Since I stopped seeing girls as “soft boys who smelled nice,” (in quotations because I read that somewhere many years ago and it neatly sums up gender relations from the POV of a elementary school boy), until early adulthood, I nursed two fantasies about where I would meet my soul-mate.  The first involved wandering the aisles of a used book store (okay, Barnes and Noble).  The second was serendipitous seating on an airplane.  I never really outgrew this phase, and while working for Willow Springs I added a third category: the slush pile.  You might logically ask, how is that even possible?

In my head, I would find a great story by a fellow aspiring writer, and while the story wouldn’t be accepted for publication, I’d be tasked with sending her a personal rejection from my email account asking her to submit stories directly to me in addition to the online submission manager.  She would, and perhaps she would ask to see some of my stories, and then the timeline of this fantasy gets a little murky.  I suppose we’d somehow eventually meet up and live happily ever after.

I never pursued anything like that because, unlike the bookstore or airplane, it would have been super creepy.

It’s been many months since I’ve read Willow Springs slush, so I relegated this bizarre fantasy to the nether regions of the brain.  Then, a few months ago, I really hit it off with a woman on a date.  Like me, she had recently finished an MFA and was struggling to make it as a writer.  The date went so well that we started emailing and g-chatting later that night and I learned her full name.  And it was really familiar.  Tip of the tongue familiar.  But I couldn’t place it. I wondered and wondered, but the only possibility, longshot and all, was, you guessed it, “Willow Springs slush pile.”  Memory is not exactly my strong suit.  But when I asked, she went and checked her submission records, and sure enough, she had submitted to Willow Springs a couple years ago when I worked there.  The short synopsis of her story struck me as very familiar, and when she sent me the manuscript, my suspicions were confirmed.

I don’t like to brag, but this was pretty amazing.  Out of at least hundreds, if not thousands of manuscripts, her name had lingered.  To be fair, her story had been discussed at a meeting, so I’d read the piece at least twice, but still, this seemed like a sign.  Was it meant to be?

Unlikely.  As she flaked out on our next date, and flaked on our rain-date (get it?) and then didn’t respond to a third date request.  Such is life.  Time to buy some new books or do a little more traveling.

Diane wears this costume to remind us of the prisoners in Guantanamo. The heels are part of a reading/performance, which we were lucky enough to see.

On Friday, our MFA program here at Eastern Washington University was graced with the presence of Diane Lefer, a multi-genre author (fiction, nonfiction, drama) and political activist. I was particularly excited to meet her because our form and theory class had read one of her books of short stories, California Transit, in the fall, and after that, I was able to work with her a little through Willow Springs (watch for her work in issue 69!). Because I so admired her work, I was able to nab a spot in the workshop she held while she was here, and get her feedback on my story.

But the most exciting thing, for me, was how much Diane incorporated theater into her workshop and reading. She’s written several plays, and she told us that she used to go see all the Broadway shows when she was supposed to be in science class. Even so, I was surprised at how she incorporated theatrical exercises into the workshop. I’m so excited about it, I want to share it with you. Read more »

What's she so smug about? She's following submission guidelines.

The following mistakes won’t necessarily doom your submission (an excellent story is an excellent story, no matter how it is formatted) but they might annoy the person reading your work, and the last thing you want is an annoyed reader. So to make sure your story gets the fairest reading possible, you might want to heed a few warnings:

DO NOT

• Include a picture or illustration of any kind with your written work. If a journal accepts visual art submissions, submit that separately. Most of the time, it’s just distracting and if you’ve submitted electronically, it can cause problems loading your file.
• Pitch the story. Of course, some journals might ask for a pitch–I’ve never come across any, but they might be out there–but really, a story should pitch itself. Presses and agents want pitches so they don’t have to read your work if they don’t like the idea/don’t think it will sell. Literary journals aren’t worried about selling; they’re worried about quality. They’re going to read your work anyway, and the premise of a short story or essay or poem is not enough to get it published. Read more »

Flash: the fastest fiction around.

I’ve been writing a lot of flash fiction lately (or “short shorts” for those of you who define flash as 500 words or less–my stories mostly weigh in between 500 and 1000). I started writing these super-short pieces because I was feeling a little bit ADD as far as fiction was concerned; I didn’t have the stamina to push through anything longer. I kept writing beginnings, but I never wanted to finish them. So I decided to try flash fiction instead.

Whenever I talk to people about flash fiction, there’s always a lot of confusion about what it actually is. We can argue about word count, sure, but there’s also the question of what flash fiction needs to do. Most pieces of flash feel incomplete or unsatisfying. Many feel cliche or predictable. Many seem to have punch lines. How do you write a complete story that will resonate with readers in 1000 words or less? Read more »

"When in doubt, find your light."

I recently helped finish shaping and editing an interview we (fellow Barkers Sam, Brendan, and I) did with Richard Russo at last year’s Get Lit! literary festival in Spokane (look for it in the next issue of Willow Springs!). For those of you who don’t know, Richard Russo is not only a Pulitzer-winning fiction writer, but he writes movies, as well. There’s a portion of the interview in which we discussed his experiences with film-making, and one segment in particular about the influence actors can have on the work. I won’t spoil the interview for you, but it sparked a trail of thought that I’ve been following for days.

