Running a journal—selecting content, editing, finding just the right images—takes a lot of time. (Trust us: we know!) So when I heard about Twenty-Four Magazine, I was flabbergasted. You see, Twenty-Four Magazine just put out its first issue last month, and they did it all—the concept, the writing, the publishing, the design—in just twenty-four hours.

Why? Here’s what the group said on their site:

Because it means that the magazine’s production will become an event that anyone can follow, and the process becomes a part of the product.

Because a time-based model makes continuing the magazine more sustainable: it’s a reasonable period of work to ask of busy, overcommitted people who might not have time to be a part of a longer production.

And because we have all stared down the barrel of a deadline before.

We are by no means the first 24-hour creative project of this kind, and we know we won’t be the last. Time-based art forms are becoming increasingly popular and have produced some amazing work.

One of the contributors, Rose Fox, reported the process on BoingBoing as the project got underway:

Right this minute, eleven accomplished creative professionals have wedged themselves into a studio in Brooklyn, New York, and are in the process of putting together the first issue of twenty-four magazine. twenty-four is a quarterly publication for which each issue is conceived, written, illustrated, designed, and produced in 24 hours. The creation of the first issue began at 10 a.m. Eastern Time on February 23, 2012 and will finish at 10 a.m. on February 24, at which time PDFs of the planned 64-page magazine will be sent to the 100+ people who backed the project on Kickstarter. Print copies will follow within a week. The first issue is 100% donation-funded and ad-free.

To learn more about the magazine, visit their website, where you also order a copy of issue one. And–they plan to do it again May.

Before the word loses its meaning, let’s take it back to its root. From the Latin cura, meaning “care,” a curator is essentially one who minds our cultural heritage. More than just an editor, a true curator contextualizes and interprets our history through artifacts and objects.

Can a literary journal be a curator? It seems unlikely, unless of course you’ve picked up a copy of Lapham’s Quarterly. Like great museum curators, Lapham’s  Quarterly’s editors exhibit ancient and modern texts side-by-side.

Developed by distinguished editor Lewis H. Lapham, Lapham’s Quarterly brings history to a popular audience through short readings that expand upon a single theme, the driving force of the issue. Each issue sees historical essays and stories by luminaries like Plato, James Baldwin, Charles Dickens, Henry James, and Hildegard of Bingen printed alongside contemporary ones by Francine Prose, Simon Winchester, George Packer, Salman Rushdie, Christopher Hitchens, and Garret Keiser.

Since the its first issue, “States of War,” the magazine has made its readers think a little differently about how much things change (and how much they stay the same). Under the heading “Voice in Time,” Lapham’s Quarterly featured a 2003 speech given by Lt-Col. Tim Collins in Kuwait that begins “We go to liberate, not to conquer,” and illuminated its historical and cultural significance by printing it just before the 1917 address “Lt-Gen. Sir Stanley Maude Presents the Gift of Freedom to the People of Iraq.”

In the Spring 2011 issue “Lines of Work,” American Apparel’s company-wide rules of grooming are displayed along with a historical letter about sexual harassment in the workplace, written by a young female slave in 19th century North Carolina. These contrasts are made even more apparent in the “Conversations” section, where 17th century writer Anne Bradstreet’s poem about filial piety is linked by ampersand to a bilious letter from Franz Kafka about his demanding father. Juxtapositions throughout the magazine feel like the literary equivalent of a really good mix tape, where obscure songs of various styles come together to tell you something more about the music.

Lapham’s Quarterly was recognized early on for its unique vision and excellent production. It was a finalist for the National Magazine Awards in 2011, an amazing feat for a publication that was, at that time, just two years old. Two of its essays have been featured in the Best American series: the incomparable Simon Winchester’s “Take Nothing, Leave Nothing,” about a trip to the remote Tristan da Cunha, was in Best American Travel Writing 2010, and Garret Keizer’s “And Such a Small Deer,” from the magazine’s “Book of Nature” issue, was selected for Best American Essays 2009.

The editors of Lapham’s Quarterly shared the magazine’s objectives, vision, and history with Fiction Writers Review by email. Throughout our conversation, it was clear that the magazine’s goals are as timeless as the writing they publish: to find the best readings that serve a topic, to make the readings timely and topical, and to respond historically to the events of the day.

What is the role of Lapham’s Quarterly (LQ) in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

LQ is a literary curator and a historical mirror. The readings we choose for an issue may revolve around a single theme, but oftentimes we choose them because they still feel very modern or very true. Curation has become an essential form of creation, and we want LQ to serve as an entry point for writers you may have heard of but never read, writers you’ve read but never enjoyed, and writers you may have enjoyed as a student who have reentered your life in a new way.

How do you see Lapham’s Quarterly’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years?  Will the rise of digital publishing impact the composition of a magazine that prizes treasures from the past?

The mission of LQ will always remain the same. Our themes will expand and contract according to the continued interests of editorial staff. Treasures from the past aren’t necessarily endangered by digital publishing (unless they are literally ripped up and thrown away by libraries as they scan them, like in Nicholson Baker’s Doublefold, and works in the public domain in particular have a lot to gain from being distributed freely, printed out on EBMs, downloaded to iPads, or written across the sky. It’s our job to make sure you know about them—there’s a wide range of work between the classic and the forgotten, the esoteric and the unknown.

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years that would provide a snapshot of Lapham’s Quarterly’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

Suetonius’s The Twelve Caesars, a painting by Paul Klee, and a bottle of McCallan 18. A copy of our “Future” issue might be nice too, just so our blue-skinned, computer-brained counterparts can read about future predictions from the past four thousand years.

