Founded in 1948 P U B L I S H E D AT T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O R T H C A R O L I N A – C H A P E L H I L L
Fall/Winter 2018 V O LU M E 68.1
ED ITO R - IN- C HIE F
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INDEXING
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The Carolina Quarterly is indexed in the Book Review
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Index, Poem Finder, Index to Periodical Fiction, American
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Contents
Fa l l / Wi n t e r 2 0 1 8 | V O LU M E 6 8 . 1
FICTION CONTEST WINNERS: “ WA K E , A N D D R E A M AG A I N ” Words in Preparation by DANIEL WALLACE 15 FIRST PRIZE: KATHLEEN MCNAMARA Cryptozoology 18 SECOND PRIZE: TESSA YANG Haunting Ground 32 THIRD PRIZE: GEORGE HOVIS The Undertaker 42 HONORABLE MENTION: CRAIG SANDERS The Colby Jack Accords on
Love, Patience, and Practicality 60
POETRY KAREN HOLMBERG
Allegory 9
STEPHEN GIBSON
A Horse Skull with Hands 12
A “Ghost Ranch” 13 BRAD CLOMPUS
Octopus: Cartoon and Exhibit 79
JANE ZWART
The Leaf Collection, 1989 80
JESSICA GUZMAN ALDERMAN
Don’t Cry in the Canned Soup Aisle 83
JAMES GRINWIS
Siberia 84
Bernoulli’s Principle Does Not
CHARLOT TE MUZZI
Explain Flight 106
Waiting at the Airport 108
January, Gunflint 109 CLIFF SCROGIN
At Six 121
MIKE GOOD
PorchToad 122
Everyone is Doing Their Best 124
CAROLINA HOTCHANDANI A Bird in the Mind 125
JOEL SHOWALTER
Anopheles 126
ELIZABETH KNAPP
The Cemetery Is Full of People Who Would
Love to Have Your Problems 128
Self-Elegy with Hand Grenade 129
J.M. JORDAN
Starlight Motor Lodge 130
Near the Sky in Truxton Circle 131
GRANT CLAUSER
San Francisco Begins Construction of a
Suicide Net Under the Golden Gate
Bridge 132
ELISABETH MURAWSKI
MICHAEL SALCMAN
The Panther Cornered 134 Stone Fruit 136 How the Professor Rose 137
RYAN TAHMASEB
For Noah, In His First Year 138
MIKE SOTO
[Let the rifle sleep & take the path] 140
DIANE HUETER
Beneath the Alaska Way Viaduct
Seattle, 1966 142 LOIS LEVINSON STEVEN CRAMER BRIAN MCDONALD
In the Peloponnese 144 Without a Name for This 146
At My Father’s Knights of Columbus 147
NONFICTION RACHEL RUECKERT
The Million Steps to Santiago 110
ART
JERI GRIFFITH
Artist’s Statement 86 The Ragged War of Words 87
The Politician Conjurer 88
Soldier 89
Falling 90
After the Battle—Ghost Talk 91
Mother and Sons 92
Graveyard 93
AMY JACKSON
Artist’s Statement 94 indmachtool4131740 95
indmachtool4131715 96
pscmetals5171748play 97
indmachtool4121748play 98
indmachtool4131733play 99
SILAS PLUM
Artist’s Statement 100 A Bit of the Old Ludwig 101
Green vs. Pink 102
Horn Bald Lune Folk Tomb Plum 103
Vortex Beast 104
Cultural Commodity 105
REVIEWS JESSICA SLAVIC DREXEL Some Trick: Thirteen Stories by Helen DeWitt 148 MARY SCOT T MANNING The Blurry Years by Eleanor Kriseman 151
KAREN HOLMBERG
Allegory My mother strokes the sand toward her with her palm, drawing the story out, then levels it back with the edge of her hand. All the while a ghost crab, half-hidden under a canopy of crisped sargassum, so well-camouflaged it’s just a blur of movement, has been sidling in and out its tunnel, forming identical boulders of damp sand to stack at the entrance, a bulwark. The story is a stone she collects from the tideline of the past. For years it’s arrived again and again, as if something draws it back to her mind, tumbles it, and returns it to her tongue, a sparer truth: once she hid a pill bottle in her pocket, and when the shop owner’s
KAREN HOLMBERG
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back was turned, pulled a mystery snail off the glass and dropped it into the vial of water, snapping down the lid. When her father saw it in her tank, he wrapped her braid around his fist and wrenched her off her feet. A new detail brightens the memory’s aching chamber. He gave her aquarium away. When she loosens her fist to let fine sugar pour through the hourglass of her hand, the crab hunches, sinking the picks of its legs in the sand. Its eye bulbs, lusterless as if dipped in black wax, fold inward in a cringe.
