Tag: writer

Deadlines by Lukasz Drobnik

Your dear friend is in town, but all you’ve got is deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. She wears a blue dress and brings you ground coffee as a gift. The two of you have a blast, sure, walking down the boulevard, talking about your dreadful boyfriends, laughing, having some charcoal ice cream, but there’s a translation about

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Two Years, Four Months, and Eleven Days of Rules by Joanna Franklin Bell

When I was 19, I secretly fell in love with a boy. He was 17. I first learned his body as I watched him walk across the campus green when he didn’t know I was looking—his curly dark hair, his camo jacket with all the pockets, his baggy jeans. I learned his face second, when

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The Return Home by Tim Oke

To me, Julia, sitting in the armchair, gun held in her right hand, propped up by the armrest looked younger than she had in years. She stared at the couple, who sat on the opposite sofa; daylight squeezing through the closed blinds, casting a beam across their ashen faces. “What’s his name?” Julia asked breaking

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Consider This by Chuck Palahniuk

‘Consider This: Moments In My Writing Life After Which Everything Was Different‘ (which from this moment on will be referred to as Consider This) is not just a book it is an investment. Chuck Palahniuk has produced a fabulous book about writing craft, which as a fan of Palahniuk I’m thrilled with, but as a

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Day 28: Déjà Vu by Sherri Turner

On the 28th Day of Christmas Sherri Turner gave to me… It all seemed so familiar: the bushy tree, the presents wrapped in red and gold, the twinkling fairy lights. Holly laughed. Of course it did. Kevin always picked the fattest tree, he knew she loved red and gold and they’d had those lights for

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Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge—To Go by Mark Halpern

Yes, Virginia, there was a Santa Claus. But he died for our sins. “Thank you Amazon Japan,” said Edward to his iPad. He’d purchased a foot stool—bland, functional, cheap—without visiting a store. Thank you was just words. Edward felt no gratitude. Stores were the biggest rip-off, especially department stores. But Edward tolerated their prepared-food kiosks,

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FICTION: The Secret Patron by Graham Kirby

I arrived in New York in the late summer of 1883, having crossed by the Guion Line with the Liverpool and Great Western Company. At once, I set myself up with digs in Lower Manhattan near the Christopher Street Pier on the Hudson River, at the time a dark nest of competing factions. Wrapped up

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Sinking Correctly by Thomas Benfield

Being in the other room, I could only imagine the look of the events that might match the sounds I heard. The sound was as much a distraction as sitcom walls teetering when its prop door shuts— bringing any semblance of alienation that the program might have brought to the world of the viewer also

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Day 10: A story with a beginning a middle and an end by S.B. Borgersen

On the 10th Day of Christmas S.B. Borgersen gave to me… This story begins at first light on Christmas morning. Fingers of silver-grey pierce the spaces between the branches of the leafless maple she watches through her bedroom window. ‘Has time stopped?’ she wonders. There is no movement. No sound. No jingle of bells. Arlene

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EXCLUSIVE: The Evolution of a Story by Tim Major

My first short story collection, And the House Lights Dim, was recently published by Luna Press. Its contents are billed as ‘strange stories about houses, homes and families’. The stories were written over a three-year period, and it was only when I started to prepare them as a collection that I realised just how prevalent

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