My debut novel is now available on Amazon and Bookstores. Someone unknown picking it up to read is an exceptional feeling… Stay tuned for more about it and the journey that now feels exciting.
"The ... Prize is free to enter and anonymously judged, meaning many finalists are in their early literary careers. We hold a duty of care over them."
ALL ENTRANTS are in early career. In many CW countries, this is the ONLY contest of any repute. Where is the "duty" towards them?
Copies of my poetry book SILENCE HAS A SOUND are now also available at Oxford Bookstore, Bhubaneswar.
Thanks to the manager Jagadish Bhai, who knows me since 2008-2009, when I used to visit the store regularly as a reader @ombooksdelhi#poetrycommunity
Such a wonderful read, Mandira!🧡
And the painful precision of these words- 🤣😊
"Let me call this a Working Fluency in Rejection Dialect. “We regret to inform you” is recognized instantly, no matter how deeply it’s buried under compliments."
Mahmoud Darwish wrote, " I am what I worship" ... but what if the one I worship is dead? We inherit stories, and then there is silence ... Maybe God Died
#poetry#poem
The idea of THR in Print has been brewing for a while. Murals is just the beginning.
Prepared for print by US-based Press Pause Press with @FBereaud, Murals is in San Diego bookstores and museum gift shops, and can also be ordered worldwide.
Order here:
https://t.co/2lxKF8o5JZ
At 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who never married and had no children, walked through the park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favourite doll. She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully. Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her.
The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter “written” by the doll saying “please don’t cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures.”
Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka’s life.
During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.
Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (he bought one) that had returned. “It doesn’t look like my doll at all,“ said the girl.
Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: "my travels have changed me.” the little girl hugged the new doll and brought her happy home.
A year later Kafka died. Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:
“Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way.”
Delighted to share new micro in New Flash Fiction Review. This piece is part of my series of micro prose inspired by Kafka, Plath, Lydia Davis & Robert Olen Butler. Pieces published in OxMag 55 last month were also part of same series!
https://t.co/YBVzZD45io
Ecstatic to announce my short-story "An Experiment" is Runner-up in University of Utah's Quarterly West Annual Prose contest! Huge thanks to judge Morgan Thomas, Editors and Readers!
✨ A new episode has arrived! ✨
What does a Time Pirate do when she’s stuck on a bus for a long winter-dark morning commute?
Watch Episode 2: Route 301 of ‘The Time Pirate Who Waits Ashore’ to find out! 🕰️
https://t.co/x1Lsp6cGtZ
The very first issue of our magazine Tiffinbox Review is out. The theme was Weird. Weirder. Weirdest featuring 25 poems by 21 writers.
https://t.co/OBaro2LZA1
@kunjana_p@talkingpeach@_abelisaurus_
You watch Mahira beguiled by the hypnotic pull of boredom, until a deep knowing tells you the shoes will shawl themselves in caramel dust, ...because the law of physics says that the universe is constantly moving towards a state of greater disorder
LOVED it, Shweta! Great piece!