Dear Weave Magazine Readers, Subscribers, and Supporters,
Weave Magazine is in transition: we're expanding our team, looking for new ways to share our contributors' work, and other exciting changes. In order to accomplish these goals, we've decided to delay the publication of issue 12 and close submissions early this year.
Our reading period will end one week from today on Sunday, March 15th at 11:59 am PDT with plans to reopen in the fall. We apologize in advance to anyone who misses the window, and we hope you'll think of us again. Please sign up to receive our blog posts via email (right column, third box) to keep up with the latest Weavey developments.
Subscribers who are waiting on issue 12 - we're sorry for the delay, but we promise this issue will be worth the wait. Feel free to email us about concerns, refunds, or any other questions.
As always, thank you for supporting Weave and independent publishing.
Be well,
Laura & the Weave Gang
Showing posts with label Weave Magazine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weave Magazine. Show all posts
March 8, 2015
June 20, 2014
Issue 11 Contributor List
Weave Magazine Issue 11
*Artwork*
Daniella Clayton
Carolyn Kelly
Carolyn Kelly
*Fiction*
Matthew Beach
Andrew Bourelle
Laura Leigh Morris
*Poetry*
William Aarnes
Lanette Cadle
Robert Darcy
Aaron J. DeLee
Autumn V. McClintock
Leah Poole Osowski
C. Russell Price
P.J. Williams
December 9, 2013
Issue 10 Contributor List
*Artwork*
Kelsey Dean
Geoffrey Miller
*Fiction*
Joan Connor
Michael W. Cox
E.C. Kane
James Pouilliard
*Nonfiction*
Pamela Galbreath
Eunice E. Tiptree
*Poetry*
Marie Abate
Nancy Naomi Carlson
Melissa Cundieff-Pexa
Doug Paul Case
Doug Paul Case
Claudia Cortese
Damien Cowger
James Dunlap
Maia Gil'Adi
Jessica Glover
Jason Gordon
Patrick Haas
Mary-Kaylor Hanger
Mary-Kaylor Hanger
Darla Himeles
Darrel Alejandro Holnes
Nate Liederbach
Paige Lockhart
Valerie Loveland
Valerie Loveland
Nathan McClain
Michelle Menting
Matt Morton
Erick Piller
Amber Rambharose
Laura Ramos
Laura Ramos
Will Stockton
Michael Wasson
November 5, 2013
Issue 07 Redux: All Very Surprising by Anthony Varallo
From Issue 07
came a poignant piece of absurd fiction with skillfully blended humor
amongst a deeply emotional experience. Humor is often mentioned
as a difficult form of writing because a distinct, compelling voice
is a vital prerequisite, one that must be discovered through
diligence and trained with practice. In Anthony Varallo's "All
Very Surprising" the voice itself is one of the surprising
aspects of the the story, and the fact it is done in such a natural
way helps the reader jump gleefully right into the action. We
loved it before in Issue 07, and find that years later the story has
aged like fine literature.
Anthony Varallo is the author of This Day in History, winner of the John Simmons Short Fiction Award, and Out Loud, winner of the Drue Heinz Literature Prize. His third story collection, Think of Me and I’ll Know, is just out from Northwestern University Press/TriQuarterly Books. Currently he is an associate professor of English at the College of Charleston, where he is the fiction editor of Crazyhorse.
This story originally appeared in Weave Magazine Issue 07, October 2011
Frank
Jackson
Web Editor, Weave Magazine
Web Editor, Weave Magazine
All
Very Surprising by
Anthony Varallo
What were the chances her baby
would be born talking?
“Slim,” the baby said. He had
just unburdened himself of his hospital blanket, which fell from his
pink shoulders and exposed the umbilical stump still clinging to his
belly button. “They don’t give you a big enough blanket, do
they?” he said. He offered her a toothless smile. “Oh, already I
seem to feel the chill of death!” he intoned.
His mother began to cry. They’d
been home from the hospital one week, and already she’d given up
trying to understand.
“Please don’t cry, mother
dear,” the baby said. “For I am prone to melodrama.”
The mother lived alone, her
husband gone, her house fitted out with the rocking chair, bassinet,
crib, changing table, Pack ‘n Play, and books and toys her mother
had purchased secondhand for her. “Don’t show up at my doorstep
one day,” her mother warned. “Understand? I given you what you
needed and I’ll continue to give you what you need, but don’t
show up at my doorstep one day.”
“I won’t show up at your
doorstep one day,” she said, but her mother only laughed.
“Always the last to know,”
she said.
