About OUR IMPRINT ORPHAN PAPER

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WRITING THAT DOESN’T FIT. . . .

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 it likes to eat cereal? Maybe it likes Frosted Flakes or Sugar Pops, the ones that aren’t good for you? Maybe it likes to tilt the bowl while its eating the cereal and slurp the milk while it stares. That’s right, tilts the bowl up and lets the milk run down its chin while it stares. That’s more of less what we want. But please, it doesn’t have to make us uncomfortable either. And doesn’t have to be your best. There’s too much “best” going around. “Best” rolls past on a conveyor belt and looks like the same widget manufactured inside some black box. We discussed this and figured, just tell them: ‘Send us your worst.’ Edit it carefully but make sure its your worst.

We all have the same day job: Bulldozing landfills of bullshit. That’s why the printing presses turn on at night. There’s a single ON switch, just one, and we’re not unionized so we don’t have to get someone’s permission to throw it. Someone flicks it, you hear a whir then the fluorescent lighting sputters and begins to hum. The presses make a kuh-chunk kuh-chunk kuh chunk sound and all night long maniacal laughter echoes through Orphan Paper’s back rooms and out into the always rain spattered back alley.

We’re hard working. Our team of editors don’t use the rest room. For one, we don’t have one. But the issue is: after coming back from their day jobs, none of them have time for that. They’re so committed they pee and poop in their pants and keep right on working. That’s one of the reasons they sneer. Doing their business in their pants is nasty and contrary and smells and makes them hard on the inside. 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 its cereal bowl: Giggle Water. Any length. Any genre. Please edit and punctuate. admin@hekatepublishing.com

We’re trying to build something that doesn’t fit.