The Paterson Literary Review International magazine features fiction, poetry, interviews, and essays. Submission Guidelines Praise For the Paterson Literary Review “A great poet once said that art is not life because ‘Art has its own dynamic. It is a runaway train which society either boards, or does not board.’ Editor Maria Mazziotti Gillan decided from the beginning that the Paterson Literary Review would board that train and bring with it all voices, all people, not just a few—not only the dominant cultures, but each writer who has a genuine story to tell. We thank her for an all-inclusive literary magazine with a high degree of excellence—a journal that is global as well as deeply personal. “—Grace Cavalieri, Producer & Host: “The Poet and the Poem from the Library of Congress”
Author: mcullen
Adaptation . . . Prompt #579
Write about something you have had to adapt to. Was change easy? Or, was it a struggle (either internally or externally)? Write about something you adapted to. Write about the process of adapting. What did you do? How did it go?
Brain Space
By Camille Sherman I’d like to write something charming or insightful or brilliant but the mind is as blank as the page. I scavenge the corners of consciousness, deftly sidestepping the errands and faint reminders threatening to blossom into worry. I search for a road less traveled by, a path in the crevices of my frontal cortex that could lead to my creative promised land. All that comes is the Law & Order theme song. Camille Sherman is a professional opera singer from the Bay Area. She trained at The Boston Conservatory and the San Francisco Conservatory of music, and served as an Artist in Residence at Pensacola Opera and Portland Opera. She currently lives in Portland, where she continues to sing and develop projects with local artists.
Writing Family Stories
Guest Blogger Nancy Julien Kopp encourages writing family stories as a gift to family members. When stories are only told around the holiday dinner table, they eventually get lost. Writing the stories ensures that they will live on, that those stories will be a continuing gift to other family members. Many people want to write their family stories, but don’t know how to begin. There is no set place or time to begin. It’s not necessary to start with the first ancestor you remember. The starting spot is anywhere, about anyone, or anyplace. Begin with the most vivid memory you have. Type your family stories, put them in a binder, and assemble them any way you like: By the person, by the era, by the ones you like best. It does not matter how you put your book of family stories together. What is important is that you do it….
Shopping at the A & P
By Jonah Raskin My mother always shopped at the A & P in the small town where I grew up. Going there with her was almost as wonderful as going to the Planetarium with its stars and planets in its make-believe night sky, and the Museum of Natural History with its reconstructed dinosaurs. At the A & P I liked the rows and rows of canned goods, and packaged cereals, the smell of the wood floor and the man in the green apron who always helped my mother. I thought of him and the A & P the other day when I went shopping in my own local food market. Like the A & P of my boyhood, my local market is small, clean, and tidy. Some of the smells are nearly the same. Walking the aisles, I’m reminded of the smells in the A & P. Before I know…
Time . . . Too Much, Too Little
By Cheryl Moore In the many years of a working life, time is too little. Too little to be with family and friends Too little to pursue creative activities Too little to just sit back and enjoy its passage. Since retirement there has been time. What have I done with this time? Walk to the river Scribble in a journal Mix up paint on a canvas Invent a story from memories Settle on the porch with a book and watch the birds at the feeder, crows chasing a hawk high in the sky Watch the sun rise and set as it slowly arcs across the sky Watch the tide’s ebb and flow pulled by the distant moon Watch the blooming and fading of the garden’s flowers And the creatures who visit Too much time or too…
Be more, do less.
By Camille Sherman This advice was first shared in a Master Class-style opera workshop where my classmates and I would sing for each other, beginning the long process of working out the kinks in our presentation. The purpose of the vice was to help organize the inner monologue: the running mental news banner that presses into every young performance or audition. Here’s how it goes: standing in front of a dozen peers, preparing to perform the aria you’ve been overthinking all morning, the mind runs wild. Sound good, remember the words, give a compelling performance, impress everyone or face clumsy embarrassment. The music starts and as you stare at a point on the back wall just above the heads of your classmates, your mental tornado flurrying, a thought freezes you into place: what do I do with my hands? Do I move or gesture? You realize as you sing the…
Turtle Regains The Pond
By Lakin Khan Layers of mud kept Turtle warm and secluded all through the winter hibernation. Occasionally a bubble escaped to the top of the pond, but usually, no. A spring sun glanced across the serene surface of the pond, riling up the water insects, generating a small current that brought fresh smells to Turtle’s blunt, beaky nose. Cinnamon, he thought, and hot cross buns, he considered, the memories of days kept at a house weaving into his rising consciousness. Time for business, he thought, and scrabbled against the twigs and leaves that the mud held against him, claws working to free him up out of his encasement and into the cold bottom water and then up, up, up into the gradually warming surface, into the feral spring. Two months ago, wild horses couldn’t have dragged him out of the bottom of the muck, but now Spring itself was galloping…
History Lesson
By Susan Bono I’ve been rummaging around in already full closets lately, trying to find space for all the stuff I brought home when I emptied my parents’ house last May. It’s been rough going, but I stopped wondering why when I realized Mom and Dad lived in their house for thirty-seven years, only eight years longer than we’ve lived in ours. Our youngest son often encounters me staring into space clutching a quilt, wood carving, or photograph. I think my uncharacteristic attempts at organization are making him nervous. “What are you doing? What’s that?” he asks. “Oh, this is some of your Great Aunt Emily’s needlepoint,” I tell him a little too eagerly. “These are my Barbie clothes, and here are the baby rompers your great grandmother made for your grandfather back in 1925. You wore them once yourself.” I give him these family history updates knowing full well…
Moonpark Review
MoonPark Review is an online literary journal devoted to publishing compelling, imaginative short prose that breaks our hearts, haunts us, makes us laugh, or gives us hope. We love flash fiction, prose poems, and hybrid forms. We are currently reading for Issue 17, Fall 2021. If you send us a story with a happy ending, make us believe it. 750 word maximum. To get a sense of our aesthetic, read our previous and current issues. You could also check out our interviews at Six Questions For…, Duotrope, and Lambda Literary.