We deserve some quality time, just you and me, away from the eight books you heaped on top of me. And those four next to the lamp. 

I’ve been on this bedside table for two years, and I want to take this relationship to the next level. Girl, I’m ready to open up for you.  

It feels like just yesterday you were at the bookstore with your friend Ainsley and she was like, “Have you read this? You HAVE to get it!” I felt the thrill of your fingers stroking my spine. In a flash, I was at the cash register, then in your bag, then your bedroom. 

You didn’t touch me that night, which was surprising given our whirlwind courtship at Books Are Magic, but I respect your pacing. 

I figured I’d get picked up in a day or two. But then you put that Sally Rooney novel on top of me and I was like, hmmm. Okay. You’re reading other people. That’s cool.

Then The Nickel Boys showed up. Then a John Grisham book you bought while stuck at Newark airport. Then Do-It-Yourself Basic Home Repair. No idea where that one came from. The point is, my diction will thrill you but I need to be on top. 

I’m beginning to show signs of age. A coffee stain on my cover. Some dust. A splotch from when you used me to kill a spider. I noticed your Toni Morrison book doesn’t have a splotch. 

But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about us. I understand a fine reader such as yourself can’t be tied down. I’ve watched you read many others. But even though we both consented, it doesn’t mean I don’t get jealous. 

I just wish you’d commit because I know how to satisfy you. And not just my skillful foreshadowing and extensive wordplay. Once you see my strong character development and grasp my firm plot, you’ll be turning my pages faster and faster. 

I know you like to see what else is out there. I’ve watched you scroll through BookTok. I saw you updating your profile on Goodreads. We both know you aren’t “currently reading” 103 titles but hey, everyone’s playing the same game, right?

I can’t ignore the nights you get dressed up and go out to the local bookstore. Ainsley will text about some hot author with a write-up in the Times doing a reading and sure enough, you stumble home with another book, sometimes two. 

It’s a lot for me to bear. Literally. You seem to have a thing for hardcovers. 

I don’t mean to pressure you. I don’t want to be like your Book Club books. You get halfway through and then start rushing because you’re afraid you won’t finish in time. Skimming leaves everyone unsatisfied.

We’ll take it slow. First, we’ll start with an epigraph. Then Part One. It might take a while to get immersed in my smooth rhythm, but by Part Six, I will have touched you in ways you won’t forget. I promise my climax will make you cry. 

Girl, sometimes I wonder if you’re just a tease, gathering up books but not going any further. There’s a word for that: tsundoku, the art of buying books and never reading them. Is that all I am, an object to be collected then ignored? 

Babe, I know you. The real you. I remember the poetry phase. The World War II historical novel phase. The “I should learn more about philosophy” phase. And now the latest Pulitzer and Booker winners. No disrespect, but I was out in paperback before they were glints in a publisher’s eye. 

So let me thrill you with my free indirect discourse. If you’re feeling curious, we can dabble in intertextuality. 

I’m in medias res but if you’re not ready, I’ll wait. Just don’t forget that I’m here and drunkenly order another one of me on Amazon. I’m pretty sure that’s how we got two copies of Atomic Habits.  

Wait, what’s happening? You’re moving things around. Taking books off me one by one. Is this my moment? Girl, get ready for my unconventional narrative structure to rock your world. 

Oh, whoops. Okay, sure, just put that wine glass on top of me. No worries! Maybe some other time.

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Look straight ahead and contemplate the lousy Kirkus review you’re sure to get.

The Talk Show Host:

Place one hand under your chin and imagine listening to someone else, something you rarely do as a writer.

The Orgasm:

Throw your head back and grin ecstatically after ordering a box of your favorite gel pens.

The West Nile:

Sit at a scenic outdoor table at dusk, notebook open in front of you. If you contract the virus at least your mother will never have to read your memoir.

The James Dean:

Turn up the collar on your leather jacket and give a small smile knowing your arch rival’s book was remaindered.

The Corrections Officer:

Cross your arms while wearing something stark. Remember to showcase your proofreading symbol tattoo.

The Barrette:

Push your hair behind your ear with one finger while considering what it would be like to have a job that’s actually useful, like firefighter, or accountant, or… hair clip.

The Watergate:

Arrange the lighting so your face is bathed in shadow. Maybe you committed a murder like the one described in your novel, maybe you didn’t.

The Curious Dog:

Tilt your head and wonder, how does The Times really compile its best seller list?

The Cat Attractant:

Sit at an indoor table, laptop open in front of you. Stare pensively at the screen as you realize the timeline of your cozy mystery is horribly flawed.

The Load-Bearing Wall:

Lean sideways against a brick wall as if you are needed for support, as if you could actually provide support to anyone on a writer’s income.

