A contest that opens on Mothers Day, plus other contests and markets for your short fiction and poetry

Note: You can hang out and chat with quick brown foxes and vixens on my Facebook page (here). Just send a friend request to Brian Henry. Also, if you’re not yet on my newsletter, send me an email, including your locale, to: brianhenry@sympatico.ca ~ Brian

Short Fiction is a high-quality online journal (previously also in print, since 2006), publishing some of the finest short stories from around the world. 

They publish one story per month as their Featured piece. They also periodically seek to publish one story in a new section – "Introducing" – which will be a showcase for excellent new writers; that is, writers for whom this is their first published piece. In both cases they are looking for the best, carefully crafted, deeply considered work.

Length: 500–5,000 words.

Short Fiction also publishes original art work, as they enjoy the possibilities of dialogue between literature and the visual arts, and want to support all forms of artistic practice. 

Accepts submissions from the UK, the Commonwealth {yes, including Canada} and everywhere else, except the U.S. {Sorry .} Pays 2p per word or 30 pounds minimum; 100 pounds maximum.

Deadline May 31, 2023. Full guidelines here. 

Heartlines Spec is speculative fiction magazine looking for short fiction and poetry focused on long-term relationships: platonic, romantic, or familial. They don't want the blaze of new love or the obsession of a new friend. They want pieces that show that comfort that develops when people know each other for years.

“Give us deep space, dusty frontiers, or dreamy fantasy. We want stories and poetry with strong, confident relationships amid all the sci-fi/fantasy. While we are primarily looking for stories with happy endings (yeah, yeah), we also want endings that are earned. If things get a little teary or gory, that's ok. 

“We are especially interested in stories featuring queer platonic relationships, ace/aro love stories, and polycules.” {For definitions, see Urban Dictionary.}

Seeks:

Short stories1,000–3,500 words
Poetry: send up to 5 pieces per submission
Strong speculative elements that start on page 1 or 2

Pays 8 cents / word. Submissions welcome from anywhere, but aims to preserve 50% of each issue for Canadian content.

Like everyone else, Heartlines is especially looking for submissions from “equity-deserving groups” {leaving us to speculate as to which groups do not deserve equity}.

Submission periods: May 1–30; Sept –30; Dec 1–31.  

Full guidelines here.  

The annual International Amy MacRae Award for Memoir was created in celebration of the life of the wondrous Amy MacRae and in support of her living legacy to improve the outcomes of women with ovarian cancer.

Contest opens on Mother’s Day, May 14, 2023.

Deadline: July 9, 2023

The winner of will receive a cash prize of $1,000 US.

Shortlisted and winning stories are published as The Amy Award Anthology. Past editions are available for purchase through all bookstores.

All proceeds from the contest and the anthology are donated to Amy’s Living Legacy for ovarian cancer research.

In publishing the anthology, we buy First North American Serial Rights and First Digital Publication Rights only. After publication, copyright reverts to the author.

The International Amy MacRae Award for Memoir is given to an exceptional work of memoir writing.

Memoir writing, or personal essay, is defined as a work of creative nonfiction that illustrates a personal experience using literary techniques and narrative devices such as dialogue, character, setting and scene. Rather than simply recounting past events, successful memoir tends to offer a higher perspective on that past, use personal experience as an illustration of universal themes and/or endeavour to derive meaning, understanding or wisdom from the story it sketches. The quality of the writing is as important as the content of the story. (Note: Travel writing told from a personal perspective does qualify as memoir.)

This is a prose competition, so poetic prose (or prose poetry) is eligible, but poetry that is not prose is better submitted to a poetry contest. (Still not sure if your work qualifies? If your work looks like poetry, then that is what it is.

Submissions must be no longer than 2,000 words and must be original unpublished works. There is no minimum word count requirement.

Entry Fee: $25 US per submission, payable in the writer’s home currency.

Full guidelines here.   

