Word Flood

This piece was originally published in Yemassee Journal, Issue 20.2

“Self-expression must pass into communication for fulfillment.” –Pearl S. Buck

Her words sank.  Not quickly like an anchor, or with a splash like a rock.  Instead as she spoke, her words fluttered in the air, held afloat by the humidity.  They tickled earlobes, in a language half a world away. Pieces of ideas curled with the wind among tendrils of jasmine, leaving a heavy scent wafting through the city.  Nouns and verbs together toyed with bodhi leaves, pulling them along as they flitted to the ground.  They landed gently on the Chao Phraya, quivering on the surface of the river and leaving ripples too small to be noticed.  Amongst water hyacinth and coconuts they floated, gathering silt and absorbing the wetness of the city.  In this way, the words gained weight and began to drown.

Before long, they swam in the wake of snakefish and nestled between the scales of water monitors.  The more weight they gathered, the more they were immersed, the harder it was to see them. The light had trouble reaching them between algae and waste and even apsaras would be hard pressed to find them.  They landed on the river bed, stirring up the bottom and throwing silt into an already murky darkness.  Covered.

And soon all her pen could do was draw the curves of the paths her words had taken, as if trying to retrace their steps.  Searching between the roots of ficus trees and the stamens of hibiscus for where she had misplaced them.  A world made of tendrils and bubbles, floating in a silent and wordless black and white.  Sea horses and leaves and turtles all swirled with a silent current.  Owls became nok hoo, knock, who? and lost their edges and their names.  Questions were gone and statements no longer made sense.  The world churned as if everything were from the point of view of those lost words, staring up at far away surface of a river that always was moving.

And then there was a flood.  The water seeped slowly, climbing up through sewers and along the streets.  The river rose past dams and sandbags bringing pythons into houses and buoys into cars.  It brought everything from its depths, decay, sand, and her words, which huddled against a curb and waited for the waters to recede.  After months, the river left, burrowing back into its banks but leaving its refuse to dry in the sun.  The sediment cracked and caked.  Mosquito larvae dried like tiny raisins.  The decomposing river sludge made banana trees greener and left seedling strangler figs sprouting along sidewalks.  And, as if growing out from cracked pavement, her words dried, too, finally able to breathe and soak up a little bit of the warm winter sun.

Call for Submissions: Cake & Grapes

Another new(to me)! magazine that’s open for submissions: Cake & Grapes!  With a name like that, how can you not submit?  Check them out.

We at Cake & Grapes believe that art is anyone’s game. 

That’s why we’re opening our doors to you: to give you a chance. Flash fiction, short fiction, epic poetry, photographs, sestinas, sketches, films, paintings, sculptures, gifs, papier mache hats – we want them all. 

Show us what you’re made of, and we’ll show the world.

GUIDELINES

We don’t want to hamper your creativity; we just need to lay down some basic rules.

Prose
Short fiction, flash fiction, and non-fiction are all accepted. All prose submissions must be less than 2,500 words in length. Exceptions will only be made for essays that are relevant and irreverent.

Poetry
If humorous, epic poems will be tolerated. Otherwise, it’s fair game.

Artwork
As this is an online publication, we will only be able to accept photographs or scans of your artwork. Please be sure that your work is well-lit. We will consider original comics, sketches, sculptures, paintings, graphic designs, gifs, – you name it – for publication.

Video
All video submissions must be less than 10 minutes in length. We’re not the FCC, so no worries there.

Feel like you fit within our loose rubric?

SUBMIT!

Inspiration: Writing that Escapes the Page

The Materiality of Meaning: the Format of Words on the Page

            It has long been the realm of poets to think about line breaks and format on the page.  There is a myth that for prose, the words should speak for themselves.  We have the idea that prose writers who manipulate how they put their words on the page somehow undermine the meaning of the words, as if calling attention to the fact that they are on a page takes away their power.  When poets think about the way they format their work on the page, they are being artful, purposeful, but when prose writers do it, it is a gimmick, a trick.  It’s as if readers of prose are meant to mind meld directly with the words.  We imagine that the way the prose is experienced does not matter.  This is not the case.  Whether we are reading words in straight lines on a page, in text boxes, with line breaks, wrapped around images, on an ebook reader or online, our physical experience of the words matter.  It is not true that we feel the words as completely separate from the physical medium through which they are presented to us.  Because of this, we, as writers, must be more cognizant of the ways in which we are offering our narratives.