What album is playing on the Lapham’s Quarterly stereo these days?

Les Paul, Caribou, Four Tet, The Civil Wars, lots of 80s music, and lots of jazz.

Lapham’s Quarterly’s newest issue “Means of Communication” is on newsstands now. Readers can look forward to an expertly culled selection of writing about media and communication, as well as staff-written lists about pigeon messengers, ancient libraries, and invented languages like Klingon and Loglan. It is, in other words, not to be missed by readers, tastemakers, or Pinterest curators everywhere.

If you haven’t explored it yet, Lapham’s Quarterly’s website is a treasure trove. There are book recommendations from the editors, wonderful podcasts (including a compelling one with historian and humorist Sarah Vowell), content from past issues, and even a recorded interview of the great Lewis Lapham himself at Google’s headquarters. While you’re on their website, you can subscribe to Lapham’s Quarterly and receive four beautiful issues full of 224 esoteric and illuminating pages this year.

For those of you already in the FWR Twitter family, you know our presence there exists in part to inform followers of what’s happening here on the site, as well as to update the community on literary trends, worthwhile links, etc. We couldn’t be happier to see this role expand in a way that allows us to put journals we love in the hands of readers who will love them too.

Reed

While a Reed by any name would smell as sweet, the magazine’s current moniker gives us insight into its mission. The name is derived from a quote by Blaise Pascal, the scientist and inventor who, like the magazine, reinvented himself throughout his life:

Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed. The entire universe need not arm itself to crush him. All our dignity consists in thought. By it we elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we can never fill.

Through all of its incarnations, Reed has given students the opportunity to showcase the work of thoughtful voices. Early in its history, only students of the university could submit work, but Reed now accepts fiction, non-fiction, and art from all over the world.  While the stories, poetry, interviews, essays, and artwork contained within its pages today are international, the undergraduate and graduate students who make up Reed’s editorial board are decidedly part of their community. That community includes not only SJSU’s campus but also Silicon Valley and the entire Bay Area. As Managing Editor Sara Totten explains:

We live in an area that is fortunate to experience many different cultures and perspectives. That’s the beauty of Reed: as a magazine we evolve and represent at any given time a range of cultures, ages, and places. Each one of our editors brings their unique view to the table and to the selection process, giving us a wonderful range of works in each issue.

The works in Reed certainly do range widely, from Ursula K. Le Guin’s “Alien’s Tale” to “Homage to Charles M. Schultz,” a poem by SJSU student Evelyn A. So. There is always art on the cover and oftentimes within its pages, as well as interviews with distinguished literary figures like Isabel Allende and George Saunders. Frequently, Reed includes work by the recipients of two prizes: the Edwin Markham Prize in Poetry and the John Steinbeck Award for Fiction. Both awards are co-sponsored by Reed and San Jose State University (the Steinbeck Award is also sponsored by the National Steinbeck Center, housed in Steinbeck’s hometown of Salinas, California, not too far from the Center for Steinbeck Studies on the SJSU campus).

As Managing Editor, Sara Totten in part sets the editorial tone of the magazine, but she is quick to point out that it’s the combination of editorial voices that makes the magazine so strong. Sara generously shared her unique view on Reed with Fiction Writers Review via email:

What is the role of Reed in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

I struggle to give Reed a hard and fast role in today’s literary community. I feel like I don’t want to put my label on the magazine. Each year a new staff gets to reinvent the life of Reed. And by that point Reed gets to evolve with the literary world and the people in it. I want all the staffs of Reed in the future to make each issue their own and reflect their eclectic tastes at that time.  I feel that readers and writers will be able to continue to look to Reed to connect with people. To me that’s what literature and art [are] about. It doesn’t matter if it’s fiction, non-fiction, art, or poetry: we come to the arts to make us feel something.

How do you see Reed’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years?  Will the rise of digital publishing impact the magazine?

I believe the mission of Reed will continue to be to put out the very best journal that we can, and that the taste of the material within those covers will change with every person who walks into that staff room and puts their mark on it. The magazine will continue to make itself more accessible and rise with the era of digital publishing. Currently, we have groups of staff members working on how we want to go about creating a digital issue, and possibly a tablet version in the future. We’re also making steps toward making our archive available digitally, which will allow our readership and readers to see where the magazine came from. It will also allow writers and family of writers to look up a work that was published by a beloved relative way back when, if they so desire.

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years that would provide a snapshot of Reed’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

Not to take liberties with the question, but three items aren’t going to do it. Reed has taken it upon itself to put together a literary magazine that includes not just the written word, but art also. If we wanted to [en]capsulate a representation of our aesthetic today it would have to include the two contest winners (yet to be announced), the non-fiction editorial staff’s favorite non-fiction piece, and the cover art of this year’s issue.

What album is playing on the Reed’s stereo these days?

We have members from different countries and different parts of the country. Everyone listens to something different, and I think that these are the things that make us wonderful, that we’re so different working together. As for me I have recently discovered an Australian singer named Kimbra and have been listening to her for the last few weeks.

If you can’t wait to see how a mononymous singer from New Zealand is inspiring the editorial choices of a long-established California literary institution, then make sure to click over to www.reedmag.org and subscribe. The next issue of Reed launches in May.

