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
We want your works that show us how you and or your community turn hope into an active practice. From culinary traditions that nourish the fire in your belly to essays on protest – show us what it means to you to make hope into a discipline.
Your submission must include London, whether as a memory, wishful thinking, an anecdote, the setting for your story or poem, a place of importance, or where you live or holiday …
The theme is love – and it’s yours to interpret as broadly, as interestingly, and as tenuously as you wish.
The Earth Amulet Poetry Prize™ is an environmental poetry contest that invite poems rooted in the natural world—its landscapes, elements, and living beings.
You could be close to your one true love, your worst enemy, your child, or someone you didn’t realise was there at the time. You could be close to achieving something, near to death, close to a realisation or approaching the start of a whole new adventure.
We are looking for your Autumn (that’s Fall, to our American readers) themed short stories. As ever, there is one main rule. It must make us laugh!
A howl can be grief, warning, prayer, or celebration - but always, it is a reaching. Who do we become when we are unheard? What remains when sound fades, and only the echo lingers?
This year's theme is The Witching Hour" so if you can use that theme in a creative way, even better!
This special edition of Penumbra is dedicated to the beasts with whom we share our homes, our world, and our imaginative spaces.
You’re in. Stay out of. If it isn’t too much. Get in good. Trouble is the prompt for Issue 9. Send us your work, troubling or not, but please, no cruelty to animals…and, come to think of it, no wolves.
As we approach these cooler months, we invite you to send us work that reflects on states of dormancy, whether they be chosen, given, natural, unnatural, or imposed
Laal (लाल) translates to the colour Red. Let this colour bleed into every form, every voice, every memory. Let it remain untamed.
Write to us what laal invokes for you.
For this issue we’re looking at Indigenous Peoples and Friends, both the history and current relations.
Rats and raccoons go together like... well, something. We all like trash. Also, funerals. Probably? We don't know what it means either. We want to read your spin on the theme. Do with it what you will. Open genre.
For this issue, we seek accounts of meaningful encounters—with people, places, or animals—that have altered your perspective or understanding of the world, as well as re-imaginings of what it means to encounter and be encountered by others.
Visit a museum––can you hear the muses singing?
For our upcoming issue, we want stories, poems, and hybrids that unearth the horror of embodiment. Think haunted anatomy, sentient scars, inherited monstrosity. Is your skin a map or a mask? Show us where it hurts, and how it changes you.
Take your reader on a journey in this month's competition for short fiction that in some way involves travel
We want to hear from poets who publish in non-traditional ways, who hold unusual beliefs, who write what isn't popular, or feel that they don't fit in.
This issue invites contributors to consider the emotional, political, and physical dimensions of home in flux. We’re especially interested in work that addresses displacement and alienation in their many forms.