DEAD SKUNK: THE EDITORS
Suzanne Samples, Co-founder
Fiction, Nonfiction , and Hybrid Sniffer
Facebook Spritzer
Merch Creator and Merch Table Manager
Some of her students on the illustrious ratemyprofessors.com note that she isn't "as good as she sounds" and "NOT HOT," but Suzanne thinks that's a bit unfair. Three years ago, Suzanne made a deal with the Mothman that if he let her survive terminal cancer, she would write memoirs and give him all the profits. So far, she has given him roughly $73.45, and he won't leave her the hell alone. One foggy afternoon, Suzanne was exploring an abandoned train tunnel and turned on her spirit box; E. was the only voice who answered through the AM signal. They met for cold Ale-8s at an abandoned Appalachian diner, and DEAD SKUNK was born.
E. Samples, Co-founder
Poetry and Hybrid Sniffer
Twitter and Instagram Spritzer
Website Creator and Manager
Shortly before Martinmas, E. was reorganizing her Twin Peaks collectables when she found some old files and was reminded that: 1) In 1993 she was awarded a $100 savings bond for her essay "Memorial Day" and 2) She has a lot of books on Eastern Philosophy. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. It took several days by train and a lot of corn dogs but eventually she found Suzanne wandering in the Appalachian forest. E. called out to her, but Suzanne was too fixated on an old radio to notice. Knowing Suzanne would eventually be in dire need of an ice cold Dr. Enuf, E. waited at a mysterious roadside cafe. With Josh Joplin on the jukebox, Suzanne walked in and DEAD SKUNK was born.
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DEAD SKUNK:
A Lit Mag That Doesn't Stink
An Introduction
Sometimes it feels like existence is a revolving series of appointments. Work schedules, class schedules, meal plans, dropping Frank & Dilbert off at doggie daycare, picking Frank & Dilbert up from doggie daycare, and on it goes. One to-do list completed and another instantly appears in its place. You may be wondering, what does this somewhat depressing string of observations have to do with introducing Dead Skunk? Absolutely nothing. And that’s the point.
Dead Skunk refuses to be a carefully worded line on your to-do list. It refuses to be another task on your calendar. Sure, you’ve decorated your HUSTLE Planner with awesome Lisa Frank stickers and we love that about you, but we just don’t belong there. We’re uncivilized and spontaneous. We’re ducking into the bathroom to scrawl the perfect prose poem on toilet paper during Corporate America’s mandatory “Most Important Meeting of the Year” then sneaking back into the meeting with that same toilet paper stuck to our shoe. We’re using the wrong fork and we’re not even eating dinner, we’re using it to scrape blue hair dye off the edge of the sink and thinking the semi-dried glob kinda looks like RBG and we should probably write a flash piece about it. We’ve only just met and we’re reorganizing your roommate’s book collection by mood.
We’re the unexpected roadside attraction that you’ll later regret driving right on by, so, don’t. Pull over and check out our animatronic elephant and skeleton key exhibit. Have a pineapple whip, on the house.
WHAT WE'RE ABOUT
Don't let our eccentric name fool you, Dead Skunk is a beatific literary anomaly glowing in the distance. We're a
phenomenon determined to disrupt the alphabetically organized stacks and we want you to join us. We hope you'll ditch the guided trail tour to sneak around the forest with us until the rest of the group is convinced they’re being stalked by The Mothman. Why? Because the universe is a spectacular drama unfolding in real time and Dead Skunk feels zero obligation to remain on standby.