My Mother's Secret by Alina Adams
published by History Through Fiction Press

History Through Fiction is proud to announce its first annual short story contest. Beginning June 15, 2023, and ending August 15, 2023, History Through Fiction will be accepting historical fiction short stories for publication to a special contest section of our Member-only Content Area. Six finalists will be announced on September 15. First, second, and third place winners will be announced on October 15. The three winning stories will be published on November 1, 2023.

First prize: $200; Second: $100; 3^rd: $50 gift card to Bookshop.org

All submissions receive a written evaluation

Submission Guidelines

Word Limit = 4,000 Time Period = Must take place prior to the year 2000 Historical Setting = Any Publication Status = All submissions must be previously unpublished Multiple Submissions = Accepted $9 Submission Fee

Deadline August 15, 2023. Full contest rules here. 

In addition to their contest, History Through Fiction also publishes short stories, novel excerpts, and novels.

If accepted, short stories and novel excerpts are published in the member-only content area of their website. Stories and excerpts must be previously unpublished and should be 1,000 - 7,000 words long. 

HTF prefers stories that are based on real historical events and/or people. However, all stories with any kind of historical setting will be considered. This includes those with elements of fantasy and alternative history. Stories that are accepted will receive light editing before being scheduled for publication. HTF publishes one new story on the first day of each month. 

Pays $25.

Novel submissions are currently closed but will re-open September 1, 2023. HTF looks for stories about real people and real events. Though fictionalized, their books include nonfiction elements such as footnotes, endnotes, and/or a bibliography. When submitting, consider whether your historical novel is informative and educational in addition to being a compelling fictional story.

Full submission guidelines for both short pieces and novels here. 

Quick Brown Fox welcomes your short stories, poems, and essays about reading, writing, favourite books, and libraries. Read a few essays on the blog to get a taste of what other writers have done (see  here and scroll down).

Quick Brown Fox also welcomes reviews of any kind and of anything, anywhere or anybody. If you want to review your favourite coffee shops or libraries, babysitters or lovers (no real names please), go for it. See examples of book reviews here (and scroll down); other reviews here (and scroll down).

Submit to: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Include a short bio at the end of your piece and attach a photo of yourself.

 See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

 

Online courses this summer: Writing Kid Lit, Exploring Creative Writing, and Intensive Creative Writing

Exploring Creative Writing

 ~ Discovering your creative side

Online: Thursday evenings, 6:30 – 8:30 p.m.
July 13 – Aug 24, 2023 {If the course fills up, we’ll start a week earlier on July 6}
Offered on Zoom and accessible from anywhere there's internet 

This is your chance to take up writing in a warm, supportive environment. We’ll explore writing short stories and writing true stories, writing in first person and in third person, writing technique and getting creative, getting down your very best writing and just for fun writing. You’ll get a shot of inspiration every week and an assignment to keep you going till the next class. Best of all, this class will provide a zero-pressure, totally safe setting, where your words will grow and flower.

Fee: $193.81 plus 13% hst = $219

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Writing Little Kid Lit

Board Books, Picture Books & Middle Grade Books

Online: Wednesday afternoons, 1 – 3 p.m.
July 12 – Aug 23, 2023 {If the course fills up, we’ll start a week earlier on July 5}
Offered on Zoom and accessible from anywhere there's internet 

This course is for adults {or teens} interested in writing board books, picture books, Chapter Books, or Middle Grade books. This course is accessible for beginners and meaty enough for advanced writers. Through lectures, in-class assignments, homework, and feedback on your writing, we’ll give you ins and outs of writing for younger readers and set you on course toward writing your own books. Jennifer Mook-Sang will be our guest speaker for this course. Details here.

