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
The intimate spaces, fleeting moments, and hidden corners where life reveals its depth. A single room, a brief encounter, or a whispered thought, these tiny realms often hold a quiet power that is often left unexpressed.
Tell us about survival: what it is and what it means. Tell us about coping in a dumpster fire world. Tell us about what scares you and how to overcome it. You get the idea!
We want examples from outside of the mainstream, stories about practices, ideas, and movements that were/are suppressed by economic, socio-cultural, religious, or imperial (colonial) powers.
Gold isn't just a precious metal. It's the light that shines through darkness, illuminating our shared humanity. The warmth that brings us together when the world feels cold. The glow of beloved faces in firelight, a setting sun, candles on a table.
Start making a list. For Issue 9, we're asking you for your best inventory poems, also known as list or catalog poems. As the name suggests, an inventory poem is a form + device that rely on an inventory of people, objects, images, characteristics, ideas, emotions, etc.
We are asking writers to explore the chaos, heartbreak, and transformation that can come from misunderstandings, made-up truths, and intentions gone wrong.
Submissions are restricted to women and gender non-conforming people.
In July we’re thinking about radical forgiveness. For ourselves and for others. How have you found redemption in this world?
School’s out for summer, and this month at the Throw, we want stories of junior rocketeers discovering the darker side of summer break. We’re looking for noir coming-of-age tales, set against the backdrop of freedom afforded by summer recess.
What happens when settings look fine — happy, even — on the surface, only for a distortion to be lurking just out of sight? What can the uncanny help us understand about ourselves, our relationships, our communities?
In this issue we are looking for writing which connects with the Parisian city streets, the arrondissements, the banlieues—from the gilet jaune to haute couture, to anything that responds to the idealised, imagined, or very real versions of Paris.
The theme is ‘Competition’. Remember, it needs to make us laugh! (In a good way)
We want your original poetry, fiction and nonfiction inspired by your favorite mythos/myth!
For Journal 14, we embrace the idea that there are two kinds of people in the workplace, in government, and in your life – those who handle. And those who spout. We love them both.
The Latin word for promise is promissum from “send forth” so ponder, imagine, explore and send forth your promising speculations. We eagerly await them.
Beach sun on a hot summer’s day. The pick-up kickball game at your local park. Some nerves that make your heart rate spike. Working out, working hard, the fear that something won’t work out. What makes you sweat?
How are Friends organizing today? We've noticed that many people get a sense of belonging from affinity groups they belong to, whether based on identity (race, gender, or sexual orientation) or politics or spirituality. How do these groups speak to us as individuals? Does it even matter if they fit with traditional structures?
Climate change has led to more erratic and extreme weather events in recent decades. For this year’s A Midsummer Tale, set your story during a heat wave or heat dome. Your story must be set during the hot summer months and the theme must play an integral role in the story.
We’re looking for stories, essays, memoir and poetry to do with afterlives: life after death, life after work, life after having a baby, life after divorce… Anything to do with what follows a major change in life, when someone or something ends and significant adjustment occurs.
This issue focuses on practices that place musicality at the centre of the creative process, exploring its generative potential as a source of material, rather than treating it as merely a complementary or incidental layer of performance.