Submission Guidelines

All submissions should be sent to David S. Wills at editor [at] beatdom (dot) com. Please include a third person biography, a few reasons why we should read your work, and the submission Guidelines as a .doc or .docx Word file (unless, of course, you are submitting artwork).


Please keep in mind that Beatdom is a Beat Generation-themed literary journal. We publish short stories and poetry, but mostly we’re looking for essays about the Beats. These essays should be interesting and take a different slant on the Beat Generation. There are hundreds of books and essays out there that cover these subjects, so we want something new.

There is no word limit for essays. Please make sure your essay is readable – that means long enough to go where you want, but short enough that you won’t bore your reader. Between 2,000 and 5,000 words is optimal. From 2017, we require submission Guidelines to be in MLA format.

Essays should be sent as a .doc or .docx Word file. Please keep the text single-spaced and do not add two spaces between a period and the start of the next sentence. It’s the 21st century, folks.

Essays stand a better chance of being accepted if they relate to the theme of the current issue. Issue seven, for example was a music-themed issue and all but a handful of the essays were directly related to both music and the Beat Generation. Issue nine was about drugs, issue ten was about religion, eleven focused on nature, twelve was the crime issue, and thirteen was about drinking.

Upcoming themes:

B17 – Politics

B18 – Family

B19 – Asia

B20 – Post-Beat

B21 – Change

B22 – The Jack Kerouac Special Edition

Short Stories

We usually print one or two short stories per issue, and receive hundreds of submissions. Please don’t expect a prompt reply, and don’t resubmit after a few weeks.

Stories should relate to the stated theme of each issue and should not exceed 5,000 words.


We publish several poems per issue and receive hundreds of submissions. Please don’t expect a prompt reply, and don’t resubmit after a few weeks.

Poems should ideally fit the theme of the issue, or display some sort of connection to the Beat Generation.


Beatdom is now printed in black and white, so any artwork needs to look good once converted to black and white. Again, anything related to the theme of the issue or to the Beat Generation will be considered. A .jpg image is preferred as a preview. We may request something higher resolution if we intend to use your work.

View Comments

  • Hi there. Im really interested in your magazine. In 2002 I had the chance to visit Ginsberg's old farm in Cherry Valley. I also spent a few lively days with Beat poet Charlie Plymell who was gracious enough to show me the old haunts and to discuss his connection with the beats. I have a journal form this time period and a few poems out of it as well if you are interested. I will keep in touch.

    All the best,

    Denis Robillard

  • Hi!

    I am a research scholar from India and am working on the Beat poets, particularly Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and Kenneth Rexroth. Im basically working upon the mystical elements in their poetry related to Asian religion, Hinduism in particular I would like to contribute some essays in your journal .please let me know the procedure of submissions.

    Geetanjali Joshi

  • Hi David

    I am subscribing and would like to order back issues. I tried at the publishing sight but the back issues came up in Engish pounds not American dollars. I was not sure how to pay in a foreign currency. Could you pleas help, otherwise I will download the issues.
    Also, i am a poet/arttist/musician and am totally inspired by the Beats. I finally found a book by Gregory Corso (Herald of the Autochthonic Spirit) at Bridge Street Books in Wash. DC. I also found a copy of Bob Kaufman's Solitudes Crowded With Lonlibess. By the way if you or anyone you know is coming to DC in the next few weeks the National Gallery has an exhibition of Beat photography. They are show the film "The Life and Times of Allan Ginsberg" on Monday Sept 6 at 1pm and 330pm....I will submit some poetry soon...I have one for the drug and religion issues......Later!!!

    • Thanks for subscribing! I have answered your questions directly via e-mail. Please let me know if you didn't receive my response.

  • Back in the 1990's, shortly before he passed away, I exchanged chapbooks with Jack Micheline and received a letter and extensive comments in his chapbook from him. As many may know, he died on a Bart bus, I believe in San Francisco, and did live a life close to the Herbert Hunke definition of "beat" at times. That is reflected in his poetry, but also reflected are flights of the beatific.

    Just to get it into the public record, I would like to put the remarks in your magazine, if you are interested. Perhaps that lowers the book and letter's resale value on the rare book market, but I don't care.

    • Thanks, Chuck. That sounds like a really interesting piece of Beat history. If you're serious about submitting, then send me an e-mail at editor (at) beatdom (dot) com and we'll discuss it further.

      Honestly, I'm not hugely knowledgeable about Jack Micheline, but I've been reading a little about him quite recently and feel I should know more.

  • Hello. I have a submission for you. It is creative nonfiction/essay - written with fiction craft. But I'm really not sure how best to enter this submission - as essay? As short story?
    The piece is really a piece of creative nonfiction/memoir related to a Kerouac inspired trip.
    Please let me know what you think - and I'll send it your way.

    David W. Berner

  • I should also note that I am the producer of the audio documentary, (which was aired on over a dozen public radio stations in America) audio book version, and the film FINDING MY KEROUAC; which I see you have listed in your database of Beat Generation films. Thank you for that. The piece I hope to submit comes out of that audio documentary and film.