At night the mother bathed the
baby in the plastic bathtub she was able to fit inside the kitchen
sink. She rinsed the baby with the detachable sink nozzle, the baby
neglecting to close his eyes as she maneuvered the spray above his
head. In the bathwater, the baby looked suddenly tender and helpless,
and the mother found herself whispering, “I love you,” as she
shielded his eyes from lather. The baby gave her a curious look and
said, “What is you definition of love, mother dear?”
The mother stopped rinsing him
and cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, and then offered
several explanations cribbed from popular songs and movies and the
few Bible verses she could vaguely recall from her childhood. The
baby nodded without comment. But later, when she was slipping him
into his pajamas, the baby said, “You know, I wasn’t very
impressed with your definition.” The mother rocked him in the
rocking chair and read him the books her mother had chosen:
Goodnight, Moon; If You
Give a Mouse a Cookie; Guess How Much I Love You; Go Dog, Go.
She thought the baby might be nodding off, but he only shook his baby
head and said, “These books are full of lies, aren’t they?” He
gave her a look. “And me so wee and glee.”
Mornings, the mother took her
baby to Starbucks, where people gave her looks for placing a sippy
cup of iced macchiato in the stroller’s beverage holder. She sped
the stroller through the door. “If there’s one thing I simply
cannot abide in a barista,” the baby said, sucking noisily on the
macchiato, “it’s chuffiness.”
Afternoons, they went to Target,
where the mother picked up some diapers and wipes, and checked items
in the clearance isle. “Savings,” the baby said, inspecting the
garden tools at stroller height. “More like the idea
of savings, right-o, mother
dear?” A woman approached them and knelt down to see the baby.
“Ooh, what a cutie patootie we have here!” she said. “With a
wittle face that’s so squeezy-weezy! Ooh, yes it is, yes it is!”
She held his face as if it were a rare and delicate fruit. When she
was out of earshot, the baby said, “What is the sorrow that drives
her?”
One evening the mother put the
baby in his car seat and carried him to the car, which had already
been packed with boxes of baby clothes, toys, the plastic bathtub,
the stroller, and the Pac ‘n Play hastily folded into its carrying
sack. “Oh, but I am an unwanted puppy en route to a strange farm!”
the baby said. The mother began to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said,
“it’s just that this is all—“ and she gave way to sobbing.
“It’s just that this is all
very surprising,” the baby offered.
The mother nodded, and began to
wail.
“Don’t cry, mumsy,” the
baby said, “for there is no end to the all very surprising things,
is there?”
The mother was about to answer
when the sky opened up and rain began to fall.
“Ah, who knows the caprices of
the weather?” the baby said.
When the mother arrived at her
mother’s house, she placed the baby in the stroller and pushed him
to the doorstep, where she would leave him with the boxes, bathtub,
Pac ‘n Play, the crib, and all the other items her mother had
purchased for her. The rain had picked up; the mother fastened a
canopy over the stroller and pulled it low. “How the winds do blow,
mommy-o!” the baby said. “So suiting our current mood!” The
mother leaned beneath the canopy and kissed the baby on his head. His
skin tasted faintly of old milk. The baby’s eyes met hers. “Believe
you can do it, me mutter; believe it as best you can.”
And she’d nearly made it out of
the neighborhood when the storm worsened; rain slapped her windshield
like a rebuke. Would the canopy hold? She circled back to her
mother’s house, saw the stroller on the doorstep with its canopy
bucking in the wind, and saw, as clearly as she saw the years
lengthening before her, where she would raise this baby into
childhood, adolescence, and adulthood; that, as much as she’d like
to imagine she could deposit her baby into her mother’s care, she
could never really leave such matters to chance.
~
Anthony Varallo is the author of This Day in History, winner of the John Simmons Short Fiction Award, and Out Loud, winner of the Drue Heinz Literature Prize. His third story collection, Think of Me and I’ll Know, is just out from Northwestern University Press/TriQuarterly Books. Currently he is an associate professor of English at the College of Charleston, where he is the fiction editor of Crazyhorse.
This story originally appeared in Weave Magazine Issue 07, October 2011
October 2, 2013
Thank You, Weave Magazine Subscribers!
We'd like to take a moment to send our thanks to the wonderful people who subscribed to Weave Magazine during our September subscription drive. We hope you enjoy reading these issues as much as we have.