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A mind works this way, in secret, tirelessly shaping, excavating a refuge for the tender self. A child steals the power she longs to have. What’s a snail’s shell but a coiled tunnel. What’s the tough door but a body building no.
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WAKE, AND DREAM AGAIN
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D A N I E L WA L L A C E
Words in Preparation In the summer of 1983, at the age of twenty-four, I committed myself to the art of story writing, and, just as important at the time, it seemed to me, to the science of getting those published. If it was my goal to have the stories I wrote in magazines, I had to learn how to get the stories into the typewriter and onto the page, into an envelope and off to a place where a pair of editorial eyes might put in her brain what I had taken out of mine. I set about my task with the naïve determination that has marked my life as a writer. How hard could it be? I wondered. And the answer always came back the same: Actually, pretty hard. The art of writing fiction had been around for many centuries when I started out, but the science of story submission was still in its infancy. There was a feeling that I and other young writers had that there was a lot of unexplored terrain out there in the world of story submission. We felt a little bit like pioneers.1 Still, most of my time was spent writing, or learning how to write, and that took much longer than I thought it would. I was starting from the very beginning, and I was entirely on my own. I had never written a short story without guidance from a college professor, and I’d only studied with a couple. I was lost in every way. I didn’t even understand how, as a writer, to make paragraphs. How did you know when you came to the end of one and the beginning of another? Was there a sign? Was there a writerly feeling you got, when you “knew” to hit return and indent? The first story I wrote was six-pages and one paragraph long, because I never felt qualified to commit to an indentation. A more seasoned writer could do that, sure; but I was just a kid. I would have benefited from professional instruction of some kind. The time that I spent learning how to indent could have been used in so many other ways: learning how to plot, sprucing up 1 I probably shouldn’t write “we” felt that way, since I have never spoken to even one other writer about this. I probably shouldn’t even suggest that “I” felt that way, since I don’t remember feeling like that. But is “feeling like a pioneer” a feeling you have while you’re a pioneer, or one that you have looking back, and realizing that indeed you were engaged in pioneering activities? I can’t say; I don’t know. D A N I E L WA L L A C E
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my metaphors. Almost anything instead of reinventing how to write about an imaginary wheel. On the other hand, I think I was ahead of my time when it came to the actual process of story submission. In 1983 there were at least a hundred magazines where a young writer could publish a short story.2 Everything was hard-copy then; online was not an authentic word yet. This meant that a story would have to be printed, along with a cover letter, inserted into a 9 x 12 manila envelope along with a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) and mailed to the actual physical address of the magazine. Most often someone in an editorial capacity would eventually look at your work, and then slip it into the SASE along with a “rejection slip,” returning it to you. Sometimes you’d get a note, but most often not. The time elapsing between sending the story and hearing back from the magazine about the story could be several weeks to many months; it once took a year. It did not take me long to do the math: if I sent one story at a time to one magazine at a time I would be dead soon. So, instead, I made twenty copies of the same story and sent it to twenty different magazines on the same day. That means I made twenty copies of the story, stamped and addressed forty envelopes. I kept a list of the magazines the story was sent to, and the date they were returned. In this way I was able to get an idea of how long a particular magazine kept a story, and could use that information in future submissions. When, two to three months later, all twenty were returned, I would take another look at the story, dust it off, and send it out to twenty more.3 I was doing the same with other stories, so it was possible that at any given time I might have one hundred or more submissions out there at the very same time. It still took two years to get a single story in print. 2 I don’t really know how many magazines there were. But I bet there were at least 100. Since this is a footnote and no one will read it anyway I’ll say there were at least 300, and that many of them allowed you to purchase copies with your story in it at a discount. Sometimes you would even get a puppy. 3 Not entirely true. Sometimes I sent it out again to many of the same magazines that rejected it before. Once I did this, sending the same story back to the same magazine who had rejected only six weeks before, and this time the story was accepted and even won a prize.
