The kind of ending that Purkert is in love with, is that most important part of a successful poem: the audible click of a final line.
Yuri Herrera’s Signs Preceding the End of the World is a deceptively slim novel. Alternately referenced as narco-noir, myth, epic, and border story, the novel manages to fluidly traverse genres and structural layers in a mere 107-pages.
If you are Black and American, then you too might have a story similar to mine. A story whose blood origin begins with more questions than documented truth.
In a house on a street in Colonia Educación in Mexico City on a Tuesday around midday, a mother makes the decision to leave her husband and children and never return, an action that leaves a distinct mark on the family members’ lives, like the crease left on a folded piece of origami paper.
It was through second-hand books that I learned how to read for myself.
We’re better equipped now than perhaps ever before to empathize with and examine how Jackson conveys the Blackwoods’ sense of isolation, both social and physical, from their community.
Melanie Figg’s new full-length poetry collection Trace gives voice to family, feminism, and individual history through the lens of art.
By delving into historic literature, readers and writers can gain a deeper understanding of current day issues and subjects, important in providing invaluable background and context, along with a wider perspective to inform current opinion and work.
Barbara Byar’s collection, Some Days Are Better Than Ours: A Collection of Tragedies, rages against normality, a feat that hits close to home in the COVID-19 era.
Jennifer Fliss and Jennifer Todhunter discuss grief, parenting, resilience, and catharsis.
Cathy Ulrich and Chaya Bhuvaneswar discuss finding a story's pulse, finding time to write, and engaging in community.
Michele Finn Johnson and Tommy Dean discuss saving characters, hearing voices, and giving back to the literary community.
Tara Isabel Zambrano and Christopher Allen discuss expanding The Moment in flash fiction, stirring the bubbling pot of character, and knowing when a draft is done.
The map of human life isn’t a line, and I wanted to show that here. Life can look like a phone call coming from your chest, a door in the middle of the woods, a moon that, for a time, sings, and then is never heard again.
When family members are the subject of creative nonfiction, is their privacy unfairly infringed upon? Who has the right to tell a particular story? What is the point of sharing personal stories?
In intimate, first-person narration, The Island Dwellers reads like a series of private letters addressed to our hidden selves.