or… “Writing for an Online Arts Magazine IS all it’s Cracked up to Be”
Not since my heady days as a flight technician with NASA have the words “relaunch” made me feel so good, nor have they resulted in so little free time. Of course, back then I got PAID for what I did, so there’s that.
I kid, of course. Like most volunteer work, writing for a publication like SilentTalkie has its own rewards. For example, you get to hang out with weird-smelling people who have either poor or no communication skills (again, like most volunteer work), or with super-enthusiastic über-hipsters who test your indie knowledge at every turn (like those wierd art kids on the subway).
You also get the satisfaction of having your work published without having to deal with the confidence-crippling submission process to which most reputable publications strictly adhere.
Nope. Not here. Someone may touch up your punctuation a bit (or touch it down, depending on the editor) and add or delete a curse word here or there, but your vision will remain as intact as the day you scribbled it on that crumpled up napkin in a drunken stupour. We respect you, the artist… and the drunk.
Those of us who are deeply involved here at SilentTalkie, have a strange sort of Public Broadcasting approach to what goes on here. With PBS, anyone who watches and enjoys the programming is encouraged to pony up some dough to keep them on the air. Well, in our case, a little dough would go to buying a few rounds at the local watering hole, but we’re primarily content driven.
We want YOU to submit an article in return for the entertainment (and / or enlightenment) we’ve given you, and if you like what you read here, chances are that we’ll like what you’d write here. I think scientists call that a ‘symbiotic relationship’. We wouldn’t know… we’re neither scientists, nor are we good at relationships (or volunteering, for that matter).
So, this is your bugle call. Wil you stand up and be counted? Will you fight the good fight? Will you spout cliches until your fingers are worn down to bloodied stumps on your keyboard? ‘Cause in the end, that’s all we ask.
