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Write for Heartumental: For Those Who Dare to Stir the Pot

Let’s get something straight — we’re not just a feel-good recipe blog preaching about superfoods and sunshine. At Heartumental, founded by none other than Xendris Zolmuth (yes, the culinary rebel himself), we see food for what it really is: soul-shaking, sometimes messy, always human. Located at 1216 Simpson Street, Peoria, Illinois, we’ve built a kitchen of ideas that work from 9 to 5 — and spill over into every waking thought for the truly inspired.

If you believe that a meal isn’t just about nourishing a body but about reclaiming a moment from chaos — if you know the difference between fluff writing and a voice that resonates — then this is your invitation. We’re looking for contributors not afraid to land an opinion with the force of a butcher’s cleaver. Pitch flawed truths. Expose tired food cliches. Send us that piece you’ve buried in the Notes app, dripping with potential and defiance.

Let’s be honest. Everyone has content. Few have pulse. Heartumental was never meant to be palatable. We’re flavorful, fire-seared, and occasionally underdone. Just the way great writing should be.

What Is Heartumental — Really?

Heartumental is where culinary pulse meets perceptive taste. You won’t find us chasing the latest viral snack unless it says something about the way we live, consume, or ignore ourselves. Founded by Zolmuth as part culinary laboratory, part existential roadside diner, our digital archive ranges from wholesome cooking foundations to unapologetic global flavor inspirations, and we won’t apologize for the contradictions.

We recognize that food can be a sacred act — but we’re jaded enough to know it can also be a distraction. That’s the dichotomy we explore here. You bring your sharpest fork. We’ll supply the cutting board.

Who Should (and Should Not) Write for Us

  • You should write for us if you cook with your scars.
  • You should write for us if your writing can taste like cardamom or gasoline, depending on the point.
  • You should write for us if you think hacks need heart, not just hustle — we do love a good meal prep efficiency hack, but only if it saves more than five dull minutes of life.
  • Don’t write for us if your voice is airbrushed and keyword-stuffed. We’ll smell it from the subject line.

We want conscious writers. Ranting writers. Those who can take a spoonful of memory, frustration, or spice and distill it into a story people remember. And yes, we want pieces that explore the heartbreak of forgotten ingredients as much as the mechanics of heartful ingredient pairings.

Topics We Crave

If you can tackle any of these without sounding like a grocery store flyer, we might just fall in love:

  • How flavor connects — or disconnects — cultures
  • Essays on food shame, family expectations, or culinary classism
  • Radical reinterpretations of cooking “rules” (burned it on purpose? Show us why)
  • Underappreciated ingredients that deserve a comeback
  • The intersection of silence and simmering (yes, poetry counts)
  • Cooking as rebellion, survival, redemption

Dive deep into what we live and breathe by exploring our Insightful Reads or the paradoxes within Values in Action. We don’t expect you to match the tone — we expect you to raise it.

Our Submission Guidelines (Don’t Pretend You’ll Read These Later)

  • Length: Aim for 800–1,200 words. No filler. Just meaning.
  • Voice: Yours. Not AI, not your favorite food influencer. Yours.
  • Originality: Unpublished. We check. We’re not new.
  • File format: Google Doc or pasted in email. No attachments titled “finalv7-final-FINAL”.
  • Bio: 1–2 lines. We don’t care what you’ve published. We care why you’re writing this.

Submit your pitch or full piece to [email protected] and include “Submission – [Your Piece Title]” in the subject line. Only serious voices playing playful games with culinary truth need apply.

Pay, Perks, and All That

No, we’re not a culinary conglomerate. But yes, we respect our contributors — with money and with space to speak. Competitive pay per accepted article. Credit where it’s due. Mentorship if you want it. Critique if you can take it. And a chance to be featured in our community newsletter and future Future Build collaborations.

We’re less interested in traffic boosts than in soul boosts. If your words land like coriander cracked on a mortar, expect readers to take notice. And maybe a few to wince — good.

The Heartumental Ethos (If You Can Call It That)

We get it — branding is noise. But some ideals back up our flavor, and we’re not ashamed of what propels us:

Convinced Yet? Neither Were We

But here’s the deal: something brought you to this page. Maybe you’ve already started writing in your head. Maybe you’re scowling at the tone. That’s okay. We’re not trying to make you comfortable — we’re trying to make you think.

If you’re still here, you’re probably one of us.

Submit your truth at [email protected], and come see what brews when brave writers enter the kitchen. Or bookmark this page and pretend you’ll circle back. We’ll be here, stirring something smoky and strange.

Return to create-inspire-connect when you’re ready.

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