domingo, 13 de diciembre de 2015

Buscapié: ¿Prensa?

Si fuese fanático de las teorías de conspiración, diría que el Buscapié de hoy no salió en versión digital porque siniestras figuras no desean que mis palabras sean leídas por más personas. En fin, aquí se los dejo. Compártanlo para que el mundo sepa...

Cuando se publicó mi primer libro me comuniqué con la prensa del país. La mayoría no me contestó. Los pocos que lo hicieron me informaron que en Puerto Rico no se escribe sobre libros. La experiencia me dejó con mal sabor de boca, una comprensión profunda de las frustraciones de la clase artística del país y una acidez poco profesional para todo con lo que respecte a la cobertura del quehacer cultural de mi isla.
Cuando se publicó mi segundo libro no me molesté en avisarle a nadie. Era un tributo a las novelas “pulp” que devoré ávidamente durante mis años de escuela superior y un guiño al impacto cultural de novelas/películas como Jaws. La casa editorial se encargó de todo.
El 31 de Octubre de este año se publicó Zero Saints, mi tercera novela. Es la primera novela de crimen publicada en espanglish por la editorial Broken River Books. Recibió halagos de Jerry Stahl. Fue nombrada una de las mejores diez novelas del año por la revista Cultured Vultures y una de las 50 mejores novelas del año por la revista Entropy. Esta semana estoy estudiando una propuesta de una compañía de cine independiente. Y en mi país no la ha leído nadie. Lo más triste del asunto no es eso, si no que no me importa.
Me gustaba, de una manera retorcida que algún psicólogo podría explicar mejor que yo, la ira que me invadía antes. Me importaba. Me dolía. Ahora siento mi escritura boricua (en la novela hay un reggaetonero, por ejemplo), pero a la vez retirada, ajena, independiente, expatriada. Veo a mis compatriotas: poetas laureados en América Latina, cineastas proyectando en Europa, músicos haciendo bailar pies en otros suelos y escritores compartiendo sus letras con lectores de otros países y ya no me interesa que Puerto Rico no participe del proceso. Esa indiferencia me fastidia más que la indignación anterior. Quiero esa furia de vuelta porque la apatía me hace sentir que dejo triunfar al antiintelectualismo.

domingo, 22 de noviembre de 2015

The Cinematic Haters Ball: The Human Centipede 3

Saying I watched The Human Centipede 3 is inaccurate. What should be said is that I tortured my eyeballs and polluted my brain for an hour and a half without any goddamn reason to. Now I want to grab Tom Six by the ankles and smack him against the wall until both legs become detached from the rest of the pulpy, untalented mess. Just…fuck.

I’d usually bother with something akin to a synopsis, but this abysmal piece of whale shit doesn’t even deserve that and comes as close to having a plot as Donald Trump comes to sounding like a rational human. This painfully shot, ridiculously overacted, unfunny waste of time took about ten minutes to climb to the top of the list of the worst movies I’ve seen this year, and then kept climbing like a young alpinist bent on summiting Everest on the only good weather day of the year.

The problem with communicating how truly awful this movie is stems from the fact that horror movies can be nauseating, vile, foul, disgusting, dreadful, sickening, ghastly, horrific, and repugnant while still being good movies. Not this one. This is a dreadful thing that shouldn’t have been seen by anyone not being subjected to systematic torture for crimes against children. The fact that the best acting in the film comes from a lady who used to do porn should’ve been a sign, but no one paid attention and they released it. They shouldn’t remain unpunished for this atrocious act. This odious collection of utter garbage is the cinematic equivalent of sitting on a red ant hill with you ass covered in honey while fellating a cactus, and someone should be in jail for making it.

Fuck it, I’m done with any attempt at analyzing something that was less interesting to look at than a stagnant puddle. Instead, I’ll give you a series of lines that I’m 100% were uttered in the set of this thing at least once:

1.     “What? No, I don’t know what a script is.”
2.     “There are no lines. Just tell Dieter Laser to yell incoherently for a few minutes.”
3.     “No, no, no. We’re not going for scary, smart or funny; we just want this shit to be as obnoxious as possible.”
4.     “Yes, this is edgy as fuck, dude!”
5.     “This seems like a perfect idea…on acid.”

