Kitchen Sink (no) Drama

I have a new story up at a new lit journal. The journal is “Kill Author” and I know very little about it! “Kill Author” started following me on Twitter and put a call out for submissions. I liked their manifesto, especially this: “Individuality – There are too many writers aping the style of other writers, especially online. And far too many authors still want to be Charles Bukowski. We love Bukowski, but his work’s been done. He did it, and it doesn’t need to be repeated. We want writing where the author dares to explore the outer reaches of their own voice, and see where it takes them.”

I too love Bukowski (his poetry more than his prose) but fuck yeah, real tedious reading all the Buk lites, the wannabe’s but never wills.

And this: “If you knew that you were going to die – shortly, soon, imminently – you would want to get every last word out of your head and onto the page. Not for the sake of crafting perfect prose or poetry that would live on after your final death rattle, but just because it would be necessary. Vital. Urgent. You’d want to communicate while you still had time. You wouldn’t be concerned with fine tuning every last adjective of your literary style. You wouldn’t care about competing with, or even consciously echoing, what the latest cool lit kid was writing. That last rush of words would come out bruised and raw. All heart and liver, guts and spleen.”

Sounds good to me.

I am pleased they have published my oh so jolly story “Kitchen Sink (no) Drama”

(I am lying about my story being jolly!)

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