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Autumn 2024
The carrier pigeons we sent out to deliver our June, July and August newsletters appear to have got lost somewhere. (We think they were just winging it, anyway.) So we’ve had a rethink and decided to gather up our newsletters into bumper seasonal editions instead.
This time round we’re delighted to show off all the fantastic fiction and properly pretty poems we’ve had the honour of publishing over the summer. The sun may have been fleeting, Reader, but writers continued to dazzle and shine and be utterly brilliant. (We wanted to say they ‘put the light in Blighty’, but apart from being an awful joke, we’re now open globally to submissions, so it doesn’t really work. Alas.)
Anyway. A huge, heartfelt thanks to everyone who submitted their work to us. And just-as-big and just-as-hearty a thanks goes to our wonderful readers who have travelled with us wherever our writers have sent us, be it across the Himalayas, to the Scottish Highlands, or on a class trip to a rotting badger’s head… With such a diverse range of writing from all across the globe, we’re sure there’s something for everyone. We couldn’t be prouder of this, our odd little corner of the mad massive internet.
Breaking news!
our new competition is a-go-go!
After Britain vs The World, you’ll be delighted to know we’ve had a large cup of tea and a chance to recuperate. Which means we’re ready to do it all over again! Introducing… Inspirathlon 2024. This competition takes place across three rounds, with writers responding to imaginative prompts each time. One ticket gets you entry into all three rounds, and there are prizes for winners and runners-up in each round. We think it’s going to be a brilliant competition. Find out more here. Tickets are on sale ’til 1/10/24.
summer's shiners:
Himalayan blues
Lara Hurley
Week 17, Wednesday March 12th 1913
How I wish I had never heard of this infernal flower. I have gazed upon it many times in my feverish dreams, so desperate am I to see it for myself. As it now stands, my quest is temporarily thwarted. I lie here, wounded, a piece of rotting meat. Stupidly, I slipped from the path into a ravine, impaling myself on bamboo, which also…
three resurrections
Gordon Meade
GOAT
On the 6th of January, in the year 2000,
a goat, perhaps not the greatest goat of all
time but, nevertheless, the last of her
species, a bucardo, passed away when
a tree fell on her in the Spanish Pyrenees.
Luckily, or unluckily, as it turned out…
Letters to constance
Melanie Mulrooney
Mayfair: April 27, 1814
Dearest Constance,
The excitement of our arrival in London cannot overshadow my continued despair that you shall miss this season. I petitioned Mama without end during our long days in the carriage, yet she persists in her view that I must present first. Most unfair!
The b word
Stephen Newland
They found the dead badger on the side of a country lane. Miss Breeze coughed and called the field class to order.
‘The life cycle of Calliphora Vomitoria,‘ she said, gesturing with her arms, ‘commonly known as the bluebottle fly, revolves around a corpse.’
better things
Harry Dobbs
A postcard of a bear. I flip it over and read Dave’s writing (It’s me! Missing you.), then drop it behind the coffee machine, a space normally reserved for brown envelopes and CVs.
Sandra sprays and wipes the empty tables for the second time this hour, while I gaze through the front window and into the sea. Bill limps in. Sandra tells him to clear off.
Parakeets Fly east
Dylan Federico Pritchard
The summer had been wet even by London’s standards: six weeks of damp. Birds flew close to the ground all summer, pinching the food crawling high in the soil. But that day the weather was good. Jackson opened the fridge.
‘You want one? A cider, or something.’
Life AFTER
Lisa Stone
I sit alone, where the jetty
soaks its bony ankles in the tide.
Bladderwrack drifts, and the waves
keep gentle company with the shore.
The Standards Line
R.T. Castleberry
Beneath ice-tipped oaks,
half-angry, amused, wandering
beside a party of the beautiful —
women in evening sheath and
wrap coats, Chloe satchels, furs…
The Tale of the Trossachs
Claire Jaggard
You may not be familiar with Trossachs. If so, lucky you.
The only place where Trossachs can survive is their National Park, the one that looms over Loch Lomond where the Lowlands of Scotland meet the Highlands. That’s probably best for all of us.
Before The Show
Marcelo Medone
You will walk slowly into the rehearsal room of the theatre, you will turn on the lights hanging from the ceiling, you will contemplate yourself full-length in the large wall mirror, you will see a beautiful woman in her thirties, with features as firm as her character, luminous eyes, with her hair in a ponytail, you will turn and contemplate your body that still keeps in shape sheathed in a Lycra leotard, you will take off…
Bookmarks
Colin Dardis
It might be a receipt, a bus ticket,
or if you need that ticket to return on,
the foil paper ripped from a half-packet
of gum, an old hairclip, something humdrum,
a pen, or even, in desperation,
a tissue, slightly used (do not judge them)…
writ it? hit submit
The Word-Hoard is now open to submissions from writers all over the world, 365 days a year!
News, etc.
Inspirations #2
In August, we were thrilled to publish the second in our ‘Inspirations’ series, in which four, kaleidoscopic writers delve into the whys and wherefores behind their wonderful words. Lara Hurley walked us through the garden of her inspiration; Sean Glatch opened his notebooks; Philip A. Suggars gave us a tour of the sci-fi masterworks that put his writing into warp-speed; and Nancy Byrne Iannucci wuthered over Kate Bush. A great read for anyone interested in the creative process and its disparate forms.
Change is afoot a frog
We’ve made some big changes to our little magazine over the summer. We added new sections, tidied up some of our cluttered corners, and generally wiggled the feather duster around. We think the place is looking rather lush, to be honest, and we hope you do, too. Anyway, we went into some detail about it, because we felt we don’t spend quite enough time at our laptops.
the never-ending narrative
The first feature in our brand new section, The Eggbox, has us very excited about the possibilities. A collaborative, unlimited work of fiction, ‘The Never-Ending Narrative’ is a literary relay in which writers take up the baton to add 100-250 words to an ongoing story. We’ve just reached our first 1000-word milestone, in which time our protagonist has been to therapy, the Dark Web – and the M&S Foodhall (obviously). We think this promises to be something very special, and would love it if you wanted to offer the next steps on the journey.
Thanks for reading!
P.S. Got two seconds?
We’d love to know what you think about EGG+FROG. We have the world’s shortest possible survey (one question), if you could spare a couple of minutes:
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