Issue 2: Infection
Submission Close- May 21st, 2017
Hematopoiesis is the body's method of creating new blood cells. As a digital publication, our intention is to offer refuge to this process while disrupting dominant narratives of (dis)embodiment.
We come to you with questions: What is written, and being written, in the body and how do we express our physiology? How do we claim bodies through language, in a world that diminishes and erases so many bodies? How, like the continuous process of making new blood, do we create meaning in a world of loss & violence? What exists in the borderlands of body?
Our publication operates by consensus as much as possible, and similarly we would like for this publication to hold space for dialogue. We invite first-time writers & artists, published writers & artists, everyone in between, and anyone who resists categorical definition.
Founding Editor, Poetry Editor / Brighde Moffat
Fiction Editor / Rachel Economy
Creative Nonfiction Editor / Jennifer Patterson
Visual Art Editor(s) / Brighde, Rachel & Jennifer
What lives between care and cure? What are the membranes where things cross over, where they spread? How do we track the invisible threads, the epidemics of longing/loss, of history waving, weaving itself through skin? Have we forgotten about touch? What if body and language have turned against you? What if it feels like you are out of time?
The root of the word germ is the same as the root of the word for what happens when a seed first unfurls itself into the soil. Takes root. Tell me what happened. The dictionary says: pathology is the study of the essential nature of disease and especially of the structural and functional changes produced by them & something abnormal. And how does language infect? Can it be an indicator of infection? Can we ease the harm?
What if you don’t believe in disease except to remember that yes, there is a dis-ease, a dis-ease with this world on fire that also means that our guts, our blood, our joints are on fire. We are revolted, we are revolting. Blood cell counts go up and down. Margins shift. The permeability of a cell is selective. Whose communities entered, what histories, what beloved rising, what beloveds fell, what lesions, what legions? We think this might be a war.
The failure of the infected body. Again, scare tactics. Who started this war? Who chose the battleground, of body, this time?
No body knows nothing anymore. Every body knows everything these days.
We want to know how you’re giving up on binaries.
Thank you for considering submitting to Hema's second issue! A few things...
Our first issue is available in full here, and reading through will offer examples of of work we have published in the past.
We invite and encourage writers and artists from communities traditionally excluded from or underrepresented in publishing to submit. Multiple submissions across genres are accepted, and hybrid work is strongly encouraged and can be submitted under the category which you feel is most appropriate. Please read below for additional info about submissions and maximum page/ piece amounts. Please send your submission as a pdf attachment to email@example.com with "submission-(insert genre)" in the title line. Your name and a brief bio should appear in the cover letter, while the submission file itself should be bare of identifying information. Our editors first read through submissions outside of a personal context, and then consider bios during the final phase of selecting work. We do this in order to ensure a more ethical reading practice. Again, do not include your name or any identifying personal information in the body of your submission.
We charge no reading fee for submissions, but unfortunately cannot pay contributors at this time. We will respond to all work within two weeks of submission close. Our editors may offer feedback for accepted written work and as a rule we like to leave room for the drafting process. We ask for first serial rights for our digital issue, and accept no previously published works. See below for submission specifics according to genre.
Questions, as well as pitches for longer work, can be directed towards firstname.lastname@example.org.
Please send 3-5 poems, no more than 10 pages
Poetry is a revelatory practice. The underneath, the between, and the unseen. A rhythmic fragmentation of breath. Notice the weighting of space between your words, sinking deeper into the sediment of bone. Follow the call between language and neuron to the place our designs are made visible.
Where is the meeting place of revelation and liberation? Answer this hunger. Seek to understand the defenses of body and the rituals of remembering. What are the poetics and politics of your body? How do you hold the world and does the world hold you?
I want to know how you interpret. I want to know how you survive.
Please send up to 10 pages of fiction
I want love. Love of words, and of the world they witness and render, and of the bridges in between. I am reading to find evidence, excavations, imperfect or even imaginary though they might be, of that love. That love does not need to be saccharine or even kind or even loving- I feel it in the attention given to language and to world, whether exuberant or harsh, scraping, fierce or furious, painstaking or devastatingly simple or playful or florid or raw. It can look like anything, sound like anything. World can live outside or inside or across the skin. I lean towards fiction that finds a sense of place or body, or a sensory path into [dis]placement or [dis]embodiment. I go in search of rich language, or simple sharp unexpected tongues.
Will we encounter the unexpected, the absurd, the magical, the dark, the humorous, the playful, the painful, the unknown, the faltering, the brave, in this wandering through? Welcome. Welcome fictional forms: whatever the piece wants to be. Hybrid, unexpected, lyric, micro, short, anything that is not a novel may be considered (nothing against novels they’re just usually longer than literary magazines). Character-hood, agency could belong to a piece of a human, a particle of soil, an ocean, a bone. Contradictions that can hang out together are welcome too. Any or all: new writers, old writers, writers who’ve been trying to get their stories out of their notebooks or their mouths, writers who have been systemically and systematically shut out from the traditional publishing world, writers whose words have been waiting, longing to sing.
Please send up to 10 pages of nonfiction
Where in your body does language live? When you close your eyes, when you are at rest and moving too, can you feel words protruding from the pockets in between skin and bone? Where lives the things you can't forget and also struggle to remember? Where lives the discomfort? The righteous anger? The pain? The political fury? The grief? Where lives the joy? Where, oh where, lives the pleasure? Find these places, find yourself in these places and take us there with you.
Welcome non-linearity, welcome the way your brain meanders and darts when it’s racing, when it’s scared, when it finds something that feels like home sometimes. Welcome when you lose your way. Welcome the places where I know this happened but I don’t know when and deeply rooted unforgettable memory strands tangle. Welcome the shapes our bodies make when they are heaving, when they are leaving, when they are taking on new forms. Welcome the wisdom in a wound. Let it be your teacher. Welcome the complication, the disruption of peeling letters out of skins. Welcome the writing that keeps you alive.
I have no love for the rules of writing, no love for the right ways to write that keep us so small, keep us so quiet. No love for the publishing gatekeepers, the good text. You don’t have to be good anymore. Reject form, reject craft. Break into new shapes. Buck the binaries and dominant narratives, the shoulds and nevers. You can be a rule follower or a rule breaker but please, please, give us the words you want to give.
Please send 3-5 images of visual art as .jpg file(s)
How do you answer a question without closing yourself off to possibility? How do you tell a story when words don’t come close enough to, or fail at, full representation? How do you express what you know to be true through a medium that carries the weight of that understanding? How does your relationship with medium(s) inform what you create? What does your art translate into/for the world?
We're interested in ways of accessing creativity. What does the creative/destructive process mean for you, what aspects of yourself engage and/or disengage?
Please send no more than five individual pieces of work. If your submission is a series of pieces, please send them as separate attachments in the same email.
-Brighde, Jennifer, & Rachel