We’ve been reading the submissions in our queue with great enthusiasm, talking about them and fretting (joyfully, mind) over which works will compliment each other. Our response time has slowed a bit, but now that the new year’s turning, and it’s frigid latte-and-stay-indoors weather, we’ll be with you very shortly.
We have just over five weeks of submissions left to consider, and a second issue to compile & proof. It’s with great pleasure that we watch our reading queue fill up with LMLMB submissions & chapbooks. We hope to bring you a wonderful collection of body positive works in the coming year.
Happy New Year!
(@bellylurve & @porkbellypress)
Over the course of the last few weeks, we’ve asked questions on Twitter. We’re looking for submissions about body and life in that body, scars, secrets, ability, pain, pleasure, shape, and other things.
Tell us about your scars and how you got them. What’s the road map of your body?
Scars mean you’re a survivor. What’s your story?
In what ways do you honor your body?
How has aging affected your body and identity?
What about your body do you celebrate?
In what life-changing moment were you singularly aware of your body?
What secrets does your body keep or show?
Do you have any answers? Perhaps questions: submit your work.
Now seeking creative nonfiction (personal essays included), poetry, and fiction.
Our reading period is now open.
Send us your essays, poems, and body posi. fictions and artwork. Please be sure to consult our guidelines carefully, and we’ll do our best to get back to you in under 90 days (probably sooner).
We’re particularly interested in personal essays and free verse poetry.
If you’d like to check out a copy of our first issue to see what kind of things we like to read and accept, you can find it on etsy.
The response to LMLMB‘s first issue has been amazing. One reader said: “Brilliant, inspired, & much-needed in the world we live in. There need to be more publications like this.” We’ll take it. :)
We welcome feedback (including constructive criticism!) from those who read the zine, and we’d love to hear from you.
Sugared Water // Love Me, Love My Belly // Bodies in Water
If you’re a writer of essays, poetry, or fiction in which body image figures, please keep in mind that our second reading period opens on May 10 and runs until September 10. For the first issue, we accepted work all through the reading period, and replied to most within 6 weeks. We plan to do the same for our second issue.
We’re also seeking artwork for our interior and cover—black and white work is best for us (or color work that will read well in B&W). High contrast work looks best, be it a drawing, photo, print, or painting. (See the sub guidelines for more info.)
LMLMB is a yearly publication. We are primarily interested in creative nonfiction and the personal experience, but do consider fiction with a strong voice and sense of place. We favor lyrical language and evocative image. We consider works all along the identity spectrum, and are a queer-age-body-HAES-friendly, humanist sort of publication produced by Porkbelly Press in Cincinnati, OH.
No hate speech, please.
Love Me, Love My Belly no. 1
It’s here, it’s here!
Love Me, Love My Belly: a body image zine is now available for your reading pleasure. | buy
LMLMB is a 60 page, half-size, body image zine. Issue no. 1 combines the work of 6 essayists, 6 poets and 2 artists, all exploring the subject of the human body. From the website: “Love Me, Love My Belly is an annual print zine dedicated to the acceptance of self and imperfection as beauty. It’s about the space between us, our differences, our scars, our wobbly bits, and our power as it relates to the bodies we live in.”
Contributors: Abigail Bautista, Cathy Bryant, Patricia Budd, Valentina Cano, Alexandra Caselle, Suzanne C. Cole, Shawna Ervin, Camille Griep, Susan Grier, Catherine Lanser, Amasa Guy Larkins, Nicci Mechler, Danial Powers, and Melissa Wiley.
Excerpt from “Naked Ladies” by Camille Griep:
And it’s true: we really are beautiful. The fat ones and the skinny ones. The dark ones and the light ones. The ones with the big black bushy bushes and the ones with the sparkling navel rings. The ones with the muffin tops and the ones with the sagging hips. The ones with perfect, bobbing breasts and the woman with just one breast, paired with a scar bigger than my outstretched hand.
The issue is compiled and has entered the proofing stages. We’ll post just as soon as it’s ready to go—contributors will receive the first copies once they’re bound (by hand). You’ll be able to order via Etsy soon.
We ended up making this zine a bit fatter than anticipated (around 60 half-size pages), thanks to a number of beautifully written creative nonfiction essays sprinkled with poems between them. We’re happy to represent a variety of age and experience in this body zine, and can’t wait to release it into the wild. Check back soon!
Be safe and take care of yourselves.
Nicci & Lauren
Love Me, Love My Belly
We’re rolling through the submissions that came in at the end of our reading period, arranging what we’ve already accepted, and making final decisions. We’ll be going to press in the next two months, and we know you’re going to enjoy what we have for you.
In the mean time, we came across something really lovely what we’d like to share with you.
Stone Telling recently released a Body issue. Though we’re still perusing the website, the introduction by Rose & Shweta is amazing on its own, and we could not agree more:
Speaking about the body is a radical act. The body – with its ills, idiosyncrasies and secrets, its daring, its slow or rapid disintegration; the body that is beauty of old age and the pain in bones; the labored, uncertain gasping for air that supercedes all other desires. The body and the passions of it; the shame that is societally circumscribed and weighs us down like chains; the mind, which is a part of the body, in all its brilliance and defeat. […] The body dancing and at rest, the body wounded and healing, the body clothed in words or stripped bare. The body fat, thin, unapologetic, apologetic, too angry to be shy, not angry enough, the body that crosses boundaries, the body that says “I am here, see me, see me,” the body that whispers, “move on, there is nothing to see”.