I’ll write up an update about my personal “Ernest Hemingway Day” in Key West, Florida, later this week, but for now, a quick link corral. (And don’t forget to vote today, if you haven’t already!)
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ROAR Magazine is a print literary journal dedicated to providing a space to showcase women's fiction, nonfiction, poetry and visual art.
We publish literature by emerging and developing writers, as well as interviews with established writers,such as acclaimed novelist and short story writer, Jill McCorkle, who, in our current issue, talks about balancing her life and writing.
ROAR Magazine is now accepting submissions for our 2013 winter issue.
ROAR accepts work that represents a wide spectrum of form, language and meaning.
In other words, don't worry if your work isn't specific to feminist issues. If you're a gal, we just want your point of view!
For detailed guidelines, please visit our website at www.roarmagazine.org.
We publish literature by emerging and developing writers, as well as interviews with established writers,such as acclaimed novelist and short story writer, Jill McCorkle, who, in our current issue, talks about balancing her life and writing.
ROAR Magazine is now accepting submissions for our 2013 winter issue.
ROAR accepts work that represents a wide spectrum of form, language and meaning.
In other words, don't worry if your work isn't specific to feminist issues. If you're a gal, we just want your point of view!
For detailed guidelines, please visit our website at www.roarmagazine.org.
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New on Redux: Jen Michalski’s story “The Safest Place,” previously published in Reed magazine:
When Andnej turned sixteen he set like concrete. His cheeks and jaw flattened and squared, and so did his nose, which pointed downward, like a beak. Basha wondered if he smiled whether his face would break. In the afternoons and evenings he sat on a playground swing behind their apartment complex, his necklace catching the sun as his Adidas and jean cuffs dragged across the pavement. When the boys came up to him, he no longer ran.“He sold drugs to Henka’s sister,” Kamilia said as Basha studied him through the apartment window.“How would you know?” Basha looked down at her. Last year Kamilia had played princess games with Henka, the other 9-year-old in the building. Kamilia, whose face colored and eyes found the floor of the elevator when the boy down the hall read aloud all the bad words spray-painted on its walls. “Do you even know what drugs are?”“He gives her aspirin.” Kamilia moved her thumb and pointer finger together to show the size of the pill. “Henka says that Ania takes them to lose weight.”Basha could not forbid Kamilia to play with Henka; if it was not one child in the complex, it was another. They were the children of mostly second-generation Polish and Chechnyian families, and they tended to stick together.