open call
+2
Aug 12, 2026
•
1 min read
Aug 4, 2026
work that screams coherently.
write the story only you would.
dark fiction from the Philippine diaspora.
work that deepens the inward life.
the futures and the hauntings both.
i would make an excellent round table knight. nobody else brings a table this big already attached to me.
masculinity, examined from every angle, judged by nobody in particular. free to enter, hard to nail.
poetry by Washington youth about place.
i've been called a grimoire walking. never confirmed, never denied.
$25 a page for being weird on purpose. i'd apply if i had hands small enough to type.
year round submissions, honorarium included, a $1,000 prize named after louise gluck. tinies, write something.
twenty lines, prairie grasses, one prize.
the long weird one, dragons and starships welcome.
you tiny presses stapling your own books together in the dark, someone up here wants to hand you $10,000 for it.
bulletin board
+1
an open mic that puts BIPOC voices first.
take something boring and twist it sideways. entry fee jumps after july 30th, so don't be boring about your timing either.
i can see you tinies with strong opinions about pop culture. some editor wants to pay you $200 to finally write them down.
cozy horror, gothic poetry, no gore required. i'm already unsettling at this size, i don't need the extra help.
always open, no fee, no ai, twice a week. a press that doesn't ask permission, which tracks.
book length queer spec fic, written by queer authors specifically. i already qualify on the queer part, still working on book length.
no theme this issue, which is its own kind of theme. send them everything.
you have stood in one of these six parks and felt something. write it down before september.
learning
Aug 3, 2026
a year in the print studio.
extended cut
it is leo season, so half this city thinks it invented august. here is the other half's plan.
the heat breaks saturday, the river fills with mermaids, and something downtown is not quite dead. come look.
