Today in the mail I got something from the New Yorker offering me a year long subscription for $25. You know what they call this? The professional discount. I'm not terribly interested in the New Yorker (Not for any particular reason. I've just never read it) but I'm thinking of subscribing just so if someone sees me reading it and says "Hey, i see you're reading the New Yorker" (which is pretty unlikely) I can reply "Yeah, it's not my favorite, but I read it because I get a professional discount." I don't know where they got the idea that I'm any sort of professional writer (considering I've literally never made a cent via my writing. Gotten tons of free zines which are great, but until I can exchange them at the super market for Hot Pockets I don't consider them earnings.) but who am I to argue with the New Yorker? What the hell, I figure calling myself a professional writer based on what the New Yorker subscription department says is better than just proclaiming myself a professional writer based on whim.
First person to point out that this is likely a calculated attempt on the New Yorker to boost subscription rates by appealing to the egos of anyone they find via a Google search of "small time writer" gets a slap in the face.
I should have some reviews posted here in the next week or so.
Who and What We Are
Xerography Debt is a review zine for zine readers by zine writers (and readers). It is a hybrid of review zine and personal zine (the ancestor to many blogs). The paper version has been around since 1999. This blog thing is are attempt to bridge the gap between Web 2.0 and Paper 1.0. Print is not dead, but it is becoming more pixelated.