And writers and artists: start preparing your work for consideration now, because submissions to Reed are accepted between June 1 and November 1 this year for the 2013 issue. The submission process is electronic, and guidelines are found at Reed’s website.  Or, if you think your writing is prize-worthy, consider submitting your work to one of Reed’s two contests. Winners receive $1,000 and a copy of the issue their piece appears in. This year’s esteemed contest judges are 1994 Man Booker Prize winner James Kelman (for the John Steinbeck Award for Fiction) and 2000 National Book Award finalist Kim Addonizio (for the Edwin Markham Prize for Poetry).

For those of you already in the FWR Twitter family, you know our presence there exists in part to inform followers of what’s happening here on the site, as well as to update the community on literary trends, worthwhile links, etc. We couldn’t be happier to see this role expand in a way that allows us to put journals we love in the hands of readers who will love them too.

Perhaps the only category of reader not listed is you, the future FWR-referred reader, introduced to The Georgia Review through this write-up—or perhaps through the random drawing for a free subscription that will occur next week.

But don’t be intimidated—you’ll be amongst friends right from the Table of Contents. At the end of the Spring issue’s foreword, Corey announces the journal’s nominations for the National Magazine Awards competition. In fiction, Corey and his colleagues chose to sponsor the Pushcart Prize-winning “The Lobster Mafia Story” by Anna Solomon, whom Fiction Writers Review interviewed just a few weeks ago and whose debut novel, The Little Bride, was named our Book of the Week.

“The Lobster Mafia,” was, in fact, my introduction to Solomon’s work. The story explores the relationship of a wife and husband in the aftermath of a violent crime the latter commits with a gang of fellow lobster catchers. The men take the crime to their deathbeds, which is where we meet the narrator, Marcella, tolerating suspicious glances from the gang’s widows after her husband’s funeral. From the first page onward, we quickly learn she won’t grieve him so much as reflect on their marriage, rooted in Boston’s North End right beside the pride, resentment, and repression that kept them there:

They knew that I was not from here, either, that I’d grown up in Boston’s North End, praying to be delivered from the crowded, garlic-stinking streets, from family, from spinsterhood, from tackiness; that when Bobby finally found me, I was grateful to him the way you are grateful when the hairdresser makes your hair into something it isn’t, though you feel a little nervous, every time the wind lifts, that the style won’t last.

Emma, a curious young neighborhood girl, becomes the catalyst that helps Marcella understand how and when her marriage turned. Finding the freedom to tell Emma her story gives Marcella the freedom she never had when holding it inside.

In her interview with Sara Schaff here at FWR, Solomon states, “I actually feel like a really masterful short story is harder than a good novel because it’s such a demanding form. It feels much more particular, and if things are not perfect, it’s much more obvious.”

The Georgia Review has shared this commitment to storytelling since its founding in 1947. Heading toward its 258th issue, the journal has been recognized by the National Magazine Award in multiple categories: “Essays,” Single-Topic Issues,” “Fiction,” and—unsurprisingly, given this list’s breadth—“General Excellence.” But besides winning awards, the journal’s careful curating of stories, essays, poetry, reviews and art has helped it survive the test of time, which of course has included budget cuts and new production processes.

This curating has brought readers work from the likes of Joyce Carol Oates, George Singleton, Robert Olen Butler, William Faulkner, and Harry Crews. I discovered two pieces by the last in the most recent Winter 2011 issue: an essay in which Crews shares the real-life inspiration for the character Didymus in his novel The Gospel Singer, and an excerpt from the novel itself.

Though the first piece is nonfiction and second fiction, they read as a one-two punch of breathless narrative. In “We Are All of Us Passing Through,” Crews tells how he rode across the country fighting frostbite and a rational—yet hilarious—fear of rape at the YMCA, only to come face-to-face with something that represents the Devil and Jesus and what Crews is sure is his impending bloody murder.

Ten years after escaping the dreaded Y, this “wasted night” returned to the author when he set out to write The Gospel Singer, and the fourth chapter of the novel—excerpted later in the issue–shows how this real-life inspiration manifests itself through an imagination as vivid as Crews’. Having read Classic Crews: A Harry Crews Reader a few years ago, I relished the rare opportunity to cross-reference the moment of inspiration against the story it birthed. Not surprisingly, what emerged from that moment was wholly different, informed by the subconscious instead of the factual settings, characters, and descriptions that inspired it. Rather than simply narrate what had occurred in the YMCA, or create a character with a similar physical build or voice, Crews transferred the spirit of insidious evil from his night in the YMCA into Didymus. Crews’ nightmare gives form to Didymus’s motives and perspective, the justified heartlessness with which he operates.

Now’s as good a time as any to let editor Stephen Corey address you with our Journal of the Week question set:

What is the role of The Georgia Review in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

Picky though this may seem, I find myself uncomfortable with the notion of a “role,” which to me implies, variously, something fixed, something “played,” and something about which one might allow oneself to feel self-important. I’d rather try to say a little about what I think The Georgia Review “does” that might be noteworthy within the broad literary community.

• We are among a relatively small number of magazines that regularly gives substantive space to four genres: essays, short stories, poems, and reviews.
• We have a special if understated commitment to publishing on a regular basis the most outstanding environmentally-conscious writing we can find, having featured such committed authors and thinkers as Barry Lopez, Pattiann Rogers, and Reg Saner. If we have no Earth we can live on tolerably and humanely, we will have no “literary community.”
• We have managed to institute and to maintain a payment scale for our contributors that may not be decent but is at least more than a token: fifty dollars per published page for prose and four dollars per line for poetry.
• We give a fair shake to every submitted manuscript because we recognize there is no predicting the source of the best pieces of writing—and this equal treatment of submissions is what leads to our publishing a significant number of previously unpublished and scarcely published writers. (I never use the term “slushpile” except when denouncing it, and I forbid my staff from using it or thinking in its shadow.)
• We are heavily and sympathetically hands-on editors, working closely with our contributors to make their manuscripts as strong as possible before they go to press. Our writers do the great bulk of the work, of course, but I believe that good editorial work can improve even the best writing by a few percentage points. A few writers are annoyed by our proactive approach, but the great majority of them are appreciative—and even come to enjoy the back-and-forth effort.
• We are committed to producing print issues whose design and production details we take just as seriously as we do the manuscript details. If the world reaches a point where it has no need for beautifully printed books and journals, that world will have no need for The Georgia Review.