Janice Anderson
Andrea Beltran
Kayla Berkey
Catharine Clark-Sayles
Leslie B. Conder
Copic + Spoons
Kelly Cressio-Moeller
Dakota Garilli
Kristin Hankins
Karen Lewis
Gordon Preston
Jan Priddy
Teresa Narey
Janette Schafer
Michael D. Smith
Scott H. Stoller
Harrison Thurman
An Tran
Robert Yune
Holly A. Zaldivar
Anonymous
Andrea Beltran
Kayla Berkey
Catharine Clark-Sayles
Leslie B. Conder
Copic + Spoons
Kelly Cressio-Moeller
Dakota Garilli
Kristin Hankins
Karen Lewis
Gordon Preston
Jan Priddy
Teresa Narey
Janette Schafer
Michael D. Smith
Scott H. Stoller
Harrison Thurman
An Tran
Robert Yune
Holly A. Zaldivar
Anonymous
September 30, 2013
Issue 03 Redux: Cheap, Fast, Filling by Roxane Gay
When a piece of flash fiction has particular strength the reader is able to envision the main character almost as a portrait, where we can interpret the life of the protagonist in a complex manner, obviously quite the task to pull off in a thousand words or so. The below 950 words in Roxane Gay's "Cheap, Fast, Filling" from our Issue 03 release, guides the reader into such an experience. We're given a glimpse into the lives of those we rarely hear about, refugees surviving on the bare minimum, their only sustenance coming from empty calories so to speak, exemplified in Lucian, a man flawed by desperation.
Roxane Gay has become one of our most important voices in literature. She has often been a vocal advocate for minorities in publishing. Besides her many renowned essays on the matter, she recently has spent time blogging for The Nation, illustrating how a broad range of voices participating in the literary conversation will only strengthen our community, which is of course a core value behind Weave's mission. At the time, we were proud and excited to include this wonderful story in our collection. In looking back, we're even more grateful to share this again.
Frank Jackson
Web Editor, Weave Magazine
When Lucien arrives in the United States by way of a trip to Canada, an illegal border crossing, and hitching rides down to Miami, his cousin Christophe, who made his own way to Miami years earlier hands him a 50 dollar bill and tells Lucien to eat Hot Pockets until he gets a job because they are cheap, filling and taste good. Lucien sleeps on the floor in an apartment he shares with five other men like him, all of them pretending this is better than that which came before. There is a small kitchen with an electric stove that has two burners and a microwave that is rarely cleaned. Christophe also tells Lucien that Hot Pockets are easy to prepare. Because he doesn’t know how to cook, Lucien is grateful for his cousin’s advice.
Lucien is in the United States because he loves Miami Vice. He loves the shiny suits Tubbs and Crockett wear. He loves their swagger. He loves the idea of Miami as a perfect place where problems are always solved and there are beautiful women as far as a man can see. In secondaire, Lucien would daydream about Miami while the French nuns frowned and slapped his desk with their rulers. He has not yet seen that Miami but he knows it is there. It has to be there.
Lucien’s apartment is in Pembroke Pines—a world away from Little Haiti and everything that might be familiar in an unfamiliar place. Every morning, he wakes up at five, showers, gets dressed. He walks four miles to the Home Depot on Pines Boulevard where he waits for contractors to cruise through the parking lot looking for cheap, fast labor. He stands in the immigrant bazaar with the Mexicans and Guatemalans and Nicaraguans, sometimes a few Chinese. They stand tall, try to look strong, hope that a long white finger will curl in their direction. Three or four times a week, he is lucky. He grabs his tool belt, hauls himself into the truck bed and enjoys the humid morning air as he is driven to big white houses owned by big white people locked behind gates to keep things safe from people like him.
Once a week, Lucien buys a calling card for $25. It will allow him to talk for 28 minutes. He calls home where he talks to his mother, his uncle, his wife, his four children. He tells elaborate fables about his new life—how he’s found them a new home with a bedroom for each child, and air-conditioning so they can breathe cool dry air. There is a lawn with green grass and a swimming pool in the backyard by which his wife can lay in the sun. His children, two boys and two girls all under the age of ten, clamor for his attention. He strains to understand them through the static on the line. They tell him about school and their friends and the UN soldier who is renting a room in the house, how he’s teaching them Brazilian curse words. When there are only a few minutes left, his wife chases the children into the bedroom they all share. They are alone. There is no time for anything tender. She whispers that she needs Lucien to send more money, there’s no food, there’s no water. She wants to know when he will send for them. He lies. He tells her he’s doing all he can. He says soon.
On the weekends, Christophe picks Lucien up in the truck his boss lets him take home and they go to house parties in Little Haiti. They listen to konpa and drink rum and as all Haitians are wont to do, they philosophize about how to solve their country’s problems. “Haiti,” his father would always tell Lucien while he was growing up, “is a country with seven million dictators.” Sometimes, when it is very late at night, Lucien will find comfort in the arms of a woman who is not his wife. He will go home with her and in the darkness, as he cups her breasts with his hands, and listens to her breathing against him, as he presses his lips against her neck, and her shoulder, then licks the salt from her skin, he will imagine that she tastes like home.