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All the fine writers represented here have had to endure a similar process, face the same challenges, create a system that has nothing to do with the art they make and everything to do with finding an outlet for it. It’s like any business, really: making things is not enough. You have to find a place to show your wares. It’s an exhausting enterprise, and to hope to come away with it with something artistically valuable feels like asking for a lot. And you are. But that’s what has happened here. There were so many great stories submitted to this venture. The ones singled out for special recognition simply shined brightest at the time. What attracted me to all of them was their ability to peer without blinking into their own dark hearts, write about what they saw honestly, with some humor, and with the sense that some kind of magic attends every moment of our lives. I know what these writers went through to make what they’ve made, and how hard it was to get it from the office or the coffee shop or the bed to the place where we find it today, and will be able to find it now forever, until the last light goes out. Congratulations to you all.
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BR AD CLOMPUS
Octopus: Cartoon and Exhibit Hatched by a pack of animators hunched over their tilted desks, his bulbous head orbited by yellow stripes, eyes spiraling in sockets, arms flinging around like outraged snakes. First he grabs our wave-tossed picnic and gulps it down quick, even the basket and soggy blanket, then pounces on a sailboat, whoops dementedly as he shakes it hard as if to finish the cowering sailors. But here, in a cubed tank: head like a misshapen softball, skin undetermined gray, eye construed as jet black curving slot, tentacle creeping up the glass glacially, suckers charting a perfectly conceived surface, a sealed, completed universe. Still, he would willingly display some wit, were there space for play, if one dropped water toys that he could sort very well: a tugboat smiling pointlessly a tiny staring man in a wet-suit a genuine breached submarine
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J A N E Z WA R T
The Leaf Collection, 1989 It was my dad’s idea to convert our squat Oxford into a system for filing leaves. It was mine that he carry the tome. And he did. Across an arboretum and into suburbs where sprinklers dragged against the grass’s nap left lawns cowlicked and slaked. Of course each leaf in easy reach was wet as you would think. So gingko went into the book damp as a trick tattoo where it pressed its organza, a half-cape, on gigolo (n.), and gigolo (n.) didn’t mind. … It was my dad’s idea to lick his thumb and thumb through the dictionary for the leaves our language pressed. Pink he said and dropped a puppet snipped from a pin oak. Talisman and he set a frond of tamarack in my hand. Yes he said last and tuned our Zenith to the game. I lost a point for writing pink. …
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It was my idea to splay the antennae but the diamond’s soufflé and sudden ebb was not a standard glitch. It was not a stiff breeze, a signal the moon tugged off-course or a plane deflected. It was an earthquake. Really I think I knew as soon as static segmented the Giants, who bobbed and knelt onscreen. Under the World Series the earth behaved like a blanket that giants, done picnicking, shook. … It was my mom’s idea to stick the gingko in the book the wrong way around, to let the Mylar mimic the leaf’s veneer for sheen since gigolo (n.) had fleeced it. And it worked. We kept the leaf’s skinning a secret. By then she’d finicked so much with magnetic albums, fixing my brother’s baby snaps just so
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against the pages’ sticky wale, wiping the static from protective sheets. She knew what she was about. But my brother being two years dead, I didn’t. I couldn’t tell whether she was smoothing the evidence into the book face-up or facedown. If she was documenting what she lost when the lowering machine shuddered, its engine pulsing in the soles of our feet and inching a box underground. Or if she was pasting white rectangles into an album the wrong way around, hiding his perfect absence, gluing an earlier flaying ritually out of sight.
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SILAS PLUM
Statement by the Artist The question of value underpins everything. A decent meal. A romantic partner. Expressing vulnerability in an unfamiliar way. The right brand of rechargeable batteries. In every consideration, from the mundane to the profound, a risk/reward ratio is calculated. My work expresses and quantifies the subtle and insidious nature of constant calculation. By the conscious re-purposing of formerly valuable objects, be they currency from failed governments, or illustrations that have fallen so far from artistic and monetary value as to be in the public domain, I provide a new context. This re-contextualization, from simple integration into color fields to elaborate new collage action scenes, gives fresh life and value to each formerly dead object. Value is reassessed, and the reflexive and endless cycle continues.
