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Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Allison Colpoys, Belle Taylor, Estelle Tang, Greg Foyster, Harvest, Irana Douer, Jessica Au, Josephine Rowe, Kylie Rose, Lisa Mamone, literary magazines, Marc Martin, Michelle O. Bama, Non-fiction, Paul Dee, Poetry, short stories, Simon Cox, Stella Kalaw
Last week, I promised that I would start doing a 3000 Books with literary journals. For those of you who haven’t come across her blog, Textual Fantasies’ Estelle Tang endeavours to read 50 books per year: ‘…when I started this blog I was 23 years old. The life expectancy for an Australian female is 83 years. 60 reading years left x 50 books = 3000 books. Why yes, it is very literal. Some might also say it is numerical.’
Knowing me, it is unlikely that I will be able to match Estelle’s reading voracity/velocity, but I will try my darnest to get through my metastatic pile of literary journals. This week’s sacrificial maiden was Harvest Issue 3.
Harvest Issue 3 with random sweet potato (19/11/09). Sweet potato courtesy of housemate.
I’m a big fan of Harvest. Not only does it publish meaty literary pieces, it is also beautifully presented, attracting readers outside the usual literary circle. Sarah, my doctor friend, picked up Issue 2 at Readings and gave it to me as a gift. She didn’t recognise any of the contributors; she probably purchased the journal on aesthetic merit alone.
Issue 3 is of similar attractiveness with the front cover designed by Allison Colpoys. Fiction tended towards lyrical, somewhat traditional, not as punchy as I would have liked, though there was masterful use of language in many stories. Jessica Au’s ‘Old Man River’ is almost poetic, her flourishes are something I could never possibly emulate. Paul Dee’s ‘Murder in the Snow’ focuses on the mundane with microscopic detail, and is appropriately accompanied by Stella Kalaw’s photos of shower taps and rusty oil fin heaters. Borrowing stories from How a Moth Becomes a Boat, Josephine Rowe tapers off sections elegantly with paragraphs like the following from ‘Hole’:
She’s out west now, you heard. Someplace like Yarraville. You kick soft dirt into the hole. See her sitting out there, nights, looking up at the lights along the West Gate. Making different escape plans. Small cat winding round her thin legs.
In regards to poetry, I particularly enjoyed the play of Michelle O. Bama’s ‘Can I Call You Barack?’ and Simon Cox’s ‘Fragments in Defence of The Latter Halves of Half-Truths’*; feature poet Kylie Rose also had some startling imagery: ‘…Mum resumes her pop-dance / over the stuck bubbles, / their ink tails scribbling back to the surf.’
Non-fiction had a couple of strong pieces like Greg Foyster’s ‘The New Generation of Readers’ and Lisa Mamone’s ‘In Defence of Wodehouse’, though I was disappointed with finishing on Belle Taylor’s ‘Even Serious Books Have Kissing in Them’, a two-page personal narrative which felt lightweight when read alongside the journal’s lengthier works.
While content was lyrical, entertaining, evocative, thought-provoking, and inspiring, Issue 3’s layout was a bit of a letdown. I got confused with the split in Foyster’s piece: I thought the article ended oddly after reading the first two pages, later realising that it continued on page 49. Admittedly I was tipsy and on a tram at the time of reading, but it would have been nice to have ‘Continued on page 49′ tacked on, in brackets, to the end of page 2’s last paragraph. Marc Martin’s artwork, ‘Bookplates’, might have been more well-placed near Belle Taylor’s personal narrative on book clubs. And Belle Taylor, why is your piece sandwiched between a Harvest advert and the contributor bios? Nobody’s going to read it there.
It’s a small criticism (okay, it’s a big criticism…biggish…) and I’m sure the Harvest team had good reason for making the layout choices that they did. There are only so many ways you can arrange the order of a journal, and sometimes all of your options suck. And bad layout rarely detracts from quality content. So no biggie, Harvest. There’s always next time. Thanks for publishing my poem by the way. It looks very pretty next to Irana Douer’s work. 
Next review will be Lost and Found: Visible Ink 21. Expect it some time next week/month/year.
*Cox also managed to sneak ‘Fragments’ into the October ‘09 issue of The Diamond & the Thief. You can read it online here.