Around the corner from Lucien’s apartment is a 7-11. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, Lucien likes to go to there because it is cool and bright and white and clean and he can buy Hot Pockets. The man who works there late at night is also Haitian. He understands why Lucien likes to slowly walk up and down each aisle, carefully studying each row filled with perfectly packaged products. When the clerk first arrived in Miami, he did the same thing. Lucien thinks about the sweet things he would buy for his children if they were with him and how much it would please him to watch them eat a Twix bar or a Kit Kat. Each night, before he leaves 7-11, Lucien buys two Hot Pockets that he microwaves, and a Super Big Gulp. He walks home and sits on the curb in front of his building so he can be alone. He drinks slowly, so slowly that there’s no ice left in the cup when he’s done. He eats one of the Hot Pockets and the other one, he holds. He enjoys its warmth, thinks he’s holding the whole of the world in his hands.
Roxane Gay lives and writes in the Midwest.
This story originally appeared in Weave Magazine Issue 03, October 2009
Roxane Gay has become one of our most important voices in literature. She has often been a vocal advocate for minorities in publishing. Besides her many renowned essays on the matter, she recently has spent time blogging for The Nation, illustrating how a broad range of voices participating in the literary conversation will only strengthen our community, which is of course a core value behind Weave's mission. At the time, we were proud and excited to include this wonderful story in our collection. In looking back, we're even more grateful to share this again.
Frank Jackson
Web Editor, Weave Magazine
Cheap, Fast, Filling by Roxane Gay
When Lucien arrives in the United States by way of a trip to Canada, an illegal border crossing, and hitching rides down to Miami, his cousin Christophe, who made his own way to Miami years earlier hands him a 50 dollar bill and tells Lucien to eat Hot Pockets until he gets a job because they are cheap, filling and taste good. Lucien sleeps on the floor in an apartment he shares with five other men like him, all of them pretending this is better than that which came before. There is a small kitchen with an electric stove that has two burners and a microwave that is rarely cleaned. Christophe also tells Lucien that Hot Pockets are easy to prepare. Because he doesn’t know how to cook, Lucien is grateful for his cousin’s advice.
Lucien is in the United States because he loves Miami Vice. He loves the shiny suits Tubbs and Crockett wear. He loves their swagger. He loves the idea of Miami as a perfect place where problems are always solved and there are beautiful women as far as a man can see. In secondaire, Lucien would daydream about Miami while the French nuns frowned and slapped his desk with their rulers. He has not yet seen that Miami but he knows it is there. It has to be there.
Lucien’s apartment is in Pembroke Pines—a world away from Little Haiti and everything that might be familiar in an unfamiliar place. Every morning, he wakes up at five, showers, gets dressed. He walks four miles to the Home Depot on Pines Boulevard where he waits for contractors to cruise through the parking lot looking for cheap, fast labor. He stands in the immigrant bazaar with the Mexicans and Guatemalans and Nicaraguans, sometimes a few Chinese. They stand tall, try to look strong, hope that a long white finger will curl in their direction. Three or four times a week, he is lucky. He grabs his tool belt, hauls himself into the truck bed and enjoys the humid morning air as he is driven to big white houses owned by big white people locked behind gates to keep things safe from people like him.
Once a week, Lucien buys a calling card for $25. It will allow him to talk for 28 minutes. He calls home where he talks to his mother, his uncle, his wife, his four children. He tells elaborate fables about his new life—how he’s found them a new home with a bedroom for each child, and air-conditioning so they can breathe cool dry air. There is a lawn with green grass and a swimming pool in the backyard by which his wife can lay in the sun. His children, two boys and two girls all under the age of ten, clamor for his attention. He strains to understand them through the static on the line. They tell him about school and their friends and the UN soldier who is renting a room in the house, how he’s teaching them Brazilian curse words. When there are only a few minutes left, his wife chases the children into the bedroom they all share. They are alone. There is no time for anything tender. She whispers that she needs Lucien to send more money, there’s no food, there’s no water. She wants to know when he will send for them. He lies. He tells her he’s doing all he can. He says soon.
On the weekends, Christophe picks Lucien up in the truck his boss lets him take home and they go to house parties in Little Haiti. They listen to konpa and drink rum and as all Haitians are wont to do, they philosophize about how to solve their country’s problems. “Haiti,” his father would always tell Lucien while he was growing up, “is a country with seven million dictators.” Sometimes, when it is very late at night, Lucien will find comfort in the arms of a woman who is not his wife. He will go home with her and in the darkness, as he cups her breasts with his hands, and listens to her breathing against him, as he presses his lips against her neck, and her shoulder, then licks the salt from her skin, he will imagine that she tastes like home.
