And what if, Sofiya thought, a person was headed in neither direction but was mired in the churning currents in between? That person, wanting to believe she could stay afloat or thread water, would eventually drown. Sofiya, though indeed mired and tired, refused to drown. Read more.
My sister cooked up the idea. She’d found this Scandinavian Students’ Association trip that went across the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics by train, stopping in different cities along the way. In those days you couldn’t really go to the USSR except on some sort of official tour like that. Read more.
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The Writer’s Corner
Kim Jernigan: I’m curious about the timeline implied by your poem—how long an interval was there between hearing the stories and the wise healer’s “It is finished”? The last verse takes us back to the old story…Are we to see that as the ache from the old wounds? Grace Vermeer: I heard the stories as a […]
Like my protagonist Sofiya Shirazi stifled and suppressed herself before finding her true form in Sofiya’s Choice, so too did I stifle and suppress my tale before The New Quarterly let its full form be expressed. Short fiction writers will attest that they often omit and edit in order to have their work fit […]
Where do I write? You name it! The kitchen table, the bed, the bath, on walks or runs, riding shotgun in the car on the way to swimming or piano or drama lessons, or in my actual office: there’s no place I don’t write, which isn’t to say I don’t have favourite places to write […]
The Wild Writers Festival: Poetry and Prose That’s Out There
The New Quarterly is proud to present the Wild Writers Literary Festival. Join us for a celebration of the feral and free and its expression in poetry, the short story, and everything in between. Create, learn, discover and share the art of groundbreaking writing.