Fee: $193.81 plus 13% hst = $219

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Intensive Creative Writing

 ~ Grow as a writer

Offered at two different times:

Online: Wednesday evenings, 6:30 – 9:00 p.m.
July 5 – Aug 23, 2023
first readings sent June 28

And

Online: Thursday afternoons, 12:30 – 3:00 p.m.
July 6 – Aug 24, 2023
First readings emailed June 29

Intensive Creative Writing isn't for beginners; it's for people who have been writing for a while or who have done a course or two before and are working on their own projects. You’ll be asked to bring in four pieces of your writing for detailed feedback, including two long pieces. All your pieces may be from the same work, such as a novel in progress, or they may be stand-alone pieces. You bring whatever you want to work on. 

Besides critiquing pieces, the instructor will give short lectures addressing the needs of the group, and in addition to learning how to critique your own work and receiving constructive suggestions about your writing, you’ll discover that the greatest benefits come from seeing how your classmates approach and critique a piece of writing and how they write and re-write. This is a challenging course, but extremely rewarding.

Fee: $238.05 + hst = $269

To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca 

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada's most popular blog for writers, taught creative writing at Ryerson University (now Toronto Metropolitan University) and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John. Brian is the author of a children's version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Tribute Publishing). But his proudest boast is that he has helped many of his students get published.  

Read reviews of Brian's various courses and workshops here (and scroll down).

See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here. 

 

“Planes,” a memoir by Dave Moores

 

When the rubber motor goes splat and shreds the fuselage to muffled sniggers from your mates, you know you’ve overdone it. Hang on, you say, who ever heard of a motor made of rubber, and what’s a fuselage, hello?

Let’s back up. The Downs in Bristol, England, the town where I grew up, is a wide grassy expanse, bordered on three sides by elegant Victorian residences. The southern boundary overlooks the cliffs of the Avon Gorge which is spanned by the landmark Clifton Suspension Bridge. An avenue called Ladies’ mile crosses the Downs and the ladies of Clifton rode horseback there in the Jane Austen era. I picture Emma Woodhouse or Elizabeth Bennett side-saddle on docile chestnut mares. A century later, “Ladies Mile” had a less genteel connotation. Ladies of the night plied their trade there in the depression times, but we’re getting off-track here.

The Downs remains an unparalleled blessing to the city.  People fly kites, go for a run, dogs chase around, and soccer is played during the winter season. In my youth, schoolboys and adults alike gathered on Sunday mornings to fly model planes.

Most of these balsa wood and tissue creations had a propeller upfront, driven by what is best described as the mother of all rubber bands hooked to a peg at the rear end of the fuselage, hence the term “rubber motor”. You wound it up by turning the prop with your finger, or if you were into this stuff big time, you’d wind the motor with a hand drill. Overwind and it would go splat with strands of brown rubber and bits of your plane flying everywhere.

An interest in things that flew came, I reckon, from my Dad. An artist at heart, he’d served as an engineering draftsman in the Royal Air Force during World War 2. A memory that has stayed with me is cycling with Dad up the Gloucester Road in  Bristol to Filton Aerodrome, north of the city, to witness the first flight of what was then the largest aircraft ever built, the Bristol Brabazon.

This monster was intended as a luxury transatlantic airliner. The magnitude of the occasion gripped me. The deep drone of the plane’s eight engines shook the air, and me as well, as the Brabazon accelerated down the specially-built runway. Would it fly? Could something that huge take to the air? It could and did, to cheers and sighs of relief, a moment I never forgot. I was seven years old.

Here’s another of those moments. Following my stint at university, my teenage sweetheart and I married and my first job turned out to be with British Aerospace, right back there at Filton where “the Brab” as Bristolians named it, had left its mark on my  juvenile mind years before.

In a gigantic assembly building down a slope from the office where I worked as a trainee project planner, the prototype Concorde supersonic airliner was taking shape to the stutter of rivet guns. On lunch breaks, along with Brian and Sid, a couple of co-workers, I’d wander down the hill to take a look. 

