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Hey, you’ve clicked the “Submit” link. That might mean that you want to submit something. Good news – we like submissions. We even like submissions from people we’ve never met who are on other continents!  Let’s get down to business.

You don’t want to be rejected just as much as we feel all awky rejecting people (see picture). So let’s make it easy for both of us.

The main brief is DON’T BE BORING. DON’T SUCK. But here’s a quick FAQ if you have any other questions:

I’m a journalist or web expert wanting to beef up my resume. Is this a good place to do it?

Do you guys only accept humor submissions?
No, philosophical essays are okay if they are related to pop culture, say something distinctly different and actually have a logical flow. Don’t just be snarky and think you’re Chuck Klosterman.

What about fiction?
We rarely publish fiction on this blog, so probably there’s a more appropriate place to send your short story. If you do send a work of fiction to us, please make that clear in your e-mail.

I don’t really know what to write about, so how about if I just list ten things that are really bugging me right now?
Do whatever you need to do to get through the day, but we’re unlikely to publish your submission unless it has a strong focus. Try choosing just one of those things and writing more about it.

Do you accept GIFs?
God yes.

Is there a minimum word requirement?
Shorter the better.

I’ve written a humorous list, and I’d like to preface it with three long paragraphs explaining the list’s significance and mentioning several caveats. That’s necessary, right?
Almost certainly not. Make the title of your post clear enough, and you can jump right into the list. Those long intros are the things we most often trim from submissions we publish.

I’ve already posted this thing on my own blog; can I just send you the link?
If you’re a really goddamn great writer, we won’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers—but in general, we’d strongly prefer that stuff you send to us not have been previously published.

Can I publish under a pseudonym?
Yes, but it has to sound at least remotely like it might be someone’s actual name. “Lucifer Jones” and “Badabing Jetson,” for example, are unacceptable.

Should I send a bio?
Yes, if we publish your post we’ll include a link to your Twitter or other site as well as a brief bio on your writer’s page. Click here to see a complete list of everyone who’s published posts with us.

Do you pay?
No—and we don’t get paid for this either. We frequently drink with our writers though.

I want to write about Minneapolis. Any tips?
If your submission is specific to Minneapolis, we’ll consider it for The Tangential Ruins Minneapolis. Find a general theme that newspapers and entertainment blogs wouldn’t cover. Be funny. Write at a slant. Don’t write about your own friends.

For more, read Chrissy Stockton’s post, How to Write Something for The Tangential. For cautionary notes, see Ten Signs Your Creative Writing Blog Post Might Be a Little Too Creative.

To submit, e-mail here.

  • I couldn’t have chosen a better boy to have a high school romance with.
    My boyfriend Addison is hilarious. The best part about this relationship is that HE actually love ME.
    The best part about him is that he’s not like other boys. He’s a guy that whole driving blasts Adele and whines WHAT IS THIS SHIT when I put o. Some Punk Floyd(his favorite band). I don’t go a day with out hearing “How ya doin Jor Jor?” about 20 times. If only we were filmed like the people from paranormal activity minus the demons and you would see him bust a move (A bad one) and he completely acts like it was good. Stares me dead in the face while doing a ridiculous dance his eyes say o you know you want a piece of this. He’s the most embarrassing and awkward yet attractive person I’ve ever met. he’s a tall scrawny 16 year old. His heart probably weights more than his actual mass. I like this kid so much that watching him play skyrim is entertaining enough.
    I am so comfortable with him i can fall asleep I his arms. When he sings high pitched ( keep in mind he has a low voice) and shrieks like a little girl when I tickle him it embarrasses me, but strangely I love it. I love his goofiness.
    I can’t help but love absolutely everything that has to do about him. I hate ska but he likes it and I wouldn’t change that for world peace. He’s insecure about his anxiety, torrets, ticks ( smelling his nose, crunching his hair Ect.) And OCD. The things he hates most about himself are what I would never ever change about him. I accept him the way he came to me. Perfect.
    I love my nerdy goofy tiny boyfriend.

  • Jordan Cooper

    Please excuse the grammar errors. DAMN YOU AUTO CORRECT,

  • Gazza


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  • ada

    Some times I think the judges decide who they want to win long before they finish cooking.