Those of you who have read my other posts probably know by now that I used to be involved in the theater. I’ve acted, directed, stage managed, produced–the whole deal. And the interesting thing is that in the theater, nothing exists without collaboration. To quote the amazing Paul Gross in my favorite TV show of all time, Slings and Arrows:

Actors are entirely dependent on other people for what they do. They need a writer, they need a director, they need someone to make their costumes, sets, props, they need a theater. Worst of all they need other actors. That’s a lot of people. That’s not including the audience.

That dependency works all around. What is a prop master without a play? What is a director without actors? What is a set without a theater? Read more »

I find, as a writer and a student, that I sit down a lot, often on a comfy couch, often with a cat snoozing in my lap. Usually, when I’m in this posture, I’m reading: Willow Springs submissions, thesis books, peer stories and poems, etc. Sometimes, I’m writing, though that posture is usually a little more tense and upright. And I find, at the end of the day, that while I may have read a thousand pages and written ten, I may have annihilated an entire week’s work in one day, I may have crossed fifteen items off my to-do list, I feel like I haven’t really done anything except sit around. I console myself a little with the fact that I’ve spent quality time with my cat, who spends more time without me than she would like, since I’m away from her half the week, but really, I feel like a sloth. And while my bookmark may have moved forward and my checklist might be fully checked, I may have even printed a draft of a story, I feel like I haven’t produced anything. Because I’m a tactile person. I like finished products. I need to create things, for some reason. Read more »

Asunder, a collection of stories by Robert Lopez, was released by Dzanc last month. I love this trailer, and the book is fantastic. Willow Springs first published several of these stories, including Bleeders and Vaya con Huevos, two of my favorite stories of the last four hundred years. You can buy the book directly from Dzanc here. Or you can buy it elsewhere. A review of Asunder at The Rumpus asserts that “If Lopez’s earlier books didn’t prove to readers that he is a word-storm, a force of literary nature come unhinged, blowing shutters against readers’ houses, then Asunder surely will. This is a collection as proof, a collection as loveliness, a collection as rippage, and we are lucky to get it into our waiting hands, its words into our heads.” Asunder is a great new book of stories by one of my favorite writers.

Moving poems is  “an on-going anthology of the best videopoems, filmpoems, animated poems, and other poetry videos from around the web, appearing at a rate of one every weekday most weeks.” The poem below, “June,” by Dag T Straumsvag, was first published in Willow Springs 63, and was translated from Norwegian by Robert Hedin.

Got this from Brandon.

Willow Springs is 39 (shared with ZZYVA) on  Perpetual Folly (Cliff Garstang) list of 2010 Pushcart Prize Rankings.

…the following list looks only at the Pushcart Prizes awarded and Special Mentions in Fiction since 2000. Awards before that date are less relevant, it seems to me, in determining the relative quality of magazines publishing today….I am not considering Non-fiction or Poetry in this analysis….I’m also not looking at other fine volumes such as the O. Henry Prizes or the Best American Short Stories….So: just Pushcarts and Special Mentions in Fiction since 2000….My formula counts a certain number of points for a prize and a smaller number of points for a special mention.

  Yay for us!

I don’t know about you all, but I’m having a good old time here at the new hangout. I have noticed something about myself as a blogger, though: it brings out the a-hole in me.

Writing posts and responding to them – something about the immediacy of it, the quickness and lack of deliberation, the value on punchiness – often leaves me wishing I’d tempered or qualified the things I’ve written. Sharp, fast insults are the coin of the realm. I can do sharp, fast insults – most of us can do them without a thought. (Check out some of the threads – not posts — at HTML Giant, for example; it’s like being at a party with a bunch of hyper-aggressive boys who are not quite as brilliant as they think they are.) (See? a little bit a-holy…) Anyway, it’s one of the things I find wearying in my visits to blogland – everyone’s an idiot or a dumbass, divisions are amazingly clearcut, etc.

Then I find myself doing the same thing. And I think: It must be the medium. Right? (Don’t answer that.)

So, this week: Some enthusiasms. Some appreciations. Some pro-s.

I love long, difficult books, and The Millions has an interesting series about them. Though I often think a writer’s best work is the shorter novel or collection that preceeds the big bonanza (DeLillo and Denis Johnson come to mind), I also really enjoy the slog of a good, long novel. Some of my favorites: The Ambassadors, Sound and the Fury, Absalom! Absalom!, Anna Karenina. I’m reading War and Peace now, and I may be reading it forever. But I like the sensation of a story so big you can’t see either shore from the middle — or one that really tests you as a reader. Novels like Ulysses or Gravity’s Rainbow leave me baffled, but striving. I don’t quite love them, but I don’t feel put off by their difficulty, either. And I feel that I may read them again, and a little more light will shine.

Read more »