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The 1998 Lilith Fair guide to what not to include in your lit mag submission letter.

November 8, 2010 \am\30 10:19 am

Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for seeing me. Thanks for not hurting me. Thanks for not hurting me. Thanks for not hurting me. Thanks for not hurting me.

I have some food in my bag for you. Not that edible food — the food you eat. No. I have some food for thought.

I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket, I sailed my ship of safety ’til I sank it, I’m crawling on your shores.

Another note afloat upon this paper sea…another falling wave upon this crumbling beach. How many more until we meet?

I’m so secure with who I is–oops–who I am.

I can’t make you love me if you don’t. You can’t make your heart feel something it won’t. Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I’ll feel the power. But you won’t, no you won’t.

You would think there’s fucking ten of me when I’m sending these blows, blows, hoes want to roll like hydro.

You’ve been trying to find the line to define the strength in weak hands. Read the first page, then guess the rest…I’ll be a flame burning in the darkness and I will light what’s in your heart.

It’s nice to be liked. But it’s better by far to get paid.

I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner. I am waiting at the counter for the man to pour the coffee. And he fills it only halfway and before I even argue he is looking out the window at somebody coming in. ***

Show you the trigger to my bitch switch. And how to play with my witch stitch. Kiss my dirty feet. I’ll take you out for dinner.

I’m only hearing negative, no no no, bad.

What do I do, for a little motivation? On a beach, out of reach, ooooh life’s a peach. Sometimes I need just a little isolation; on my own, answerphone, Toblerone, mmmmm.

Here I am waiting. Just waiting. Anticipating a chance to run into you. I sit here for hours. One day I even sat through a rain shower. For just a glance. A chance to talk to you.

***Note: While not recommended for inclusion in query letter, this item may be used as the actual text of a microfiction submission–as it is written in the very au courant declarative/reportage style.

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3 Comments
  1. November 8, 2010 \pm\30 4:32 pm 4:32 pm

    he graded my performance, he said he could see through me
    you have got to have shitloads of money

    • November 8, 2010 \pm\30 5:08 pm 5:08 pm

      Indigo 4eva.

      Though I was saddened to discover that Ani DiFranco didn’t perform at the 1998 Lilith Fair, and thus, I couldn’t utilize: “My c*nt is built like a wound that won’t heal.”

  2. liz permalink
    November 10, 2010 \pm\30 2:31 pm 2:31 pm

    ani difranco was definitely not at lillith ’98, but i was!
    my super serious 14 year old self dragged my friends to the lawn of shoreline amphitheater in mountain view ca to have existential discussions on a woven blanket in between sarah mclachlan jams…oh memories

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