            We are living in a time when the possible modes for storytelling are more numerous than ever before.  It used to be that recitation, handwritten manuscripts, and books off a printing press were the only media available to writers to disseminate their works.  The forms that these works took followed the physical limitations of these media.  Works meant to be recited were written with meter and rhyme, so as to be as easy as possible to remember.  Books from a printing press used uniform fonts and lines to conform to the constraints of the machine.  Straying from this form was expensive and difficult.  Even adding images or color consumed near impossible time and money.

            With the advent of the digital age, however, the possibilities for publishing and storytelling have exploded.  This explosion means there is also a myriad of ways that a reader can experience a text.  Audio books, Prezis, digital storytelling, hypertexts, and ebooks all offer new possibilities for narratives to be presented.  Because of these new technologies, we can see the fallacy of the direct experience of the word.  A book put in each of these formats takes on new meaning and affords the reader altered ways to encounter the text, even as the words stay the same.   It becomes apparent, then, that reading is an experience that is dictated, at least in part, by the physical choices that authors make concerning format and medium.  In this way, we can see the importance of the material medium that a writer chooses.  The writer can now be a painter, a sculptor, and a poet all in the same work.

            Even if our work remains in traditional ink and paper form, the options in terms of choices a writer can enact are plentiful.  We are no longer beholden to the constraints of traditional printing presses, but can now digitally format our words to be printed in a diverse array of forms.  Writers can choose varying fonts and font sizes.  We can include images or sculpt the ways our words look on the page.   We can choose the way that different ideas get juxtaposed or separated.  We can change color, font or style midsentence, or even midword.  Rather than being automatically a gimmick, these devices can be used to add a more dimension and new layers of meaning to texts.

            Take, for example, Kamau Brathwaite’s essay “Trench Town Rock.”  In his introduction, to the essay, John D’Agata writes:

 I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a ‘performative essay,’ but I know that there are texts that are more profound because of the arguments they try to demonstrate rather than merely state … that simultaneously enact the concepts they represent… Brathwaite therefore emphasizes the experience of reading his texts, encouraging us to find alternative paths into their meanings: visually, aurally, authentically participatory (D’Agata, 599).

 Brathwaite uses an array of devices in his essay to make the reading more experiential.  He uses images, changes the sizes and fonts of his texts, uses varying margins, italics, and bold type.  It is clear that he was purposeful in his choices.  The some sections of the essay are scattered and disjointed, while others read like traditional poems, news reports, or transcripts. The format of each of these sections visibly shows the differences. The effects of these choices on the reader are palpable.   Instead of reading an account of the deaths, the reader can feel the chaotic, disjointed feeling that being in Jamaica at the time must have been.  The reader’s sense of the order of things is disrupted, leaving her with the feeling of lawlessness and turmoil that mirrored Brathwaite’s Jamaica. In this way, the reader experiences the feelings more directly than words following a traditional format would have allowed.

            The ways that a reader encounters words on a page will change the experience of those words.  Different fonts can be used to show different voices.  The words telling the story of a journey can show the journey in addition to telling it, following the route along the page.  Two versions of similar stories can be juxtaposed to show the differences in perspectives.  Different colors or fonts could be used to give the reader different feelings.  Text that is askew on the page can be used to literally show a skewed point of view.   Rather than being interesting effects and ways to play with words or experiment, current technologies make it possible for these new layers of meaning to be the norm.