Around the corner from Lucien’s apartment is a 7-11. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, Lucien likes to go to there because it is cool and bright and white and clean and he can buy Hot Pockets. The man who works there late at night is also Haitian. He understands why Lucien likes to slowly walk up and down each aisle, carefully studying each row filled with perfectly packaged products. When the clerk first arrived in Miami, he did the same thing. Lucien thinks about the sweet things he would buy for his children if they were with him and how much it would please him to watch them eat a Twix bar or a Kit Kat. Each night, before he leaves 7-11, Lucien buys two Hot Pockets that he microwaves, and a Super Big Gulp. He walks home and sits on the curb in front of his building so he can be alone. He drinks slowly, so slowly that there’s no ice left in the cup when he’s done. He eats one of the Hot Pockets and the other one, he holds. He enjoys its warmth, thinks he’s holding the whole of the world in his hands.
Roxane Gay lives and writes in the Midwest.
This story originally appeared in Weave Magazine Issue 03, October 2009
September 23, 2013
Jan Priddy reads her poem "Zoöpraxiscope"
"Zoöpraxiscope" first appeared in Weave Magazine Issue 09. We are thrilled to continue sharing our contributors' work in multiple mediums in order to extend the reach of their work.
A big thank you goes to Jan Priddy for her beautiful reading and this artful recording.
Purchase Issue 09, where this poem appears, or subscribe to Weave here.
September 2, 2013
Announcing Weave's September Subscription Drive!
As an independent literary journal, Weave Magazine relies on the support of our readers. Weave exists because you believe in our mission of writing, art, diversity and community. Weave exists because of our amazing contributors. Weave exists because of the support of our local arts and literary community. Weave exists because of subscribers.Our past subscription drives have been successful, and we want to continue that success this month while celebrating our latest issue. Our goal for this drive is 50 subscriptions in 30 days, because we believe in our community, our mission, our contributors, and in YOUR support!
SUBSCRIBE through Google Checkout during the month of September to receive:
- Two copies of Weave Magazine at a sweet discount!
- A public thank you on our website, including a link to yours!
- A warm fuzzy feeling for supporting independent publishing!
We just reopened to submissions, so it is the perfect time to get your hands Weave. If you are sending us work, consider supporting the publications in which you envision your work. Support indie publishing by subscribing to a fantastic journal of the best in contemporary art and writing.
June 5, 2013
Issue 09 Contributor List
*Artwork*
Christian Hendricks
*Fiction*
Amy Fant
Geeta Kothari
Brandi Wells
Chris Yamashita
*Nonfiction*
Alicia Barnes
Rachael Levitt
Ioanna Opidee
*Poetry*
Anthony Isaac Bradley
Jo Ann Clark
Jarrett Eakins
RJ Gibson
Lizi Gilad
Michael Hurley
Lisa McCool-Grime
Ann Robinson
Jonathan H. Scott
David Shumate
Danez Smith
Christine Tierney
February 9, 2013
Weave Magazine Issue 08 Now Available
We here at Weave Magazine are so proud to share our latest issue with you. It's been a long road to the finish line with Issue 08 and we couldn't be more pleased with out it has turned out. We're so grateful to our fabulous contributors for their work as well as their patience. We delayed this issue to make changes within the organization and we're all the stronger for it.As always, dearest reader, this issue is packed with stunning prose, surprising verse, and compelling visual art. You'll meet Atlas, grandmothers, software engineers, and strange children. Visit a pool hall, California, a hotel bar, and Newfoundland. Read ekphrastic poems, stark realism in flash fiction, prose poetry, fantastical narratives, and everything in between. Indulge yourself on myth, madness, and myriad voices with Weave Magazine Issue 08.
Buy Issue 08 on Amazon (where you can also read a sneak preview)!
November 16, 2012
Issue 08 Contributor List
*Poetry*
Kelly Andrews
Michael Boccardo
Kaitlin Bostick
Julia Bouwsma
Christine Butterworth-McDermott
Dolores Castro translated by Toshiya Kamei
Niamh Corcoran
Molly Curtis
Laura Donnelly
Brendan Egan
Suzanne Marie Hopcroft
Adam Houle
Adam Houle
Heather J. Macpherson
Prairie L. Markussen
Casey McCord
Marigny Michel
Casey McCord
Marigny Michel
Keith Montesano
Sara Lupita Olivares
Sara Lupita Olivares
Leah Sewell
John Oliver Simon
John Oliver Simon
Adam Tavel
*Fiction*
Andrea O. Bullard
*Nonfiction*
*Art*
Eleanor Leonne Bennett
Joseph Briggs
Jeff Foster
Suki Goodfellow
Suki Goodfellow
Carne Griffiths
Ken Knudsten
Ken Knudsten
February 29, 2012
Congrat's to Contributor Anthony Varallo, Micro Award Finalist
Congratulations to Weave Magazine's issue 07 contributor Anthony Varallo, whose story "All Very Surprising" has been chosen as a finalist for the 2012 Micro Awards.
