The Weekly Atticus (10/27/2018)

How to Win Our Flash Fiction Contest: Reinvent Yourself | The Weekly Atticus

October 27, 2018

A recap of the week at Atticus Review, along with some extras.

Dear ,

For the past eleven years, I've lived in the same house in Northern New Jersey. This stint has turned out to be the longest I've lived anywhere in my adult life. It's the least nomadic I've been since my childhood, when I lived in the same house for 14 years. But I’m finally closing the chapter on this last eleven-year period. Today, as you're receiving this, I'll be on the Jersey Turnpike, accompanying a moving van full of my stuff to a one-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia. What this means for Atticus Review is we’ll be expanding the area it calls home base! I’m excited that we’ll be able to be a part of the literary scene in Philadelphia. I’ve always liked it there. It’s a city that wears its heart on its sleeve, which is the kind of thing we appreciate here at Atticus Review. Philly doesn’t mind showing you some emotion. Philly doesn’t mind laughing out loud at nothing in particular. Philly doesn’t mind crying in front of you over a drink in a dark bar, a terrible snot bubble hanging from one nostril. The move to Philly could be temporary. Or it could be, well, less temporary. (Isn’t it the kicker, again and again in this life, that everything is temporary?) But whatever it ends up being, it will be a chapter closing, and another chapter beginning. Have you ever had a period in your life that felt like it actually ended long ago, but you hung around in it anyway, not wanting to turn the page, not wanting to start the next chapter? Perhaps it’s fear keeping you there. Perhaps you just don’t feel ready? That’s the way this has been. It’s happened to me before. Once was when I graduated college. The other time was when I left Dallas and moved to areas east. I’ve also gone through this with my writing, and I may even be in one of those periods now — sometimes I’ve felt that a certain writing style, or subject, or way of writing just feels over, like I’ve done it to death. Like going on doing it would be resurrecting a thing I’ve already done instead of breathing life into a completely new thing. And yet, jumping into that new thing seems like a something I’m just not ready to do... until I am. (And I really am.)Who knows, maybe the move to Philly will also represent this change in my writing I've been seeking. I hope so. I mean, haven’t we always done that as Americans? Isn’t that our narrative: the physical move as a metaphor for reinvention of self? And if that’s the case, then could there be anything more goddamned patriotic then having that narrative unfold in a move to Philadelphia?Speaking of narrative, wrap up that Flash Fiction piece you've been working on and send it our way for our contest. The submission period ends tomorrow!Thanks for reading. We’re glad you’re here. David OlimpioPublisher & Editor-in-Chief

ATTICUS NEWS

OKAY YOU GUYS, THIS IS IT!  WE DO NOT EXTEND OUR DEADLINES. YOU ONLY HAVE TODAY AND TOMORROW TO ENTER OUR FLASH FICTION CONTEST! 1st Place: $500; 2nd Place: $150; 3rd Place: $50SEND US THAT FLASH THIS WEEKEND!Submission Deadline: Midnight Pacific Time, Sunday 10.29.2018

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FERAL TOWN by Adam Gustavson

BOOK REVIEW: HOW TO BE A MANA Review of A LUCKY MAN from Graywolf Press by Jamel Brinkley. Review by Tyrese Coleman."Brinkley presents us with the complex faces of Black men struggling with their emotions and daily lives, navigating how they show themselves to the world while also hiding some part of who they really are."READ ON

FICTION: THE SPACES BETWEEN THE STARS by Cathy Ulrich"When the house gets too quiet, she takes their antique rotary phone off its hook, lets the buzz of dial tone fill the air."READ ON

POETRY: IT’S NOT HAPPENING HEREby Erica Bernheim"At his house,the guns have their own seats at every table,occupy spaces hollowed in anticipation oftheir images under mattresses. He says we canthink only of action."READ ON

CNF: LOOKING EVERYWHEREby Emily Livingstone"I look in what we eat. The mold in the bathroom. I look in the pictures on my phone that were taken the day before your seizure."READ ON

MIXED MEDIA: ITEMS PILED WAIST HIGHA videopoem by Marcia Pelletiere.This videopoem deals with the aftermath of a Mild Traumatic Brain Injury (MTBI) following a car/truck crash. My recovery stretched out over many years. Items Piled Waist High arose out of a desire to express the weariness of undergoing a long recovery from that largely invisible, little understood, and nearly indescribable injury.READ ON

CONGRATULATIONS to our amazing authors!

Atticus Review

 is happy to announce our first annual Videopoem Contest judged by Marie Craven.

First Prize: $300

Deadline: December 3rd, 2018

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