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 define holiday stories as those that involve any holiday from US Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day, or stories that reference those holidays. (There are many such holidays, so let your imagination fly.)
We are looking for short stories and poems that are spooky or fantastical or both. Don’t be afraid to blend genres and experiment.
We see “woman” as a broad category with space for an array of gender identities and expressions. We welcome contributions from bi+ women who identify as trans, non-binary, cis, and beyond.
How you interpret the theme is up to you. We like stories that grab us from the beginning, make us think, and keep us enthralled, as well as essays and memoir with a strong voice and a unique point of view.
Submissions are restricted to women and gender non-conforming people.
We often can only see our coming-of-age stories in retrospect, not as they are happening to us. Those moments that flung us over the line from childhood to adulthood. In June, we want those coming of age moments.
How do we create poems that re-story ourselves to the earth when war covers the ground in dust? How do you respond to genocide and acts of terrorism?
We're drawn to poetry that is alive to and interested in its own relationship to language
A keepsake to put away for the future, a token of childhood, a triumphant memory… the time capsule will hold a kaleidoscope of human happenings, preserved in pages for future generations to read with fresh eyes.
Vilas Avenue wishes impermanence to inspire a variety of interpretations of the theme, challenging the writer to attain a deeper understanding of the state of change— crafting work that lives, dies, lives again, & vanishes into momentariness.
Submissions for Issue Eight are open.
We’re looking for stories, essays, memoir and poetry on anything that relates to nocturnal happenings: dating, working the night shift, crime, clubbing, dinner, sex, partying, witchcraft, ghosts, childbirth, insomnia, even nocturnal wildlife.
The United States is a young and idealistic country that sits at a crossroads, especially as the geopolitical order shifts. What do we want the next 250 years to look like?
Tell us about the best days of your life, the days that fell short, the days that were golden despite it all. Explore the feeling of the sun at your back, the hum of tires against pavement during a summer road trip, the smell of warm honeysuckle.
John Keats’s masterpiece, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" explores human emotions and the enduring power of art. For our next issue, we are not looking for paraphrases or explanations of his ode. Rather, we want poems that spring from Keats’s vision.
As you head off to your dream vacation, or your home away from home, or your sexy snuggle zone, ponder how community is created over distance and how we come together, close differences and distances to be in community together.
Inspired by the contemporary urgency of ensuring the right to restorative time away from labor, with this issue the editors hope to highlight the radical potential for the historical study of sleep and rest, and the opportunities this area of study provides for historians to connect with scholars in the natural sciences, architects and planners, and policymakers and activists.
Send us writing littered with the dregs of society, the lowest of the low, and the remains and rabble of your brain.
Our summer edition’s theme is girlhood, however you interpret that (but no odes to Lolita).
This is a call for your meditations, your forensics, your elegies, your wanderings on the possibilities of ongoing and intersecting geographies. How do we write an evolving ecology that supports mutability? What will be the future forms of our habitations?