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A Bit of the Old Ludwig
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Green vs. Pink
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Contributors
Fall/Winter 2018 V O LU M E 68.1
G R A N T C L A U S E R lives in Pennsylvania and works as an editor, writer and
teacher. He is the author of the books Reckless Constellations (2018), The Magician’s Handbook (2017), Necessary Myths (2013) and The Trouble with Rivers (2012). Poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Cortland Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Southern Poetry Review, Tar River Poetry, and others. Twitter: @uniambic B R A D C L O M P U S lives in the Boston area. His poetry, essays, and fiction have appeared in such journals as Cimarron Review, Denver Quarterly, Willow Springs, The Pinch, Nashville Review, Jabberwock Review, and Tampa Review. He has taught at Tufts University and Lesley University, among other places. S T E V E N C R A M E R is the author of The Eye that Desires to Look Upward (1987), The World Book (1992), Dialogue for the Left and Right Hand (1997), Goodbye to the Orchard (2004)—winner of the Sheila Motton Award from the New England Poetry Club and an Honor Book in Poetry from the Massachusetts Center for the Book—and Clangings (2012). His poems and criticism have appeared in AGNI, The Atlantic Monthly, Field, The Nation, The Paris Review, Poetry, and many others. Recipient of fellowships from the NEA and Massachusetts Cultural Council, he founded and teaches in the Low-Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Lesley University. Website: www.stevencramer.com S T E P H E N G I B S O N ’s Self-Portrait in a Door-Length Mirror won the 2017 Miller
Williams Prize, selected by Billy Collins, University of Arkansas Press. Earlier collections include The Garden of Earthly Delights Book of Ghazals (Texas Review Press), Rorschach Art Too (2014 Donald Justice Prize, Story Line Press), Paradise (Miller Williams finalist, University of Arkansas Press), Frescoes (Idaho Book Prize, Lost Horse Press), Masaccio’s Expulsion (MARGIE/Intuit House Book Prize), and Rorschach Art (Red Hen). His poems have appeared in The American Journal of Poetry, The Gettysburg Review, The Paris Review, Ploughshares, Poetry, Shenandoah, The Southern Review, Southwest Review, The Yale Review, and elsewhere. M I K E G O O D ’s recent poetry and book reviews can be found in or are soon to appear at The Adroit Journal, december, Denver Quarterly, Forklift, OH, The Georgia Review, Pleiades, Rattle, Salamander, Spillway, Sugar House Review, Tupelo Quarterly, and elsewhere. The recipient of an emerging writer scholarship from The Sun, Mike holds an M.F.A. from Hollins University and is the managing editor of Autumn House Press. He lives in Pittsburgh. CONTRIBUTORS
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Writer and artist J E R I G R I F F I T H lives and works in Brattleboro, Vermont, after stints in Boston and Austin, Texas, but her childhood was spent in Wisconsin. These disparate places each feel like separate countries to her, with landscapes, seasons, and ways of being that influence both her art and her identity. Jeri has published stories, essays, and art in literary quarterlies. She is currently working on a memoir and a collection of short stories, as well as organizing exhibitions of her art. These selections from her series “The War Drawings” emerged in response to her country being perpetually at war. The rationale for fighting wars has remained the same for thousands of years. The series represents her feelings of responsibility and sadness. J A M E S G R I N W I S is the author of The City From Nome (TNPR Press) and Exhibit
of Forking Paths (Coffee House), both of which appeared 2011. His poems and short prose have appeared recently in Alexandria Quarterly, Ghost Proposal, Poetry Northwest, Josephine Quarterly, and Rogue Agent. He lives in the town of Greenfield in western MA. J E S S I C A G U Z M A N A L D E R M A N ’s work appears or is forthcoming in The Florida
Review, Pleiades, Ecotone, Painted Bride Quarterly, and elsewhere. A doctoral student at the University of Southern Mississippi, she reads for Memorious. K A R E N H O L M B E R G is the author of two previous poetry collections. Her second
book, Axis Mundi (BkMk Press), was named one of the top ten poetry titles of 2013 by Slate Magazine. Her poems and nonfiction have been published in such journals as Black Warrior Review, New England Review, Poetry East, New Madrid, and At Length, among others. She teaches in the MFA Program in Poetry at Oregon State University. C A R O L I N A H O T C H A N D A N I ’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in AGNI, The Cincinnati Review, Prairie Schooner, and others. Her manuscript-in-progress, Songs of the Isolationist, explores various registers of isolationism—from a pregnant woman’s fear of the baby’s invasion of her body to a naturalized citizen’s fear of living in America, where her outsider status seems not to be remediated through citizenship. She lives in Omaha, Nebraska where she teaches English and creative writing. G E O R G E H O V I S has recently published stories in The Fourth River, New Madrid, Stone Canoe, and elsewhere. His novel The Skin Artist is forthcoming in 2019 from Southern Fried Karma Press. He is also the author of numerous essays on southern literature and the book Vale of Humility: Plain Folk in Contemporary North Carolina Fiction (University of South Carolina Press). He lives in Cooperstown, New York, and is professor of English at SUNY Oneonta.