Founded in 2008, the Micro Award honors "outstanding flash fiction from both print and electronic media." This is Mr. Varallo's second straight year as a Micro Award finalist, placing him in a small group of writers to be recognized multiple times.
Don't have a copy of issue seven yet? Order yours online today. If you're attending AWP, stop by our table to pick up a copy in person.
Founded in 2008, the Micro Award honors "outstanding flash fiction from both print and electronic media." This is Mr. Varallo's second straight year as a Micro Award finalist, placing him in a small group of writers to be recognized multiple times.
Don't have a copy of issue seven yet? Order yours online today. If you're attending AWP, stop by our table to pick up a copy in person.
February 6, 2012
Issue Seven Arrives
Weave is proud to announce the release of our seventh issue this December. With each issue, I am still giddy when Weave arrives from the printer on my doorstep. This new object I can hold, that I can place in someone else's hands. Before printing, the stories and poems and art were tangible through the vivid imagery of their creators, but now these pieces are a collective "thing" that marks another successful collaboration between editors, writers, and now finally, readers.
Issue 07 features incredible stories, including those selected for our first flash fiction contest, winner Kelly Baron's "White Bread" and honorable mention Andra Hibbert's "Blighted." You'll also find poems from our first poetry contest; winner Caleb Curtiss' "Dream" and honorable mentions from Noel Sloboda, Jada Ach, and Meg Cowan.
2011 is the first year Weave nominated poems and prose for the Pushcart Prize and issue seven includes three nominees: Lawrence Wray's poem "Alicante," and in nonfiction, Orman Day's "A Whimsical Current" and Eric Tran's "Lipstick Jungle."
Saturday, January 28th Weave celebrated the release of issue 07, along with issue 06, with a reading at Remedy in Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania. The event included readings from contributors along with musical performances. Enjoy the photos of the event below.
This issue is also our largest ever, packed with poems from Carol Berg, Nicelle Davis, Noelle Kocot, and Nicholas YB Wong, fiction from Ellen McGrath Smith, Brooks Rexroat, and Anthony Varallo, nonfiction from Hannah Karena Jones and Julie Marie Wade, and art by Shoshana Kertesz, Jeannie Lynn Paske, Lindsey Peck Scherloum, among others.
Still haven't gotten your copy of Weave issue 07? Subscribe.
Issue 07 features incredible stories, including those selected for our first flash fiction contest, winner Kelly Baron's "White Bread" and honorable mention Andra Hibbert's "Blighted." You'll also find poems from our first poetry contest; winner Caleb Curtiss' "Dream" and honorable mentions from Noel Sloboda, Jada Ach, and Meg Cowan.
2011 is the first year Weave nominated poems and prose for the Pushcart Prize and issue seven includes three nominees: Lawrence Wray's poem "Alicante," and in nonfiction, Orman Day's "A Whimsical Current" and Eric Tran's "Lipstick Jungle."
Saturday, January 28th Weave celebrated the release of issue 07, along with issue 06, with a reading at Remedy in Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania. The event included readings from contributors along with musical performances. Enjoy the photos of the event below.
This issue is also our largest ever, packed with poems from Carol Berg, Nicelle Davis, Noelle Kocot, and Nicholas YB Wong, fiction from Ellen McGrath Smith, Brooks Rexroat, and Anthony Varallo, nonfiction from Hannah Karena Jones and Julie Marie Wade, and art by Shoshana Kertesz, Jeannie Lynn Paske, Lindsey Peck Scherloum, among others.
Still haven't gotten your copy of Weave issue 07? Subscribe.
December 22, 2011
Weave's 2011 Micro Award Nomination
We are pleased to announce our 2011 nominee for the Micro Award, Jane McCafferty, for her fantastic story, "Stars in the Water." This annual award is presented for flash fiction of 1000 words or less. Many congratulations to Jane and we hope you'll read her story, along with the many other wonderful pieces that appear in Issue 06 of Weave.
November 28, 2011
2011 Pushcart Prize Nominations
Weave has published beautiful poetry, prose, drama and visual art for over three years now. While we are still a young journal, we feel we have reached a threshold that many indie publications struggle to meet. Though we didn't arrive here without some struggle, Weave is here to stay. We will continue to publish and promote the beautiful work of our contributors and share it with our readers and subscribers.
In celebration of Weave's stability and growth, we are thrilled to announce our nominations for the 2011 Pushcart Prize. This this our first year selecting nominees and the process was difficult, but we believe we chose pieces that represent Weave's diversity of voice and standard of beauty.
Congratulations to all of our 2011 nominees!
