Friday, August 31, 2012
Reaching Level 4: Eye on the Prize
Reaching Level 4: Eye on the Prize
Mastering your punctuation. Good article for Textbroker authors.
Mastering your punctuation. Good article for Textbroker authors.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The Missing Slate: Art & Literary Journal
The Missing Slate: Art & Literary Journal
Always look for the "Submissions" link when visiting on line journals, pubs, etc.
Always look for the "Submissions" link when visiting on line journals, pubs, etc.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Introducing Keith Moul, Photographer and Writer
Click on the image for a full view.
Keith is retired from the insurance business, and lives in Blaine, WA. He spends his time writing poems and traveling for photos. He recently published 2 chap books: The Grammar of Mind, with Blue & Yellow Dog Press and Beautiful Agitation, with Red Ochre Press. A poem written to accompany one of his photos was a 2010 Pushcart nominee. [Raymond Carver, one of my favorite, local authors, was also acknowledged by Pushcart. - Ed.]
Photo of Keith by Ianthe Moul
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Awarded The Golden Monkey today...
I've been awarded the Golden Monkey. The Golden Monkey is awarded to those contributors who have sent in over one hundred 100 word stories to the site (100 WORD STORIES), whether as a Weekly Challenge entry or a daily story on its own.
Swamp Biscuits and Tea
Swamp Biscuits and Tea
Swamp Biscuits and Tea is a quarterly journal of highly imaginative short fiction. Though magic realism is our primary focus, our journal strives to coalesce an interesting variety of styles and genres, of strangeness and familiarity, into a weird and wonderful gumbo that is uniquely our own. We seek out and publish only the best original stories, which (if they are to meet our ridiculously high standards) must be captivating, creative, technically sound, and memorable.
Swamp Biscuits and Tea is a quarterly journal of highly imaginative short fiction. Though magic realism is our primary focus, our journal strives to coalesce an interesting variety of styles and genres, of strangeness and familiarity, into a weird and wonderful gumbo that is uniquely our own. We seek out and publish only the best original stories, which (if they are to meet our ridiculously high standards) must be captivating, creative, technically sound, and memorable.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Speculative fiction - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Speculative fiction - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Do you write spec fiction? Definition from Wikipedia:
Speculative fiction is an umbrella term encompassing the more fantastical fiction genres, specifically science fiction, fantasy, horror, weird fiction, supernatural fiction, superhero fiction, utopian and dystopian fiction, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, and alternate history in literature as well as related static, motion, and virtual arts.[1]
Do you write spec fiction? Definition from Wikipedia:
Speculative fiction is an umbrella term encompassing the more fantastical fiction genres, specifically science fiction, fantasy, horror, weird fiction, supernatural fiction, superhero fiction, utopian and dystopian fiction, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, and alternate history in literature as well as related static, motion, and virtual arts.[1]
Monday, August 20, 2012
The Speculative Edge
The Speculative Edge
My story, Contest, was rejected today. I read a sample issue of The Speculative Edge and thought my story fit their guidelines, but I was wrong. The editor said "I however liked your writing style and have been looking for more flash fiction like this. If you have any other speculative stories around this length (300-800 words) I would be happy to take a look. If you have a couple that might fit, feel free to send me two or three."
Contest
The competition came to our little town every two years. Sponsored by the largest, information diffusion and outbreak detection center in the Northwest. The prize this year was ten thousand credits and a ramjet shuttle trip to Mumbai. Several of us had entered in previous years, but the group of us that hung around together never won, although Debbie placed second two years before.
We inserted our temporary ID tag and took the mover to the deck, three levels down. We moved into the auditorium and took our seats in front of the work stations. Anticipation was high, and we tried to appear nonchalant, knowing that our group were so close that everyone knew how the other’s felt.
The invigilator spoke to us for a few minutes, laying out the strict rules of engagement. We heard very precise and deliberate instructions, and a no-nonsense sternness painted everything else, including the invigilator’s suit, her glasses and accessories.
Three strangers excused themselves and left the auditorium. They offered some feeble excuses, but we all knew they had lost their nerve after sizing the rest of us up, and taking a peek at some of the equipment we brought with us.