Filed under: Launches, Opportunities, You will submit | Tags: Avid Reader, Brisbane, Bryan Whalen, Chris Somerville, Christopher Currie, Is Not Magazine, Josephine Rowe, Small Room, submissions
Image courtesy of smallroom.com.au
Launching its first issue next week at Avid Reader in Brisbane, Small Room is proof that things do get published outside of Melbourne. (Thank dog!) Content will be from writers I heart like Josephine Rowe, Christopher Currie, and Chris Somerville, and will be presented on a fold-up poster.
Yep, Small Room is resurrecting the poster format that was the trademark of Is Not Magazine, a now defunct Melbourne institution (may it rest in peace). According to Small Room editor Bryan Whalen, the Gold Coast team independently came up with the idea; once they realised it had been done before, they caught up with Is Not’s Penny Modra for an interstate exchange. ‘Turns out the projects are similar, but different,’ Bryan explained. ‘Both poster mags, just different ways of going about distribution, folding, execution.’
Out to prove that big is not always better, Small Room publishes small fiction, poetry, and art: fiction under 1000 words, poetry under 1000 stanzas*, and artwork under 100 dpi. I had submitted one of my shorter pieces, and got promptly rejected, but turned the rejection into an information-gathering exercise. I sent the magazine questions like ‘Hey, why do you not like my work?’ and ‘How can you not see the beautiful genius of my words…?’ No, I didn’t ask anything obnoxious like that, but I did ask what they were looking for and whether there were any other literary journals that they dug.
Bryan sent me a lengthy reply:
…we’re not really a literary journal. We never want to be a journal. We like being a poster. Art is integral to Small Room, as is literature. Thus, each issue will have a new guest designer who, after receiving the stories, will design the issue with in any medium they choose (as long as it remains poster sized).
He gave a detailed explanation of the selection process. Three editors go through the submissions pile, then ‘Maybes’ are sent out to a circle of acquaintances for extra feedback.
I suppose what we’re looking for is what we believe is “quality writing;” however, “quality” is obviously subjective. What makes good writing? I’m not certain. Every argument I could put forth, I could just as easily argue against. Perhaps good writing is rife with paradox. I have no idea…
So, what did SR hope to achieve?
Small Room would like to expose up-and-coming writers to the masses, while also featuring respected talents. Issue One will be sold in art galleries, bookshops and coffee bistros around Brisbane, Gold Coast and Byron Bay. We’d like to grow into Sydney, Melbourne, Hobart, Adelaide, Perth and overseas, but this takes time. Small Room will always be a poster, because the format can vary: eventually we’ll play with themes, folds, designs, etc. Also, we’d like to remain relatively inexpensive, so as to get more posters into more hands.
The next submission deadline will be late March 2010—plenty of time to nab a copy of the first issue, read it, and create an appropriate submission, unless you’re lit-journal rich and reading-time poor like me. Ergh.
*Hang on, that’s not small at all. Crazy kids.
Literary Journals to be Read
A couple of months ago, I took a photo of my metastatic pile of Books to be Read. Today, I thought I’d trump it with my end-stage metastatic pile of Literary Journals to be Read. As per earlier posts, I frequently commit the sin of not completely reading a literary journal: I scan, I dip, I nibble at a story or two, but I only work through a couple of pages before I get distracted by the Big Four (Facebook, Email, Blog, or Sleep).
Apart from the fact that literary journals are like an individual editor’s YouTube Favourites and consequently not the most cohesive bodies of work, the problem is that there are too many literary journals competing for the top of my reading pile. Overland, Meanjin, Island, Going Down Swinging, Harvest, Stop Drop and Roll, Page Seventeen, Verandah, Torpedo, The Lifted Brow, Sketch, the Mooks, Wet Ink…and these are only the hardcopy journals. How do I, a supposed literary journal enthusiast trawl through so many titles? How does an average punter pick out from the plethora of print out there? Are there too many journals competing for a finite audience?
As this blog reached its hundredth post, I contemplated its role in the blogosphere. Is it just another me-too literary blog? Is it a half-arsed attempt to discuss racism in a literary context? Am I just being narcissistic? Self-promoting? Is this blog an advertorial? Or is it a very public writing journal? Maybe it’s a combination of all of these elements?
