Crack the Spine publishes an online digital magazine weekly. Works published online are automatically eligible to be selected for later publication in our quarterly print anthologies. If you’re interested in submitting to Crack the Spine, review their submission guidelines.
Crack the Spine are looking for ‘solid writing. Chip-your-teeth-on-it writing. Punched-in-the-throat writing. Don’t-care-if-it’s-funny-or-sad-or-sarcastic-so-long-as-it-makes-us-react writing. We publish what we like. It’s as simple as that.’
They are seeking short stories of 1,000 words or more. Consider around 5,000 words as a general word-max guideline. They take Micro, flash and short fiction as well as poetry and creative non-fiction.
Get your work submitted to them!
This week’s featured market is Spartan Lit, edited by Ross McMeekin and Miles Wray.
Spartan Lit is a print journal that focuses on lean writing. Their tagline is: ‘Minimalist prose. No strays.’ So if your writing is made up of verbose, flowery sentences and lyrical descriptions, they may not be the place to submit.
They release online issues quarterly and short-run print issues, compiled from online prose, annually.
Spartan have four submission windows each year. Any pieces submitted outside of the submission windows will be deleted unread. The submission windows are:
Fall: October through November
Winter: January through February
Spring: April through May
Summer: July through August
So you have 10 days left to get your writing in for this submission window. Don’t miss out!
This week’s featured market is The Wrong Quarterly, a new London-based literary magazine showcasing prose from both British and international writers. They are unaffiliated with any existing publishers, agencies, or academic institutions, and aim to provide an inclusive platform for emerging writers worldwide.
On their website, they write that they ‘gravitate towards the inventive’ when it comes to writing.
The Wrong Quarterly is a great place to submit your writing as an new or emerging writer. The magazine is currently sold in bookshops across the UK, US, and France, including Foyles
, The Rizzoli Bookshop
,Lutyens and Rubinstein
, and Shakespeare & Co.
They are a brilliant outlet for new and emerging writers, as they can get your work in three countries.
Here’s their submission guidelines:
We accept fiction of under 6,000 words, fully edited, and previously unpublished. We also accept non-fiction, life-writing, and essays of under 5,000 words.
Something a little different this week: Nowhere Magazine’s Drunken Writing Competition.
When I saw this competition listed it made me laugh, so I figured I’d share it. We wouldn’t advise that you do all your writing drunk, (in fact, we’d highly recommend you don’t) but this competition is a bit of fun and you get a beautiful hip flask just for submitting. That said, you do have to pay $55 to enter, which works out at about £35.
Here’s their competition guidelines:
Some of our favorite writers wrote drunk. Some wrote sober and got drunk after. Some got drunk, then sobered up, then wrote, then got drunk again. Either way, booze has long been the writer’s muse. That’s why we asked BankNote to make us the Nowhere Writer’s Flask. There’s a pocket for a notebook and a pen (included). It’s bound in Italian leather and made in NYC by John Torossian: the best damn leatherworker this side of the Prime Meridian. See it here: http://www.banknote.nyc/nowhere-collection
The only requirements for the Drunken Writing Contest are that you get drunk and write, preferably about travel. Or as we like say, the intersection of people, place and time. Every entrant gets a flask. The winner gets a bottle of whiskey. Fill her up and have at it.
If drunk writing’s not your thing, Nowhere are also running a travel writing competition with a $1,000 prize. They accept fiction or non-fiction. You can see their full guidelines right here.
This week’s featured market is Cactus Heart Press.
You might be thinking, ‘What is a Cactus Heart?’
According to their website: Cactus Heart is, of course, a metaphor for how we believe literature and art should be. It should shock and wound and delight us; it should fill us with curiosity and terror. It should survive.