How do you see The Georgia Review’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years? Will the rise of digital publishing impact the composition of The Georgia Review?

The stated mission of The Georgia Review is to present the best thought, writing, and visual art to an audience of intellectually open and inquisitive readers, both nationally and internationally. The tastes of the journal are, like those of any similar publication, those of its editor(s). The only ways these may evolve in the short term will be as they are incrementally influenced by whatever submissions are brought to bear upon the editorial staff’s thinking and feeling. I am quite certain any such changes would of necessity be small, yet at the same time they will be vital because The Georgia Review can be nothing except the communal, somewhat serendipitous creature produced by writers and editors in concert.

Sometime in 2012 we intend to make available by paid subscription a digital version of The Georgia Review’s print edition. The latter will remain the heart and soul of our operation, but we believe we can now offer an onscreen edition that, for those readers who want it, can give a mirror experience of our printed pages. (We have been offering various behind-the-scenes extras on our website for some time, and we will continue to develop those in the coming years.)

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years that would provide a snapshot of The Georgia Review’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

Well, the capsule can’t be sealed just yet because one of the three items isn’t ready to go. I’d include a copy of our Winter 2001/Spring 2002 double issue, which gives a retrospective of some of our best essays from the first fifty years of the journal, and a copy of Spring 2011—a retrospective of stories from the past twenty-five years that picks up where our forty-year retrospective (Spring 1986) left off. The third item, nonexistent, is a follow-up to our forty-year poetry retrospective (Fall 1986)—an issue I hope to bring out in 2013.

What album is playing on the The Georgia Review stereo these days?

See What Tomorrow Brings by Peter, Paul and Mary. I could write an essay on why I’m giving this response to such an impossible question, but I won’t. I’ll leave it to readers to spend a couple of years with the journal to see whether they can figure out some reasons behind my choice.

Bower House Writers' Retreat

Beyond its core publishing missions, The Georgia Review serves the public with ongoing literary programs. You might recall the 1995 Cultural Olympiad, carried out in conjunction with the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta. The Georgia Review produced two special issues for the signature event, as well as organized the largest-ever gathering of Nobel Laureates in Literature.

They’re also grooming future Laureates with a newly established writers’ retreat in Canon, Georgia. The hotel-turned-home will boast literary readings and events in addition to its Writers in Residence programs.

This March, you’ll be able to catch up on The Georgia Review in one fell swoop with their new book from the University of Georgia Press, Stories Wanting Only To Be Heard: Selected Fiction from Six Decades of The Georgia Review.

Until then, head to The Georgia Review’s official site for subscription and submission information, back issues, excerpts, and much more. Completing the southern (online) hospitality are the journal’s blog, Twitter feed, and Facebook page.

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As a special bonus to readers of Fiction Writers Review, we’ll be giving away three free subscriptions to The Georgia Review! If you’d like to be eligible for this week’s drawing (and all future ones), please visit our Twitter Page and “follow” us.

For those of you already in the FWR Twitter family, you know our presence there exists in part to inform followers of what’s happening here on the site, as well as to update the community on literary trends, worthwhile links, etc. We couldn’t be happier to see this role expand in a way that allows us to put journals we love in the hands of readers who will love them too.

Between the labyrinth of booths and the exhaustive list of panels and the hungry, hung-over crowds and the poets (yes, the poets), AWP can quickly stress a fiction writer out.

But know where to look and it can also take the edge off.

First step: find Hobart’s booth. Second: receive a healthy pour of Jim Beam.

If there’s one clean and available, your pour will go into a fancy Hobart-branded shot glass, and if you’re lucky and he’s available, the man pouring will be Aaron Burch. He’s more than simply “Founding Editor” of the journal: the masthead confirms Burch as its official “Bourbon Drinker.” We’ve written about Burch before, reviewing his collection How to Predict the Weather, so you might be aware that beyond “Bourbon Drinker,” he’s the creator of work we’ve called “a stunning meditation on love, loss, and the potential of human imagination.”

I’d apply the same descriptors to humble Hobart, whose front cover calls–itself in self-deprecating cursive–“another literary journal.”

This it is not.

Only on its twelfth issue, Hobart has already been highlighted in Best American Nonrequired Reading, and not for the hilarious (dis)likes page that so many in the literary community love to check in on. It’s Hobart’s ability to curate badass, cutting-edge narratives that has helped the modest upstart out of Aaron Burch’s bedroom to grow into a full-on web/print literary journal and publisher.

The journal began with Burch and friends searching for fiction that took risks and had fun, stories that they themselves would enjoy reading. Hobart’s latest issue epitomizes that mission.

Issue #12 boasts a vast collection of voices and experimentation that do the journal’s origins proud. After kicking things off in second person with Brian Evenson and Lily Hoang’s co-authored “Your Ballad of Milt & Stanley,” in which the reader is derided for letting the action in the story take place, the storytelling and tone do a complete 180° thanks to Jim Henry’s “At Least We’ve Legs,” in which the tragicomic outcome of the most dysfunctional marriage in history unfolds unbelievably—save for the grounded, exacting voice.

