Call for Submissions from A New Magazine in Dublin

Title: Into The Void Magazine is accepting submissions of fiction, non-fiction and poetry.
Into The Void Magazine is a new literary magazine based in Ireland. We are calling for submissions of fiction, non-fiction and poetry for Issue One. We accept all genres and styles. We are looking for stories that grab and enthral and refuse to let go. We prize heartfelt and genuine writing above perfect grammar and technique. Above all, we’re looking for writing that is screaming to be read. So, write the story, essay or poem that you simply have to write; the one that keeps you awake at night and says, ‘Write me! You know you have no choice!’
Previously unpublished writers stand as good a chance of being accepted for publication as established ones–it’s all about the writing.  Some work that doesn’t make it to the magazine will be accepted for publication on our website.
Head over to our website to see exactly what we’re looking for and how to submit:
The deadline for submissions is 25th June, 2016.
They do charge a submission fee, but also pay contributors.

Off The Wagon And Into The Slush Pile by Miriam Sagan

Yes, I’m off the wagon. I’m reading slush again. Not so long ago in these very blog pages I announced that my editorship in one venue was over. Now I’m back in another (which I will not yet reveal, for fear of MORE slush).
And I’m ever so happy. At peace. It’s really odd, but I find reading slush ultra-relaxing. Right now, on these cold winter days, my favorite things to do are roast eggplant (it might also be brisket, but my significant other is vegetarian), knit, and watch Bollywood movies. All of these activities are leisurely, predictable, yet not without worth. (OK, Bollywood the least, but I tell myself I’m learning about culture and I do dance to all the songs.)
What is slush? Unsolicited submissions to a literary magazine, as a rule. Why is it called slush? I have no idea, except that it isn’t a compliment.
I enjoy it because the pattern is so clear (like roasting, knitting, and Bollywood). A bad poem consists of:

1. A dull underutilized title, often one word, like “Love.”
2. An opening that over sets context: I was in the kitchen, it was snowing, on Tuesday I went shopping.
3. A simplistic metaphor carried all the way to the end. (Hopefully not roasting eggplant is like reading slush).
4. An unambiguous emotion—I’m depressed, suicidal, happy I won the lottery.
5. An ending that reiterates context and wraps up already wrapped emotion.
6. No form, structure, or technique except for some predictable rhyme.
7. A self-satisfied, melodramatic, or cutesy tone.

I’ve left off many things, including word choice, but basically I’m scanning for the above. My reading slush is essentially a negative process of omission. If a submission DOES NOT have the above faults, it goes into the maybe pile.

Oh, and the cover letter. I don’t really care if you are in Yonkers, or prison. Write for therapy or have published in dozens of magazines. I don’t care if you praise the publication I’m reading for, and surprising even to me—I don’t care if I know you. I’m rejecting work by famous poets and accepting work by friends of mine (who to their credit didn’t know I was reading) with complete equanimity because I’m reading all submissions equally.

Once things are in the “maybe” pile, then my taste kicks in. I was hired to have that taste, so now I’m less objective. I love short work. I like the quirky. It’s possible I can be seduced by my favorite subject matter. Here again, I’m at peace. I’ve run an objective grid on the poem.Then I’m checking it against what I like.

I’m accepting and rejecting. Stirring the eggplant, finding a dropped stitch, doing fake Indian dance hand gestures.

Call it winter’s day—with slush.

What “invisible borders” do you seek to address and cross in your writing, and why?

I’ve finished my interview for “Santa Fe Literary Review” which will be in the 2016 issue. Questions came from student staff. “Invisible Borders” is the theme of the forthcoming issue.

What “invisible borders” do you seek to address and cross in your writing, and why? How do you do this?
I’ve been obsessed with borders most of my life. I grew up in northern New Jersey where the border was between us and the glittering city of Manhattan across the Hudson River. Having lived in New Mexico for thirty years, I’m hyper aware of the border between the US and Mexico and what it means to cross. That border is visible, but invisible too. My grandparents were immigrants who didn’t speak English when they came to this country-—more borders.
Physical boundaries are a huge theme in my writing, even if it’s just how my westside neighborhood was re-defined by putting St. Francis through it decades ago. More personally, women’s experience is still hidden from view, even now. I like to cross that invisible border and bring it into the light. The same with disability—in my case a so-called “invisible disability” although all I need to do is use a cane to make it visible.
The greatest border, for me, is between silence and words. So much of human life is hidden in shame or fear, insecurity, or just plain silence. Words—poetry, fiction, memoir, and more—give life to what is hidden, silenced. I like to cross that border daily—and move from the repressed into the expressed—for myself, and with others.

Not Lost in Translation–new magazine “Rowboat”

An interesting new magazine–ROWBOAT: Poetry In Translation is just out. Issue Number One features some Rilke and some Rumi. Less on the beaten path are poems by the Guatamalan Humberto Ak’Abal, translated from the Kiche’ by Miguel Rivera. These are remarkable for a pure lyricism.

In the churches
you can only hear the prayer
of the trees
converted to pews.


If Birds

If birds
wrote down their songs,

they would have been forgotten
a long time ago

There are also translations from the Chinese, Portuguese, and Polish. Of considerable interest is an interview with Red Pine (Bill Porter)–whose translations of Han Shan are currently on my night table. Perhaps the most fun is the end page challenge to translate a Baudelaire poem. in “The Albatross” would you translate “vaste oiseaux des mers” as “immense birds of the sea” or “vast birds of the sea.”? Or maybe “vast seabirds?”

Check out for more information.

SIN FRONTERAS Submission Deadline is June 30, 2011

SIN FRONTERAS Submission Deadline is June 30, 2011.

Submit 4-5 poems or 1-2 short stories, essays, works of creative non-fiction (no longer than 10 pages), or very short play to Sin Fronteras/Writers Without Borders #16, c/o DAAC, P.O. Box 1721, Las Cruces, NM 88004. Manuscripts must be typed, with writer?s name and address on each work submitted. Although we publish primarily Southwestern writers, we do not necessarily prefer or require regional subject matter. Include a cover letter with very brief (2-3 sentences) biographical and publication information, your email address, and your phone number. Payment is one copy of the annual journal, which is perfect bound. Manuscripts will be recycled, not returned. A self-addressed, stamped envelope or postcard must be included for notification. If you work is accepted, you will be asked to submit your final version electronically via email attachment.