I’m perpetually amazed by the publications people put together. Sometimes less amazed and more amused. Sometimes less amused and more stunned. Literature isn’t dying, it’s just mutating into the place where really whacked out people publish it. Let’s be honest: these calls for submissions are crazy.
Monsters and Mormons Anthology: They say that since Mormons have been typecast as villains, now they should be typecast as heroes. Can sacred Mormon underwear double as armor-plated protection from dragons? And will the cover design be split between a Mormonized strapping young dude and Orcs/Goblins?
Illiterate Magazine: Bonus points for choosing the most oxymoronic name possible for a magazine.
Sleep. Snort. F_ck: I’ll let their description speak for itself: “We want the stuff that you write trusted online pharmacy canada when you are really horny or sad or on drugs. We want the stuff that you write and are embarrassed by, silently wondering if you’re a pervert. We want the stuff that cracked you up or made you masturbate or cry or overeat after you wrote it. This is a sacred place.” Sacred indeed. Practically a temple.
Extreme Creature Anthology: No regular creatures allowed, only ones in 3d. Preferably with razor fangs or gaping mouths begging for Freudian interpretations.
Cliterature: I don’t have to explain this one, do I?
Probing Uranus: Seeking humorous science fiction stories. Humorous meaning planetary-influenced jokes suited for elementary school.
The Oral Tradition: Seeks spoken poetry. What? What were you thinking? (Award for Best Unintended Double Entendre!)
