*If you don’t know what that means, then you’ve been spared the horror of Zoom work conferences.
“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Cross genre seems to be where my brain wants to go.
“The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.”
William Faulkner
Are you ready to go on a journey?
I want YOU to scare me as hard as you can!!!
So glad to see that Jon Tobias heard the call to return to our site, AGAIN. Jon is a previous contest winner and one of several who stop by for a visit with ambitions to become a professional writer. He got the fire in the belly to do it! Here is his entry into our AGAIN contest. Only eight more days to enter…nuff said?
I will be the first to confess I have always been a fan of Kristy’s. I was delighted when she won our $500 prize in the Peggy Dobbs Write of Passage contest, and relieved that I was not the judge–she won by popular acclaim. I believe she is destined for greatness, and for this reason we have her magical-realism novella, “CoCo” in our store, to help speed up the process. She cautioned me that this contest entry might be a little too dark. I remind all our readers, we at A Word with You Press are editors, not censors. Too dark? You decide. “Myself, I long for love and light, but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?” (Leonard Cohen, the ballad of Joan of Arc)
Ahh. Literati! Now that we are back in biz many of you who swung in our swings have entered the playground AGAIN! And that is the theme of this contest. Some entries are sardonic, some other-wordly–oops! I mean other WORLDLY! and some are a direct expression of sincere events of our lives. So let it be with the talented artist, musician, and returning writer, Stephen Roberts. Stephen, I do hope that you yourself leave a comment on this story, and a link to your website.
YO!…I mean Yo-Yo. What can be more frustrating than a relationship that reverses course, is within your grasp, and than spirals away with regenerated momentum? Who is the Mysterious CB? She’s not telling. Perhaps she is spiraling to a theater near you, or is at the end of her tether.
What else would Seyfert do the morning after Mardi Gras?
A flamenco dirge finds its voice in Parisianne Modert’s latest entry.
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