  • A Mixtape for Your Girl

    “Oh… hi.”
    “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”
    “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it has.”
    “Derrick, not to be rude but I’m busy.”
    “Right, sorry, you’ll never guess what happened…”
    “…What, Derrick?” [sighs]
    “I uh, I found the mixtape I made for you.”
    “What are you tal–Oh are you serious, Derrick!? That was four years ago!”
    “I was just moving my bed and I heard something clatter against the hardwood and I got down on my knees and grabbed it from underneath and I was surprised because I thought you kept it…?”
    “It must have fallen out of my purse or something.”
    [sighs audibly, loud enough for the people the next state over to here]
    “Derrick… Derrick?”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “For what. You dropped it. People drop things. No need to apologize. I’ve dropped stuff before, it happens.”
    “No, Derrick. I didn’t… I didn’t just ‘drop’ it. I uh…”
    “I shoved it between the bed and the wall I’m sorry.”
    “You did what!?”
    “I’m so sorry Derrick” [audible weeping, rivals the amount of tears in the song ‘Story of a Girl’]
    “How–how could you? I had The Smiths on there! And and and Billy Idol and Steve Winwood! A classic mixtape if I ever heard one!”
    “I know I know. I’m sure it was but Derrick, come on, you know we never got along when it came to music.”
    “Yeah, you just had to bring that up every time we were with your parents. As if he didn’t already disprove of me!”
    “I was just making them angry…”
    “And I just ‘loved’ being in the monkey in the middle of that game.”
    [sounds of a nose being blown]
    “Derrick. I wanna listen to it.”
    “You… you what?”
    “I want to listen to it.”
    “Yes, really. I do. Now more than ever. I’m glad you called actually.”
    “I’m glad I found it. I want to see you too.”
    “Let’s meet up.”
    “Yeah now. Right now! Let’s do it!”
    “Okay, sure. Yeah absolutely.”
    “Yay! And Derrick…?”
    “Bring that mixtape.”
    “The mixtape? No yeah I accidentally dropped it in the toilet as I was pulling down my pants. I can just–”
    [dial tone]

  • “I am the Rabbit King”

    This happened to me about a week ago in my friend, lets call him Craig, Craig’s room. He, my other friend “Derrick” and I were smoking this synthetic weed/incense called spice and normally I would have declined, but I was bored and felt like I needed to get high because it had been one of those weeks I suppose. I immediately regretted taking the three or four hits I took out of Craig’s pipe when I realized I’m with the two worst people ever to be high around.
    Things started off simple enough; light-headedness, a strong urge to giggle and say nonsense like “I’m floating, but I like horses”. My friends too were in the same state, but then something sinister began to unfold right before my glazed eyes. Out of nowhere this 3-D poster of Jimmy Hendrix appeared out of nowhere and Derrick was waving it in my face for what felt like an eternity. The effects of being stoned out of my mind and being presented with a 3-D picture both amazed and terrified me all at once. I could see his fingers play the guitar he was holding and I could hear music coming from the poster which was actually just my friend Craig’s iTunes playing in the background.
    Things only got worse when Craig put on this very creepy classical music that he said was from Alice in Wonderland or something and he constantly repeated the phrase “I am the Rabbit King!” for no other reason than to scare the holy shit out of me. “Oh god, what the fuck is going on!?” I yelled.
    “I am the Rabbit King!” he continued.
    “Please stop! Fuck, stop dude!” I pleaded. But no, he continued anyways. Meanwhile Derrick was being the biggest douche bag on earth and kept waving the Jimmy Hendricks poster in my face and it got me to the ground as if I was being blasted with some B-movie ray gun. “This is complete lunacy! Stop!” I yelled again. Suddenly Craig went into this dramatic monologue on how I’m the returning prince, following a mad prophecy to save my homeland and I was, to say the least, not having any of it. “This is fucking horrible!” So I did the only logical thing I could; roll up into a ball and hope to whatever god I was willing to believe in that manic state that this would all end soon.
    Eventually it did and then it was Craigs’ turn.

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  • Dikes omar