E-Magazine Submissions
Thank you for your interest in submitting to Lullaby Machine’s e-magazine. No submission fee. We are able to offer a $30 gift per published piece. Please see below for submission periods and guidelines.
Written work: We consider poetry, short fiction, and creative nonfiction (including interviews and reviews) that engages, however expansively or experimentally, with the threads connecting ecology, performance, dreams, and the internet. We welcome submissions that offer creative and unexpected takes on the topics that Lullaby Machine explores. We encourage you to read about the project and explore our previous issues before submitting.
Please submit written pieces as a .docx via the form below.
Up to 5 poems, submitted in one document.
Maximum 10 double-spaced pages for prose, or roughly 2,500 words.
12 pt. times new roman font (or something equally readable).
If you are submitting an unsolicited interview or review, please pitch to us first at lullabymachine@gmail.com.
Visual & Hybrid work: We also welcome submissions to the e-magazine including (but not limited to) film, visual art, and recorded dance work. If you have an unrealized idea for a piece you want to make for Lullaby Machine, feel free to send a pitch to lullabymachine@gmail.com.
Thematic considerations: Lullabies invite the practice of relational presence via rest. Rest invites restoration and dreaming. Dreams remind us that reality bends, and change is possible, inevitable, and necessary.
At a global moment of restlessness born from the prioritization of capital over care, we're looking for stories that unfold in the dark of dreamtime, in the mundanity of exhaustion, and in the real or imagined rooms where lullabies are sung. We are excited to receive work that considers questions like (but not limited to):
What does it mean to rest in a world that wants us awake, productive, and sellable as much of the time as possible?
What does it feel like to stand on a stage and what does it mean to step off?
What is a liminal place and what happens there?
If you scroll far enough, where do you end up?
How do we relate to grief and death in a capitalist culture sustained by the illusion of its eternal life?
How do we take care of each other?
What could it mean to sing a lullaby in public?