"Rainer" by Z.Z. Boone
"A Whimsical Current" by Orman Day
In celebration of Weave's stability and growth, we are thrilled to announce our nominations for the 2011 Pushcart Prize. This this our first year selecting nominees and the process was difficult, but we believe we chose pieces that represent Weave's diversity of voice and standard of beauty.
Congratulations to all of our 2011 nominees!
"Rainer" by Z.Z. Boone
"A Whimsical Current" by Orman Day
"Song for an Ocular Migraine" by Sally Rosen Kindred
"Lifting Skin" by Mary O'Donnell
"Lipstick Jungle" by Eric Tran
"Alicante" by Lawrence WrayNovember 7, 2011
A Note to Weave's Issue 07 Submitters
We're sorry we haven't been in touch sooner. The Weave staff has been busily reading submissions in our free time in preparation for our next issue. Between April and July 2011 we received more than twice the number of submissions than the previous reading period. If you still have an outstanding submission with Weave from our previous reading period, we offer our most sincere apologies. Most of our staff are writers too, so we understand what it's like to wait to hear back about a submission you sent in June. You can guarantee that many of us stare longingly at our inboxes mere moments after we hit the send button. Simply put, we empathize.
That said, we also have high standards as editors. We want to give every story or poem the thoughtful consideration it deserves. Many of you have already queried, and you still can by emailing us for a more personal update on the status of your submission. It is most likely, though, that your submission is still under consideration.
You may have also noticed that we posted the contributor list for issue 07. Where does that leave the outstanding submissions from the issue 07 reading period, you might ask? Excellent question! After careful thought, I decided it was best to consider the remaining submissions for our next issue. Our seventh issue is the biggest yet (around 120 pages!) and in order to finish the lengthy process of layout, final edits, and printing on time, I decided close the pages of lucky number seven.
We understand that this was not part of the original deal you made with Weave when you trusted us with your work. If you feel you need to withdraw your piece from consideration, we understand. But if you are open to being considered for issue eight, well, hang in there! Take a deep breath, turn off your computer, and spend some quality time with friends and family. In the mean time, we sincerely appreciate your continued patience and we'll do our best to get back to you as soon as possible!
Gratefully Yours,
Laura & the Weave Gang
October 21, 2011
Weave Magazine Issue 07 Contributor List
*POETRY*
Jada Ach
Tanya Collings
Nicelle Davis
Iris Jamahl Dunkle
Ivy Grimes
Robert Guard
Lauren Hilger
Krystal Howard
Rich Ives
Dana Killmeyer
Alyse Knorr
Noelle Kocot
Nancy Long
Scott H. Stoller
Mitch Storar
Lawrence Wray
Sandra Yannone
Monika Zobel
*FICTION*
Kelly Brice Baron
Kelly Brice Baron
Brandi Christian-Judkins
Amanda Jo Diana
Caitlin Laura Galway
Andra Hibbert
Kathleen Brewin Lewis
Ellen McGrath Smith
Anthony Varallo
*NONFICTION*
Orman Day
*NONFICTION*
Orman Day
Michael Shou-Yung Shum
Eric Tran
*ART*
Vittorio F. Cavalli
Vittorio F. Cavalli
Kathleen Gunton
October 12, 2011
Weave Magazine's 2011 Flash Fiction Contest Results!
Thank you to all of the writers who entered Weave Magazine's 2011 Flash Fiction Contest and special thanks to our judge, Bridgette Shade, and to Weave's editorial team.
WINNER
"White Bread" by Kelly Baron. Bridgette Shade says, "Told from the point of view of a child, the images described in this short piece are fresh and original. Through a pot of macaroni and more importantly, a loaf of Wonder Bread, we get a taste of this uniquely dysfunctional family's life - particularly the life of Mary, a girl 'with hair like blackbirds' whose childhood toys have been replaced with aprons and impossibly grown-up standards. Whose innocence we mourn long after we've stopped reading."
Honorable Mention: "Blighted" by Andra Hibbert "is full of rich imagery and language..." -Bridgette Shade
Congrats to our winner, Kelly Baron, and runner-up Andra Hibbert. Read both flash fiction stories in the seventh issue of Weave this December!
WINNER
"White Bread" by Kelly Baron. Bridgette Shade says, "Told from the point of view of a child, the images described in this short piece are fresh and original. Through a pot of macaroni and more importantly, a loaf of Wonder Bread, we get a taste of this uniquely dysfunctional family's life - particularly the life of Mary, a girl 'with hair like blackbirds' whose childhood toys have been replaced with aprons and impossibly grown-up standards. Whose innocence we mourn long after we've stopped reading."
Honorable Mention: "Blighted" by Andra Hibbert "is full of rich imagery and language..." -Bridgette Shade
Congrats to our winner, Kelly Baron, and runner-up Andra Hibbert. Read both flash fiction stories in the seventh issue of Weave this December!
