So a few months ago, I decided, “Why the fuck not?” and
submitted a story to Jalada.org for their Afro-futurism anthology.
In retrospect, that was so brave and yet so dumb.
On a scale of 1-10, my story was a cabbage.
No-one really likes cabbages. They don’t taste that bad,
they have all these health benefits but you’ll never see anyone ask for cabbage
at a restaurant or as their last meal unless life really (and I mean REALLY) screwed them over.
Fuck.
I’ve only read one story and already, my mind is blown.
Brain bits everywhere, not gross at all; it’s actually quite beautiful.
And these are all very accomplished writers with actual
books and accolades and their own presses.
I am not worthy.
So, I’m going to go cry in a corner with a bottle of wine like
a suburban housewife. It shouldn’t take long.
Then I’m going to write some more ass wipes and hope that as
I go along, I dry heave less.
P.s: You can check out them out here: http://jalada.org/2015/01/14/jalada-02-afrofutures/