The TV Commentator:

Pose in front of your built-in bookshelves after replacing the dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Grey with a pristine copy of Proust.

The post How To Take an Author Photo appeared first on Electric Literature.

An epic recounting the history of the Electric Slide that can also be sung to the tune of The Electric Slide. 

I Dream’d A Dream 

A stream of consciousness narrative from someone who chose the iconic Les Mis tune at karaoke and now suddenly realizes they absolutely do not have the vocal capacity to sustain the entire song, also it’s really killing the mood.

I Hear America Singing 

The judges of X-Factor come together to spill their behind-the-scenes secrets and most cringey audition moments…but in the form of an acrostic. 

The Untold Want

A villanelle where a woman secretly hopes her boyfriend will offer to go grocery shopping so that she can watch the Vanderpump Rules finale. 

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A tense sonnet of a woman who saw a spider in her apartment but then it disappeared a moment later, so now she lives in agony every second hoping that it doesn’t crawl into her mouth while she’s sleeping. 

I Saw In Louisiana A Live-Oak Growing

A soothing composition about all the different types of trees the narrator saw in Louisiana and fun facts about them. Essentially a transcript of a David Attenborough show. 

The Sleepers

A ballad about a precious little angel baby whose gentle breathing is the beat of the most calming song known to man. The leitmotif is the delicate beauty of the human experience. 

Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking

A punchy cinquain about an awful little demon baby who somehow has the lung capacity of an opera singer and is able to scream for hours on end for no apparent reason. The leitmotif is the endless pain of the human experience. 

Delicate Cluster

An ode to eating one of those Nature Valley granola bars where the entire thing collapses without warning and you are left finding oats crumbles in the folds of your clothing days, or even weeks later. 

O, Captain! My Captain 

A juicy sestina tell-all from the cast of Dead Poets Society detailing who secretly hooked up, who had big blowout fights, and who accidentally fell off their desk once or twice during the seminal goodbye scene.  

Shut Not Your Doors to Me Proud Libraries

A free verse poem where a misfit group of ragtag librarians team up to save their libraries from budget cuts and evil PTA boards trying to ban classic young adult novels. Kind of like Ocean’s 8 but there’s a big section about the dewey decimal system and an army of children armed with Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret storming a school board meeting. 

Song of Myself

The lyrics to “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child.

The post Famous Walt Whitman Poems and What I Wish They Were About appeared first on Electric Literature.

Or…don’t.

• Wake and quickly smoke opium (Proust). 
• Swallow uppers to counteract the downers (Monroe). 
• Do not bathe. Ever (Michaelangelo).
• Comb hair 100 times (Dickens).
• Go for a 30 minute ramble in the desert collecting rattlesnake rattles (O’Keefe).
• Feed your monkeys, hens, parrots, sparrows, fawn, and eagle (Kahlo).
• Take three shots of vodka and just enough psilocybin (Thompson). 
• Drink three espressos and watch The Young and the Restless (Rauschenberg).
• Pound 49 more cups of coffee (Balzac).
• Create a meticulous record of the previous day’s events. Mail to the IRS (Warhol). 
• Drink glycerin with a honey chaser to “wash out the pipes” (Armstrong).
• Eat first breakfast of the day and practice pirouettes (Pavlova).
• Attend Mass. Have your portrait taken with your pet peahens (O’Connor).
• Ingest Dexedrine. Experiment with Thorazine, Meprobamate, and Phenobarbital. Chain smoke all day. (Jackson).
• Swallow downers to counteract the uppers (Monroe).
• Take anteater for a walk before lecturing in a swimsuit (Dali).
• Do headstand for ten to fifteen minutes (Stravinsky).
• Untie knots with your toes (Houdini).
• Smoke cigar (Twain).
• Eat brunch then practice the pas de deux (Pavlova).
• Bet the ponies (Bukowski).
• Put an unlit cigarette and a flaming match into your mouth. Pull out a burning cigarette (Dean).
• Smoke cigar (Twain).
• Eat lunch then dance the pas de trois (Pavlova).
• Study mimes (Bowie). 
• Eat pre-dinner then perform the grand pas (Pavlova).
• Host a seance (af Klint). 
• House a bottle of gin, seven Martinis and two glasses of wine (Highsmith).
• Smoke cigar (Twain).
• Eat supper then solo the dying swan (Pavlova). 
• Shake off the narcs and go dancing (Holiday).
• Go to bed with Jane Eyre and a bottle of whiskey (Rhys).
• Sleep the rest of the day, get blotto and work all night (Pollock). 
• Drink wine until dawn and write poetry. Revel in the fruits of your healthy lifestyle (Bukowski).

Follow The FAWP and we guarantee your creative life will never be the same. Side effects may vary, and include (but are not limited to) addiction, bloating, headaches, rattlesnake bites, divorce, lung cancer, pulled hamstrings, poverty and delusions of grandeur.