            It is indeed true that form follows function.  Thus far, writing has taken a very specific form, following the function of the technologies available to us.  But is it true that linear, left-to-right, uniform font on sequential pages should be the default form in which narratives are experienced?  In a postmodern world, where texts are becoming ever more disjointed, we must ask the question if it serves the purposes of the individual text to be written in a linear manner.  It may be true that this form is useful and logical for narratives that follow a traditional linear structure.  However, for works that do not follow this narrative structure, the form of linear font on sequential pages does not follow the function.  As the technology to shape the experience of the reader becomes more and more accessible, writers have more of an obligation to take these possibilities into account when making decisions about their work.  It should not be assumed that all, or even most works are best suited for traditional formats.  Not all narratives or experiences or essays follow traditional, linear structures, and their formats should adapt to the experience.  Now that we are released from the technological constraints of traditional printing, writers need to let go of the constraints in format that came along with that.

              It is not the case, of course, that all writing from here on out should be in non-traditional formats.  Rather, writers should make conscious decisions about how their work looks on the page and take into consideration the effects of those decisions on the reader. We should let go of the myth of the spiritual, non physical power of our words and understand that they are experienced through the choices we make about format and medium.  More and more, the decisions about such things fall into the hands of writers.  Rather than buying into the idea that the power and meaning of our words lies only in putting one letter after another, we should allow ourselves to utilize the full potential available to us by making thoughtful, conscious decisions not only about the words we chose, but also how we chose to send those words out into the world.

Work Cited

Brathwaite, Kamau. “Trench Town Rock.” The Lost Origins of the Essay. Ed. John D’Agata. St.Paul, MN: Graywolf Press, 2009. Print.

Sharing: The Widow’s Pension from Postcards from Thursday

I was completely enthralled with this poem by Alison over at Postcards from Thursday and just needed to share it.  Enjoy!

 

The Widow’s Pension

A dead finch in each hand,
bile and memory heaving out,
years, decades of speaking loudly
and weeping into book binding,
though she once ached to be left
with scratches along her ears,
to be the vandal, to touch
the bottom of the river.

She’s lived her life one miracle short,
but, for herself, she will say at least this—
she has seen beauty in a quilt of torn blouses,
found that it’s the slow pour that spills over.

She trampled bees on the night when she woke
and left that bed. No leaf of Eve, no more blessed thing.
Radiant is all her grayness.

 

Alison, who writes Postcards from Thursday, also includes original photography on her blog.  The above photo is one of her creations as well.  Check out her moving photography and poetry.  It’s well worth a look!

Call for Submissions: Flash Frontier

 

Submissions now open

In 2013 we are reading and publishing on a bi-monthly basis. Each issue follows a theme. See our Themes and Announcements pages for details. Also see Archives to read past issues and get a feel for stories we publish.

February 2014: one way (submitted by Brendan Way and among the top five themes from the winter 2013 comp)

April 2014: scattered (submitted by Bruce Costello and among the top five themes from the winter 2013 comp)

What we like

We are looking for variety and originality. Tickle us, haunt us, gobsmack us. Choose your words carefully and leave our readers wanting more. And do it in 250 or less (not including title).

Please submit only previously unpublished works. If the work has appeared in any other print or electronic journal, we consider it published. If it has appeared on a writing workshop site, we will consider it but please do let us know, and we expect Flash Frontierto be credited with first publication if your work appears in our pages.

We love original art in all forms — colourful and daring, muted and understated. We’ll choose art each month which reflects the theme.

How to submit

Stories

  • Electronic submissions only. Submit submissions in an email to: flashfrontier [at] gmail [dot] com
  • Write Submission: month / theme (that is, name the theme, as in: Submission: January / Frontiers) in the subject line.
  • Place your story in the body of the email. No attachments, please. If your story requires unusual formatting, the editors may ask for an different kind of document to confirm your formatting requirements.
  • Include the title of your story, your name, and the whole text in the email.
  • Please format your story by using double spacing between paragraphs and no indent on paragraph beginnings.
  • Provide a brief biographical sketch (approx. 60 words) about yourself that can be included on our Contributor page. You do not have to include your bio if you have submitted to us before.
  • Submissions are due by the last day of the month for the following month’s issue. Each issue will appear mid-month.
  • Remember to count: 251 won’t be accepted.
Art
  • If you are submitting art, please send your work(s) as an attachment. Provide a title for the piece and tell us where the artwork originated. Artists may send up to five pieces for consideration at once.
  • Please provide a brief commentary (approx. 60 words) about your art submission.
  • Provide a brief biographical sketch (approx. 60 words) about yourself that can be included on our Contributor page. You do not have to include your bio if you have submitted to us before.