The year was 1969, the moonshot was in final preparation and this felt like Britain’s aerospace equivalent, pushing boundaries in the same electrifying way. Came the big day.  Everybody was invited to leave their desks and watch the maiden flight. The Concorde, moving gingerly like a slender white bird, stalked to the end of the runway and made a careful turn. Minutes passed, the spectators grew restless, was something amiss?

The rising whine of turbines silenced our speculations. The Concorde rolled forward and gathered speed. I swear nobody breathed. With a rumble of crackling thunder, it raised its nose and took to the air, orange flames winking in the four jet pipes, a moment to remember.

Back to The Downs, more modest dreams of flight, and rubber motors. “The Model Airport”, a shop downtown, sold model airplane kits. A couple of weeks’ pocket money would buy one. It contained plans, balsa wood sticks and balsa sheets on which were printed the shapes of wing ribs, bulkheads and such, which you’d have to cut out with a very sharp, pointy knife. It was a good idea to have bandages handy for this step.

The plans got unfolded and laid on a board so that wings, fuselage sides and other parts could be constructed by pinning spars, ribs and frames over the plans and sticking them together with heady-smelling balsa glue. Once assembled, the frames got covered with model plane tissue, painted with cellulose dope, and the model was ready to have its motor and propellor installed and be carted off to The Downs in hopes it would fly.

Rubber motor wound, you’d stand for a couple of seconds facing into the wind, getting up your nerve, then release the propellor which made a fluttery sound like a flock of birds as your plane climbed away to face the elements. No radio-control of course, you hoped you’d trimmed it to climb and circle. Some models did and some didn’t. You pretty quickly learned basic aerodynamics, fine-tuning the thrust line, centre-of-gravity, wing and tailplane angles-of-incidence and more besides. Failure to do so resulted in unfortunate contact with the ground.

We made gliders as well, towed into the air like a kite and then released. One of mine caught a thermal and flew away for good.  Jetex engines arrived at The Model Airport, little rocket motors burning solid fuel-pellets. They made an awful-smelling exhaust that came out with a hiss like an angry snake. A fifteen-second engine-run would send a small model whizzing about doing loops close to the ground so people’d have to duck.

There was something about model planes that took hold of us as kids, and as young men too. Soon, we’d be designing our own, no more kits. It became a friendly competition to see who could produce the coolest flying machine on The Downs next Sunday. Watching your model climb into the air for the first time and circle above, in the knowledge that you’d constructed this with the care and skill of your own hands and brain, felt special. Perhaps, in some small way, special like those first flights at Filton Aerodrome. Is that a stretch? Maybe, maybe not.

***

Dave Moores has a couple of novels out there, Attitude (YA) and Windward Legs (commercial fiction) published on Amazon in the last couple of years by Middleroad Publishers of Toronto. Several of his short pieces have appeared in the online journal CommuterLit. He's a strong believer in one of Elmore Leonard’s Ten Rules for Writers: If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it. He enjoys playing with language but will jump through hoops to avoid prolixity. Dave is retired from a career in information technology and lives in Oakville, Ontario.

 See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

“Writing Seeds” by Natalie J. Chan

 

Sometimes a moment is like a tiny seed – it takes root and grows. More often, the moment is a hollow seed. We notice the hazy mist of frozen breath on a winter’s morning or take note of how perfectly someone stacked the display of instant ramen bowls at our local 7-Eleven, and then nothing. We move on. Other times the seed germinates and promises something only to sputter out – a tender first kiss followed the next day by silence, or a compliment happily received only to realize its back-handed nature a beat later.

Now and again, there is full bloom. The seedling moment flourishes. We hope it isn’t a weed, a foolish pursuit perhaps, or an unwelcome circumstance, invading and wreaking havoc on our present and future. We hope the seed sprouts into a coveted blossom adding beauty, richness, and depth to the garden we’ve tended since birth.

