The Pulps (1890s-1950s) Made from the cheapest paper available, pulp magazines were among the bestselling fiction publications of their day, with the most popular titles selling hundreds of thousands of copies per month at their height. The pulps paid just a penny or so a word, so writers quickly learned that making a living required a nimble imagination and remarkable speed, with some working on several stories simultaneously. Contemporary fiction writers can learn from pulp magazines the importance of a tight, character-driven narrative; the necessity of imaginative descriptions and how to immediately grab the reader with an action-filled lead. Jack Byrne, managing editor of the pulp magazine publisher fiction House, wrote in an August 1929 Writer’s Digest article detailing the manuscript needs of Fiction House’s 11 magazines: “We must have a good, fast opening. Smack us within the first paragraph. Get our interest aroused. Don’t tell us about the general…
Writing That First Thing
“Remember that when you’re writing that first thing, you’re in an incredibly precious time. When you’re writing that book or that early story, write for yourself first and foremost. There’s going to come a time when that won’t be the case anymore, when there are going to be all these people who are involved. So, don’t be in any great hurry to publish or to get it out there into the world. Take your time to hone and draft that first book. Appreciate those early years where you’re writing for yourself because it never is quite the same once you start publishing.” Excerpt from a Writer’s Digest interview with Brandon Taylor. The bestselling (and Booker Prize-shortlisted) author discusses the interconnectedness of his work, the importance of short stories, and his latest release, The Late Americans. Interviewed Michael Woodson The May/June 2023 issue of Writer’s Digest is all about “Keeping It Short” —short forms of…
Writing
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Writing By Cheryl Moore A silver tongue would be nice A pen that wrote golden prose Or poetry would be better. How would it feel to be Billy Collins Whose books sit On my bedside table? His small journeys Make magic of the mundane Of ordinary daily events One poem describes Sitting at his desk words flow Seemingly without his bidding I sit at my desk Pen posed over paper Nothing comes out I could doodle a picture Make it look like a word And start from there Would it be like opening a tap With words pouring out Given enough time? My words wouldn’t be golden Nor even silver Probably just tin Maybe Billie’s don’t flow golden Until he works and revises As most good writers must…
I wish I had known . . . Prompt #726
I wish I had known . . . Response by Muriel Ellis: I don’t think I would really want to have known what my life would bring. Of course, I wish I’d done some things differently, made more time for the family I loved. I wish I hadn’t abandoned writing for so many years, over and over again. I certainly wish I’d known when I heard the grim news “malignant,” when it applied to lungs that it did not mean horrendous surgery with scant hope of recovery. And I wish that, before I knew all would be well, that I had actually written all those letters of accumulated love and wisdom that I planned to leave for my family—maybe even a page or two for assorted nieces and nephews and their offspring. Well, I didn’t. And, yes, I know it’s not too late, but that’s another story. Life is full…
Sweet Lit
Sweet Lit, A Literary Confection “The purpose of Sweet Lit, from its inception in a small apartment in Columbus, Ohio, was to: 1) recognize the ever-changing nature of the written word in an evolving literary landscape; 2) create a simple and readable digital platform for dialogic exchanges between poetry, short creative nonfiction, and graphic pieces; 3) publish diverse voices from all over the country and world; 4) foster and support emerging writers of any age from various social and economic backgrounds; 5) maintain lasting relationships with the writers Sweet Lit has published.” Sweet seeks poetry and creative nonfiction and anything in between. Sorry, no fiction. General submissions are open May 1st through June 30th for Creative Non-Fiction and Poetry. Graphic Essays are open year-round. Guidelines
Holding Water
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Holding Water By M.A. Dooley I remember the first winery I designed in the middle of a level vineyard. Construction began after the vines were removed and the earth was excavated for the foundation. A big storm hit the northern Sonoma County and lasted for days. At the jobsite meeting, the crew had erected a sign at the edge of a large body of captured rainwater where the future building would go. The sign read Lake Dooley, named after me, the architect. It was funny and I laughed. I had great capacity for everything, hard work, men and their jokes, life. My lake would evaporate, percolate, and be drained and no one would ever know of Lake Dooley. The spring of 2023 was too full to process. The snow and rain kept falling, the rivers were…
If . . . Prompt #725
Writing Prompts inspired from “The Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Connections.” If I had my life to do over . . . What I Know Now . . . Note To Self . . . Notes To My Younger Self . . . Choose one or more and Just Write!
April . . . Prompt #724
April 1, 2023. April Fool’s Day. April: In like a whimper? Or, in like a bang? How was your April? Amusing? Charming? Frustrating? Anything new or unusual happen? What did you like about this month of April? What didn’t you like? #justwrite #iamwriting #iamawriter
Someone Who Helped You . . . Prompt #723
Write about someone who has helped you. Or maybe it was Some Thing that has helped you. Write about someone or something that has helped you. #justwrite #amwriting #iamawriter
Sunsets
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Sunsets By Joop Delahaye Sunsets . . . always beautiful, no matter where or when. Blindingly bright in the beginning, can’t look at it, then softening, slipping into the distant ocean . . . the water extinguishing the brightness and the heat and allowing the usual yellows and reds to persist, until they faded to purple and gone. Sitting on a bluff at the Sea Ranch, or on Mount Tam’s west slopes, or the southern Oregon coast at Gold Beach, or on the Croatian coast at Sibenik . . . all notable, all full. The late rays seemed to have an enhanced power of penetration into the soul, the heart. Replenishing spent fuel rods, battery cells, warming the humors. The energy, the short-lasting blast easily pushes open the portals and shines into the nooks and crannies…