According to the ‘Tag Atlas’ in the left-hand column, this blog discusses literary journals. It’s time to add reviews to the mix: do a 3000 Books with journals. Complementing the reviews will be the continuation of ‘You will submit‘ posts, as well as a discussion on journal audience, design, distribution, and promotion. Further down the track, I hope to interview successful journals about their thoughts on these issues.
Cheer up Charlie (in a totally non-VC way) to all of those who like the blog in its current format. Whimsical posts, reportage of various literary events, and notes on racism will continue. There’s just going to be some fine-tuning on the literary journal side or at least that’s the Plan.
First journal for the devouring will be Harvest’s Issue Three. I really should read things that I’ve been published in. So, umm, you’ll probably hear from me in another year or two…?
Pseudonym.ψευδώνυμον (pseudṓnymon). ‘False name’*. I had a discussion with Dion Kagan about my pseudonym at the Visible Ink launch last night. Afterwards, I jotted down a couple of notes on the pros and cons of writing pseudonymously.
Pros
- You get to keep your friends (and your job).
- Writing anonymously/pseudonymously can be liberating for those who work with a particular style, genre, or content. Megan Lindholm also writes as Robin Hobb. Mathematician Charles Lutwidge Dodgson wrote Alice in Wonderland under the pseudonym Lewis Carroll.
- Pseudonyms are often useful for people with lengthy or difficult to pronounce names.
- Or it can be used to create a new identity (‘branding’) such as in the case of Helen Darville/Demidenko.
Cons
- There’s double handling: two Facebook accounts, two Twitter accounts, two email accounts, two personal websites, two blogs, etc.
- New acquaintances/readers can get confused: ‘So, what’s your real name again?’
- There’s a lack of consolidation in one’s writing folio, especially if one uses multiple pseudonyms.
When I started writing pseudonymously, I was attracted to the idea of anonymity. I didn’t want to be hostage to my life, and the pseudonym helped me detach and meditate on what was happening around me. But the anonymity didn’t last long. It might have if I was a writer hermit, but as I started meeting others in the writer community, I had to take ownership of my words again. Despite this, and despite the fact that the name looks unpronounceable, I still like my pseudonym. It’s a way to reclaim my ethnic heritage, as well as giving me the opportunity to challenge the ethnic writer stereotype.
Am I hiding behind a persona? I was, I guess, but not any more. Am I selling out? Probably, ethnic lit’s the current cash cow (though I’m writing less ethnic lit nowadays, so maybe not.) Do I still have my friends and my bread-earning job? Check and check. It’s all good, Sunshine.
Speaking of challenging ethnic stereotypes, I’ve finally got that T-shirt from topatoco.com. I wore it shopping yesterday, and a guy at JB HiFi came up to me while I was browsing and said, ‘Ni hao!’ To which I replied in my ocker accent, ‘Actually, the T-shirt states that Chinese is not my native language.’ He was crushed.
A couple of hours later, I saw Simon McInerney with the same T-shirt. *SIGH* On him, it’s whimsically nonsensical. On me, it just gets misinterpreted.
*As per Wikipedia.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Andy Jackson, Caffe Sospeso, Laura Smith, Melbourne Cafe Poets, Melissa Delaney, Michael Reynolds, Poetry, Spoken Word, Vera Di Campli San Vito
No power drills in sight last night, but I did get to dine on performance poetry and spaghetti at Hawthorn’s Caffe Sospeso. As mentioned in an earlier post, Laura Smith organises monthly poetry nights at Sospeso, and it’s a chillaxing way to cap off the working week. This month was MC-ed by Melissa Delaney and featured guest readings from Vera Di Campli San Vito and Melbourne Cafe Poet Andy Jackson.
Vera pioneered ‘pick a poem out of the magic vessel/hat/thing’, where the audience would pick out titles from a red hat and the performer would read the corresponding poem, and during the second half of the evening, Andy continued with her Dadaist arrangement.
Open mic was short and sweet. My favourites included Michael Reynolds’ tautologist poem, and a narrative detailing the intimacies of the dental chair from a poet whose name I failed to catch*. There was a particularly memorable performance from an older lady called Josephine: she read a beautiful piece inspired by All Souls Day and then sang a capella. A couple of pedestrians walked past during her stint and stared at her back, probably wondering what this woman in canary yellow was doing; they missed out on the opportunity to marvel at the way her lips wrapped around the foreign phonetics of her song ‘Mamma Blues’.
