Alliterati's Anti-V Day Competition

[I'm taking a moment out to do some shameless promotion for one of my favourite projects. Show some love for Alliterati. -SD]

It's February and we all know what that means, whether you love it or hate it.

Valentine's Day.

So, in the spirit of pink hearts and frilly cards, <em>Alliterati</em> is launching a 14 day contest beginning 1 February and ending midnight 14 February (whenever 14 February ends for you). The top three art and literature pieces will be featured in our upcoming issue (released 1 March). Please review all the requirements before you submit!

<u>Rules</u>
<ol>
<li> Must fit the anti-Valentine's Day theme. Interpret that however you wish. If you want write up a spectacular horror story, or turn a traditional love concept on it's head, go for it. Be as inventive and creative as you want. We like that. </li>
<li> All art forms accepted - film, photography, traditional/digital art, sculpture, crafts, poetry, prose, script, the list is endless. </li>
<li> No limit to the number of submissions, but please attach each submission as a separate file. </li>
<li> Prose should be no more than 1500 words; poetry no more than 40 lines; scripts no longer than 10 minutes. </li>
<li> Include a short bio in the body of the email. </li>
<li> Submissions should be emailed to <a href="mailto:editor@alliteratimagazine.com">editor@alliteratimagazine.com</a> with the subject header "ANTI-V DAY COMPETITION".</li>
</ol>

<u>Formatting Guidelines</u>
<ol>
<li> Literary submissions should be sent as a .doc or .PDF attachment. </li>
<li> Images must be at least 300 dpi and 1200X1200 pixels, formatted as .JPG attachment.</li>
<li> Include your name and the tile of your work in the file name. </li>
</ol>

Keep up with the competition on <a href="https://twitter.com/AlliteratiMag" title="Twitter" target="_blank">Twitter</a> (#antivday) for random quotes, inspiration and motivation found just for your enjoyment.

And don't forget: we are accepting submissions for Issue 10 until 10 February, so there's still time to get yours in! Check out our <a href="http://alliteratimagazine.com/submissions/">Submission Guidelines</a> to get yours in.

'We are bound by the secrets we share.'

I've been doing some mental pacing lately, that sort of restless, twitchy sense you get when you're about to start something, but aren't quite sure what that something is yet because the little machines are still whirring away in your subconscious mind piecing it all together. You just know, soon. So you flip through mindless TV channels, and ponder the fluctuating number of followers on your Twitter feed, and try to keep up with the discordant, ambiguous excitement about that thing you can't quite place your finger on while tossing what if ideas at friends and family who very tolerantly pat you on the head and say very good, little magpie.

Recently my magpie tendencies have turned from merely collecting insignificant nuggets of information to the shiniest of the shines: stories. In truth, it was inevitable, and likely the true aim, given a background fostered in occupying various spaces while accounts were told of particular events that in reality lasted only perhaps minutes, but took three or four times longer to tell with diversions into this history or that, indulgences to side-stories and explanations, interrelated and not. What little magpie nurtured on such detailed personal accounts could possibly resist the allure of finding more? 

Not this one, which is, perhaps, the only answer that matters, because this is the magpie in question. Fascinated with collecting stories, and slightly amazed that it took this long and travelling so much distance to realise that. The subject of my loosely-defined future Ph.D. will revolve around this, there is a collaborative art project in the works for potentially (hopefully) next year, but none of that is quite immediate enough for the restless, pacing mental creature anxious to get his twitchy little hands on something tangible. 

I intend to make a mobile of secrets. 

But I need help. I need your secrets. 

The idea is to get as many people as possible to send me their secrets - good, bad, things you hope for, things you're afraid of, things you're ashamed of, those little thoughts you have but never say, wish you'd said, wish you hadn't said - by post, because I'm a big believer that we leave little pieces of ourselves with everything we touch, and I like the idea of (literally) tying strangers together in something real and solid, outside the detached sterility of this internet world. And I like getting mail. (Who doesn't?)

Then all those pieces of paper with things written on them will be folded into various things, probably related to themes or tones, because I like patterns and symmetry like that, and hung on a dreamcatcher-esque styled mobile. I have more vague concepts about doing something with the actual words themselves, but if the secrets are shared, they'll be shared anonymously so no one will know it's yours except you, and me. 

I'm not one to ask for something for nothing, though, so if you share with me, I'll send you a story back. By post. Because you know you like getting mail, too. 

To join in, drop me an email at sashdrak@gmail.com and I'll give you more specifics on what to do. And share. There's no limit to the number of people who can join in. Besides, what better way to meet new people than passing a few secrets back and forth? 

