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
Please use your boundless, limitless, imagination and give us a beautiful or startling or eerie prose poem, lyric essay, piece of creative nonfiction, or short work of fiction (any genre) having to do with the heaven(s) / sky.
We're open to reading the slyly speculative, the strange, the uncanny, and the weird.
Authors will retain all rights and copyright to their works. WestWord requests one-time, non-exclusive rights to publish your work.
At Audience Askew, we like the strange, quirky, and unique—aiming to find thought-provoking stories, engaging poetry, and distinctive artwork that doesn’t quite fit in anywhere else.
Erosion can be the process of breaking down, of gradual destruction. It is usually silent, constant, and unavoidable. Relationships can erode, carrying away trust and belonging, just as stone can be worn smooth, its debris dissolved and carried away with the tide. We are looking for fiction that represents this process.
Gives us sories and poems of underwater cities, rising seas, harrowing travels, creation, destruction, thirst, and whales. Give us space whales! Tell us about a galaxy of oceans contained in a holographic fishtank, preach the gospel of Poseidon, or win millions with the help of a chance-taking cephalopod. The opportunities for observant and original writing are as boundless as expansive as the briny deep.
What do you think of when you hear the word “safety”? What does it mean to feel safe? What does it mean to be safe? We want pieces that explore, provoke, challenge, reconsider, evoke, or explode that concept for you.
Our Annual Literary Prize is back again for 2024, with bigger cash prizes, publication for all shortlisted entries in our annual anthologies, a televised award ceremony, and an inspiring new theme.
We are looking for variety and originality. Tickle us, haunt us, gobsmack us. Choose your words carefully and leave our readers wanting more. And do it in a small space.
We strive to create conversations here at The Ilanot Review that could occur nowhere else.
Can we ever really go back home? Where do we belong?
Submissions can but do not need to directly deal with sexual assault. We hope to provide an avenue for publishing work about sexual assault, as it can be challenging to find markets open to that topic, and showcase the full, vibrant lives survivors lead outside their trauma.
A single $100 award will be given for an outstanding poem.
Breath allows us the space to grieve, accept, be joyous, irate, or peaceful, and it facilitates the process by which we move forward in the world--and do not. Inhale/Exhale holds space for a moment, story, or image in all of us. What is yours?
Tell us your experiences with local legends/myths or create your own hometown horrors! It can be from Bigfoot to Indigenous myths to any eldritch horror, as long as its lore is tethered to the history of a town.
We seek poetry that stings, work that burns us long after reading.
Our mandate has been to encourage the voices of new, emerging, and established Canadian writers while providing a platform to be proud of for their quality work.
You can call it many things: a tipping point, the eleventh hour, climate change, passing the point of no return...whatever you call it, it’s The Beginning of the End.
We look for work that challenges, re-imagines or undermines the status quo, work that pushes at the boundaries of form and function, work that is striking and beautiful.
A visitation might be a knock at the door, a funereal ritual, a brush with the otherworldly, a legal mandate, an act of wrath, a moment of union. This folio seeks to think about doors, borders, power, incarceration, and other institutions which divide or limit our time.