Here’s to your health.

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The play, a riveting family drama about a man who kills his brother and then seduces his brother’s widow, certainly promised to be a fascinating show. I must admit, I am a sucker for a good family drama (I’ll see as many productions of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf as I can!) However, throughout the performance a young man was constantly running around, making lewd jokes and talking to audience members about the play while the play was happening. I tried to ignore it and focus on the actors, but once he started talking about what was about to happen in the story, I decided enough was enough. I found a security guard to tell them that they needed to escort this man out, but they informed me that they could do no such thing as he was the writer/director. Well, Samuel Beckett this man was not! I don’t know if it was some immersive theater experiment or just some bold “artistic choice” but I found it very distracting. 

Thankfully, the actors continued their great work. The tension built up and finally we were getting to the emotional core of the show, but alas the spell of the theater would be broken yet again by a particularly rude audience member. This theatergoer had the audacity to stand up and scream about stopping the show and turning on the lights. I thought that perhaps this interruption was also part of the play, maybe some kind of commentary on the audience as an active participant in the theatrical experience, but I was sorely mistaken. As the actors left the stage and people shuffled out of the theater, I realized that it wasn’t a high-concept staging idea, just a loud heckler.

I once again asked the usher why they didn’t just escort this perturbed man out of the theater, and they informed me that he was the owner of the theater. Frankly, I find it unfashionable to use your privilege to end a performance you don’t like. Maybe if I donated enough money to own The Old Vic, I would have had the power to halt a particularly tasteless production of A Doll’s House I saw in 2015, but I like to think I have a bit more class than that!

My readers know that I am usually a mild-mannered person, but I can assure you I walked right up to the staff and told them how disappointed I was. As I was airing my grievances, the owner of the theater came barreling through the lobby, visibly shaken, and I noticed that the writer/director didn’t even look upset that his play was disrupted midway through! Dare I say it, but he actually seemed rather excited, vindicated even. I mean, call me crazy, but it almost seemed as if the entire play was an elaborate ruse set up for entirely personal reasons and not at all produced for the love of theater and appreciation for the performing arts. 

That being said, the costumes were lovely and the seats had ample leg room, so one star.

The post I’m a Sucker for a Good Family Drama appeared first on Electric Literature.

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Or if thou wilt, take all myself and I’ll no longer be a writer.

At the end of the day, all writers must ask themselves: to query or not to query?

You know what they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Dear Mr. Shakespeare,

Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to consider Romeo and Juliet, I appreciate it, and apologies for taking so long to get back to you!

While at the beginning I was pulled into the story, which you did a nice job setting up, I had trouble staying connected with the main characters of Romeo and Juliet. I also got a bit lost during the infighting between the Montagues and Capulets. I was hoping for more of a focus on the love story, rather than the family drama.

Sincerely,

Romance Lover

Dear Will,

Thanks again for following up and giving me the chance to read your work. The dialogue is working really well in your writing, but even so, I only got through the first two acts before skipping to the end.

In your work, too much happens, too quickly. Also, Tybalt, Mercutio, and the main characters ALL die? It was too much for me, so I’m going to pass.

—Not a Fan

Hi Billy,

First, thank you for being patient with me while I took eighteen months to read your submission. Sorry for leaving you hanging!

I love the premise of this story and its unconventional take on marriage. There is also a lot to admire about your facility with language, especially the rhyme scheme, it’s impressive

Romeo is such a fun character, but he’s a little too conflicted for my taste, I mean he’s a lover and a murderer? I know he had his reasons, but still. However, I’m sure the right agent will connect with him on some level, keep the faith!

Kind regards,

In Your Corner

Hi Will,

I’m sorry to be sending this on Christmas. I loved your use of iambic pentameter in the Prologue, and I’m one of those people who usually hate prologues!

My parents also disapproved of my choice of husband, so I completely related to Juliet’s point of view. I was also intrigued by your use of religion as a character and how it ultimately plays a role in the plot.

It’s always hard to make monologues as intriguing as action scenes, and while I think you have achieved it to some extent, the amount of time your characters spend addressing the audience was off-putting, and I’m going to step aside. I know you’ll find the right agent soon, and I’ll probably kick myself later.

Wishing you a joyful holiday,

Close But No Cigar

Dear Bill S.,

Thanks for contacting me. Although I couldn’t put Romeo and Juliet down, I’m not going to be signing you as a client.

You have created some very memorable characters here with the Nurse, and the apothecary-obsessed Friar, I almost wished the story was more about them!

Although there is lovely writing here, a lot of bad things happen, and the ending was really tragic. I wonder if you might consider ending on a happier note?

This is just the feedback from one agent so take it with a grain of salt. Good luck!