For me, this came in the form of a notebook, a diary to be exact. I was young, but I don’t remember how young, because I could already write. I don’t remember who gifted it to me, only that they cared enough to know it would be the perfect present. I don’t know where the diary is now, only that it still exists in my memories.

I do remember how happy I was to receive it. I held on to it tight with two small hands, a powder-blue book, half an inch thick. On the cover were a little blue-haired boy and little pink-haired girl, sweet cherub-angels, sitting on the curve of a bright yellow half-moon with sharp, twinkly stars in the background. If you know your Japanese cartoons well enough, you’d recognize Kiki and Lala, known to devout fans of the Hello Kitty world as the Little Twin Stars.

The best feature though of the diary was the lock and key. A big sturdy padlock and metal key that made a satisfying click every time I used it.

I have always loved books – bedtime books, bath-time books, sitting-on-the-potty books, rainy day books, short books with pictures, thick books without – but now, a book with blank pages that I could fill, lock up and keep safe? Me? An author? My mind was whirling with a tornado of possibility. I started to write in that book every day. Profound things, keen observations, poetry, all my feelings and it was a joy.

Eventually, I moved on to other pursuits and my Little Twin Stars diary faded into my past. Except, one day in my teens I found it on the floor in my closet, under a big pile of rumply clothes. It was locked. After sincerely hurting my head guessing where the key was, I checked my makeup drawer which doubled as a considerable junk bin. From a molehill of stray buttons, eraser nubs, safety pins, a pink Barbie doll high heel, and what looked like a half-eaten caramel that had fossilized, I picked out a tiny key. Hurrah! My hoarding tendencies had been rewarded.

I studied the key closely. I had my doubts about whether it was the right one, remembering my diary key to be bigger, heavier, and somehow more substantial in every way. I shrugged and grabbed onto the padlock, surprised it was only roughly the size of a dime and that I’d never noticed how flimsy and cheaply made it was. 

I went ahead, slipped the key into the hole, and twisted. I smiled. At least the satisfying click was still there. 

Flipping through the pages, I giggled with embarrassment. I remember how careful and exacting I was whenever I wrote in my diary. I could see now though, my letters were big, loopy, horridly shaped, and randomly slanted. As I started to run out of space, my words grew smaller and smaller until they were nothing more than dots as they reached the edge of the page. Sometimes, I would run out of space, and so, I’d just start writing vertically downwards to finish my thought.

My “keen observations” included such clever gems as:

 I liKe Granmas springrols to day.

or

to day I tok a nap.

Sometimes my thoughts veered into quite the serious territory:

didi is a Poo Poo hed for cheeting.

or this classic:

MaMa is not fare! I am gone to run away to the parK.

There were A LOT of exclamation marks.

To be honest, my handwriting hasn’t gotten much better with age and so I am quite relieved that the content of my writing has. At least I’d like to think so. Receiving the Little Twin Star Diary was a seed that became a big old comforting tree. All the way through until my twenties I devoured books like a child eating cake and wrote whatever I wanted to, until my hand hurt from pencil-cramp. But as I grew up, my world grew crowded and other seedlings inevitably took over – career, marriage, kids, and a whole host of complications that would surprise no one.

Time became an adversary and my writing tree lay dormant for years until suddenly with the change of seasons, another seed drifted my way. Carleigh, a mum friend from the neighborhood and fellow writing enthusiast phoned and said, “Hey, I’m taking this Children’s Writing course. Why don’t you take it with me?” It was the push I needed. I’d been thinking of maybe starting to write again ... thinking about it, for years …  

And so, in earnest, I began again. Things have changed. Instead of a powder-blue diary I have my black and grey laptop. Instead of locking up my thoughts after each entry, I will freely share them with readers. Also, I try not to use too many exclamation marks. I still write from the heart, though, and funnily enough, I still write vertically, well, only for notes in the margins and not because I’ve grossly misjudged the length of a sentence.

