Tag: Writers

FICTION: Anatomy of a Musician by A.L. Kersel

The Institute is prestigious and stretches skywards accordingly, white walls and grey slate against pebbles and shorn grass, on one side a bramble twist of bracken, on the other, the sea. I have a whistle, humming low and sweet under my breath, and I have a bodhran, skin stretched taught to be pattered by hand

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GUEST POST: Authorial Desire Vs. Reality: How Important is Fidelity to the Truth? By Glen James Brown

The axiom ‘write what you know’ is a limiting one and fiction, I feel, should be about stepping beyond your own experience. A few years ago, I began writing a novel about social housing, industry and popular culture from the 1950s onwards, and as I was born in 1982 serious research was required. But how

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FICTION: Music Is a Verb by Matty Bannond

Art Blakey: Music washes away the dust of everyday life. Watery blood probes the collar of Jenny’s t-shirt and ranges down her back like a trail of termites. “They can’t stop, Jenny. They’ve got to do triage before they can help anyone. The first paramedics have to do this – it’s triage.” She lifts her

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Shallow Creek: The Shortlist

We are pleased to announce the short list for the SHALLOW CREEK Short Story competition Arguments were plentiful…much beer was consumed. In the end, the STORGY crew spent hours debating the merits, technical prowess, originality and creativity of each story and were finally able to agree on the short list for the Shallow Creek competition.

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FICTION: Glass by George Oliver

Composing himself at the stairhead before descent, he groaned as he thought about it, exhaling audibly. The he was Konstantine Orlando Glass, the it fiction writing: a match determined by chance and defined by complication, and responsible for a life of unrest and despondency. It had all begun so promisingly. His debut novel, Fragility, the

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NON-FICTION: The Instinct of a Church Mouse by Devin Lane Welch

We stole our first vehicle at fourteen. It was our grandfather’s ’94 Chevy pickup, and Pete and I took it every night that summer without license and without permission. We’d cruise the suburbs, sometimes meeting up with girls down the road or to grab milkshakes at the 24-hour drive-thru. Anything we could think of really,

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FICTION: Left of Center by Greg Turlock

“Six-six-six – Heritage Close. This is the place.” The post-war bungalow was guarded by an overgrown caragana hedge and a wrought-iron gate. Some twisted mugo pines were taking over the narrow, cobble-stone sidewalk. I approached the cracked front steps with the apprehension of an eight year old kid returning late from recess at school. “Ding-dong.”

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NON-FICTION: Teacher, Terrorist, Patriot by Susan Bloch

  24 July 1964: 4:18 p.m. A man carrying a suitcase rushes down the stairs to the crowded Whites Only platformohannesburg train station. Looking straight ahead, he runs his hands through his floppy fringe and mops the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his tweed jacket. The man bends down, sets the shabby

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FICTION: Heartfelt by James Stack

Ginny awoke with a grin it being a notable day. Her black-silk nightgown slipped further up her torso as she slid onto her left side. It had progressively risen with each change of position, having begun at her knees. Sliding such that it tickled her thighs and then buttock, it shimmied as if to amuse

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GUEST POST: I’ve Learned a Thing or Two: Lessons from My First Novel by Michael Graves

1. People are touchy about religion. My debut novel, Parade, follows Reggie Lauderdale and Elmer Mott, two cousins trying to navigate adulthood. Along the way, they accidentally burn down a church, win the lottery and create their own glamorized religion. Within Parade, Reggie crafts recipes for a well-lived, spiritual existence. He writes passages such as:

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