An Inquiry of Place
“Gone are the days of walking into a business and going, ‘Here’s what I can do for you, let’s talk, hire me,’” he says, and the more I think about it, the more I agree. An inbox folder full of application confirmations (and rejections) isn’t the only evidence I have that obtaining a job isn’t as easy as it used to be.
On the fourth day, the rain ceased. I like to think the world wept for him, and yet when it was time, a sense of peace came about, as if to comfort me. That didn’t make the decision any easier.
I couldn’t tell you why it caught my eye or what drew me to it, but somehow, I knew that this one portrait was something I should claim. Like the one puppy you lock eyes with, cementing the desire to be together, the shape and the colors of the picture resonated within me.
“Have you heard back from the artist on this one yet?”
My voice was pitched to sound detached, but I knew I couldn’t entirely hide the hope for a negative answer.
I recently got the chance to speak with author Catherine Pikula about her prose work, “I’m fine, how are you?, which won the 2018 Newfound Prose Prize and Chapbook Contest.
Balancing a teeming bag on one shoulder and two gold pans and a classifier in the other, I contemplated my path forward. My boyfriend’s boots seemed to glide across the river rocks, and while I hoped for the same result, I had a sneaking suspicion I would do more sliding than gliding.
Scurrying to catch up, I trudged after those brown cowboy boots. Eyes alight with what I would come to know as gold fever, my boyfriend’s excitement had grown that morning as we neared the river. Though we would stagger back up the path to the car a few hours later, his footsteps were quick as we made our way down to the bank. For a man who towered above me, he moved with a grace and ease I could only admire. Turning about in place, he looked at me expectantly.
“Here?”
Nodding, I hoped we had picked a good spot. Though we had visited the same creek bank only a week before, our efforts then weren’t very promising. This time, however, we were prepared. Scouting done, we were in it for real now.
“Gah!” I vented as I closed the book cover, the desire to read further and know more only relenting with the knowledge that there were no more words to read—at least, not yet. There would be, but only with the passing of time. Time I knew would be necessary for such a work, but that I resented nonetheless.
I have spent the last two months re-reading the first two books of the Stormlight Archive, the three-book (so far) series written by Brandon Sanderson that had me captivated from the first page. When the third book was published, I knew I had to buy it. I suppose it seems a bit silly, buying the third book of a series when you don’t already own the first two, but for someone who uses the public library more often than 2/3 of the population, waiting to get my hands on a copy seemed like torture.
What would you do if you could see three seconds into the future?
Matthew Pitt’s “These Are Our Demands” (Engine/Ferry Street Books, 2017) provides an answer. In one short story, Paul is a Polish “minute oracle,” and Maddy knows it. As his English tutor, she does her best to teach him the language, but of course there are always going to be certain things lost in translation. He knows she is pregnant, but does her man know she is carrying a baby boy?
You’ll find them in the court room, on TV, in magazines, and more often than not, on the receiving end of your (hefty) check. Some of them are pressed and polished, presenting a perfect picture of professionalism achieved only by those willing to spend the time, while others might be mistaken for an eccentric vagabond, mysterious and yet intriguing in their strange ways.
Did you say “experts”?
Yes, that’s who I’m talking about.
The new year brings a lot of new things, and as we come to the close the first month, it’s hard to believe that in just 21 days, you could have formed any number of new habits, simply by repeating them each and every day.
So, how did you use your first few days of the new year?
If you could create a world, how would you make it? What would you fill it with?
What are your dreams?
Let’s say that in the next few years, either post offices or libraries will close. It will be one or the other (or perhaps both). Which could you live without? And which one would have the most impact when it’s gone?
Tiny wisps of paper drifted in the wind, the miniscule inked letters oblivious of their fate. Like so many leaves falling in autumn, the snippets of prose gathered in the only way shredded paper could: haphazardly. The source of this textual confetti lie upon the wooden bench, sunlight glinting off the now-torn cover.
I saw this through horrified eyes. Nearly dropping my glass of still-cool Kool-Aid, I rushed over to the book’s carcass, grasping desperately at the ripped pages in a futile attempt to keep all parts intact. Tears flooded my eyes.
My mother’s dog stood nearby, panting, eyes upon me. A small piece of book cover was caught in the fur of her chin.
When was the last time you visited your local library?
Pairs of red lights blare in the afternoon sun. Though it’s at least 90 degrees out there, my body feels cool inside my Subaru Forester. The air conditioning does its best to tame the heat. A glance at the dial reveals the car’s shrug to my inquiry; Yes, the fan is full blast, and so is the AC—what else do you want from me? Red lights jerk my attention back to the road, probably where it should be anyway.
Writing is a skill we learn not too long after we begin to speak, and just like those crooked and spindly characters of our first attempts, the way in which we express ourselves is as unique as the circumstances that led to our existence. Our speech and verbal expressions hold meaning and the words we write are no exception. But where do we draw the line? Where does originality become eccentricity, and at what point is artistic license simply an act of prideful preening?
The Uprising Review is a literary magazine that celebrates freedom of speech and invites all perspectives and their unique voices. Founded just recently, the literary magazine is the brainchild of four minds: Everitt Foster, George Spisak, Stephen Willis, and W.O. Cassity.
I recently had the pleasure of speaking with Richard Adin, Founder and CEO of Freelance Editorial Services and of the “An American Editor” blog. What follows is our discussion of his journey to become an editor, his experience in the industry, and his advice on a number of topics.
Once a year, Newfound Journal awards its Prose Prize to one author and publishes their work in a chapbook. I recently had the pleasure of speaking with Mark Leidner, winner of the 2016 Prose Prize, about some of the themes of his winning work and his relationship with writing.
Rebecca Henderson: Mark, did you write this piece specifically for the Prose Prize, or was it something you already had written?
Mark Leidner: I saw the contest advertised when I was in the middle of writing it. I thought because it’s multiple stories within a single story, it would make a good chapbook if selected.
To write is to create and destroy. What once was constructed can be torn down at any moment, and yet what remains can very well be so effective as to be forever built upon. Words act as the vehicle for our everyday lives. Without language, we cannot express the kaleidoscope of human emotion, nor impact future generations.