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.
Cheerleaders Practicing in Eveleth MN
by David Salner
In the North Country, there are blues so perfect / you want to tear your heart out to be alive / and sober.
Boys’ Life/Rough Frontiers
by Douglas W. Milliken
The only work he could find was at the truckers’ paradise on the north side of town where the main drag reverts into a numbered highway.
Follow Me
by Carol Malkin
Sara had selected the young girl, and Teddy and Sara had trailed her from the noisy waterfront club.
Rocket Night
by Alexander Weinstein
It was Rocket Night at our daughter’s elementary school, the night when parents, students, and administrators gather to place the least-liked child in a rocket and shoot him into the stars.
Worried Playground Daddy’s Blues
by Justin Hamm
On the playground I strum guitar while my daughter dangles upside down from the bar above the tall slide, and inside my middle-aged brain a movie plays.
Going Once
by Allan Peterson
I believe it was either forever or an eight / no longer lazy on the page, / because things took longer after that, / had longer lifetimes, / and that was their sign in continuous curls.
Promises
by Hilary Dean
You think Fine Arts is going to be a bird degree and then you have to take classes all through the summer and talk about art until you want to kill yourself and also everyone else.
Grief, Furniture
by Beth Bilderback
This couch was made for grownups, vintage grownups of the 1930s, cinch-waisted female grownups and men who wore hats and drank martinis.
Summit
by Natalie Homer
I wish the wild mint would bake its scent into my skin, / and I could drag it behind me, as if it were a train of silvery lace. / It never does, and that’s okay.
Lily of the Valley
by Andrea Hansell
I’m famous, and my sister Christine is ordinary. Saying it straight out like that feels strange, but it’s true. We’re identical twins, a fact that fascinates people.
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