I also read ‘Husband and Wife Before Dinner’, something I wrote a few years back. Being the first time I had performed anything from memory, I blanked halfway through the piece but still managed to score a Readings gift voucher, which will be put to good use. I also met some artistic types from TINA ‘09. who READ MY BLOG and consequently deserve an exclamation party!!!!! Here’s a doodle they left on a napkin:
Napkin doodles @ Power Dynamics (6/11/09)
I’m not sure when the next Caffe Sospeso night will be, but details will be posted by yours truly some time in late November/early December.
*UPDATE: Since writing this post, I’ve been informed that his name is Maurice Mcnamara.
Filed under: Launches, Literary Events, Spruik! | Tags: Caffe Sospeso, Spoken Word, The Words We Found, Visible Ink, Voiceworks, Wordplay
What have you got for me, Facebook/Melbourne/Melbook/Facebourne? Ah, I see that there is another Caffe Sospeso poetry reading on Friday, 6 November 2009. This month’s theme? Power Dynamics. Something to do with power tools; I’m sure that there’s a brand of electric appliances out there called ‘Dynamo’. Let’s google, shall we?
Screwing Around (photo courtesy of DDFic)
Page Seventeen is launching their seventh issue on Saturday, 7 November 2009, and Visible Ink is launching their twenty-first on Monday, 9 November 2009. Voiceworks is also throwing a party on Thursday, 12 November 2009, celebrating twenty-one years of spectacular writing with The Words We Found anthology launch, which will probably clash with Wordplay Guantanovember (sans the Lemon).
Aiyo, Facespam. It’s gonna be a couple of crazy weeks.
Filed under: Literary Indigestion, Musings | Tags: blogs, writer's block, writers
I’m nearing my 100th post. I started this blog little over a year ago, wanting to create a space where people could find out more about me and my work. At first, the posts were microscopic—two or three sentences stating the when and where of my latest published story. But then the posts began to lengthen and diversify. There was talk of writers festivals, lit journals, other writers, and the local literary scene. The posts cropped up more frequently, and I suffered PWS (Post Withdrawal Syndrome) if I didn’t throw up at least two posts per week. People started reading my blog; people started commenting/linking, and it was all Care Bears and fluffy bunnies.
But recently, my timetable has had a hostile takeover by Real Work and The House Move, and I’m struggling to find time to write/plan a proper post or belt out a new short story. And it’s been such a long time since I’ve written something new that I’m starting to wonder if I still ‘have it’.
I blame work. After high school, I studied full-time pharmacy, and then moved straight into full-time work once I graduated. I don’t think I wrote a single thing during those six years. (Okay, I did bash out some YA speculative fiction novellas, but they never moved beyond the first draft.) After eight hours of mind-numbing, dealing with other people’s BS, the last thing you want to do is do more work. Because that’s what writing is: work. And yet, writers rarely ever treat it as such. When people ask about your writing, how many times do you say, ‘Oh, I write for a hobby. I do it in my spare time…’? Dogdamnit. It’s not a hobby. It’s not therapeutic. It’s not even fun (more like ‘demanding, torturous, and sleep-depriving’, like one of those contrary Toorak ladies who demand antibiotics without a prescription for their urinary tract infection). Anyway, after coming to this conclusion after a hectic day at the pharmacy, I am muchly looking forward to getting back to the regular part-time shifts, and working with comma placements, modifiers, and metaphors once more. I’d much rather do unpaid work as a writer than sell veterinarians Viagra for a princely sum thank you very much.
Filed under: Uncategorized
I thought I’d take the opportunity to point out some of the cool stuff that other people have been posting on the blogosphere.
- Angus Stirling (or that Eric the Ele Phant Eats Same Eggs reviewer) has finally started a blog on WordPress; you can read his musings on Philosophy, Ethics, Maturation, and He-man. I particularly like his prescripti-prejudice comic, ‘It’s for your own good’ (must be the word-nerd in me). Otherwise, check out his Seamus (sea-emus) comics at his other website.
- Angela Meyer has posted up an excellent how-to on panel-modelling (the writers’ festival kind, not the skimpy-bikini-ed panel-beater kind) based on her experiences at EWF, MWF, NYWF, and Ubud, called ‘Chairing panels at writers’ festivals: a few things I’ve learnt’.