Okay, I’m done with this thing. On a scale from 1 to 10, this was a solid “I’d rather chew on putrid meat while getting tasered than watch three minutes of this dreadful chunk of cinematic refuse.”

sábado, 17 de octubre de 2015

The Cinematic Haters Ball: Mad Max: Fury Road

Listen, I know how things become incredibly popular. First, some idiots get together and start saying something’s really cool and then everyone jumps on that wagon because we’re sick, lonely creatures obsessed with fitting in and no one wants to be left out. That’s how awful wastes of time like The Cabin in the Woods become “genius” movies and the reason why someone like Stephenie Meyer ends up being one of the most successful authors in history.  It’s also how Mad Max: Fury Road ends up being called the best fucking movie since the coalescing of stardust.

Yeah, I sat down and watched the movie. As usual, the overhypers had me expecting a cinematic experience that would make me forget all previous cinematic experiences. In the end, while fast and entertaining, I ended up watching a film full of weird cars and a plot thinner than rolling paper. Basically, a renegade driver tries to save the shampoo commercial models a bad guy on life support keeps in his cave castle for reproductive purposes. It also has the guy from Powder playing a few weak metal riffs on a guitar that’s also a flamethrower, but whatever.

Mad Max: Fury Road is far from boring, but there are so many mistakes and inconsistencies that anyone calling this movie “the best movie ever” deserves a slow, painful death. Let me break down some of them in order to illuminate your Adam-Sandler-loving ass:

1.     These motherfuckers drive for a million miles and we don’t see a single shrub or tree. Then their truck gets stuck in the mud and the last tree on earth is a few feet away and ready to save the day. Get outta here with that bullshit.
2.     Just like there is no flora, there is no fauna. The world is a desert. However, after an explosion, we see some birds. Please refer to the last sentence in the previous entry.
3.     I used to help a neighbor of mine with his cars back in the day. We had to use a special soap made with all kinds of chemicals and sand to get the grease off our fingers. In this movie, Furiosa paints her entire forehead twice with a fingertip full of grease and then has a clean-ish face next morning.
4.     Just like that disappearing grease bullshit, Powder’s cousin paints his mouth and teeth with silver spray paint twice, and that also magically disappears. 
5.     Are we supposed to think that you can climb into the motor of a moving truck, tie a fucking hose, and everything is fine for another million miles?
6.     Powder’s cousin is apparently dying at the beginning of the movie, but then he turns into a hero, runs back and forth through the desert, and never seems to be in pain.
7.     From standing up and jumping around on moving vehicles to Cirque du Soleil employees doing weird things on moving poles attached to cars, this movie is designed to make anyone remotely familiar with the laws of physics or the concept of inertia cry their eyes out.
8.     The movie is titled Mad Max: Fury Road and Charlize Theron’s character is furious…and her name is Furiosa. How long did it take y’all to come up with that one?
9.     People in this movie talk like most millenials spell on Twitter.
10. I thought the movie had a bit of a female empowerment kinda thing going, which was great, but y’all had to put the shampoo models in a wet t-shirt scene in the middle of the desert, didn’t you, you dirty animals?
11. There was a serious lack of busted tires in this movie. Apparently any juiced old truck can win the Dakar rally.
12. How did the removable arm with no cables work? If it was telepathically operated and they didn’t tell us, they suck.
13. Did most critics just kinda missed the fact that this film is a two-hour long chase and not much more? Did the cool touches the director threw in there made everyone skip over the fact that there’s basically one emotional character and the rest are just folks trying to escape? Of everything folks believe in across the globe, are we supposed to just accept that only Norse mythology survived the apocalypse and every white, bald dude dreams of Valhalla? You guys make me want to punch babies in the face.
14. If they have the technology to keep people alive and make cars immortal, why the fuck are they running around with guns that look like they were pulled out of a bad steampunk novel?
15. The truck is full of “guzzline,” but Max can clean his face with milk because fuck everything and fuck lazy viewers, right? Hooray for Hollywood! I guess it works because he grabs a red container, walks 27 miles, sets off an explosion, and comes back, and all of that takes him about 11 seconds.

Okay, I won’t waste any more time picking this thing apart. I’m done. This is fine entertainment if you don’t want to overanalyze what you’re watching, but its success is less due to its merits and more due to the fact that we’re used to Hollywood shitting in our mouths and then asking us to applaud what they just did. Call me Furioso. Have a horrible day. 

sábado, 19 de septiembre de 2015

25 conversation starters that make me turn around and leave

I try not to be an asshole, but I have turned into an angry old man who constantly thinks about how my time could be put to better use. I have a lot to do/see/accomplish/listen to/write/read, and engaging in nonsense is something I'm just not willing to do any more. So, here are 25 conversation starters that make me immediately start ignoring someone, turn around, and walk away:

1. I'm not a racist, but...
2. I'm not a homophobe, but...
3. I'm not a misogynist, but...
4. I learned on NPR...
5. I was at Whole Foods/Trader Joe's getting some organic kale...
6. The new Iggie Azalea/Nicki Minaj/Usher/Jidenna is the best...
7. The problem with immigration is... 
8. At my frat house...
9. Cultural appropriation and cooptation don't really exist because...
10. Poor people are poor because...
11. The Bible says...
12. I'm not a fan of books...
13. I support Trump because...
14. Dudes with man-buns are hot...
15. We were vaping and...
16. Horror/crime sucks because...
17. If you haven't seen _________, something's fucking wrong with you...
18. You really shouldn't eat meat because...
19. Abortion should be illegal because...
20. This fucking feminazi...
21. This bitch was so fucking hot...
22. Have you read James Patterson' latest?
23. I hate Mexican food...
24. Let me tell you something you don't know...
25. Black Lives Matter is stupid/racist because...

There are many more, but those 25 should be enough to make my point: I have no time for your bullshit. Have a nice day!  

jueves, 20 de agosto de 2015

20 things I’ve learned working at an office.

I’ve sold clothes, taught journalism, worked construction, written and photographed for newspapers, trained dogs, slaved under the Caribbean sun as a large-scale landscaping peon, and done some things for money that are better left unsaid. What I hadn’t done before is work in a “regular” office. You know, a place where folks wear slacks, nice shoes, and clean shirts so they can sit in front of a computer or answer the phone all day. Torn jeans and a black t-shirt were the nicest things I ever wore during my seven years at UT. Hell, that was my uniform. Now all of that has changed and I’m learning to navigate an office environment while trying to keep my soul intact and using my sense of humor as a shield. Since I’m sure there are many out there in the same situation, I’ve decided to share 20 things I’ve learned recently about acceptable/unacceptable behavior in mainstream corporate America.
1.     When they ask you to dress “professionally,” they don’t mean you should wear clean jeans. What they mean is that you should dress like you plan on being an anchor in tonight’s news even if you’re just going to be around the same idiots you’re around every day and already got the gig.

2.     When you’re standing around the copy machine and everyone is complaining that the thing is a pain to work with, you shouldn’t say “I think we should carry that fucking useless piece of shit to the roof, set it on fire, and throw it down to the parking lot.” Apparently such language, not to mention the idea of destructing office property, is frowned upon. When no one agrees with you, don’t start dropping quotes from Office Space. On that same note, The Kids in the Hall, 80s slasher flicks, and early Saturday Night Live references should be kept out of all conversations. (Yes, I know how hard that is when you’re next to a copy machine, but you have to try.)

3.     If you fail to dress appropriately and a coworker says you “look like a mess,” don’t reply “I’m using my appearance to construct a visual discourse that effectively communicates the amount of fucks I give.” Again, language seems to be somewhat important in the workplace. 

4.     If a coworker who is either too damn happy or snorts blow like a feral hog every morning comes up to you and says “Smile, Gabino! It’s humpday!” you should not reply “Yeah, but we’re all at the bottom of the hump, looking up at it as we bleed out because fucking Monday chopped off our legs.” If you need to be reminded about language, please refer to point #3. 

5.     Should you walk into a bathroom and notice that there are individuals occupying both stalls, don’t break the odd, tense silence of the place by saying “Are you two gonna look at each other in the face when you walk out of there or just pretend the whole simultaneous pooping thing didn’t happen?”

6.     Similarly, if you’re using the bathroom and someone else is in there, don’t start clapping and screaming “Haha, I’m getting paid to poop right now!” Apparently most individuals would rather take dumps and not get paid for it. Losers. 

7.     If you see ice cream in the freezer in the breakroom, it’s probably for something. Don’t eat it.

8.     Hiding work in your desk drawers is only a temporary measure. It also pisses your boss off quite a bit.

9.     When a male coworker shows up a little late and looking a tad rough, don’t yell “Bro, you pay her, give the donkey some water, and come to work, you fucking slacker!” That line is not as funny as you think, especially when yelled in a quiet office at 8:16 a.m. 

10.  Regardless of their speed and performance, computers in the workplace should never be referred to as “pathetically inadequate pieces of fucking troglodytic assjunk.”

11.  When someone calls and leaves a message for your boss, ignore their attitude and drop everything you’re doing so you can focus on writing a detailed note. Under no circumstances should you refer to the individual who called as “some motherfucker” when giving your boss the message. 

