Author: Corey J. White

I’m excited to announce that I’ll have a short story in the upcoming anthology A Punk Rock Future, from Zsenon Publishing. There’s a kickstarter for the book, with rewards including ebooks and paperbacks (obviously), as well as music from some of the authors in the anthology, a story critique from Erica Satifka, and a bunch more.

The anthology includes stories from Erica L. Satifka, Sarah Pinsker, Spencer Ellsworth, Margaret Killjoy, Izzy Wasserstein, Stewart C Baker, Michael Harris Cohen, Maria Haskins, Kurt Pankau, Zandra Renwick, Marie Vibbert, P.A. Cornell, Jennifer Lee Rossman, M. Lopes da Silva, R. K. Duncan, Steven Assarian, Dawn Vogel, Matt Bechtel, Josh Rountree, and Vaughan Stanger.

And, if the kickstarter campaign hits its stretch goals, there’ll be another open submissions period for some additional flash stories.

NB: I have no involvement in the kickstarter, whatsoever. I’m just mentioning it because I love everything about this anthology and want the kickstarter campaign to be a success.

My story is about a lot of things, but mostly it’s about how punk-rock is for everyone who wants it, everyone who finds it and feels like they’ve found some missing piece of themselves. It’s also a ‘fuck you’ to anyone who believes otherwise, anyone who tries to act as a gatekeeper.

I don’t know what kind of person I would be today if I never found punk, but it had a profound effect on me in my teenage years. The world-weary humour of NOFX, the saccharine love songs of The Ataris, Pennywise, Bad Religion, Blink 182 and The Offspring (hey, it was 1999 and everybody loved them), anarchy, DIY, compilation discs. It was Punk-O-Rama Vol. 4 that introduced me to Tom Waits. The same compilation introduced me to Refused and The Shape of Punk to Come, my first real taste of anti-capitalist sentiment, and an incredible album that still sounds as cutting-edge today as it did 20 years ago. That album set me down a path of vibrant, complex post-hardcore that still defines a big chunk of my listening today.

If I hadn’t found Refused I wouldn’t have ‘got’ These Arms Are Snakes. If I didn’t listen to These Arms Are Snakes I wouldn’t have written Killing Gravity. I can trace who I am and what I am today right back to punk-rock. That’s why I’m excited about this anthology.

Tattoos are weird, for any number of reasons. For one thing, most black inks are made from bone charcoal, meaning you’re literally trapping dead animals beneath your skin for aesthetic reasons. For another, even though you (maybe) spent a lot of time considering your tattoo, and even though you went through a lot of pain to get it done, once the tattoo is healed, it’s really easy to forget it’s there.

Which is why I was reminded of one of my own tattoos when I listened to the most recent episode of The Allusionist. If you’re not already aware, The Allusionist is a podcast about language, usually looking at strange and interesting uses of language, the history of words, as well as detailing people’s personal stories about words and their uses. Basically, if you’re a word-nerd you’ll probably enjoy it.

Episode 85 is about Shelley Jackson’s Skin Project, in which Jackson put out a call to find people who would be willing to get a word tattooed on their body. The words came from a story she had written, and the only way to read the story is to get a part of it tattooed on your body (I have a copy of it buried deep in a box of old stuff). There’s more to it than that, but all the main points are covered in the podcast. Either go listen, or see the guidelines and FAQ at Shelley Jackson’s website.

I heard about the project in an Experimental Fictions class at Griffith University. Inez Baranay was running the class, and she told us about the project because it was nothing if not an example of experimental fiction. I was intrigued. At that point I had 2 or 3 tattoos already, and absolutely loved the idea of taking part. How many people could say they were involved in something so strange? How many people would have a story like that for when people asked them about their tattoo? (Well, 2,095, as it turns out).

I reached out to Shelley Jackson, went through the various steps required, and went and got my word tattooed on my wrist. When I showed it to Inez, she was kind of freaked out, from memory. When she told us about the project, she apparently didn’t think any of her students were going to go out and actually get tattooed.

Part of the process of having a word assigned to you is that you don’t have any say over the word that you’re given. Once you receive your word, you can elect not to have it tattooed on you, but you can’t apply for a different word. While I was waiting for the word, I thought that if I didn’t like it, I could simply get it tattooed somewhere that no one would see it, but if I did like it, I always planned to have it placed on my wrist.

The word I received: paper.”

Still now I can hardly believe it. I was studying creative writing at the time, and all I wanted was to be a writer, and the word I received through sheer chance is paper.”

It seemed like an omen then, and honestly, looking back, it still feels like one. Maybe moreso, now that I’m here at this early but very exciting stage of my career as an author.

Tattoos are weird, for any number of reasons. Sometimes they seem like magic.

I had a strange realisation today. Realisations are odd, because they generally seem obvious outside the moment/context/head of the realiser (Head of the Realiser is the name of a cult leader if I ever heard one).

I was idly thinking that in another 10 or 20 years when I have enough clout, I’d love to edit a short story anthology. And from that initial thought I had aforementioned realisation: I am exactly where I want to be. And fuck me, but that’s a blessing. Despite the stresses of writing, and just living the late-capitalism lifestyle, that is huge.

I mean, obviously I’m not “done”. There is still so much more for me to do, but I’m officially there on the ground floor of The Life I Always Wanted. The next bit is building a readership and honing my craft. There will be a million other things I have to do along the way, but as long as I’m improving as a writer and reaching an audience, the rest will work itself out. Oh, and connecting with other writers, because there are 2 things every writer loves to talk about – the process and books. And honestly, talking about books is one of my absolute favourite things to do.

And honestly, this fairly positive realisation probably only came about because of that other recent one – that I’ve been pushing myself too hard, and not enjoying the journey. So, maybe that means I’m successfully changing my mindset? I hope so, because it’s been pretty fucking rough in here lately.