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Archive for the ‘publications’ Category

Literary fowl

The Cresset picked up one of my pieces about the backyard hooligans. It’s from several years back–I read it at EMU and later used it as a summer sermon at Shalom Mennonite. I’m glad it found a home in print.

For the few brave subscribers–I’m clearly not a prolific blog updater these days. It turns out I’m a one-blog kind of woman. Most of my energy is currently going into the Tongue Screws and Testimonies site. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be back.

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This is why you should self-Google every now and then: because no one will call you to tell you that your essay has been selected by Robert Atwan of the Best American series as a “distinguished submission.” A nice little honor for “Selling the Farm,” published last year in Shenandoah.

Best American Essays 2010.

I think this also means that Christopher Hitchens, this year’s editor, read (or at least skimmed) my essay.

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Hint Fiction

I rub shoulders with greatness in Robert Swartwood’s forthcoming anthology of Hint Fiction.

Here’s the Amazon blurb:
A story collection that proves less is more. The stories in this collection run the gamut from playful to tragic, conservative to experimental, but they all have one thing in common: they are no more than 25 words long. Robert Swartwood was inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s possibly apocryphal six-word story—”For Sale: baby shoes, never worn”—to foster the writing of these incredibly short-short stories. He termed them “hint fiction” because the few chosen words suggest a larger, more complex chain of events. Spare and evocative, these stories prove that a brilliantly honed narrative can be as startling and powerful as a story of traditional length. The 125 gemlike stories in this collection come from such best-selling and award-winning authors as Joyce Carol Oates, Ha Jin, Peter Straub, and James Frey, as well as emerging writers.

(I’m one of those “emerging” writers.)

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Because I don’t have enough else to do, and to break my ten-year poetry-writing block, I’m auditing a poetry course this semester with the inimitable Michael Ann Courtney. She has us playing with all sorts of forms. Last week, one of the (many) assignments was a “terribly clever double dactyl.”

Besides constraints of rhyme and meter, the doubt dactyl requires an opening line of repetitive nonsense and a second line that consists of someone’s name. One of the lines in the second stanza must be a single double-dactylic word. The whole thing should have some snooty literary or philosophical allusions.

Mine, naturally, dealt with the Martyrs Mirror.

I’ll publish it here, since it certainly doesn’t deserve a broader audience.

    Toothsomely, gruesomely

    Thieleman J. van Braght

    drafted his indices:

    martyr parades.

    Gougings on drownings on

    tongue screws on flames for their

    Mennohistorical

    last escapades.

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My anthology should be out by December! Click on the image to pre-order from Herald Press. Or click here to visit the book’s website: www.martyrstock.wordpress.com, where you can access author webpages, additional resources, and all sorts of material I promise to post in the very near future.

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Read a bit of my work over at The Tusculum Review.

On the twelfth day of the first year of the Obama administration, as the nation’s economy continued to crumble, we opened our beehive and found the colony dead.

Through most of the winter, we left the bees alone so as not to release the heat they generated huddled between their walls of honey. But when the temperature rose into the 50s, the bees could bear the air enough to take brief cleansing flights, and we dared to open the hive for a few minutes. We had plenty of unseasonable warmth this year—sunny days when the bees flew to gather maple sap, risen during the freezing night, draining through holes the sapsucker drilled through the bark. No bees were flying the afternoon we opened the hive, but we assumed they’d finished their business in the warmest part of the day. A few dead bees lay scattered below the hive, evidence of the cleaning efforts of the workers.

Read on.

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