"A Quebec-based online literary magazine published by the Quebec Writer’s Federation that presents eclectic narratives in all forms and supports Canadian and international writers and artists"
Open:
Yes, till October 1, 2022
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
3 months
Payment:
75 CAD
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes

Important stuff

Active on social media
Pays!

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 3500
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 3500Currently closed
👌

Poetry

Max pieces: 3
👌

Photography

Max pieces: 12Tell a story in 12 photos or fewer. Together, your photos should create a narrative.
👌

Comics

No specific limitations
👌

Translations

No specific limitations

Masthead

Greg Santos

Editor-in-Chief

Erin Lindsay

Blog Editor

Examples

'Rag and Bone' by Sunshine Barbito

(excerpt)
My knees sink into the mud and grass while I try and think of a prayer. It was just lying there in forever-sleep. Eyes open but not awake, it stopped me in my tracks. I clenched the neck of a bulging trash bag. The bag, full of food scraps and junk mail, stuffed animals and dream journals, started to rip where my old Barbie’s feet push through the plastic. The rat’s stomach looked still soft.
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'Speed Bump' by Bára Hladík

(excerpt)
I was just among the whales. I hang somewhere in water or mud listening to whales move through water until the snakes weave my muscles. They swim up the center of my spine and fill my Lymph with soft poison. They tie knots in my skull and lay eggs in my temples. There is nowhere for them to go so they push and coil, push and coil. I rise carefully because I’m so full of snakes. They flex and roll and bite as I move to the shower to calm them with hot hot water.
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'Lost Purse' by Sue Murtagh

(excerpt)
Theresa misplaces her phone every single day. Ditto her car keys. But after the regular panic and flurry, running around like an idiot upstairs and down, dialing the phone from the landline, checking yesterday's pockets, she always finds what she's looking for. The wasted time sticks around, though. Makes her late for work. Or for visiting hours at the hospital. Or errands for her mother. On Tuesday, she had a miracle half hour to herself so she walked around the Halifax Commons after her ICU visit. When she got back to the car, there was a ticket on her windshield and, oh yes, keys locked in the trunk. She was forced to walk back to the hospital and ask her oldest sister, Peggy, to use her CAA membership to send help. Then she had to wait by the car in sub-freezing temperatures for 45 minutes until the tow truck guy arrived with his wedge and the fancy coat hanger. Took him less than a minute to open everything back up.
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'Non-Binary Worship' by Nnadi Samuel

(excerpt)
giant pine of tall task deck the muscled prairie. the cloud, fibre thick atop like a double-decker. "this ferry imagery that spills you here. I too stumbled on nature late,” a hand that should be Riley's, splits open the toppled veranda. I meet that adjective with the knowledge of our foreplay. how else to convince me, we are eco-friendly at making out. assume I stumble on rough nature, say cliff. my thought—a wild cat, toppled over & over again.
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