Each of us were to have a turn, then as necessary, each of us would offer suggestions for improvements, deletions, methods of operation and so on.
A woman named Mary went first. She showed her device, put it through its paces, and running it full speed, and over-clocked, without any external cooling or venting. We were amazed, and Mary gloated. Don was next with his apparatus. It was almost at the limit of the size allowed, but it performed beautifully, and no one could detect any output errors at first inspection. Debbie was next. She based her appliance on an older, laser model she had shown before. This one was a little different. It was faster, seemed to pull power out of the air, and was extremely prolific. We didn’t have time to run any quality checks on the output, but we trusted that it did a good job. Billy Bob was next in order to demo his contrivance. He pulled it out of a sleek, fluted, nanotube case and plugged in a small, hydrogen fuel cell. It hummed for a few seconds and a flexible, oleophobic screen and lens slid out of the side to project a hundred or so lines of text on the far wall of the room. We all could see the text of the piece of science fiction he was working on. He fed his device a few more parameters, shut off the granny filters, and pressed a few buttons before a second piece of fiction was displayed on the wall. His optional hard copy device supplied a copy of the second piece for each of us to read and edit. There were no questions or comments. The Invigilator appeared, smiled, shook Billy Bob’s hand and awarded him the Grand Prix.
The winning piece of fiction was published within days. As previously agreed and attested to, Billy Bob was not allowed simultaneous submissions, so he and his machine were taken to the shredder, nearby.
My story, Contest, was rejected today. I read a sample issue of The Speculative Edge and thought my story fit their guidelines, but I was wrong. The editor said "I however liked your writing style and have been looking for more flash fiction like this. If you have any other speculative stories around this length (300-800 words) I would be happy to take a look. If you have a couple that might fit, feel free to send me two or three."
Contest
The competition came to our little town every two years. Sponsored by the largest, information diffusion and outbreak detection center in the Northwest. The prize this year was ten thousand credits and a ramjet shuttle trip to Mumbai. Several of us had entered in previous years, but the group of us that hung around together never won, although Debbie placed second two years before.
We inserted our temporary ID tag and took the mover to the deck, three levels down. We moved into the auditorium and took our seats in front of the work stations. Anticipation was high, and we tried to appear nonchalant, knowing that our group were so close that everyone knew how the other’s felt.
The invigilator spoke to us for a few minutes, laying out the strict rules of engagement. We heard very precise and deliberate instructions, and a no-nonsense sternness painted everything else, including the invigilator’s suit, her glasses and accessories.
Three strangers excused themselves and left the auditorium. They offered some feeble excuses, but we all knew they had lost their nerve after sizing the rest of us up, and taking a peek at some of the equipment we brought with us.
Each of us were to have a turn, then as necessary, each of us would offer suggestions for improvements, deletions, methods of operation and so on.
A woman named Mary went first. She showed her device, put it through its paces, and running it full speed, and over-clocked, without any external cooling or venting. We were amazed, and Mary gloated. Don was next with his apparatus. It was almost at the limit of the size allowed, but it performed beautifully, and no one could detect any output errors at first inspection. Debbie was next. She based her appliance on an older, laser model she had shown before. This one was a little different. It was faster, seemed to pull power out of the air, and was extremely prolific. We didn’t have time to run any quality checks on the output, but we trusted that it did a good job. Billy Bob was next in order to demo his contrivance. He pulled it out of a sleek, fluted, nanotube case and plugged in a small, hydrogen fuel cell. It hummed for a few seconds and a flexible, oleophobic screen and lens slid out of the side to project a hundred or so lines of text on the far wall of the room. We all could see the text of the piece of science fiction he was working on. He fed his device a few more parameters, shut off the granny filters, and pressed a few buttons before a second piece of fiction was displayed on the wall. His optional hard copy device supplied a copy of the second piece for each of us to read and edit. There were no questions or comments. The Invigilator appeared, smiled, shook Billy Bob’s hand and awarded him the Grand Prix.
The winning piece of fiction was published within days. As previously agreed and attested to, Billy Bob was not allowed simultaneous submissions, so he and his machine were taken to the shredder, nearby.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Another poem by Donal Mahoney
The Honey Room
Brother Al, in his hood,
is out in his field
making love to his bees.
