Macmillan suspends library ebook embargo
NBCC Award winners announced
Hachette jettisons Woody Allen
Coronavirus slamming literary conferences.
Bestselling author Clive Cussler has died.
Remaining RWA board members resign
Recent Fiction

Joshua, by Jordana Jacobs

Inside the ovaries of my husband’s grandmother, Sylvie, resided an egg the size of a grain of sand that would have been Hannah, my brilliant and accomplished mother-in-law.
Recent Poetry

Upper Peninsula, by Andrew Hemmert

If the places you go become you, / you must account for the drive-through / liquor store housed in the old carwash.
Recent CNF

The Iranian Blue-Glazed Pottery, by Lynn Mundell

The Iranian blue-glazed pottery sat on our parents’ shelves for years.
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Secrets in the Landscape

Secrets in the Landscape

by Cathy Herbert
The day he went into the hospital that last time, he told me he was not at all afraid of death. He did not believe in God.
I Have to Catch Fish so Jason Can Get Married

I Have to Catch Fish so Jason Can Get Married

by Matthew Sullivan
Jason has four children all born from different mothers. Child support will glean most of what he makes this fishing season. Does he know that? I won’t tell him.
Fragments of My Rape

Fragments of My Rape

by Janna Vought
It began / with the Stain. / The Stain, my Stain / red on a white bedspread / covered with bristles / of nylon thread.
Precision

Precision

by Carol Hamilton
Scarlatti’s sheet music lies / on the floor near the piano / and a catalog for later perusal / is sprawled in full color / near the computer.
Death Poems

Death Poems

by Laura Madeline Wiseman
I don’t know why death wants me or why death wakes me to press her bones against my backside. The ringing is incessant now. She has to know this.
Eyes of the Day

Eyes of the Day

by Tim Craven
I recall as kids when our obsession would / lead us into the thick backwoods / next to the decommissioned railway / line, our pockets stuffed with ribbons
Mrs. Shelton

Mrs. Shelton

by Michael C. Ahn
Even on weekends Mrs. Shelton wouldn’t leave my head. I thought of her on the bus, at my desk, and in my bed. I suspected my mother noticed me at times, gazing at or playing with my food.
Nightfall

Nightfall

by Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
translated by Jacqueline Michaud
The sun slept this evening in clouds of mounting gray / Tomorrow will bring the storm, and evening, and night

Fireside
Required Reading
*

The Geek’s Guide to the Writing Life: an Instructional Memoir for Prose Writers

by Stephanie Vanderslice

Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change

by Maggie Smith

The 2020 Pushcart Prize Winners

Edited by Bill Henderson

Winner of the National Book Award in Fiction

Trust Exercise

by Susan Choi

Debunking Copyright Myths

by Janet Fries and Jennifer Criss
from Copyright Alliance

Don’t Be a Jerk to Your Online Humor Editor

by Chris Monks
from Vulture

An Amputee Looks Through a Ring

by Dina Peone
from Poor Yorick

Becoming Dr. Seuss

by Brian Jay Jones

The Three Words That Almost Ruined Me As a Writer

by Sonya Huber
from Literary Hub

The O.Henry Award Winners

Edited by Laura Furman