    David B

  • Hello, my name is Lance Gurwell. I have always been a fan of beat writers and in 1982 I had the blessed fortune of meeting many of the remaining living beat scholars. As a photojournalist, I attended the 1982 Kerouac Conference sponsored by Naropa Institute in Boulder. There I had inside access to the events and I took dozens of photographs of such luminaries as Allen Ginsburg, William Burroughs, Tim Leary, Abbie Hoffman, and others. The collection also has several shots of the entire group of Beat luminaries at the event.

    I am looking to sell this collection of negatives and other memoribilia from the event. Is anyone interested? I have samples to show if there is any interest.



    There was this guy in our neighborhood his name was Willy B. The story was that Willy B grew up in our area in the 50’s, and 60’s. He was a pretty tough stand up kind of guy and one night while some dude was robbing his parent’s apartment he fought the guy and killed him. The cops say it was murder and that Willy could have stopped beating the guy with this pipe but he didn’t, so they gave him 12 years in prison. Can you believe that shit the victim is the criminal and the criminal is the victim?

    By the time he got out he was in his mid to late 30’s, since we were all just teenagers a guy like this was someone we could look up to. He had this apartment on the south side of Broadway and just north of where I grew up. The north and south never got along; I guess some things never change huh? Willy B was a pretty cool guy, he was a good street fighter and I respected that, he was also a drug dealer and never took shit from anyone that owed him money. JC and I used Willy B on several occasions to collect for us from the older guys we fronted pot to. They would always have a sad story and when it came time to pay, they often kept themselves insulated by their buddies so we couldn’t get to them for payment. I couldn’t always get to them, sometime we did. Some nights JC and I would wait for them to be walking home alone drunk from a bar and we would sneak up and smack the shit out of them.

    Willy B would handle all the stuff we couldn’t get to. We were like 15 years old and the older guys never took us seriously, until we got them alone but Willy B had a lot of respect and people feared him, you figure if a guy was already in prison, he wouldn’t be afraid to go to prison again. Willy B always got so fucked up that he couldn’t even keep a job and pay rent or eat. He ended up robbing to feed his addictions and eventually became homeless lived on the streets. Like many other homeless souls he would retreat to life in the subways where it was warm and dry during the colder months.

    The New York City subway system, where do I begin? The subway was part machine and part human, but the human part didn’t give a shit. The trains were driven on rails and the people who worked them either hit the accelerator or hit the brake, oh and they did one more thing, they yelled into the intercom systems to inform you of which station we were pulling into. Quite often the train cars drove in total darkness, the power was still on, it’s just that the individual cars went black. I was riding the A train one evening and during the trip I would hear the usual, “next stop 59th street, change here for the B,C,D trains etc…”

    It was a good 35 minute trip home and when we got to 207th which was the last stop on the train where I lived. The lights came on and the train had emptied of the passengers and sitting in the far corner of my train car was Willy B, it was his voice the whole time. I guess that’s how he spent his time these days. I felt bad for him. I walked over and said,” Willy B come on brother come with me. I took him back to my apartment and got him cleaned up and a change of clothes. We spent the rest of the evening, drinking and chilling out. The next day a few other buddies came over to hang out. Willy B, me, EC and Kevin went to the park, it was a pretty chilly day; so we went and bought a bottle of whiskey and a couple of hits of acid, and a few bags of herb.

    We walked way up into the park to a place where we could get high and enjoy our trip without anyone bothering us; it was a place called the cliff and it over looked the West Side Highway, probably about 60 feet or so above the roadway. We spent the next hour drinking and smoking while we waited for the acid to kick in. When blotter acid hits you it’s almost too late to even know you’re zooming. EC, Kevin and I were in this big grass field goofing off and laughing when I looked back and saw Willy B standing by the edge of the cliff, I ran over and he looked totally out of it. He was saying shit like “it’s all over man, my life means nothing”. We were like Willy B, you’re a good dude, you’re just going thru some bad times bro. Hang in there, don’t do anything crazy. He was starting to freak out and said “you got to help me bro, don’t leave me alone”. By now like 5 hours had gone by and I needed to get home, I said Willy B,”I can’t hang out here all day I have to be home before my parents start wondering where I am”. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me”. I felt so bad I didn’t know what to do.

    Kevin found this big old half rusted chain, it was like 20 feet long and had these links the size of my fist. We had to leave, so we told Willy B we were going to tie him to this big ass tree so he wouldn’t hurt himself and we would come back later. So there we were wrapping this massive fucking chain around Willy B and we made sure that he couldn’t wiggle out at all, EC stuck a piece of a fence rail into the links, like a lock.

    Anyway we left him there to peak on his acid and we went home. Sometime later that week I had heard he was spotted back on the train doing the “next stop” conductor shit he did so well.


This website uses cookies.