And those are just the first two stories. The rest of the issue unfolds with much the same abandon for routine and rhythm. Longer stories give way to shorter stories; perspectives shift; translations pop in to say hello. It is simply a joy to read.

My favorite story in the issue might be Douglas Silver’s “The View of Heaven From The Moon,” and no, not for its heavy dose of porn stars. After losing his wife to a staph infection, the protagonist’s father abandons the sex trade that brought them together for the church, throwing all his weight into finding faith and holding onto it. Meanwhile, the protagonist’s grandpa vows to disprove Apollo 11 by building a fake shuttle in the basement. It might seem like a mission fueled by dementia, but it’s actually a mission in search of distraction, much like the father’s own search for acceptance by the church. The moon, that isolated rock, is the only place more acutely lonely than the home these individuals share with one another—and there’s one being built in the basement. In lesser hands, such a cast of characters might come off as caricatures, but Silver sculpts their journey into something as human as anything I’ve read this year.

After covering PANK so recently, I was also thrilled to read Roxanne Gay’s story “North Country,” in which the theme of loneliness returns in a painfully authentic piece about a move to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

My personal connections to the issue continued with Brian Oliu’s innovative “4 Nintendo Shorts,” an ode to Super Mario Bros and Ninja Gaiden, mega-properties from my former industry, video games.

The final story in the issue, “Rockabye” by Dave Housley, introduces readers to a mother and son addicted to reality TV, only the star is their washed-up rockstar father trying out new wives in a show modeled after The Bachelor. Heartfelt and laugh-out-loud funny, “Rockabye” is a perfect way to end the issue and a story I felt like I’d been looking for—if not for myself, for my reality-TV-loving girlfriend. So thanks, Hobart.

And thanks, Aaron Burch, for taking some time to answer our questions:

What is the role of Hobart in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

Hm. I don’t know. Not to be all question-avoidy, but I don’t really like to think of writing or publishing in terms of “roles.” I don’t think of publishing as having some small hole that Hobart exists to fill or anything. I really just want it to be a journal that writers get geeked to have a story in, and readers look forward to issues and really just read and enjoy the stories enough to want to pass them along to others.

How do you see Hobart’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years? Will the rise of digital publishing impact the composition of Hobart?

I don’t think we have a clear enough “mission” to think about how it might change or evolve. We tend to lean toward… if we have an idea for something and it excites us, we should do it. We (Elizabeth and I) are talking about, and working on, making the journal a little more all-purpose and magazine-y—we’d like more essays, interviews, profile pieces, humor pieces, comics, lists, graphics, pie graphs, etc. We’ll see how that goes from idea to actuality.

As someone who has read his last few books on either his Kindle or iPad, we’re definitely working on getting e-versions of both the journal and the minibooks. I don’t think that will really have any impact on the composition of Hobart though, it’ll just be more accessible across formats.

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years, that would provide a snapshot of Hobart’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

Maybe a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon, a collection (a “collection” is one item, right?) of polaroids of campers, and a baseball.

What album is playing on Hobart stereo these days?

The Hobart iTunes shuffle has recently been playing some mix of Kanye, Odd Future, Modest Mouse, ISIS, Nas, Wu Tang, various movie soundtracks, Botch, and all ’90s Seattle stuff. And lots of podcasts. IWTF with Marc Maron and Comedy Bang Bang are both mainstays. Kanye and Jay-Z’s Watch the Throne is pretty solid. I feel a little left out with all the Spotify hubbub, but I usually listen to music while offline, and it doesn’t really seem like it would do anything for me there.

Pour yourself a big bourbon and click over to Hobart’s site for Issue #12, a slew of Issue #12 bonus content, as well as the remainder of the Hobart catalogue. It’s all ripe for the picking, along with Hobart’s minibook line-up—including The Avian Gospels, Adam Novy’s incredibly packaged (and told) story of a city cursed by a plague of birds. Bird flu this is not, but if Biblical allegory, suspense, and romance is your thing, I highly suggest packing a copy for your go-bag. It’s nifty and fits right inside.

In addition to the Hobart print site’s submission and ordering info, the website boasts its own slate of fiction, a blog, and those bite-sized (dis)likes. And if that’s not enough Hobart for you (it shouldn’t be), head to their tumblr and Facebook for more literary goodness.

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As a special bonus to readers of Fiction Writers Review, we’ll be giving away three free subscriptions to Hobart! If you’d like to be eligible for this week’s drawing (and all future ones), please visit our Twitter Page and “follow” us.

For those of you already in the FWR Twitter family, you know our presence there exists in part to inform followers of what’s happening here on the site, as well as to update the community on literary trends, worthwhile links, etc. We couldn’t be happier to see this role expand in a way that allows us to put journals we love in the hands of readers who will love them too.

Kittens get adopted because they’re cute and fuzzy, with big eyes and adorable faces. (And those wee paws! Those little whiskers! Those tiny noses! Ahem.) But what about lit mags? No big eyes, no fuzzy paws—but they, too, deserve to be adopted.

Enter the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses’ Lit Mag Adoption Program, which offers discounted subscriptions to literary journals in exchange for insider access for the students. Says the program’s website:

Most poetry, short fiction, and creative non-fiction by emerging writers first finds its way into print through literary magazines, yet few student writers actively engage with the spectrum of magazines published today. By integrating literary magazines into course curricula and providing opportunities for one-on-one interaction between literary magazine publishers and creative writing students (a key component of the program), the Lit Mag Adoption Program promotes a generation of new writers that are also active readers and productive members of the larger literary community. [...]

