Submission Guidelines

Strip bare to share your story on “Can You Bare It?”

Holy shit. Hi. Welcome to my publication. I’m not sure how you stumbled upon it but man, I’m glad you did. I know what you’re thinking, what is this? Where the hell am I? I’ll explain but first I want to know…

Who are you? Your name doesn’t count. How did you find me? And what are you most afraid of? Introduce yourself to the community (cricket-cricket) in the comments below. I can’t wait to meet you.

OK, back to your question. This is a platform for confessing and reveling in our most painful, hilarious, terrifying, and cathartic moments of liberation. Think cherry-poppin’, heart-stoppin’, first open-mic, sky-dive, coming out, falling down, broken heart, solo-travel, big confession, confronting your dick of a boss to teach him a lesson, karate-kicking fear in its smug little face — stories. That’s what I’m looking for.

I want first-hand, raw accounts from real people. Too embarrassing? Fuck fear. Fuck shame.

I spent twenty-six years on this beautiful planet afraid to leave the state in which I was born, afraid to say and do what felt good in my body. I thought it was arrogant to expect more out of life and selfish to act anything less than content.

In January of 2019, I had enough of my own excuses and societal expectations. I packed a suitcase and moved west to California. I was terrified, riddled with guilt, sick to my stomach, shaking on the plane. But the trepidation of not knowing what would come next — for the first time ever — made the outcome even sweeter. I visited five continents in nine months and have since lived in Australia, Costa Rica, and Mexico.

I opened the door and welcomed vulnerability into my life. Then I pulled out a chair and sat her down so we could finally get to know each other.

My vulnerability is female and she’s not as scary as she seems. She looks like a little girl. Come to think of it, she’s me when I was a little girl. She keeps me on my toes and I keep her from getting into too much trouble.

She checks in often, usually calling unannounced around 2 AM. “Livi?” she whispers, eagerly. Her voice is chaste, yet shrill, and she has the Bostonian accent I managed to ditch in middle school. “What you doin?”

“Trying to sleep,” I moan.

“No, you’re not. You’re watchin’ Broad City.” Busted.

“I meeean,” she whines. “What are you doin’ with your life? I seeee you. You’re binge-watching the same show for the fourth time! I’m boreeed. What are we gonna dooo? You gotta get up. Get inspired. Don’t make me come ova there…”

To which, I hang up and do something about it.

Without this childlike wonder nagging me in the middle of the night, I never would have flown to Australia on a whim, or taken a six-week road trip with a stranger, or returned to Costa Rica when I wasn’t quite ready to let go. I never would have jumped off a forty-five-foot waterfall and I definitely wouldn’t have started this publication.

Spontaneity is the only incentive for staying young. As soon as you stop allowing yourself to be impulsive, vulnerability buggers off and you might as well start digging the grave.

Allowing myself to be vulnerable catapulted me into the most epic year of my life. So, what’s your point? Good question.

My point is that we’ve all got a story we’re afraid to tell because it’s too embarrassing, or revealing, or trivial, or offensive, or provocative. Whatever the hell you think it is, you’re wrong. I’ll tell you what it actually is. It’s a minuscule, massive, meaningless, magnificent moment in time that turned you into a living, breathing human being. If only there were more of them!

We walk around like robots, relying on the internet to “like” and validate us. We pride ourselves on having thousands of “friends” and don’t even flinch as we delete them with the click of a button.

Forget social media. Storytelling is the only real, genuine way to connect.

The very fact that your heart races at the thought of telling your story is the very reason you need to tell it. Vulnerability is what makes us human. It forces us to evaluate our fears, our temptations, and our reactions to them. It often uncovers baggage from the past that impacts the way in which we perceive and navigate the world today.

It plants a seed inside of us. Writing about our vulnerability and sharing these experiences with other people is the only way to germinate the seed and grow from within. What’s the point of taking a risk, or fighting for equality, or being yourself when it feels like no one understands you, or having that threesome, or telling off an enemy, or quitting your job to travel the world, if you can’t tell somebody about it?

Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage. It is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.

— Brené Brown

Submitting your story is a simple two-step process.

Step 1. Email your concept or draft to [email protected].

You can send your story by clicking “Share Draft Link” in the Medium editor, then copying and pasting the link into an email. You can also send it as a Word document attachment or simply written in the body of an email.

If you have an idea you’d like to run by me first or want to bounce thoughts off each other before you dive in, give me a shout! Once we catch up, I’ll add you as a writer of the publication. This will allow you to follow step two.

Step 2. Submit your final draft through the Medium editor.

Once you’ve finished writing and editing your story, click “Add to Publication.” This will give me access to the story and allow me to publish it on the platform once it’s ready.

I want our stories to be engaging and well-written, so I’ll fix any grammatical or spelling errors. If I think anything could be stronger, I’ll let you know. I promise to be open-minded and gentle with my critiques.

Not a Medium writer yet? No problem.

Anyone can sign up as a contributing writer. Create your free account and start writing your first story. You can easily leave it at that and still be published on this platform.

If you enter the Medium Partner Program, set up a Stripe account, and make your story eligible to be part of the metered paywall, you’ll receive the opportunity to get paid based on how long members spend reading and reacting to your story. Did you hear me? If your story blows up on the platform, you’ll get paid for it! This is why I encourage everyone to publish these stories under their own account.

You do not have to pay or become a member to write your story, but the monthly $5 Membership fee gives you unlimited access to Medium, as well as the ability to comment and engage with other writers. If you enjoy reading articles about news, politics, wellness, sex, mental health, relationships, etc, written by regular people rather than CNN, or if you want to build a following and become part of the Medium community, it’s worth every penny.

Back to the submission guidelines

I prefer first-person, first-hand accounts but who the hell am I kidding? I’ll accept almost anything out of pure joy that someone wants to contribute. With that said, if poetry is your strong suit, writing a fucking poem! As long as it’s in first-person and follows the theme of vulnerability, you’re golden.

I’m not looking for research-based, how-to articles. I want this platform to read like we’ve pulled the best pages from hundreds of diaries. Your diary included.

Once your story is perfect — and trust me, it will be — we’ll hit publish and set it free for the world to see and read and feel and rave about.

Got a story but don’t know how to write it??

Don’t leave! I want to work with you. I have almost five years of experience ghostwriting for a dating magazine out of Germany and I wrote an entire semester of sociology papers for my cousin so that she could finally graduate college. I won’t write your story for you but I’ll help you formulate a strong outline and give you the tools and confidence to bring yours to life. Shoot me an email at [email protected]. I can’t wait to connect.

I think that’s all for now. I’m so excited you’re here and I hope you’ll consider contributing to the publication. If nothing else, give it a follow so you can read everyone else’s most intimate and personal experiences while quietly judging us from a reasonable distance (of fear) away.

So, the question remains…