THE REAL NEWISM
Tyler Stoddard Smith
Many young novelists have been gravitating toward a movement known as the “Real Newism.” Adherents of the Real Newism assert that effective fiction requires “experiencing events.” And today, you
Yesterday, Barry Graham favored us with his Top 10 Cities to Get Drunk In, numbers 5-1, and last week he gave us 10-6 and a series of guest-additions. Below are a second set of guest entries from
Last week, Barry Graham favored us with his Top 10 Cities to Get Drunk In, numbers 10-6, as well as a series of guest-additions. Below are are his top 5, and we will follow-up tomorrow for a second
Many young novelists have been gravitating toward a movement known as the “Real Newism.” Adherents of the Real Newism assert that effective fiction requires “experiencing events.” And today, you
Yesterday, Barry Graham favored us with his Top 10 Cities to Get Drunk In, numbers 10-6. He also included a few guest entries from some of his favorite drinker/writer/travelers, and those are
We all know what getting drunk means and we all know what cities are and the title is pretty self explanatory, so I'm gonna use my obligatory top ten introductory statement to break down my
I sat and bawled for half an hour after finishing Hill William in one swift read through this morning, beginning to end in an hour.
Buckhorn Golf Course
36 FM 473, Comfort, TX 78013
4 out of 5 stars
This place is a real gem. Just imagine the scene: The Buckhorn Golf Course opens up before you, revealing layer
When Rob sent out pictures of Sophia, innocuous prints of her at a bar or a party, he found himself getting pictures in return. These pictures he got were never family portraits or pictures with
Walter Matthau, we assume, has had a bad day. Or a bad night. Or both. Hell, back it up as far as you want to go: Week. Year. Fucking life. Drinking a beer in a Pizza Hut a few minutes into the
You’re beating him, he needs to protect / the plate and his at-bat, throw something / outside the zone! something he can’t / possibly hit, think how afraid he must be / of you.
Did you know mites are accruing primo destinies beneath my fur? Their spit glues each lover I’ve loved deeper into the next. I am a different, lesser value cajoled of that saliva. The trophies I
You will forget by your fourth birthday these your shifting first memories—your father’s goats at their graze, their black tongues slathered across your face, the chickens prancing and clucking upon the dirt of the yard, the spare trembling grasses and the crazed droning song of the grasshoppers, their brown juices streaking the lines of your palm.
I’ve been facing Sundays the same for a while now. The whole day feels like one of my quixotic childhood summers slamming shut. And, like that younger me full of dread, I’ve thrown off my sleep
When it is time to get the jugulars, we move our bodies out into the streets with our best cleavages bared. We move as one woman, but it turns out we are one dozen women from the same neighborhood.
.I
Be a 22 year old American boy—get really drunk and embarrass yourself in front of the beautiful, freckled, 29 year old Italian Volcanologist that invited you to drinks with her 31 year
Don’t believe me if you want, but the hole just appeared one night.
Writers in M.F.A. programs assume, and are often told, that teaching means time away from writing—that after responding to their students’ work, professors rarely have energy left for their own
The boy has horrible teeth and a bicycle. They’re yellow, his teeth, and after school the children take a tree branch to his mouth.
–
His bicycle painted in bird shit: he rides for hours
My Little Ponies™ and the Search for the Blue Crystal
or
Breaking Brony
A cross-genre work of fan fiction
The sun rises on the great and beautiful land of Equestria. Applejack trots
Hobart: We’ve seen each other at the last couple Mission Creek festivals in Iowa City, and it was there that we got to talking this last year a little about your new book, surfing,
In sandtiger bellies, the young eat the young. You could fit a new-hatched sandtiger pup in your hand, but you shouldn't; they are pink, squishy cartilage, knife-tip teeth, and only the first one survives, chasing siblings down uterine hallways: hide and seek to death. After eating all his brothers, the last one standing sucks yolk like CapriSun from his sharkmom's eggs. By the time the sharkmom gives birth, the pup is the size of a six year old child.
It’s pity sex for both of us, me and Karen and her glass eye, in a motel room off the interstate.