As a blended-genre/beyond-genre/unidentified-genre editor, I have the privilege of experiencing a wide swath of writing and art by new and established creatives. Calls for submissions are made across my social media channels (below). Reading periods for beyond-genre calls are generally not themed.
My vision for beyond-genre publishing is to shine attention on work that combines genres or defies them. This may include or differ from “hybrid” writing. The term hybrid can be considered a genre unto itself, with its own perceived expectations and guidelines, so it’s a term I tend to avoid when describing beyond-genre work. As long as a piece isn’t (somewhat) easily identifiable as a better fit within another specific genre, I’d like to see it. Please do not submit short stories, non-fiction, or standard poetry forms simply because those sections are closed for submissions.
Blended/beyond/unidentified-genre writing is not new nor is it a trend. I am not inventing a non-genre genre, but I am installing a net for the writing that falls through the cracks. Most publishers accept writing by genre. We can scarcely submit a piece before first choosing a standard category; and then our work is received by an editorial team that accepts pieces only within their assigned genre. Excellent work is being rejected because, as they so often say, “it doesn’t quite fit.” The workaround is all too often reserved for established writers/artists who begin their career in a specific “sellable” genre and then ease their publishers & audience into boundary-pushing work.
Reading previously published beyond-genre work is helpful, free, online, and a great way to get a sense for what I keep an eye out for. However, emulation of previously published pieces would not be a sound strategy. Neither would using AI. I want to see original work that excites its creator(s) and excites me as reader. That can often feel like work that is calling out to be heard. Work that is energized forward or dragged down into depths. Often there’s a lyricism to the work, or a fragmentation. I like to feel the flow and the crack. Something weathered and lost, then given a new life. Every word matters, and I’m attracted to work that chooses language thoughtfully.
What does all that mean? It might mean historical creative nonfiction with a lyrical rhythm. Maybe a photograph ending supplied to a story that’s impossible to conclude in any other way. I like work that arises out of meditation, stream-of-consciousness, a mesmerizing shower, or a boring drive. Somewhere where reality was suspended and the mind’s natural proclivity to veer and swerve was allowed to enter. Often an idea starts when a pen or computer are unavailable. And then it ends without being forced into a longer project or formed into a genre. It knew when it was finished. So then it looks like a prose poem or a flash story? Or a scrapbook or process assemblage? Maybe ekphrastic, erasure, or word art. Maybe braided fragments. Humor, absurdity weirdness… I want it.
Maybe it’s a documentary image series of found objects on a journey back to the old homestead that has been torn down, burned down, given up on, or loved to pieces. With pieces labeled like a laboratory. Like a specimen board. Like a poem comprised of specimens. Like a story comprised of a fragmented poet’s beloved burned specimens. I could go on and on because I know whatever the writer submits, it will be none of these things… because whatever they submit is so purely them I could not have imagined it. I love seeing it all.
Except… I will not tolerate racism, sexism, ablism, homophobia, transphobia, climate denial, or Trump. I know next to nothing about religion, so I’m not the right person to be reading about it. Or pull a Vonnegut and invent a wholly new one. My views/preferences/politics/comments should not be misconstrued as representing the publications I volunteer for. Nor do I have an employer, status, or reputation that I need to shield from my preferences, politics, comments.
More?
Another angle to my wishlist and bio: Although I do enjoy sharing glimpses of my life on social media, I have very little interest in participating in the global obsession of follower counts and kissing ass to boost my numbers. I used to. I don’t anymore (and I understand how unavoidably important it is for many writers’ career growth, and how it would probably benefit mine). It’s just that my wish is for people to “like” me because they find me or my work interesting enough to follow along. If they’re merely playing the numbers game, may they kindly leave me alone. It’s not hate or snobbery, I just don’t want my time diluted by fakery and insincerity. Nor do I want any connection to lurkers who carry my content to their backchannel gossip. Also, I understand about myself, that because I’m naive and sensitive and insecure, there is a want-to-be-wanted part of me that will inevitably be misled into thinking these “likes” are real likes. Like, someone liked me because they like me. And then they disappear when they don’t like what I have to say. Then I second-guess what I’m saying. Then I feel bad about myself until something snaps me back into the reality that none of it’s important to the things that matter most to me.
Outside of all that, there is so much wonder, light, art, kindness, sincerity, love, natural beauty, and vital information in the world, it’s a disappointment that I don’t have time in this life to experience it all. All of that is what I want to focus on until the end. The doom-scrolling and tea-spilling is not my scene. In fact, I find the gossip-stream, back-channeling, and knee-jerk reactions of online communities to be constantly annoying, frequently depressing, sometimes loathsome, and occasionally destructive. To those participants I have to wonder, Why? There is so much life out there. Get one. Do better. And mind your own business. If you can’t think of anything better to do, get to work saving the planet by curbing your toxic emissions. Go outside.
To the rest, I honor your art and integrity. I read your work with respect. I do not occupy a space in the gossip mill. I don’t always get things right, but I try sincerely to make thoughtful decisions. I’m awkward, introverted, feel inadequate, and probably can’t muster the fortitude to show up to the thing I’ve been invited to, but it sure feels like a like when I get invited. I want you to feel invited to share your wild work without feeling like the odd one out. Here, the odd ones are in… and celebrated.
Across my socials (except Twitter) I promote writers, artists, indie publishers, and announce open reading periods. I also announce when my cat, dog, chickens, ducks, and doves are being cute. (In fact, you can read about our urban micro-farm/wildlife sanctuary/poultry rescue on my blog)