Authors protest Amazon’s e-book return policy
A new option for copyright disputes
Freelance is no longer free
That’s one way to research a murder mystery
Recent Fiction

Wandering Boy, by Jim Gish—We did not have to turn off the radio. My father told the mechanics, Ron and Pete, that it had a burned out tube. They just nodded. They knew better.

Recent Poetry

If it Wasn’t for You, by Bill Ratner—I’d be a baby without skin, a parrot / without a little soap-shaped food cake, / a truck driver out of a job.

Recent CNF

Don’t Let Them See You, by Anonymous—I will soon be pitching a debut novel, and I want to know how much of an issue my age will be to agents and publishers.

New in the Bistro (our blog)

There’s No Such Thing as Writer’s Block, by Wendy Russ—Writer’s block. It’s that phrase we speak tremulously to explain why we aren’t writing or why what we are writing sounds like a page that fell out of a 13-year-old’s diary. It’s a concept that wraps up, in two words, every horrible insecurity we have as writers.

Orchard Avocation

Orchard Avocation

by William Ford
I’m a laid off mooch / of a prof using up fuel / to cut grass close / around apple trees / where voles eat roots / and breed and breed / deep in the grass, hidden / from fox and hawks.
Memories of David Foster Wallace

Memories of David Foster Wallace

Following is a transcript of a memorial service held for David Foster Wallace on 26 October 2008 at Underwood Park in Normal, Illinois.
Roadtrip

Roadtrip

by Jane Flett
I lean forward to your ear, touch my lips to the point where the hair curls over your lobe, and I wonder about falling inside. I purse them like a kiss and I whisper road trip.
Christine Elizabeth Eldin, 1966-2012

Christine Elizabeth Eldin, 1966-2012

by Stephen Parrish
Aspiring writer, loving mother, and dear friend Chris Eldin took her life at age 46 after a long and baffling absence from public view.
A True-Begotten Father

A True-Begotten Father

By Steve Edwards
I see him on a cold blue February night: He steps onto the back porch to drop a garbage sack by the bin and my mother pushes the door shut behind him, turns the lock.
A Proof

A Proof

by Andrew McCall
My father does not believe / That the small things accrete, / That the infinitesimals / Lean together to form a whole.
Freelance Your Way to Poverty

Freelance Your Way to Poverty

by Con Chapman
There is a charity in Boston that helps the homeless by publishing a newspaper to which they contribute articles and poems.
Animals

Animals

by Robley Wilson
How old was I then? I was in sixth grade, which meant I was twelve. That was another part of my uncle’s argument: I was “old enough” for the fights.
Give Me Your Wife

Give Me Your Wife

by Tony Hoagland
because / I like her. I like / the signs of wear on her; / the way her breasts have dropped a little with the years; / the weathered evidence of joy around her eyes.
Bessie Arrowood’s Circle of Life

Bessie Arrowood’s Circle of Life

by Karen Paul Holmes
There she goes again, spinning / her wheelchair ’round the nursing home. / Two years, five thousand laps. So far.
It all began around a campfire…

Beautiful language

is meant to be heard as well as read, and in fact words were vocalized eons before they were ever committed to clay or parchment. Storytelling began around campfires. We seek prose and poetry that continue the tradition.

Contributor Spotlight:

by Judith Waller Carroll

How to submit to
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Open Contests

Best Writing Contests of 2022, recommended by Reedsy

Lascaux Vol 9

by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review