Why Reading Books on Productivity Is the Worst Thing a Writer Could Do by Lauren Sapala
Every year, hundreds of new books on productivity are published on Amazon. Out of all these books, a significant slice is dedicated to productivity for writers. Many of the titles promise to teach us how to write faster, how to schedule our time more efficiently, or how to publish our books more rapidly. But no matter what they promise, they all contain a common theme: The way you are working now is not good enough. You are too slow, and if you are too slow as a writer, you will get left behind. I shudder … Continue reading Why Reading Books on Productivity Is the Worst Thing a Writer Could Do by Lauren Sapala
Bedrock Poetry by Fred Wilbur
“An artist is said to be original exactly when he takes up the challenge of tradition and makes us see something more than we already knew.” Demetri Porphyrios. Classical Architecture. I am a fundamentalist. But contemporary connotations dredge up all sorts of pejoratives that I want to dispel. I want you to understand fundamental. There are fundamental math equations, fundamental conventions of a civilized society (etiquette), of language use, rules of public road driving, of constructing a printed book, of lasting friendships, fundamental principles of civil rights in an educated and democratic country. In … Continue reading Bedrock Poetry by Fred Wilbur
Little Cups by Alex Joyner
I once held my cousin in a Dixie cup. At least a part of him. The improvised committal on the banks of Nottoway Swamp was a fitting send-off for a man who wanted no ceremony. Prone to eccentricity and melancholia like many of my clan, Cousin Bill had requested only that we scatter him after the annual family reunion in tidewater Virginia. Over BBQ, collard greens, and caramel cake at the Ruritan building, we lit a candle for him and Alice Page, our other casualty that year, then offered the swamp excursion for those who … Continue reading Little Cups by Alex Joyner
2022 Essay/Memoir Contest
STREETLIGHT’S 2022 SUMMER FLASH FICTION CONTEST Send us your shorts by July 11! 1st Prize — $125 2nd — $75 3rd — $50 Entry Fee: $10 CONTEST GUIDELINES: Up to 500 of your best, previously unpublished words. Any subject. Multiple submissions are fine — one work per entry. This is a blind contest. Please remove all personal information from the story pages. We encourage simultaneous submissions but if your piece is accepted elsewhere, inform us at fiction@streetlightmag.com, right away. Contest deadline is Monday, July 11, 2022 midnight EST. Competition winners will be announced July 25, … Continue reading 2022 Essay/Memoir Contest
2022 Flash Fiction Contest
STREETLIGHT’S 2022 SUMMER FLASH FICTION CONTEST Send us your shorts by July 11! 1st Prize — $125 2nd — $75 3rd — $50 Entry Fee: $10 CONTEST GUIDELINES: Up to 500 of your best, previously unpublished words. Any subject. Multiple submissions are fine — one work per entry. This is a blind contest. Please remove all personal information from the story pages. We encourage simultaneous submissions but if your piece is accepted elsewhere, inform us at fiction@streetlightmag.com, right away. Contest deadline is Monday, July 11, 2022 midnight EST. Competition winners will be announced July 25, … Continue reading 2022 Flash Fiction Contest
2022 Poetry Contest
STREETLIGHT’S 2022 POETRY CONTEST August 15 to October 31 1st Prize — $125 2nd — $75 3rd — $50 Entry Fee: $10 FOR UP TO 3 POEMS CONTEST GUIDELINES: Up to three of your best, previously unpublished poems. Any subject. Multiple submissions are fine. This is a blind contest. Please remove all personal information from the story pages. We encourage simultaneous submissions but if your piece is accepted elsewhere, inform us at poetry1@streetlightmag.com or poetry2@streetlightmag.com, right away. Contest deadline is Monday, October 31, 2022 midnight EST. Competition winners will be announced November 14, 2022. Only … Continue reading 2022 Poetry Contest
2022 Flash Fiction Contest Winners by Erika Raskin and Mary Esselman
This year’s flash fiction contest brought many great stories . . . and hard choices. (Seriously, it’s no lay-up trying to determine a winner when you have two judges with different writing backgrounds and sensibilities looking for the top three entries!) But Mary Esselman and I dove into the stack, read and reread, then ranked those that spoke to us in order, finding overlap à la Venn Diagram. (Personal aside: I’m always intrigued by the fact that this formula may mean one’s favorite might not even make the cut at all.) That said, the … Continue reading 2022 Flash Fiction Contest Winners by Erika Raskin and Mary Esselman
Vigil and Work Gloves, 2 poems by Ron Stottlemyer
Vigil Outside the nurses’ station, third floor east, twilight spreads its white canopy over the busy avenue of bright buildings. Down the hall, an orderly lofts a pale sheet over a vacant bed. In the next room, the ventilator pulses on, pushing a steady breeze through the cracked wall of a failing lung. In the dim light, the old woman tethered to a fever floats under the fluorescent aura shimmering above her head. Beneath shuttered eyelids, night pools. Right up to the edge. Work Gloves Nothing much to look at lying on the shelf, one … Continue reading Vigil and Work Gloves, 2 poems by Ron Stottlemyer
Drawings and Collages by Jack C. Buck
I wholeheartedly believe in the power and value of art—whatever the avenue. The act of trying is the underlying variable of my art education, from solely writing poetry to putting energy towards visual poetry, drawing and collaging. My collages are made from cut paper and pen, followed by photographing (digitizing), digitally manipulating and modifying to add more elements. For art/drawing, my informal education originates from being influenced by creative friends in college. Being in the same space and sharing each other’s creative projects is still motivational. There is power in collective energy. I’ve … Continue reading Drawings and Collages by Jack C. Buck
Erik and George by Ty Phelps
Erik awakens full of pain, lying in a hospital bed in a propped position, his throat sore from the tube that snaked down into his mouth and nose, his limbs heavy and bruised. His head feels like it belongs to someone else. The lights are low in his hospital room and he hears the soft whir of machines. No one is in the room with him that he can see. Panic floods his heart as he remembers the accident: the whirl of lights, the spinning crush of metal. And ten-year-old George, his son, in … Continue reading Erik and George by Ty Phelps