Each participating class will receive at least two issues of the magazine during the semester. In addition, classes will have direct interaction with the magazine publisher/editor through a virtual (or in-person where local) “One-on-One” chat session.

Participating journals include Ploughshares, Electric Lit, A Public Space, TinHouse, ZYZZVA, and many others. Longtime FWR readers may remember that we blogged about this program when it launched in 2010, but since we’re focusing on teaching and writing this month, we wanted to draw your attention to it again as a great resource for teachers and students alike.

Check back here at Fiction Writers Review for more teaching-related essays and interviews, as well as teaching-focused content on the blog every day in September!

Flash is fiction’s most compressed form.  If short stories are jewelry boxes, then flash fiction is the tiny velvet box enclosing a jaw-dropping engagement ring. Editors Kirby Johnson and Jennifer Eberhardt learned this early on as classmates in a flash fiction workshop at the University of Houston.  “We were excited about what could be said in so few words,” Kirby remembers.  “A successful flash piece (much like a poem) can knock you on your ass…”

In 2006, Johnson and Eberhardt founded their journal NANO Fiction with the intention of showcasing the TKO-power of their classmates’ work.  But the journal grew quickly and, by the second issue, they were receiving exceptional submissions from all over the country.  In the fine issues that have followed, contributors have included some well-known writers of flash fiction as well as those not often associated with the form, including Matt Bell, Thisbe Nissen, Thom Wallen, Kim Chinquee, Blake Butler, Paul Lisicky, and Jac Jemc.

Now in its fifth year, NANO continues to carve a unique place for flash fiction, prose poetry, micro-essays, and those who write so powerfully in 300 words or less.  To help promote the form to a wider audience, NANO hosts events, most recently expanding their programming to include the Houston Indie Book Festival and the NANO Reading Series at Kaboom Books.  The NANO Reading Series features writers and contributors from the Houston and Austin areas and always includes commemorative chapbooks so the audience can reread these decidedly short pieces.

While events and contests—including the upcoming 2011 NANO Prize—allow NANO to generate funds for printing and general operating costs, the journal remains the driving force behind their mission to advance the genre of flash fiction.  “I want people to feel beat up after reading an issue of NANO,” Johnson asserts.  “I want each story to be a tiny punch that hits the reader hard and stings.”

I’ve been a fan of NANO’s since a story by Kathryn Scanlan gave me a tiny punch in the eye. Her story “Now This” is just seven lines long, but if you read the first line, you might feel a little sting, too: “I’d already washed smoke out of my hair for the day, now this.”  I spoke with founding editor Kirby Johnson over email about NANO Fiction.

What is the role of NANO Fiction in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

My hope is that NANO Fiction is an outlet writers turn to when they have a piece of flash they want to get out there as well as a place where readers can turn for something short and powerful.  There are only a handful of print journals and anthologies that publish flash exclusively, and we are proud to be among that few.

We also feel it’s important to be involved in the online dialog of flash fiction. Around the month of May our web Editor, Sophie Rosenblum, began developing online content, interviews and reviews to compliment the stories we were already posting. (Visit NANO’s archive on their website.)

How do you see NANO’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years?  Will the rise of digital publishing impact the composition of NANO?

The aesthetics of the editors of NANO Fiction are very diverse, and I feel like this allows for a wide range of work to make it into each issue. I think with time this may change, but for right now it’s working for us.  We seem to be able to strike a balance with the work we accept, and I like that.

I don’t believe the rise of digital publishing will impact the composition of NANO Fiction much. Our submission and selection process should not change. From the journal’s inception, we have been very committed to print publication despite how cost-effective it may be to publish exclusively online or in other digital formats.  It may seem hard-headed or anachronistic, but I like the physical act of holding a book in my hands when I read. With that said, I acknowledge that we cannot ignore the impact of digital publishing, and this month we have released back issues of NANO in various eReader formats on our website for around $2 a piece.

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years that would provide a snapshot of NANO’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

1. A plastic action figure of a black bear in a plastic, removable space suit
2. A hand-made canoe
3. A photo of my brother as a toddler holding a tall-boy and flipping off the camera

What album is playing on the NANO stereo these days?

Should we break it down by editors?

Kirby Johnson: Shabazz Palaces, Peaking Lights, Neon Indian – Psychic Chasms (kind of stuck on this in a summer way), and DJ Screw – June 27 (feeling nostalgic).

Glenn Shaheen: Songs The Lord Taught Us by The Cramps, Flashmob by Vitalic, Love Comes Close by Cold Cave and 09/17/2007 by Danger.

Eric Todd: the new Dodos and Bibio records and some old J Dilla.

There’s a lot going on at NANO this summer (in and outside of hand-made canoes). Writers of flash fiction, prose poetry, or micro-essays that pack a punch should consider entering the 2011 NANO Prize. The contest fee is $15 for three pieces, and all entries receive a complimentary subscription. The deadline is August 31; for full guidelines, see the contest webpage.

As NANO unveils their new website, go online to see back issues for the first time in eReader formats, for only $2 a piece.

And for the Houston readers, NANO is hosting a few events this summer, including a fundraiser at a local art space called The Joanna on August 26. (More details will be posted here.)