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D I A N E H U E T E R is a Seattle native now living in Texas. She received a BA and MA from the University of Kansas, an MLIS from UT-Austin and a PhD in English from Texas Tech. Her poetry has appeared in Three Rivers, BlueLine, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, and Iron Horse Literary Review. Her book After the Tornado is available from Stephen F. Austin Press. A M Y J A C K S O N is a multimedia artist creating with disabilities from her home
studio in Nashville, Tennessee, USA. Jackson has been exploring industrial photography since beginning in 1982, such as outbuildings near the railroad close to her home in Cartersville, Georgia. Not until 2001, driving past an industrial machine shop in Tennessee, did she realize the pull of the subject on her subconscious, with subsequent compositions similar to Rothko and other abstract painters. www.amyjackson.cc J . M . J O R D A N is an almost-entirely unpublished writer who recently took up
writing again after a twenty-year hiatus. He enjoys bourbon, Byzantine history, long walks on Civil War battlefields, and (occasionally) sleep. He is, by profession, a Homicide Detective in Washington, D.C. E L I Z A B E T H K N A P P is the author of The Spite House (C&R Press, 2011), winner of the 2010 De Novo Poetry Prize. The recipient of the 2018 Robert H. Winner Memorial Award from the Poetry Society of America, the 2015 Literal LattÊ Poetry Award, and a Maryland State Arts Council Fellowship, she has recently published poems in 32 Poems, Beloit Poetry Journal, Kenyon Review Online, and Quarterly West, among others. She teaches at Hood College in Frederick, Maryland. L O I S L E V I S O N is the author of Before It All Vanishes, a full-length book of poetry published in 2018 by Finishing Line Press, as well as a chapbook, Crane Dance, also published by Finishing Line Press. Her poetry has appeared in Bird’s Thumb, The Literary Nest, Literary Mama, Yew Journal, Mount Hope and a number of other journals. She is a graduate of the Poetry Book Project at Lighthouse Writers Workshop in Denver, Colorado and is currently at work on her second book. B R I A N M C D O N A L D holds a B.A. from Boston University and an M.F.A. from New York University and is currently at work on his first book of poems. He has poetry forthcoming in The Hampden-Sydney Poetry Review. Originally from Long Island, he now lives outside of Charlottesville, Virginia with his family.
Born in downtown Chicago and raised in southern California, K AT H L E E N M C N A M A R A now teaches writing at Arizona State University. She is a graduate of Barnard College and earned an MFA in fiction from ASU. Prior to joining ASU, she worked at The New York Review of Books. Her fiction has appeared CONTRIBUTORS
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or is forthcoming in Sierra Nevada Review, Border Crossing, and The Tishman Review. She lives near Sedona with her husband, their newborn son, and a cat named Luna. E L I S A B E T H M U R A W S K I is the author of Zorba’s Daughter, which won the May Swenson Poetry Award, Moon and Mercury, and two chapbooks: Troubled by an Angel and Out-patients. Heiress has just been published by Texas Review Press. Publications include The Yale Review, Ploughshares, FIELD, and The Southern Review. For individual poems she has won, among others, the Gabriela Mistral Poetry Prize, the University of Canberra’s International Poetry Prize, and the Ann Stanford Poetry Prize. She has received ten Pushcart Prize nominations. Born and raised in Chicago, she currently resides in Alexandria, VA. C H A R L O T T E M U Z Z I lives in Tacoma, Washington, where she teaches English at Charles Wright Academy. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Hopkins Review, The Cincinnati Review, and poemmemoirstory.