Payment and Rights

  • We do not pay authors for their work, but there will be prizes awarded quarterly and at the conclusion of our first year.
  • An author must own full copyright of the work submitted.
  • First rights revert to author upon publication, although Flash Frontier reserves the right to anthologize material originally published here in electronic or printed format.

Please direct any questions to us at flashfrontier [at] gmail [dot] com

Bursting out of You or Showing Up?: How to Romance the Muse

 

There’s so much to Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life that I feel like I should be reading it more slowly. Today I read 30% of it in one sitting and I could barely contain all the thoughts that it brought up in me.  I sat in the airport and both laughed and cried in the short time that I read.  Other passengers stared.   The ideal way to read it would be to read just one page or one section a day, and ruminate on and write about that one bit.  It’s so dense with wisdom, with feeling.  It’s the kind of book needs to be chewed, tossed on the tongue and savored.  It needs to be digested and felt.

The part I found most encouraging in the sections that I read was Annie’s descriptions of her own writing processes.  I see quotes like Bukowski’s “If it doesn’t come bursting out of you, don’t do it,” and sometimes feel that I am on the wrong track.  There are days when I sit in front of the computer screen and need to walk around the room, have a coffee, make myself a sandwich, have another coffee, and still it’s like pulling teeth to get anything out.  Some days I know that all that I wrote that day will be useless in the final draft.  In terms of word count for the work I’m wrestling with, I’ve done nothing all day.  I think about Bukowski’s quote and think about how it’s not bursting out of me, it’s not even coming out when I’m trying.  Maybe the muse isn’t smiling on me. Maybe I’m not chosen.  Maybe I’m just a fraud thinking I can write when really I can’t.

But Dillard experiences the same frustration.  The same feeling that it’s coming too slowly – or not at all.  She also makes her two cups of coffee and “fools around all day” when she’s trying to write.  The honesty and authenticity with which Dillard writes about her writing process and her struggle brings tears to my eyes, inspires me, and soothes my soul.

She writes, “Even when passages seemed to come easily, as though I were copying from a folio held open by smiling angels, the manuscript revealed the usual signs of struggle-bloodstains, teethmarks, gashes, and burns.”

Writing isn’t easy.  It’s a process, a life.  For most of my writing life, I followed Bukowski’s advice.  I only wrote when I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t.  I waited, passively, for Calliope to smile upon me, to fill my chest and my mind until my hands couldn’t write fast enough.  In the last ten years, all this waiting got me maybe fifty pages of writing that I was proud of.  Sure, when I was bursting, my writing was good.  But I made a promise to myself that I would no longer wait for my genius to show up, but I would work at it.  And I’ve written the same amount of work that I’m happy with in the past six months as I had in the ten years prior.

Yeah, sometimes it’s wrestling.  And sometimes nothing comes out.  Sometimes what comes out is terrible.  But showing up means that Calliope visits more often.  It means that I have time set aside in my day to work, to think about writing. It’s not as easy as passively waiting for the muse, but the more often I show up, the more often it comes bursting out of me.

 

*This post is part of a series on the craft of writing called Reading for Writers.  This series examines a variety of authors to ascertain the choices they’ve made in their writing and the effects of those choices so that we as writers can make better decisions in our own writing. May contain affiliate links.

Flecks of Inspiration to Ring in the New Year

 

 

These are a few things that I’ve found inspiring over the years, some ideas that have helped me cook up some creativity, punched procrastination in the face, and take a battering ram to writer’s block.  I hope you find them as helpful as I do.

Creativity as Play: John Cleese on what it takes to be creative

Look Up More: The shared experience of absurdity and how it comes to play on storytelling

Cat Exploded? Make Good Art: Neil Gaiman on the creative process

A Vessel for Genius: Elizabeth Gilbert on how to talk to your muse

 

Creative Commons love to Jon Delorey for the photo!

