For those of you following Lit on Deadline, I’ve got great news: Our literary project and online journal has just been launched.
3QR: The Three Quarter Review—Poetry & Prose > 75 percent True. Check it out at threequarterreview.com
The inaugural issue features poetry, essays, and prose pieces that are intense or funny–or both. Our writers stretch out, capturing the essence of realist writing without categories (Is it fiction? Is it nonfiction? What is truth?). There’s no betrayal for readers, who are often left wondering about the infallibility of memory or observation; or, in fiction, whether some things ‘really happened.’ 3QR instead creates a Fifth Genre: The Three Quarter True Story. You can read my genre-busting 3QR essay on the subject for more deets, and check out our submission guidelines under About 3QR: Contact.
Here’s the new flyer:
Was there really a cherubim waiting at the star-watching rock, curled up into a great feathery ball, all those eyes closed in sleep?
Was he real?
What is real?
— A Wind in the Door, by Madeleine L’Engle
There is almost no feeling more welcome than the absence of pain.
Have a Happy Spring Break! This is the first one I remember in a long time that actually feels like spring (or even summer). I’m going to lounge in our backyard by the daffodils, tiptoe–very, very carefully– through the tulips, and scoop up some sunshine.
For a few moments, at least.
There she was, a pixie-ish highlighted blonde sitting amidst a table of older men having coffee at Atwaters. They wore Harley-Davidson gear: leather vests, wristbands, T-shirts, etcetera. She, too, sported a black Harley T.
“Well, it’s great getting together,” she said. “You know that piece I did on D___ about Vietnam Vets. It’s up for an Emmy.”
“Is it something you wrote?” one guy asked.
“No . . . for TV,” she said.
The Reality of the situation was up for interpretation. She, a perfectly pedicured, toney Towsonite type. They, a grizzled and grayed gang of sorts. Either way, I saw nary a Hog parked anywhere outside.
My son needs a haircut , especially a spring-to-summer cut with all this warm weather, so I told him we would be going to the barber. Soon.
“I hope so,” he said. “There’s hardly enough room on my head for all the hair.”
Being distracted in life is like being distracted during sex. It’s kinda hard to get into it if you ‘re not even paying attention.