As a special bonus to readers of Fiction Writers Review, we’ll be giving away three free subscriptions to NANO Fiction! And because NANO wears its love of flash fiction on its sleeve, we’re also giving away three NANO Fiction t-shirts. Those t-shirts come in decidedly larger sizes than the word “nano” suggests. If you’d like to be eligible for this week’s drawing (and all future ones), please visit our Twitter Page and “follow” us.

(click to enlarge, print, and solve)

No, no: PANK isn’t a word find. More than the terms hidden in the puzzle,* PANK is in many ways the puzzle itself: a journal that delivers meaning in ways you simply haven’t seen before.

But if we had to distill PANK into just one word, it would be:

Inspirational.

After all, the idea to kick this feature off with a “Word Find” came naturally after experiencing PANK’s Issue #4, 234 glossy pages that not only provided me with two stories that changed my idea of what fiction could be—what it could accomplish—but also redefined how narratives themselves could be executed. The first story had no title, as readers were asked to create one. Nor did the story have an author, as readers were expected to fill that in too. Byline onward, the entire story was formatted as a Mad Lib—8 pages of narrative that no two readers could possibly experience the same way, given that character names, verbs, and even the entire three-line conclusion were completely customizable.

I’m incredibly grateful to this story for much more than its creative formatting. The entire exercise is a reminder that every reader reacts to stories uniquely. Not your typical Mad Lib, Travis Hessman’s work is  less a fun break in Issue #4 than a lesson: by forcing readers to create the story, “(Title)” shakes up pre-conceived notions of how deep a author-reader collaboration can go.

This notion is further shaken about 90 pages later with Laura Lehew’s “Standardized Testing,” a story composed of 20 questions in the guise of an online test. Again, the collaboration between reader and writer is remolded into something unique and challenging. Equal parts mystifying and gratifying, the story’s meaning takes a new turn with every new question and every subsequent answer. Take for example, the second-to-last question:

19. Which of the following is least like the others?

o Poem    o Novel    o Painting    o Statue    o Flower

As you might expect, the stories in PANK epitomize their founders’ spirit of innovation, and it’s this spirit that has quickly helped build the journal a loyal community. The brainchild of M. Bartley Seigel, PANK began in 2006 as a home for all kinds of writing—and experimental writing, in particular. Eager for the kind of avant-garde work that might not find a home at other literary magazines, the journal quickly found an audience and evolved beyond its roots as an annual print magazine to include a monthly online magazine, robust blog, and book imprint.

Pank Issue 5

Over time, the journal has stuck to its experimental roots, often publishing what might be called “gritty realistic” writing. PANK’s writers have been recognized in all manner of ways, including making notable lists for the Wigleaf Top 50, the Millions Writers Award, and more. And that’s before Sherman Alexie contributes a story to Pank Issue #6.

Beyond the extraordinary production values of PANK’s annual issue, or their blog content (among the most fun and readable on the net), one of my favorite aspects of the magazine is how ferociously the editorial team repromotes their authors’ accomplishments. PANK rounds up previous authors’ most recent stories and awards and touts them in posts like this one.

Keeping track of all this could take an army of interns, but something tells me it’s a loving chore handled solely by co-editor Roxane Gay—whom you may recognize from frequent posts at HTMLGiant, or her prodigious blog, or perhaps her numerous Pushcart nominations.  Under her guidance, PANK has become a journal about paying it forward, the staff working their butts off to repromote authors who worked their butts off on stories for the journal.  From PANK’s nearly 5,000 devotees on Facebook, one quickly sees how such a commitment to community instantly builds one.

Roxane was kind enough to share answers to our “Journal of the Week” questions over email:

What is the role of PANK in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

We strive to be the kind of magazine that respects both readers and writers.

How do you see PANK’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years? Will the rise of digital publishing impact the composition of PANK?

We want to just get better at what we do and reach a broader audience. Our tastes always evolve because we’re fairly open-minded, but one thing remains constant—we are looking for writing that moves us in some way, whether that movement happens intellectually or emotionally. PANK already has a strong digital presence, but we’ll definitely try to venture into the world of apps for mobile devices. We’re waiting until we can do it right. We don’t want to have an app just because that’s the “cool” thing to do.

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years, that would provide a snapshot of PANK’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

A glass jar of dirt from Michigan’s upper peninsula; a wrinkled, stained wife-beater T-shirt; and a puzzle with 10,000 pieces that do not fit together.

What album is playing on the PANK stereo these days?

I’ve been rocking What Wandering Heart by This is Deer Country. My co-editor turned me onto them last year and I’ve been listening to them non-stop since.

This past June, PANK featured two issues—a regular issue and a special issue, London Calling, featuring work from UK writers and guest-edited by Kirsty Logan. They also just released a new Little Book, Ethel Rohan’s “Hard to Say,” which is available in print and electronic formats.

Check out the PANK website for more information on back issues, online issues, and more. Friends and followers ought to get involved too, as PANK keeps their social-networking sites constantly updated with blog posts, columns, and of course, those one-of-a-kind author-updates described above.

Going back to that word “inspirational” for a moment: even more than what authors accomplish in PANK, nothing may be more inspiring than seeing what they achieve post-PANK. It’s heartening to see Roxane and the editorial team champion their contributors instead of letting them get lost in the word find”that is literary America. From the quality of its stories to the strength of its community, if PANK wants to pride itself on the experimental, we might all want to look at it as the control for a new generation of journals to come.

*We think it’s more fun without a list of words, but here’s what you’re looking for: adventurous, an arts collective, a non-profit, digital, experimental, print, refreshing.