Esse Est Percipi

I used to have a friend who hated his job, his economic situation... Most of the things about his life when it comes right down to it. He wanted to be alternative. He wanted to be an artist. He wanted normal, mainstream society to accept him exactly as he was. Bitterness, resentment and the general "unfairness" were pretty common themes in the frequent monologues about how his civil liberties were infringed upon because they wanted him to dress a certain way. He wanted all of these things for his life, but he lacked the one very vital part of achievement: doing something about it.

We're not friends anymore more or less because I pointed out this very thing. You are not a helpless bystander in your life. If you want something, you have to get off your ass and go after it. Apparently that's not a nice thing to say, but we all live and learn.

Or not, because I'm going to say the exact same thing to all of you. (Yeah, I was the kid who had to get burned five times before I learned the lesson about hot things; in my defense they were all different hot things.)

This is something I've been thinking about quite a bit lately, particularly coming to the end of my degree and going through the process of applying to start another one. I watch people quite a lot - though this is actually a misnomer. People-watching is usually more people-listening because strangers do not like it when you stare at them for too long.

"No one appreciates me."

Of course they don't. Why should they? How are they supposed to know you even exist? I know quite a few artists (henceforth a collective term for anyone doing anything relating to the arts, not just visual), so this complaint comes up a lot. I know some exceptional artists who bust their asses putting themselves out there, networking, jumping through all the hoops, and get maybe a tenth of the attention they actually deserve based on talent. I know some meh-to-mediocre artists who do all the same things with the same amount of effort put into selling themselves, and get about the same results.

But that's not fair! the masses (who remain largely unnoticed because they make themselves noticed) cry out. Well. Fuck fair. No one is going to see your poetry/paintings/videos/songs/photography/etc. if you only put it on Facebook for your friends to see. No one is going to seek you out and help you succeed. I don't know how many times I've heard I'd love to be published (usually immediately following the mention that something I've done is appearing somewhere, because people are nice like that), and every time I do, I think (and, yes, usually say): so do something about it.

Yes, yes, before you all start screaming at me that it's not that easy, I know. Being a published writer is fucking difficult and has quite a bit to do with luck and self-marketing, but it's damn near impossible if you don't put yourself out there to begin with. You don't get to whine about it not happening if you aren't trying to make it happen.

The same thing applies to just about anything you want in life. Being a good person isn't going to ensure you get rewarded. (Neither does being a bad person, contrary to popular belief, though this group does seem to have less guilt associated with self-promotion so I'm sure that doesn't hurt.) Being talented, intelligent, or whathaveyou isn't going to do it either. You've got to get out there and work your ass off for it, and even then there's no guarantee you'll be as successful as you want to be. I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a hell of a lot of people hanging around on this planet, and every single one of them has some big ambition or aspiration. It might not be exactly the same as yours, but I'm sure there's enough out there to give you some competition. And those people might be better, smarter, more talented, more charismatic, wealthier... Or they might not be. If you never step outside your comfort zone, it won't matter. They've already beaten you.

Some people get very bitter about all of this. Somewhere along the line, they've gotten it into their heads that society owes them something because... I don't know. Inflated sense of self-importance, maybe? I don't know. I suppose if you really see it that way, it would be fairly easy to resent people who do succeed.

That person I mentioned earlier? Used to expression envy towards me quite a bit, and go on about how lucky I am to have the opportunities I have. And every time I said: it's not luck, it's work. You could do exactly the same things. There are plenty of people who put in the same amount of work and have all the same opportunities I do. Hell, there are plenty of people who put in way more effort and get even more opportunities. And it hasn't been easy. It's meant starting over in a new place more times than I might have liked, turning down social activities to stay home and work. I rang in the new year by frantically doing some last minute (literally) edits to Trinity before sending it off to meet a deadline, as a matter of fact. I have no idea if anything will even come of that, but I did it, because you can be damn sure nothing would have come of not doing it.

The world doesn't owe me anything. If I don't succeed, it's because someone else worked harder for it. If I do, I can look at the sacrifices I've made and the work I've done, and actually be proud of my efforts. And I'm okay with that. 

Day 14

Visual Prompt:

Pencil Vs Camera by Ben Heine

---

Their wings rustle through the sky as night falls, just a shadow barely seen in the corner of your eye as they sleep beneath door cracks and through opened windows. Even the light can’t catch their sleek bodies, quick eyes, sharp beaks.

          They only go to the ones who have been marked. They only take the ones that have been completed.

          He sits in his window and watches the murder fragment as each of its pieces drops to its destination. The only one in the world who sees. The only one who knows.

          He holds out his hand as one swoops close and it perches on his arm, watching him with its inky, clever eyes. A thick, brass key hangs on a dark ribbon from its beak.

          He touches the teeth still warm from the life it held. That one would have taken half a century or more to make. He wonders what his will look like when it’s all said and done.

          The crow flaps its wings and jerks its head.

          ‘I know,’ he says. ‘Not yet.’