Most events are installed on their deadline date, unless there is a long submission window or unless it's a rolling submission.
P=Poetry, N=Nonfiction, F=Fiction
How you to interpret this theme is entirely up to you. We simply invite you to venture into the realms of imagination and unravel the illusions that shroud (or illuminate?) reality.
For consideration in the 2023 Waco Cultural Arts Fest WordFest Anthology, poets may submit one poem using the theme of ‘moon’.
Redivider’s Summer ’23 Blurred Genre special edition explores the fluid boundaries between genres. We welcome all hybrid, genre-blurring and experimental work.
Essays, humor, satire, personal experience, and features on topics relating to women are our primary editorial focus.
What do Friends raised in other traditions bring to us?
Nature as a whole; deer grazing on grass in a forest, the stars on a clear night, children playing in an ocean inlet, birds chirping in tree canopies, a babbling brook by a cottage in the mountains. What is nature to you?
Our themes are always open to far-fetched interpretations and are not limited to a narrow definition. Don't hold back, surprise us!
Our favourite poems are the unexpected kind. We love free verse poems that take familiar situations and turn them on their head, using unusual metaphors and drawing parallels no one else would see.
We're looking for stories about epic journeys over vast distances with many destinations, and travels that have broadened the outlook, not just of the traveler, but of civilization.
Come one, come all, please join us under the falling leaves for a feast like none other. This October, the seventh issue of Last Leaves will make your mouth water.
Send us your traditional ghost stories, the ones that haunt and scare. Send us your unconventional ghost stories, the ones that make us rethink what a ghost story can be. We are open to your interpretation, so surprise us!
Submit work about whether you view your life and the world through a microscope or a telescope or perhaps from both perspectives. Mention the major and the minor issues, concerns, goals, living conditions, etc. that are just as important to you.
This theme can be interpreted in so many different ways, on so many different levels…
The purpose of The First Line is to jump start the imagination--to help writers break through the block that is the blank page.
This issue turns to the arts to foreground and forecast what is next for nature, food justice, water preservation, climate action, and afro-/Indigenous futurisms.
What brings us into profound relation to place—and what pulls us out? In a social world that feels less and less place-dependent, and a physical world that is being reconfigured by climate change and habitat loss, how do we sustain our connection to physical place?
How has the human–animal bond evolved over the centuries? And what truly separates us from the creatures we share the planet with?
We wants to know what compels you to rush to the mailbox, turn on your notifications, or put your money on the line.
This issue opens up space for feelings and thoughts around grief and food. In our grief we celebrate what was, cooking our ancestors’ favourite meals, finding connection at your local restaurant, and finding an old recipe book.
Raw, unvarnished truth gleaned from living an unpasteurized life makes for more interesting reading than the average schlock. Write it how you feel it.