~

As a special bonus to readers of Fiction Writers Review, we’ll be giving away three free subscriptions to PANK! If you’d like to be eligible for this week’s drawing (and all future ones), please visit our Twitter Page and “follow” us.

For those of you already in the FWR Twitter family, you know our presence there exists in part to inform followers of what’s happening here on the site, as well as to update the community on literary trends, worthwhile links, etc. We couldn’t be happier to see this role expand in a way that allows us to put journals we love in the hands of readers who will love them too.

Lucky for me, one of the first boxes I unpacked included the Spring 2010 issue of Flyway: Journal of Writing and Environment.  Founded in 1993 at Iowa State University by Stephen Pett, Flyway showcases writing that considers how “environments” shape us, and how we in turn shape our environments.  These stories, poems, and essays struck a chord with me, and not just because of my new proximity to Los Angeles’s hiking trails and beaches.  Flyway celebrates an expansive definition of “environmental writing.”  Environment can certainly refer to the natural world, and many of Flyway’s stories do have an eco-centric sensibility.  But the journal also features work that examines how environment defines experience and perspective, including manmade ones: houses, cities, roller rinks, and the like.  Whether they take place in the Houston Airport (as in Gabriel Houck’s wonderful “In television snow”) or the great outdoors, Flyway’s stories reflect on the environments that form our sense of place in the world.

Flyway itself was shaped by its own environment on the campus of Iowa State University.  Initially edited by Stephen Pett and a number of generous Iowa State faculty members, the journal has been edited for the last decade by graduate students in the university’s esteemed creative writing program.  While issues include writing from various communities, Flyway has proudly published the work of many Iowa natives, including notable authors like Jane Smiley and Ray Young Bear.  Even the journal’s name takes its inspiration from the state’s environment: Flyway is named for the invisible lines of bird migration that crisscross Iowa, and its offices are not too far from where robins nest in springtime and warblers take flight in the fall.

Flyway’s dedication to the environment influences more than its name and content.  Its issues are beautifully printed on 100%-post-consumer recycled paper.  And this summer, the journal will launch its first online issue, allowing subscribers to read current and past issues online and providing significant environmental savings in terms of printing, paper, and energy used in delivery.  Will this offer a new environment for Flyway to consider?  Managing Editor Brenna Dixon certainly thinks so.  “This transition will allow readers, writers, and Flyway staff to interact more as a community,” she mused.  “Internet as environment?  Seems like an interesting possibility.”

On the occasion of their first online issue, both Dixon and Fiction Editor Genevieve DuBois took time to answer our Journal of the Week question set, looking further into what inspires Flyway and what readers can look forward to from this unique literary journal:

What is the role of Flyway in today’s literary community, be it for readers or writers?

Genevieve DuBois: To nudge the door for environmental and place-based writing open a little more. To push the boundaries of what those terms mean. But mostly just to share good writing with good readers.

Brenna Dixon: Flyway is meant to give voice to place while broadening the idea of what constitutes a place or environment.  In our eyes, the body is as much a place as an office cubicle or the Everglades or an abandoned building in the middle of a city.  Flyway is a place for all the nooks and crannies to speak up and be heard.

How do you see Flyway’s mission and tastes evolving in the next two years?  How will your new biannual online publication impact the composition of Flyway and its continued exploration of themes of the environment?

GD: Our mission won’t change, but we’ll be able to accomplish more online: creating more visibility, broadening our thematic base and interdisciplinary connections, and engaging more directly with readers and writers.

If you could put three items in a time capsule (or USB drive) to be opened in 1,000 years that would provide a snapshot of Flyway’s aesthetic today, what would they be?

BD:  Something from between the couch cushions.  A favorite rock from a loved place.  A pair of binoculars.

GD: A photograph of home.  A postcard from a place never visited.  Something found in the dust when the furniture was moved for the first time in decades.

What album is playing on the Flyway stereo these days?

GD: “Deadmalls & Nightfalls” by Frontier Ruckus.

BD: Do radio stations count?  KURE 88.5—Ames’ alternative, student-run station.  Lots of great B-sides and bands that usually fall by the wayside.

The nooks and crannies are speaking up and being heard all the time online at www.Flyway.org, where you can read Flight Patterns: the Flyway blog, which contains news, recipes, and some memorable interviews with authors like Kimberly L. Rogers and Shura Young.  The website also posts information about future writing contests, including the Hazel Lipa Chapbook contest.

Subscribers receive instant access online to the back issue archive as well as the upcoming issue, which features an interview and novella by Rick Bass. Online access could be particularly helpful for those of us in the process of moving. Wherever you find your place in the world, your issues of Flyway will be waiting for you online.

As a special bonus to readers of Fiction Writers Review, we’ll be giving away three free subscriptions to Flyway!  If you’d like to be eligible for this week’s drawing (and all future ones), please visit FWR’s Twitter page and “follow” us.

We’re delighted to announce the winners of our American Short Fiction Journal of the Week giveaway, chosen at random from our Twitter followers.

Congratulations to:

• Stella MacLean (@Stella__MacLean)
• J.P. Cunningham (@jpcauthor)
• Rosemary O’Connor (@RosNovelIdeas)

You’ll each receive a complimentary one-year subscription to American Short Fiction! Please contact us at winners [at] fictionwritersreview.com with your contact information and we’ll coordinate the rest.

If you missed the profile of American Short Fiction and the exclusive interview with
Assoiate Editor Callie Collins, you can read the whole thing in our blog archives.

And remember: if you’d like to be eligible for future journal giveaways, please visit our Twitter Page and “follow” us!