Through assemblages of defunct currency, discarded photographs, and long-forgotten illustrations, S I L A S P L U M challenges the idea of objective vs subjective value. He believes strongly in the tired old maxim that the true value of an object is more than the sum of its parts, that the gut is a truth-teller, and that the Aristotelian notion of learning-by-doing is the best teacher around. His work has been featured in Empty Mirror, Chaleur Magazine, The Esthetic Apostle, Fearsome Critters, and is in upcoming issues of Barking Sycamores and Tulane Review. Judge his worth at silasplum.com. R A C H E L R U E C K E R T is a Utah-born writer based in Boston and New York. She is an MFA candidate at Columbia University with a concentration in nonfiction. Her latest project is a memoir about the intersection between travel and marriage. M I C H A E L S A L C M A N is former chairman of neurosurgery at the University of Maryland and past president of the Contemporary Museum in Baltimore. His poems appear in Arts & Letters, The Hopkins Review, The Hudson Review, New Letters, and Notre Dame Review. Books include The Clock Made of Confetti (Orchises, 2007), nominated for The Poets’ Prize, The Enemy of Good is Better (Orchises, 2011), and Poetry in Medicine, his popular anthology of classic and contemporary poems on doctors, patients, illness & healing (Persea Books, 2015). A Prague Spring, Before & After (2016) won the 2015 Sinclair Poetry Prize from Evening Street Press.
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Since making his fiction debut in The Carolina Quarterly 64.3 (Summer 2015), C R A I G S A N D E R S earned his MFA at the University of Alaska Fairbanks and has had work featured in The Literary Review, Monkeybicycle, and Antipodes. C A R O L I N A Q U A R T E R LY
He has previously served on the editorial boards of Permafrost and Lake Effect and now lives and writes in Las Cruces, New Mexico. The story in this issue is part of a manuscript titled Liberation Dreamin’, consisting of similarly unconventional holiday stories. C L I F F S C R O G I N ’s work has appeared in Confrontation. He studied writing at the University of Houston and currently lives in Katy, Texas where he is a high school assistant principal and savors life with his wife and three children. J O E L S H O W A L T E R grew up in an Indiana college town, where he fell in love
with language early. He earned a B.A. in English and writing at Indiana Wesleyan University, and studied linguistics in the graduate program at Ohio State University. Currently, he lives in Columbus, Ohio, where he is the editorial director at a marketing agency. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Mud Season Review, Delmarva Review, Christian Century, and others. M I K E S O T O is a first generation Mexican-American, raised in East Dallas and in a small town in Michoacán. His current manuscript uses themes from the ongoing drug war taking place along a fictional U.S./ Mexico border town. The manuscript can be described as a Narco Acid Western told in about forty-five poems. It is written in lineage with Alejandro Jodorowsky’s film, El Topo. R YA N T A H M A S E B teaches at The Meadowbrook School in Weston, Massachusetts. His writing about teaching has appeared in Education Week and Edutopia, and his short fiction has appeared in Spartan, *82 Review, and Spry. His first chapbook, Mutual Incomprehension, was published by Anchor & Plume Press in January 2016. Ryan also writes about the intersections of parenting and spirituality at www.spiritualparent.org, a site that includes interviews with inspiring authors, activists, and teachers. T E S S A Y A N G received her MFA from Indiana University where she served as
the Editor of Indiana Review. Her fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in journals including PRISM International, Wigleaf, and Joyland. Tessa teaches at Earlham College, and you can find her tweeting about writing and sharks @ThePtessadactyl. J A N E Z W A R T teaches English at Calvin College, where she is also a co-director
of the Calvin Center for Faith & Writing. Her poetry has previously appeared in Rattle, TriQuarterly, Antioch Review, Poetry Northwest, Boston Review, North American Review, as well as in other journals. She has also published edited versions of onstage interviews with Christian Wiman, Jonathan Safran Foer, and Zadie Smith. CONTRIBUTORS
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Founded in 1948 P U B L I S H E D AT T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O R T H C A R O L I N A – C H A P E L H I L L
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