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Editors say: “Send something that dazzles us.” It doesn’t have to dazzle. It doesn’t have to do anything. It can sit on its ass and watch TV. Send us something that does what it wants. Send us something that stands there and stares, maybe while eating a bowl of cereal. That’s right: Tilting and slurping the milk into its mouth while staring over the top of the bowl. That’s what we want. It doesn’t have to make us uncomfortable either. And doesn’t have to be your best. There’s too much best going around. Send us your worst. Edit it carefully but make sure its your worst. We want to read your worst.

It’s just that we’re so cynical over here at Orphan Paper. We all have the same day job: Bulldozing the landfills of bullshit. Civil Service. The printing presses turn on at night, see. That’s when you hear the maniacal laughter echoing through out back rooms and out into the always rain spattered back alley. Our team of editors don’t use the rest room either. For one, we don’t have one; but it’s mainly, after coming back from the day job, none of them have time. They’re so committed that they pee and poop in their pants. That’s one of the reasons they sneer. Doing that, in their pants, is nasty and contrary and makes you hard on the inside, transforms you after a bout a week or so. So our editors sneer like its second nature for them to sneer. Not all do. And our editors sneer for no reason whatsoever. They’ll sneer at whatever you send them, whether its good or bad.

We want novella length works primarily, greater than 20,000 words. But we publish a writing bin that slurps that cereal bowl I was talking about: Giggle Water. Any length. Any genre. Please edit and punctuate.