"An independent, multi-genre literary journal that publishes narratives by new, emerging, and established writers in the genres of fiction, flash fiction, nonfiction, poetry, scripts for stage & screen, film, experimental narratives, visual art, and comics."
Open:
Yes, till December 31, 2022
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
?
Payment:
$35
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
$3.50
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes

Important stuff

Pays! $35
Submission fee

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 5000Or up to three pieces of flash or microfiction no longer 1,000 words each.
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 5000
👌

Poetry

Max pieces: 3
👌

Play

15 pages max
👌

Video

15 minutes max
👌

Art

Max pieces: 5
👌

Photography

Max pieces: 5
👌

Comics

Max pieces: 3Up to three pages per piece
👌

Anything

No specific limitations
👌

Translations

poetry translations
👌

Hybrid

* Experimental Narratives. We love narratives in all forms. Whether it’s digital poetics, a video, or a transmedia, genre-bending piece, if it tells a good story, creates compelling characters, and/or tickles our literary senses, we want it. Consider the limits of other categories and our online platform for length guidelines.

Examples

'April Is a Fruitful Month' by Andy Marlowe

(excerpt)
The first thing I do after seeing the pink plus sign appear on the pregnancy test is press it into my husband’s hands. I look at him and say, “I’m worried about my mother.” He looks at me; he looks at the pregnancy test. He puts the test on the bathroom counter and places his hand against my stomach. I recoil. I do not like being touched. He tries again, and I let him rest his palm against me. “I can’t believe this is real,” my husband says. He’s crying. And smiling. “I haven’t talked to her in a while,” I say. “And you know how she is.” “We’re pregnant.” “I’m worried about her.”
Read the full piece in the magazine

'Beware of the Boys' by Natalie Mislang Mann

(excerpt)
I wander in and out of sleep as Anthony Bourdain’s voice carries me through an aromatic dreamscape. As I recline on my parents’ red couch, he contrasts Shanghai’s bourgeoning wealthy class—a tomato, a potato, and Wagyu beef—with old China’s oysters found along Shouning Road. My dad sits in a reclining leather chair. He gets up, disappears, then returns when a commercial comes on. Bourdain sits with a local, “a hacker turned entrepreneur,” in a fancy bar drinking “China’s official cocktail,” the Moscow mule. That’s when Bourdain decides to crash a wedding.
Read the full piece in the magazine

'when Black people say “Imma pray for you,” that is the prayer' by Ashia Ajani

(excerpt)
i cannot spare more magic, lest you take me for a mule. Sapphire that I am, spinning gold from grain, beholden to a spirit of my own protection, i am a charlatan of boundless desire. yes, my energy be that thick, be that heavy, a potent protection against those who wish to distill my invocations into a lustful praise. & take & take & take until i am a sullen shell.
Read the full piece in the magazine

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