12.  Joking about selling drugs to kids on the side because what they’re paying you is not enough to live is not funny and most people are gullible idiots, so don’t do it. 

13.  Arguing that a task should be given to someone else because “it’s not metal” is, surprisingly, also frowned upon. 

14.  Never ask ladies in the elevator if they farted. No one likes your sense of humor and fart jokes should be left out of the office environment. 

15.  On a related note, don’t make jokes about harassment when someone bumps into you. People freak the hell out when you use that word. 

16.  The thin Japanese guy from Special Projects who wears his pants really high has a name. You should learn it. Stop calling him Warm Nipples whenever someone asks about him. In fact, talk about nipples, warm or cold, should be kept to a minimum while in the office. 

17.  The importance of that people are gullible/people don’t understand your sense of humor binomial can’t be thought of as something that can be ignored. When someone attempts to start a conversation and asks, for example, if you have any plans for the weekend, don’t say things like “Yoga pants and murder” or “Devouring smoldering chunks of pig carcass and get drunk enough to forget I have to come back to this awful joint on Monday.” You should try to say normal things like “I’m gonna watch a shitty superhero movie” or “I’m taking my partner on a date to an overpriced restaurant so I can stare into his/her soulless, bovine eyes and feel my life rot inside my body.” 

18.  Much like nipples, all phrases that include the words death, blood, strangulation, maiming, or that graphically describe shoving  an inanimate object up someone’s ass should be held inside until you’re outside the building and can safely scream them inside your car or on the bus.

19.  Repeatedly stating that you can’t wait to get the fuck out of the office so you can go home and do really important things and/or “real work” is, you guessed it, frowned upon. Don’t say it seven times a day. 

20.  Upper Management should be referred to as Upper Management. Rich, fat bastards, lazy assholes, geriatric idiots, and all other nicknames should only be used when no one else is around.

viernes, 24 de julio de 2015

On positionality, online behavior, and assholes

This will be a short post because I only want to talk briefly about two related things:

1. As I rework the introduction to my dissertation, I'm once again forced to face the inevitability of positionality. I'm not a native speaker and I wasn't born in this country, but it is my home and I fully support the right of every individual to try to call it the same. Furthermore, my bilingual/multicultural background is only part of the reason I stand with blacks, browns, members of the LGBTQ community, freaks, immigrants, weirdos, and anyone else for whom Otherness is a perennial state. All the other reasons have to do with being a halfway smart person and a decent human being. People who are made to feel like they don't "fit in" are only in that situation because someone else has decided that what they do/are/stand for is "the way" and anyone who's different should be harassed and discriminated against. Fuck those people. In the words of Ruben Blades: "El planeta no le pertenece a un grupo; fue creado para que todos lo andemos." If a guy making love to a guy pisses you off or a Mexican woman with her kids crossing the border in search of a better future is something you strongly oppose, then you and I have a problem and, since I don't need any more problems and have no time to try to make you change your ways, you and your bigotry are out of my life.

2. A few people have commented on my patience lately, saying that they've never seen me engage in online arguments. Please, don't confuse my silence with indifference. I stand with the folks named above and loathe bigotry, but I decided that my time is better spent working, reading, talking to those whose company/mind/presence I enjoy, and writing than trying to change the life views of someone who wholeheartedly agrees with everything Trump says. Unfortunately, most of my Facebook friends are no longer doing their homework, and relying on them as indicators of compatibility has been an awful thing to do lately. Seriously, I "unfriended" and asshole the other day who had only shared anti-Obama/anti-immigration/racist/global-warming-is-a-lie bullshit since the day I accepted his request. The worst part? I accepted because we had 128 friends in common. Sure, I could take my discourse analysis skills and eviscerate him using facts and sense, but that would be a waste of time. Instead, I trolled him and then vanished, like a ninja with a sandwich and a movie waiting at home. I don't think the web is the place to fight bigots. If we ever meet, then that's a different story, but my free time is something I want to fill with humor, love, books, music, movies, and whatever else good people want to share with me, not thinking how bad I'd like to pop someone in the mouth repeatedly.

Stay cool, lovely creatures. Much love. 

sábado, 20 de junio de 2015

Otherness isn't about you (yes, this is about race)

I started writing this a few hours after I learned of the Charleston shooting, but I was too angry and sad and ended up with a lot of fucks on the page and no point. Now I'm ready to say something. You ready? Here it is: the whole thing was about racism and most people don't know how to talk about that because they're too worried about how they'll look while doing it. Furthermore, this country has a racism problem and we need to grow the fuck up and deal with it.

