"A bimonthly magazine of history, culture, and politics targeting an educated readership of LGBT individuals that publishes essays in a wide range of disciplines as well as reviews of books, movies, and plays, poetry and more"
Open:
Yes
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
?
Payment:
Yes
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
Yes
Examples online:
Yes
Average acceptance rate:
?
Country:
United States
Year founded:
1994
Has Masthead info:
Yes
Chill Subs Tracker Stats!
Total tracked subs
1
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Important stuff
Active on social media
Pays! "We don't pay for Here's My Stories (personal essays), but do pay $50 for any article posted on our blog if approved for publication."
Available in print
Genres
👌
Nonfiction
Max words: 4000
👌
Review
No specific limitations
👌
Interview
No specific limitations
Masthead
We currently list only main editors, more will be added later!
If you're an editor, you can edit your masthead in our admin panel :)
If you're an editor, you can edit your masthead in our admin panel :)
Richard Schneider Jr.
Editor-in-ChiefExamples
'Brown Eyes, Pink Converse' by Evanthia George
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineHer brown eyes caught my attention first. Luna’s always found this absurd and claims her eyes are boring, that there is nothing special in them. I wholeheartedly disagree, though I know I might never manage to change her opinion. Her eyes are that of the soil in the ground which enables yellow daffodils to bloom in spring. Her eyes hold pools of happiness visible even on the darkest of nights. They sparkle with every smile. If she’s terribly upset, her eyes will simply go blank.
'A Final Conversation' by Michael Cuglietta
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineMy sister was hesitant to deliver the news. “Is there someplace where you can pull over?” she said.
“I’m stopped at a red light. What is it? Just tell me.”
When she found out, she was blindsided with grief. She worried I would be, too.
The first image that came to my mind was James and his sister, Samantha. He would’ve been 11 at the time, while Samantha would’ve been 9, the same ages as my sister and me. My family had just moved into the neighborhood. We were playing in the front yard when James and Samantha rode by on their bicycles, slowing to get a closer look at us. At that age, friendships were like arranged marriages. Our parents bought a house and we sought out the kids closest by.
'A Toast to Love' by Jennifer Steil
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineWHEN MY FAMILY recently traveled to the desert town of Mo’ynoq in northern Uzbekistan, our dinner host plunked a bottle of local vodka down on the table. As is common in the region, we began the rounds of toasts that would regularly punctuate our meal. Most of us toasted the Aral Sea. This was why we were there; to work with an Uzbek journalist and videographer on an environmental documentary about the decimated sea. “To the sea,” we said. “May it one day return.”
Last to go was our 11-year-old daughter. She raised her glass of water and said, “To the LGBTQ people of Uzbekistan. I hope they will be accepted.”
'Keith from Kutztown and Me' by Robin Gow
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineKeith Haring is all over Kutztown. His presence seems only to have increased since he moved away from the sprawling cornfields of our shared hometown in 1976 to live in New York City. It’s his life and story that draw me endlessly back to my hometown and into thoughts about the meaning of queer childhood and young adulthood.
I used to pass his family’s thin brick house on Normal Avenue each day when I’d take a walk after school to clear my head. There’s a Keith Haring statue of a boy and his dog that sits in the town park. My friends would use the statue as a meeting place in the summer when we’d roam the town, bored and trading stories about where we’d like to run away to. At night, we’d scale the statue, perching atop the red metal structure. I remember once climbing up onto the dog’s back after a June storm, slipping, and falling in the grass, laughing, green stains on my jeans.
Contributors on Chill Subs (0)
All contributors (last updated: forever ago)
Contributors are coming :)
(or not, maybe it's too many of them)
(or not, maybe it's too many of them)