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
Although the essay holds the central role at DPA, we are open to other genres, including experimental, poetry and flash non-fiction, as long as there is a first-person point of view.
We want fiction with memorable characters and realistic plots, poetry that is fresh and original, and nonfiction that is both thoughtful and entertaining.
We’re looking for work that expresses the aspects of healing that are life changing, profound, painful, cathartic, joyous or liberating. The moment you looked up and saw the sunrise and thought ‘I’m going to be ok’.
Tell us about reconnecting with a lost love, making amends with your dead mother, walking down the path you didn’t choose the first time.
We latch onto novel language and images, skilled awareness of sound, visceral reactions. We want to remember your lines, days later. We want to be surprised and envious.
For this issue we will be accepting work that explores relationships - one-to-one, groups, families, romances, friendships; challenges, highs, lows, patterns, and parallels.
Send us stories that announce themselves like a new year rolling in, literary essays about the latest ‘in thing’ you’re avoiding, or poems that straddle the intimate and public.
Our perfect submission defies categorization—pieces that could be “too speculative” for CanLit or literary magazines or “not speculative enough” for speculative magazines. However, we also love a good genre romp, and will publish across many genres.
For this issue, we seek stories that respond to ecology in all its forms, from its earliest roots to present-day ecologies which span people, organisms, systems, and worlds.
Prairie Fire is giving centre stage to women writers over fifty!
Will you take us flying in the air, bring us down to earth, set us alight with your words or plunge us into the watery depths? We can’t wait to find out.
For this year's contest, we want submitters to go wild--or domesticated, or sentient, or whatever other form of beastly you're feeling. In other words: we're seeking work from any and all genres that involves non-human living creatures in some way, shape, or form.
Tupelo Quarterly seeks to cultivate dialogue between the arts. With that in mind, we would love to consider works that exist at the boundaries of genres and disciplines.
We are seeking poems that celebrate the beauty of nature or speak to any personal or collective experience regarding the natural environment.
We share work here representative of shared human values, however differently those values might be expressed in our various religions and cultures.
We are fascinated by it. We fear it. We need it to live. Without it, we die. We spill it for love and country. It binds us together. It tears us apart.
This issue is open to retellings and new ideas in the old mythology style; when superpowered beings are involved, anything can happen.
Water has the power to change landscapes, it can soothe and frighten us, but one thing is for sure, we can’t live without it.
A woman is never too old to enjoy it. Or to enjoy reading, writing, or making art about it. Send us your erotica – your musings on erotica – your memories of erotic moments – actual or imagined.
Whether it’s the pride of democratic success or a whimsical caution about electoral choices, we encourage you to submit stories that explore the ironies of democracy.