You see, positionality is a powerful, strange, dangerous, inevitable thing. No matter where you go, you're you, and that has an impact on everything you receive and the way you decode messages. Unfortunately, most people don't know that the positionality should play a role in everything but only rarely become everything itself, especially when dealing with Otherness.

Every time a guy comes up and starts hitting on me at the gym, I feel a nice little ego boost. I process the event through my positionality: I'm not gay, but I have no problem with anyone's sexuality, so getting hit on is something nice. What I can't do is say, for example, that I understand the shit women have to go through daily. I don't have a clue about any of that. I can't let my experience stand in for a lack of comprehension. Women, in this case, are the Other, and their struggles with harassment are something I know about, not something I fully comprehend or can say I've been through. More importantly, when women tell me about men doing and saying horrible things to them, I can't turn the conversation around and make about me because dudes hit on me a few times a month. Why? Because Otherness is about Others, not about me. I can defend/protest/ask/console/punch a disrespectful fucker in the mouth, but I can't make it about me simply because it's not.

Charleston is proof that this country is full of individuals obsessed with themselves and thus not ready to talk about racism in a way that may lead to a few solutions or at least some steps toward a better future. When I came to UT, some assholes talked about post-racial America because Obama won. I couldn't find academically acceptable ways of telling them they were wrong, so I told them they were wrong in regular talk. They got angry and started debating. It didn't take long for that argument to turn into "Shit, Gabino, you're right." Sadly, not too many people are willing to accept when they're wrong. Nine respectable victims hit the floor because a racist asshole decided they had to be killed. All of them were black. If you're black, you understand this thing completely. If you're not, you need to shut the fuck up for a while and listen.

I grew up with black folks. My great-great-grandmother was black and her parents were escaped slaves. However, my skin is brown, not black. I've had people say things about my accent and ask me if I'm in this country legally, but no one has called me the N word or said something about interracial marriage. I know what Otherness is like, but I'm only an expert at my own kind of Otherness. Homosexuals, women, Asians; we're all on the same boat, but we have to deal with different shit. The way to do that successfully is by learning, by opening our ears to each other and trying to comprehend what the other is going through. Instead of doing that, nine bodies hit the floor because of their race and some folks decide to start screaming about how Obama's gonna try to take their guns, some decide that it was a religious thing and not about race because they don't want to talk about the fact that their country's institutionalized racism is alive and well, and others rely on humor to mask the fact that any discussion about race makes them profoundly uncomfortable.

Let's burn that fucking flag and then move on. Let's talk about how black people were hung from trees not too long ago and how many of your great-great-grandparents were angry because they wanted to own blacks. Let's accept that no matter how many black thinkers, scientists, actors, musicians, authors, and athletes have helped shape this young nation into what it is today, they're still stuck on the ugly side of Otherness. Let's talk about how we have KKK and Aryan Brotherhood members all around the country like a case of herpes that won't go away so we just ignore it. Yeah, let's talk about all that, but first, let's shut the hell up and listen to what black folks have to say. Let's read more stuff penned by blacks about this situation instead of sharing dumb shit some crazy Republican said. That makes us feel a little better in comparison, but contributes nothing. Let's look around and say: yeah, this was about racism and racism is a problem. Let's talk about race without getting angry every time someone says "white people." Let's accept that Others get choked to death and that someone who kills nine people isn't threatening enough to get at least beat up a little. Let's tell anyone who talks about post-racial America to quit it with the nonsense. Let's accept that brown folks and black folks and gay folks and women are not THERE yet and that when we tell ourselves we're all equal already we're just telling ourselves filthy fucking lies. Hey, I know none of that will fix things immediately, but it's a hell of a good start.  

