"An ode to the writer’s bureau; an ongoing collection of stories accompanied by photographs of writers at their places of work."
Theme:
writer’s bureau
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
2 weeks
Payment:
$50
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes

Important stuff

Make you feel at home: cozy, meme-friendly, a sense of community, all that stuff
Active on social media
Pays! $50
Promote writers even after publication - hype hype hype

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 1500

Examples

'Assassination' by Jemimah Wei

(excerpt)
Here’s a fun fact. The Chinese believe the eyeballs of fish to be delicacies, and to be offered one when there are only two! in the whole fish! is considered a great honor. Nobody under sixty gets offered the fish eyeball, ever ever ever, unless he is the favorite grandson, in which case, it happens all the time. Either the favoritism will manifest blatantly, or it’ll be hidden under a thin veneer of concern:
Read the full piece in the magazine

'Saturn Devouring His Son, McCulloch County, Texas, 1982' by Travis Cravey

(excerpt)
He watched his father for direction, advice. He tried to bring the rifle up to his shoulder slowly, as his father did. He struggled but did not want to disappoint. He got the rifle up and looked again to his father. The father calmly pointed out into the field. The boy looked through his scope and saw, just over the crest of a small hill a hundred yards away, at the South end of the field, a buck’s head, his antlers dipping up and down as he fed. The boy turned as his eyes widened. The father shook his head slowly.
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'Nur Jahan Bent over Backwards in Time' by Tara Isabel Zambrano

(excerpt)
When a fourteen-year-old girl, in a haphazard way, writes the names of nineteen wives of Jehangir, a Mughal emperor of India in the sixteenth century, on the mud floor of her cottage with a wooden stick. When she claims she’s the reincarnation of Mehr-un-Nisa, Jehangir’s twentieth wife, bewildered, her parents, poor farmers working in the fields of a landlord ask “Chhori, kya bakti hai?” and shake her shoulders. They have never sent her to school, never told her stories because they didn’t know any.
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'Turtle' by Christopher Allen

(excerpt)
Our task is to find food in our nature. My older brother and I are assigned to the same tent—because of my secret. I collect berries, but my brother wants meat. A box turtle has made the mistake of being seen, getting caught. My brother had a big breakfast, so it’s safe for now. He’s 15, the turtle probably 20 judging by its ridges, a long time to lope around in a forest full of Boy Scouts. My brother came because his friends Terry and Jay are here. Jay just got out of juvey. I keep the turtle in a pen I made of bark. I wouldn’t know how to eat the turtle.
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