- Fly the Falcon has posted up an interview (parts 1 & 2) with the marvellous Josephine Rowe:
Having a brilliant writer like Neil throwing me in at the deep end was amazing. I sent him some stories when I was 18 and I really wanted him to like them, but I didn’t hear anything back. I assumed he thought they were immature or dramatic or hyperbolic, but when I got the courage up to ask him what he thought he told me he had sent them to Overland and they were being published. To which I said, ‘what is Overland’? (Josephine Rowe)
- Christopher Harshawardhana Mitchell’s Eurasian Sensation is also worth a read. It’s a blog that discusses current racism issues in Australia such as the Hey, Hey It’s Saturday blackface incident, and John Safran’s Race Relations. Christopher’s ‘Racial Humour – is it ever okay?‘ is particularly good, reviewing various potentially racist skits/movies via YouTube.
That’s all I’ve got for now. Back the usual some time later in the week.
Filed under: Literary Events, Reportage, Tube me | Tags: Allison Browning, American Psycho, Lisa Dempster, literary magazines, Ozlem Baro, Read You Bastards, Spoken Word, Visible Ink, writing techniques
On Thursday, I finished my random pharmacy shift and headed down to The Empress for some Bastards action of the non-Tarantino kind. I was bummed for missing out on the first set, which included a reading from Lisa Dempster, but I did get to see (and record) Allison Browning’s performance of an untitled piece.
The sound quality isn’t great, so you might want to read the written version here.
Spoken word nights are a bit hit and miss. Read You Bastards 3 isn’t an exception to the rule, though I do enjoy the mash of curated/non-curated prose/poetry and the ambience of The Empress, but Ozlem Baro’s ‘Hotel’ was the highlight of the second set, its vulnerability silencing the crowded room.
I also performed my piece, ‘Patrick Bateman’, a homage to American Psycho. I had consumed American Psycho during my Deakin years; the novel is a fascinating study technique-wise and I had wanted to reconstruct its style and write about the act of. Anyway, I performed the first half of ‘Patrick Bateman’, got feedback from Lisa (yay!) and ate some of her vegan birthday cake before trundling home. Lisa, I owe you a birthday drink…possibly two.
Reading 'Patrick Bateman' @ Read You Bastards 3 (photo courtesy of Read You Bastards peeps)
No. 3 was the last Read You Bastards for Visible Ink, but the 2009 editorial team may continue the Bastards tradition in 2010. Meanwhile, Lost and Found: Visible Ink 21 is launching on Monday, 9 November 2009. The cover’s beautiful; lets hope that the words are equally gorgeous.
Lost and Found: Visible Ink 21 (image courtesy of www.visibleinkmag.wordpress.com)
Filed under: Collaborative Post, How To, Musings | Tags: Angela Meyer, Black Rider Press, editing, Jeremy Balius, Kirk Marshall, literary magazines, National Young Writers' Festival, Red Leaves, The Diamond and the Thief
Writers are always being told what they should or should not do in regards to approaching editors. Angela Slatter has written some useful posts on submitting (‘A Note On Submission Guidelines‘ and ‘On the Fine Art of Submission‘), whilst Chris Flynn gave a speech about submission dos and don’ts, at EWF 2009’s The Pitch. However, there’s not much advice on being a good editor.
In my first editing class, my tutor likened good editors to good doctors. Like doctors, editors should adopt the adage, ‘Do no harm’. In other words: ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ It’s simple enough advice, and yet there are dozens of literati horror stories about stories being butchered, gutted, and rewritten. And then there’s tales of poor/lack of correspondence, borderline unprofessionalism, and downright fails. At the NYWF panel, ‘Sweet Staple High: The New Class’, Kirk Marshall and Angela Meyer discussed the unprofessionalism of Cutwater: the journal had accepted their work, then followed up with a rejection letter a couple of months later. Kirk Marshall then brought up Jeremy Balius, founding editor of Black Rider Press, as an example of a Good Editor, and during the panel’s Q & A debate, I also threw in a good word for Balius.
Kirk had forwarded me the Black Rider Press callout in July, and I emailed Balius, wanting to get a better understanding of the project’s vibe. What followed was a flurry of emails; Balius was courteous and enthusiastic, and his friendliness won him a submission from me, called ‘The Beast’*.