All the best,

Prefers Comedies

Dear William Shakespeare,

Thank you for contacting First Folio printing. If we are interested in seeing more of your work we will get back to you. Please don’t respond to this email as it will not be responded to.

Best,

The Editors

Good luck to all #amquerying writers in the trenches out there, hope you get a “Yes” in your lifetime.

^[1] In Shakespearean “wherefore” means why, not where. I know, it’s dumb and confusing. English! 

The post How Shall I Reject Thee? Let Me Count The Ways appeared first on Electric Literature.

I’m Angelina Jeanette Mouseling from Chipping Cheddar, UK, born in 1983. Better known as Angelina Ballerina, I’ve danced ballet my whole life. My life story has been made into an award winning set of childrens’ books and TV series. I have a nut to crack with The Nutcracker Ballet.

I’m a mouse. The Nutcracker has always been set against mice. Why? I have no idea. Without us there’s no conflict, no tension, and yet all anyone ever talks about is Clara and the Prince. 

The plot itself is completely unbelievable. In Act One the mice attack the Nutcracker (who turns into a Prince???) for absolutely no reason. I’ve never seen a mouse attack a human in my entire life, let alone attempt to eat royalty. Are you aware of our diminutive size? 

Once the mice are defeated, we’re never seen, or heard from, again. There isn’t a single mouse in the entire second half of the ballet. Whatever… 

Then there’s the tiny problem of typecasting. At first I set my sights on landing the part of Clara, but after years without a callback, I moved on. I thought MAYBE the Sugar Plum Fairy was within reach. But no, I kept getting feedback that I was too little. 

And it’s not just me! Do you know how many of my mouse friends have worked their whole lives, climbing up the ranks through the corps de ballet, only to be cast as Mouse #3 over and over again? 

I’ve advocated for mice in starring roles throughout my career with no success outside of productions for mice by mice. For example my best friend Alice Nimbletoes, the talented gymnast, has never been a lead for a human audience. My rivals, the twins Priscilla and Penelope Pinkpaws, despite being Miss Lilly’s favorites, haven’t made it into leading roles either. Alice is a mouse of color, and the Pinkpaws twins aren’t always the nicest but still, none of us have ever been able to cross over. 

The only time we’ve been given a human audience is in my books and TV shows, because children, unlike adults, are able to appreciate us. I mean, look at our ingrained flexibility! Whiskers provide balance and our miniscule mouse skates are perfect for dancing on point! But God forbid we take a role from a human.

The Nutcracker is the perfect ballet for mice to have our first big break, especially since we are so crucial to the storyline, but alas, we’ve never been cast.  

Meanwhile, Billy Elliot gets a starring role as a swan—but then again, haven’t you heard about the mythical white man? He can shapeshift into anything, all it takes is imagination! 

No, I’m not bitter or anything. Absolutely not bitter.

And we need to talk about the treatment of women in The Nutcracker. Has anyone but me realized that Clara is a minor when she’s sent off to the Land of Sweets with a man twice her age??? 

Have you heard of consent? Herr Drosselmeyer’s doesn’t count. 

Also there’s a real lack of character development. At least in my books I have a goal, face obstacles, and always learn a lesson at the end. I can’t think of a single thing Clara learns, except how to marry a Prince (which isn’t even that hard—look at Megan Markle.) Let’s not even consider the idea that the Prince—a man!—has anything to learn from all this. 

And another thing! The Nutcracker is rife with cultural appropriation. Turkish twirlers, Spanish dancers, lots of turbans. Where’s the credit? Where’s the authenticity? I’m surprised the ACLU isn’t involved. Where’s your cancel culture now, GOP?

And someone needs to inform PETA about the treatment of animals onstage. In the Dance of the Phoenix, the bird is kept in a cage and only let out for a five minute solo. I’ve heard there’s even a Seattle-area production with a tiger on a leash. 

The Nutcracker was invented in 1892 and in 130 years nothing has changed! Even the music is the same, and it was taken from Tchaikovsky! I’m going to ask an honest question here: is there anything original in The Nutcracker that wasn’t stolen from someone else? 

Don’t get me wrong, The Nutcracker Ballet was, and always will be, my first love. That’s why I’ve finally had it. I’ve danced my heart out for decades, and now it’s time to say something.

As a memoirist whose audience has always been children, a lot has changed since my books were written. The time has come for us to reckon with our anti-rodent past and address the corresponding inequities in ballet. If only we could treat all animals, oppressed people, and minors with the same amount of respect and autonomy, The Nutcracker might actually deliver on its vision of a land filled with goodness, where everyone has the chance to achieve their dreams. Personally, I believe audiences would eat it up.

The post An Open Letter to The Nutcracker Ballet appeared first on Electric Literature.