I’m unsure of precisely why it can be so thrilling to watch someone eat a rotten plate of spaghetti against his own will.
Killing Sims by Sydney Allen
Don’t Look by Kim Kluxen Meredith
When I was four years old, I made my own tap shoes. I nailed Orange Crush bottle caps to the toes and heels of my Red Keds.
Brothel in a Strip Mall by Wes Civilz
I did some research before we flew to Vegas: an escort can easily run you a thousand dollars in this town.
To Covet – Anonymous
He looks up and our eyes dance—his gaze intensifies, mine goes soft-focus. We’ve never spoken…
noise. by Elisa Jay
I like to pretend this isn’t me on the other side of the mirror, listening to my neighbor unclasping the lid from a jar of face cream. After all, isn’t this a pastime reserved for serial killers, serial creeps?
Interview: Sarah Einstein, author of Mot: A Memoir
by Lori M. Myers, Senior Interview EditorSeveral years ago, writer Dinty W. Moore offered Sarah Einstein some good advice: Marriage is like writing, he said. You need to show up at your writing desk and at your marriage desk. There’s more to this, which Einstein writes about in her essay “What Therefore Dinty Has Joined…
CRAFT: Finding Meaning In Images — Looking At Your Story Like A Graphic Designer by P. Casey Telesk
I often tell people that if they want to discover what their book is really about, then they should design a cover…
Things in the Shape of Trailers by John Yu Branscum
My father was possessed by a trailer. … My Mom was obsessed with doing paint-by-numbers and would get trapped in magenta jungles for days …
Briggs Avenue by Trace Ramsey
Mid-summer and the rain approaches without much warning. The wind comes up first, sucks a bit of the humidity from the air, and cools things down.
Rolling in the Mud by Sandra Gail Lambert
I’ve never touched earth much. Water, yes. As a child, I unbuckled knee pads and thigh straps to lift legs out of their braces.