During the editing process, he sent me his edits and I accepted all but a few, explaining my choice. I had liked the rhythm of a particular sentence, and thought one of his other suggestions had introduced some ambiguity. Balius then wrote back, stating why he had made his edits, but graciously accepted my decisions. His faith in my work made me a little less precious about my words and later on, during the lead-up to publication, he kept me updated on The Diamond & The Thief’s happenings.
In other words, Jeremy Balius is win, and as President of the Jeremy Balius Fanclub, I, Thuy Linh Nguyen, motion for the production of ‘I HEART JEREMY BALIUS’ T-shirts.
Jeremy Balius Fanclub Vice President and founding editor of Red Leaves / 紅葉, Kirk Marshall, seconds this and has penned a gratisfactory speech to rouse the party faithful. Over to you, Kirk.
KIRK: Hey Thuy Linh! It’s become immediately apparent that I owe Jeremy some long-deemed web-facilitated aggrandisement for his capacity as both a mentor and a svengali, so it’s only sensible in this forum of editorial adulation that I weigh in on the degree to which he’s improved my work.
So I first exchanged electronic words of a happy and high-falutin’ stripe with Jeremy when he contributed a creative work that will be showcased towards late December in the forthcoming inaugural issue of Red Leaves / 紅葉, the English-language / Japanese bi-lingual literary journal that I edit. In the context of the 100 creative submissions that my callout generated for this formative anthology, I’m obligated to claim that Jeremy’s satirical contribution of short fiction easily constituted the funniest submission, and that which – besides the material I secured by commission and solicitation – most closely dovetailed with the curatorial ambitions I possessed for the journal to showcase. For me, Red Leaves / 紅葉 is all about embracing literary work which strives to foster an ‘international flavour’ whilst simultaneously capturing what it means to subvert pre-established narrative convention, which is why – when Jeremy approached me to write for Black Rider Press – I was sidewinded by the thrill to furnish him with something equal to the melancholy and eccentric story that I’d originally secured from Jeremy. In the end, I willed myself to stop vacillating over choice (I possess an occasionally untraversable backlog of short fiction from a period of eight years grappling with the form, which means it’s never an effortless task trying to discern what I should send, and where), and I purveyed my micro-fiction ‘Hangin’ with Barack Obama’** Jeremy’s way, for the first issue of Black Rider’s The Diamond & The Thief online minizine.
The thing with ‘Hangin’ With Barack Obama’ which Jeremy swiftly surmised – and that I at first resolved not to recognise due to unnecessary authorial preciousness – but which I soon couldn’t deny, was that the story ended on an excessively egalitarian, uncomplicated and collegiate note: the characters had neither endured conflict nor miscommunication, which meant the story’s causal arc remained as lacking in a foreseeable contour as a frozen snake. What Jeremy offered me was a solution of near genius sophistication, and it was beyond any editorial injunction I personally could have recognised because its simplicity was so lateral: He showed me what would happen if I directly swapped the story’s last two paragraphs around, and the underlying effect on the narrative preceding it was profound. Suddenly, the protagonists in the piece were problematised: the friendship between them seemed manufactured, almost fallacious, because the micro-fiction ended on a sentiment of resentment. This inverted all that had preceded it, and it demanded of readers that they review what they had previously understood of the story, ensuring that the work capitalised on demystifying the idea that all was transparent in the way the two characters interacted. Jeremy convinced me of this by making a comparison to the fractious dynamic between individuals in Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’, which was perhaps unfairly advantageous in this circumstance, because it still prevails as one of my favourite novels. Basically, the guy knew how to improve my work without compromising its original meaning nor eroding the significance of my personal authorial inclinations; he enriched what was on the page, without imposing his suggestions, and I’ve rarely enjoyed such a rewarding editorial exchange.
This is why I, too, will wear the ‘I HEART JEREMY BALIUS’ T-shirt with a subtle fanaticism, and I’ll find myself able to sleep like the salmon in warm, shallow spring waters after the winter thaw, knowing that for every loathsome workshopping experience, there’s an editor out there who promises to perfect that most arcane art, the Jeremy Balius method. Mihalo!
'I HEART JEREMY BALIUS' designed @ foghorn.com.au
*To read ‘The Beast’, check out Issue Two of The Diamond and the Thief online minizine.
**To read ‘Hangin’ with Barack Obama’, check out Issue One of The Diamond and the Thief online minizine.