From my room I can see him
move through his hives
the way people should move
among people.
The bees give him gold and the gold
turns orange in the jars
that he sells in a room
near the door of the abbey.
The Honey Room, everyone calls it.
Besides Brother Al, only I
go into that room full of honey.
I go in there and bend
and look through the jars
on the shelves and the sills
till there in the orange I see Sue
standing straight
in a field of her own
with a smile
for our garland of children.
Visit Donal's site at: http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com/ for more of his work.
I initially published one of Donal's poems on 20 July, this year on 5thCoffee.
I initially published one of Donal's poems on 20 July, this year on 5thCoffee.
Friday, August 17, 2012
A new photo by Eleanor Bennett
Click on image for full size.
This is another of Eleanor's photos, rich in color, and delicate texture.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Craft: The Magic Keys to Tight Prose « Flash Fiction Chronicles
Craft: The Magic Keys to Tight Prose « Flash Fiction Chronicles
"When you tighten your prose, you want to eliminate a lot of the words commonly used in speech, but which can clutter up your writing. “Just” is one of those words. So are “still,” “that,” “which,” “had,” “who,” “actually,” “really,” “quite,” and “perhaps.” Other words to consider jettisoning are “was” and “is” in combination with a verb such as “run.” Example, I was running is stronger when phrased as I ran…and uses fewer words ."
-by Gill Hoffs
"When you tighten your prose, you want to eliminate a lot of the words commonly used in speech, but which can clutter up your writing. “Just” is one of those words. So are “still,” “that,” “which,” “had,” “who,” “actually,” “really,” “quite,” and “perhaps.” Other words to consider jettisoning are “was” and “is” in combination with a verb such as “run.” Example, I was running is stronger when phrased as I ran…and uses fewer words ."
-by Gill Hoffs
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Poetry course at Stanford U.
Texts for on line course:
(Required) Ilya Kaminsky, Dancing in Odessa (ISBN 1932195122)
(Required) Bruce Smith, Devotions (ISBN 0226764354)
(Required) Tracy K. Smith, Life on Mars (ISBN 1555975844)
(Required) Louise Gluck, A Village Life (ISBN 0374532435)
(Required) Adrienne Rich, The Dream of a Common Language: Poems 1974-1977 (ISBN 0820333689)
(Required) Jericho Brown, Please (ISBN 1930974795)
(Required) Tony Hoagland, Real Sofistikashun (ISBN 1555974554
Monday, August 13, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Submission Guidelines | The Rocky Mountain Review
Submission Guidelines | The Rocky Mountain Review Non fiction submissions.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Short film
Bio: Florence B is from London but is exploring North America right now. She makes very short, analog avant-garde films.
I told Florence: "You know,
Florence, there is not a lot of there, there, but Car is so unique, and unexpected, I will
put it up as soon as..."
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
www.subtopian.com
www.subtopian.com
Founded by author Trevor Richardson, The Subtopian Magazine is a Portland-based magazine that looks for fiction, non-fiction, poetry and art. We look for work that deals with the issue of our impending future. Stories that express a view of society in between the two extremes are given top consideration, but we’ll also publish dystopian fiction and, if you’re brave enough, a story describing utopia.
Founded by author Trevor Richardson, The Subtopian Magazine is a Portland-based magazine that looks for fiction, non-fiction, poetry and art. We look for work that deals with the issue of our impending future. Stories that express a view of society in between the two extremes are given top consideration, but we’ll also publish dystopian fiction and, if you’re brave enough, a story describing utopia.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Another brilliant photo by Eleanor Leonne Bennett
Click the image for full size:
The image is titled: "Looking for Light"
See Eleanor's site: http://eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com/
Eleanor has given me permission to "...include her images as I see fit." (7/22/2012)
See Eleanor's site: http://eleanorleonnebennett.zenfolio.com/
Eleanor has given me permission to "...include her images as I see fit." (7/22/2012)
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
New Stories to be published in a few days.
LINGUISTIC EROSION < http://linguisticerosion.com > is publishing "The Wisest Man in Wyoming" and it will appear on the front page on 8/8/12 and they will publish "Stovepipe" on 8/13.
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