domingo, 8 de marzo de 2015

Buscapié: Herencias


Heredamos una deuda por cosas que ni compramos ni disfrutamos. Heredamos un sistema roto y podrido. Heredamos un machismo que se opone al progreso y una serie de religiones que parecen sólo fomentar el odio, la idiotez y la desinformación. Heredamos una crisis que un político le dejó a otro y el otro heredó del anterior y el que viene va a heredar del tonto de turno y así per sécula seculorum. Heredamos un problema de crimen que parece resguardarse en el ay bendito. Heredamos un país donde ser de un partido o de otro es más importante que la deconstrucción y posterior cuestionamiento (y asesinato) de plataformas troglodíticas. Heredamos discusiones y falta de educación y la mayoría no cuestiona nada porque el estatus quo es más llevadero para el que no protesta.
Por otro lado, heredamos una cultura rica en creación y talento. Heredamos libros, teatro y música. Heredamos escritos de una era en el que el pensamiento crítico era elemento sine qua non del quehacer político, cultural e intelectual del país. Heredamos una fortuna incalculable en recursos naturales cuyo mal manejo no alcanza a eliminar su increíble potencial. Heredamos un corazón alegre cubierto de ácido por culpa de todo lo negativo que nos echan en el saco de la herencia.
Esas dos herencias ocupan un mismo espacio, un lugar intersticial entre el orgullo y las ganas de matar a los que sabemos responsables. Ahora el truco está en intentar que las cosas buenas nos ayuden a encontrar soluciones para las malas. Por suerte, y aunque parezca que muchos lo niegan o lo ignoran, también heredamos la sabiduría de que los problemas no se pueden resolver siempre con parchos.
Puerto Rico necesita una reestructuración masiva, y ni el IVA ni ignorar lo mal que están las escuelas públicas ni enfocarse en criticar a los que se van de el país, es la solución.
El problema con las herencias es que hay que transformarlas antes de pasárselas a la próxima generación.

sábado, 21 de febrero de 2015

How to Respond to a Rejection

So you worked on a short story and sent it off to a place you deemed worthy of your words. Then, after losing sleep for a few days and checking your email 17,452 times, you received a rejection. You can do two things about that. The first one is take the rejection, revise your work, and submit it elsewhere. Sure, you can be a fucking punk and do that, but you’re not a loser. The second thing, what real writers do, is reply to that stupid editor and let them know what’s what. If you often decide to be a little bitch, stop reading now. If you really care about being a professional, keep reading.

Still here? Awesome! Here’s what you need to do next time you get a rejection:

1. Reply immediately. You don’t want your pain and anger to subside. This editor hurt you and you have to swiftly hurt them back to teach them a lesson. Make sure to get rid of all filters and use all of your frustration to write what you will write. Drag that violent animal screaming nonsense near your heart and let it run free. Let your feelings dictate what you write. Don’t even check your email, just write and write and hit that send button the second you’re done.

2. Stick and stones, remember? You want to make sure this email gets you noticed and, more importantly, makes the editor remember you so that the same thing won’t happen next time you submit. This means you can use words like fucktard and asshole. Let them know how you feel and don’t pull any punches. “I spent four days working on this, you illiterate asshat,” is a superb way to kick things off. Also, if the name doesn’t make it obvious, do a bit of research (always after, never before!) to find out who the editor is and then use that to attack them on a personal level. Remember: a rejection is a very personal attack, an attack against everything you stand for, so deal with it accordingly.

3. Explain your story. The reason most people get rejections is because editors don’t understand their stories. You should always tell editors who reject you that they didn’t get it and then proceed to tell them how fucking amazing your story is and how missing the point is something only a dumbass would do. There is only one way to interpret a narrative, and that’s the author’s way, so give them a thorough explanation so they understand what they missed out on by rejecting your work.

4. Insult their publication. Don’t worry about burning bridges or any of that pussy nonsense: tell it like it is and let them know their rag is not even up to your standards and you only sent them something to help them get some views. Extra points if you can name a story they recently published and tell them how it’s a piece of shit compared to yours. 

5. Mention all previous publications. Some editors don’t know who you are (I know, that’s incredible, but it is what it is!), so include a copy of your CV in the email. This will help them see how wrong they were and how many other great editors dig what you do.

6. If you can find the editor on Facebook, send them a friend request. When they accept, send them a message calling them something horrible and then unfriend them. Asshole editor - 0 You - 1

7. If the publication has a Facebook page, drop a few nasty comments on their posts. You don’t want them to think you’re the kind of coward who gets rejected and whimpers away to lick the wounds; you want them to know they messed with the wrong writer.

8. Wait a few days and submit something different to the same publication. Then, once you’re sure they’ve seen it but right before they have a chance to send you an acceptance, pull the story. That’ll teach them!

9. Get on Facebook and rant angrily about the rejection. Fellow writers need to know which editors suck and everyone should be aware of the serious issues affecting your life and mood at the moment. Remember: the longer and angrier the post, the more likes it will get.

10. Simultaneously submit the story to seventeen venues without revising. Face it: you’re an awesome writer and there’s no way in hell that story could be better.

There you have it! Good luck with your next submission and always keep in mind that you’re a mind-bogglingly good writer and anyone who doesn’t think so deserves to die.