Call for Submissions: Permafrost Magazine

Permafrost Magazine is now accepting submissions.

Permafrost Magazine is the farthest north literary journal for writing and the arts.   Founded in 1977, Permafrost is housed at the University of Alaska Fairbanks MFA program and run by dedicated creative writing graduate students. We publish a winter print issue as well as a spring online issue, both of which feature compelling poetry, fiction, and literary nonfiction by established writers and new voices alike.  In Alaska, our unique environment shapes our perspective, but Permafrost seeks original voices from all over the world.

Submit

Regular submissions for the print edition are read between September 1 and December 15. All pieces receive three independent readings from our staff of volunteer readers, all of whom are graduate students or faculty in the English Department at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. The average turn-around for regular submissions is approximately three months.

If your submission arrives after our December 15 deadline, it will then be considered for the May online edition.  The deadline for submissions to the online edition is April 15.

You can submit by mail or online here: http://permafrostmag.submishmash.com.  Please note that we are charging a $3 fee for submitting online, which is comparable to the cost of postage and mailing materials and helps offset some of the journal’s expenses.

To submit by mail, send to:
Permafrost
University of Alaska Fairbanks
Department of English
P.O. Box 755720
Fairbanks, AK 99775-0640

ALWAYS ENCLOSE AN SASE.
Your work will not be returned or responded to without one.

Contributors will receive one copy of the issue in which their work appears. Additional copies can be purchased at the reduced price of $5.

Email submissions will not be read.

PROSE (FICTION AND NON-FICTION): Typed and double-spaced with author’s name, address, phone, and email at the top of page one, with each page after numbered with name at top. We welcome prose submissions of less than 8,000 words (more if it’s really great). Notify us if you’d like your manuscript returned. Always include an SASE.

POETRY: Typed with author’s name, address, phone, and email at the top of each page. Poetry does NOT need to be double spaced; please submit it as you would like it to appear. Poems of more than one page should have the author’s last name, along with page number, at the top of each following pages. No length maximums, as we like the idea of publishing something truly epic. Please do not submit more than five poems at once. Include an SASE.

ARTWORK: Photographs, drawings, cover art, etc. will be considered.

Don’t be discouraged if your first submission is not accepted, and please specify if your submission is simultaneous.Permafrost also sponsors literary contests for fiction and poetry.

Call for Submissions: The Round

The Round is a journal of literary and visual arts based at Brown University in Providence, RI.

Published biannually, The Round accepts submissions in all mediums and from all sources, inside and outside the Brown community.

The Round is happy to accept submissions of both literary and visual art. In the past we have published prose, poetry, plays, and translations as well as paintings, drawings, prints, and photography.

Submissions are accepted on a rolling basis. Typically, for the fall issue, we read through October, and for the spring issue, through March. Issues are published at the end of each semester in December and May.

To submit, please send us a brief bio and your mailing address, if not on Brown’s campus, along with your work. Written submissions should be sent in .rtf, .doc, or .docx format. Please send visual art as high quality .jpg images and include a piece’s title, medium, and dimensions.

 

Please email all work to theroundmagazine@gmail.com .

 

Call for Submissions: smoking glue gun

In my search for litmags, I came across this funky little gem and really loved the feel of it.  I wanted to pass it on to all of you:

 

SMOKING GLUE GUN IS ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS

we approach, handle & care for poems as pieces of art.

we publish work that is fresh &/or human, flashy &/or subtle.

we accept original/unpublished submissions in all forms: text, sound, video, image, hybrid, etc.

please submit 4-8 pieces (video under 10 minutes) through submishmash once during each reading period.

(accepted formats include .doc, .docx, pdf, jpeg, audio/video able to be played in itunes).

all rights revert to the author[s] &/or artist[s] upon publication, though we do ask that smoking glue gun is acknowledged as the original publisher if subsequently published. we accept simultaneous submissions, but please let us know if your work is accepted elsewhere.