When I think about my garden, I like to picture my big old writing tree in one corner of the yard, new leaves and flowers in abundance, and a swing bench secured to the strongest branch. It’s here I’ll sit with pen and paper, observing in contemplation and content the loveliest of flora borne from the worthiest of seeds.

***

Natalie J. Chan is an emerging writer of short pieces, stories for children, poems, and essays. Her short story, “Sorrow’s Own Aria” won honourable mention for fiction in Askew’s Word on the Lake Writing Contest, published in their 2023 Anthology. She has a master’s in business administration and pursued a career in human resources until deciding to take a wholesale parenting break. She is part of CANSCAIP and continues to take writing courses and workshops to improve her craft while actively exploring fresh life goals.

See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

“In November” by J.H. Olley

 

Mostly silence – with a sole woodpecker tapping in the distance. Everywhere are shrivelled leaves and, underneath, some last clinging greens.

In a tree, a red-tailed hawk is making a banquet out of what – a squirrel?

The carcass of a lone salmon floats under the branch of a willow that fell in last winter's storms. The raccoons haven't found this one yet.

Further downstream, a set of beaver tracks by the water and fresh deer droppings.

Unlike in the madness of the salmon run, there are no so-called sportsmen. The stream is quiet.

Two p.m. and the sun is already low over the western hills of the river valley – cold and weak.

I find a comfortable log, pull my typewriter from my pack, and start to tap, breaking the peace of the river.

***

J.H. Olley is a reformed technical writer who has seen the error of his ways and now writes fiction. He lives in Oakville, Ontario. “In November” was first published in Margin Releases: Typewritten Tales of Transgression. 

See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

Online: How to Get Published workshop with literary agent Stephanie Winter

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo
by Taylor Jenkins Reid
reporesented by P.S. Literary

How to Get Published

An editor & a literary agent tell all

Saturday, May 27, 2023
1:15 – 5:00 p.m. Toronto time
Online and accessible wherever there's Internet

If you've ever dreamed of becoming a published author, this workshop is for you. We’ll focus on the process of submitting to an agent or publisher, and show you exactly how to write a query letter that will get a “yes!” Bring all your questions! Come and get ready to be published!

Special Option: Participants are invited to prepare a draft of a query letter you might use to interest an agent or publisher in your book. You don't need to prepare anything, but if you like, email me a draft of your query prior to our workshop. Stephanie and I will critique several queries, perhaps half a dozen, so everyone can see what works, what doesn’t and how to improve your query. Do remember that agents come to these events wanting to hear what you’ve got and hoping to find authors they want to represent.

Guest speaker Stephanie Winter is an associate agent at P.S. Literary. P.S. is a full-service literary agency with eight agents, representing everything from picture books through young adult, and literary and commercial fiction and nonfiction for adults. Their goal is to support clients from draft to post-publication and to pursue foreign, audio, digital, TV/film, and serial rights on their behalf. P.S. has launched many new authors on their careers.

As an agent with P.S. Literary, Stephanie Winter acquires across three main pillars: nonfiction, graphic novels, and picture books for young readers, in addition to select adult fiction in upmarket and thriller categories. Stephanie lovingly describes her list as geeky, young at heart, and queer-affirming. Some of Stephanie’s projects include Danny Loves Pasta (DK, 2023), The Case for Cancel Culture (Macmillan, 2023), and The Embroidered Closet (Abrams, 2022).

Stephanie holds a B.A. in English Literature with High Distinction from the University of Toronto and an M.A. in English: Issues in Modern Culture from University College London, UK.

You can find more information on how to connect with Stephanie at www.stephaniewinter.ca

Workshop leader Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada’s most popular blog for writers, teaches creative writing at Ryerson University, and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Windsor to Charlottetown. But his proudest boast is that he has helped many of his students get their first book published and launch their careers as authors. 

See reviews of Brian's classes and workshops here.

Fee: $45.13 + 13% hst = $51 paid in advance by mail or Interac

To reserve a spot now, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.