow others to harm me), taken responsibility, and decided to make changes—even when that was hard.

The best part of my recovery is that my self-esteem is now high and real. It doesn’t depend on anyone else’s valuation of me. I’m actually proud of myself for my own accomplishments (and my failures, too). I’m more resilient, I catastrophize less, and when bad stuff does happen, I can put it in perspective.

So much power in such a little word.

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“Grafting”

A bloody comedy-horror-romance published in miniskirt magazine’s PRIDE issue

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Janet opened up her flower shop that Saturday like usual.

She had to stick to her schedule—to feel normal, to remind herself that life wasn’t over just because Frank, her husband of 10 years, had told her the night before that he’d kissed Charlene, their across-the-street neighbor with the long legs and long neck and sparkling hazel eyes that were green or brown or golden, depending on the light.

Charlene.

Charlene who watered her roses on Sunday mornings, who always waved or called hello when she noticed Janet watching her from her front porch or the driveway or the bay window that got all that slanting afternoon sunshine.

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Janet pictured Charlene’s shiny dark hair as she put on her green apron, printed with “Bloomerang: Come on back” in white letters. She pictured Charlene’s crooked lower tooth—two over, left side—as she unlocked the door and flipped the sign to OPEN. Charlene’s perfectly symmetrical ears as she checked the temperature on the walk-in cooler. As she looked over next week’s wholesale order, used the bathroom, made a pot of coffee, images of Charlene’s face and hands and easy smile played through her mind on a loop.

Then Frank’s voice joined the reel like a soundtrack.

Sorry, honey. I kissed Charlene.

Kissed Charlene.

Charlene.

To keep reading, visit miniskirt magazine here.

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“Writing with Friends,” a guest post by N. West Moss

Soon I’ll be going on my own writers’ retreat, so I invited my friend, N. West Moss, to tell us about her recent writing trip to Florida.

I just got back from a great writing retreat.

What made it so great? Well, it was in Key West, where I was visiting an old college friend who’s also a writer. The people you choose to go on retreat with are vitally important to the success of the retreat. Here, I was with a serious writer who wanted to write as much as I did.

I once went on a writing retreat that was a disaster because I invited someone who had different goals than I did. She wanted to socialize, and I wanted to write like crazy. She got mad at me for going back to my bedroom so I could more work done, and the retreat tanked. I felt guilty, tried to entertain her (unsuccessfully), didn’t get much writing done, and our budding friendship stalled and never recovered.

This time in Key West was heaven, though. I was with a friend I’ve known for over thirty years, so I am relaxed around him. I don’t have to dress up. I don’t have to be anyone but who I am, and that kind of relaxation is great for creative pursuits. He’s also a serious, professional writer, who (unlike me) writes for TV. What we have in common, writing-wise, is that we both had several projects with looming deadlines, so we were equally motivated to put in the hours needed to get real, tangible work done.

Every morning around 7am, one of us would text the other and ask, “Ready for coffee?” We’d meet at the Starbucks on Duvall, and then walk back to his place together, chatting and caffeinating. His computer was set up at one end of his dining room table, and I’d set up my laptop and my stack of index cards at the other end. We’d chat a bit, and then get to the writing, and we’d both write for a few hours  before one of us might say, “I need coffee,” or, “I need a walk,” or, “I can’t figure out this scene.” We’d take a small break together, walking around the block and talking about the work, and then we’d get back to it. That’s how the day would go, with hours and hours of writing punctuated by coffee or a walk around the block. In the evenings we’d do something fun – go out to dinner or to a movie, or to a friend’s porch for cocktails.

Why was this better for me than writing at home? Well, I do most of my writing at home, but home for me is full of distractions. There’s the chair covered with cat hair that needs to be cleaned, and the pile of mail to be sorted. Everywhere I look is a chore or an obligation. When the writing gets difficult (which is often), I’ll choose to vacuum or clean the vegetable crisper rather than face the complex problems in my 300-page Work-in-Progress. Being on foreign turf means I am not thinking about anything but the writing all day long, for 7 or 8 hours at a stretch.

I crave this dedicated writing time, and I suspect that most writers do, and while I do apply and attend formal writing residencies whenever possible, I now try to have as many of these do-it-yourself writing retreats as I’m able to every year.

West (N. West Moss) will be at a month-long residency in Scotland during the summer of 2023, and will be Writer-in-Residence at Gladstone’s Library in Wales for a month in the fall. Her most recent book, Flesh and Blood: Reflections on Infertility, Family, and Creating a Bountiful Life (Algonquin 2021) was drafted at a friend’s house in Holland. She can be reached on Instagram @NWestMoss or via email at scoutandhuck@gmail.com.

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