October 4, 2011
Weave Magazine's 2011 Poetry Contest Results!
Thank you to all of the poets who entered Weave Magazine's 2011 Poetry Contest and special thanks to our judge, Lisa Marie Basile and to our wonderful editorial team.
WINNER:
"Dream" by Caleb Curtiss. Lisa Marie Basile states, "The voice is authentic and the narrative is haunted. It builds the image and intensity. The architecture of the poem is precise and lovely. The language is clear, yet ripe with odd images that make sense no matter how strange. The poem balances a realistic, conversational register with a poetic, surreal register in a clean and sincere way. It was a pleasure to read. I also think this poem specifically works well for Weave. It is honest, creative, vivid and presents a strong relationship between two humans who have a strong woven connection."
Honorable Mentions:
"Peach Pull" by Jada Ach "is enriched with a lot of imagery, especially the juxtaposition between the natural world and gory, bloody thought." -Lisa Marie Basile
"Fig Eaters" by Megan Cowen "is a concisely gorgeous poem. The images in this piece catch me and make me want to write: 'waking, ready as the stone wall / onto which you spit the stars.' Wow! " -Lisa Marie Basile
"Caroline Fox Considers Jeremy Bentham's Proposal (1805)" by Noel Sloboda "provides a sense of real and internal momentum." -Lisa Marie Basile
Congratulations to Caleb Curtiss and to all of the Honorable Mentions! Look for all of these poems in Weave Magazine issue 07 this December.
WINNER:
"Dream" by Caleb Curtiss. Lisa Marie Basile states, "The voice is authentic and the narrative is haunted. It builds the image and intensity. The architecture of the poem is precise and lovely. The language is clear, yet ripe with odd images that make sense no matter how strange. The poem balances a realistic, conversational register with a poetic, surreal register in a clean and sincere way. It was a pleasure to read. I also think this poem specifically works well for Weave. It is honest, creative, vivid and presents a strong relationship between two humans who have a strong woven connection."
Honorable Mentions:
"Peach Pull" by Jada Ach "is enriched with a lot of imagery, especially the juxtaposition between the natural world and gory, bloody thought." -Lisa Marie Basile
"Fig Eaters" by Megan Cowen "is a concisely gorgeous poem. The images in this piece catch me and make me want to write: 'waking, ready as the stone wall / onto which you spit the stars.' Wow! " -Lisa Marie Basile
"Caroline Fox Considers Jeremy Bentham's Proposal (1805)" by Noel Sloboda "provides a sense of real and internal momentum." -Lisa Marie Basile
Congratulations to Caleb Curtiss and to all of the Honorable Mentions! Look for all of these poems in Weave Magazine issue 07 this December.
September 7, 2011
Weave Goes Bicoastal Celebration Sale
Weave's sixth issue marked a new era for this literary community. In addition to trying something new with our print design, Weave's Founding Editor and lifelong Pittsburgher, Laura E. Davis (that's me!), moved across the country to San Francisco at the end of June. While we have always published writers and artists from all over the country, Weave has been a lasting literary presence in Pittsburgh. I struggled with what moving Weave to California might mean for the community we built back home.
But changes occur and we adapt. A few months ago, we stopped announcing weekly literary events on our blog. The primary reason behind this change was when another great organization began providing the same information in a more collaborative fashion. While Weave will always be Pittsburgh born and bred, we are now a bicoastal journal. In fact, thanks to the great folks at Submishmash, who make online submission management so simple, Weave has staff members across the country. While the bulk of our staff remains in Pittsburgh, we also have folks in New York City, Philadelphia and Southern California. Our customer base is growing too. Weave can always be purchased online, but we are also carried in a number of bookstores. In Pittsburgh, you can find us at Awesome Books; in San Francisco, look for Weave at Books & Bookshelves. Expect to see Weave on the shelf at many other independent booksellers in the near future.
Some things won't change. We will still participate in events like the Ligonier Valley Writers Conference and Pittsburgh's Small Press Festival. We hope to get involved with events like Litquake. We will be at AWP in Chicago again. I plan to host readings with former and current Weave contributors in the Bay Area, while continuing to hold readings for each issue in Pittsburgh. We hope to hold more community writing workshops across the county.
To celebrate this growth and expansion, we are going to have a SALE on ALL ISSUES of Weave, including our latest issue, which features work from writers such as Nin Andrews, J.P. Dancing Bear, Jane McCafferty and Truth Thomas, among others. Just use the code "BICOASTAL" at checkout and you'll get 50% OFF any purchase! (And domestic shipping on all orders is only $2.) This offer is good for at least one week, maybe longer, so after you buy your copies be sure to go tell your friends about Weave's big sale. We hope you'll join our celebration by supporting independent publishing with your purchase today!
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