by Mandira Pattnaik Maria Teneva This week sitting at my virtual editorial window, I peeped into the minds of writers from Korea, Japan, Philippines, Chile, Nigeria, besides India, the UK and the US. Like the other weeks before this, I have come to expect a great variety in voice, wonderful explication and brilliant ideas. Reading for a magazine is something I hope every person who cares for literature might get an opportunity to experience at some point or other. Of course,

by Mandira Pattnaik Glen Carrie This week, following up on my own advice of exploring genres and crafts outside of routine as per the last column, I turned to making YouTube videos, and actively went about seeking and reading up on memoirs and nonfiction. Among them was Mohamed Tonsy’s “Take the Chalk, The Pens, and the Blackboards” (Epoch Press, 2021). It is the narrative exposition of experiences as a queer Egyptian, now living in Edinburgh, and their unearthing of identity

by Mandira Pattnaik Yves Alarie Among the many variables in writer life (and one that was cause of much confusion and debate amongst a group of new creatives I recently instructed) happens to be the choice between being conformist and rebellious. What am I? Well, artistic freedom requires an acceptance of openness or pluralism to regenerate — therefore, the notion of disruption, and inventiveness. Being conformist has its own rewards too, and has its appeal among a large sec

by Mandira Pattnaik Towfiqu barbhuiya In a correspondence with Burton’s Gentleman’s Magazine, Edgar Allan Poe, one of the world’s greatest writers, and one who straddled ‘art’ and ‘commercial’ culture, writes: “Upon the whole I am not willing to admit that you have greatly overpaid me.” His lifetime earnings — fourteen years as a professional writer, editor, poet and lecturer — was USD $6200 . Adjusted to today’s dollar value and inflation, it’d still be less than half the po

by Mandira Pattnaik davisuko Five minutes’ walk from the Waterloo Tube Station, London, is Southbank Centre, Belvedere Road, where the shortlisted Booker Prize authors and translators had assembled on May 22, before the official announcement of results. I gathered from reports that writers were expected to share an opinion about the themes their work addressed. Olga Tokarczuk (author of The Books of Jacob ) declared her fiction was about “everyday metaphysics” of everything,

by Mandira Pattnaik Marten Bjork It was a week that I believe will have significant ramifications for the future. In two of the biggest events that happened this week, I notice one thing in common: people are documenting our times in the best possible manner, as art is supposed to do, as “Mimesis” is all about. The Uvalde Leader-News, the newspaper that has served the community in various forms since 1879, was one of the first on the scene at Robb Elementary, to report on the

by Mandira Pattnaik Luis Vaz Dear Readers of my column, among the many concerns this week, apart from my eyesight getting worse and having to wear power spectacles for the first time in my life, and a genetic variant on chromosome 6 pronouncing arthritis declaring itself master of my limbs, is the fall of everything here in India. And that’s not the level of journalism, or standards of living, or the value of rupee, or employment I’m talking about, it’s the general outlook of

by Mandira Pattnaik Tolga Ulkan I assume many of us writers are accepting rejections this week, and my last column about narrative and structure might be stalking you (?) like intimate ghosts that whisper where you might’ve gone wrong. Doubt is undeniably a hated companion of writer life. Such pairings as narrative-and-structure and doubt-and-writer life, whether coupled beautifully or fraught with differences, are not one-of-a-kind. There exists more fraternal pairs in liter

by Mandira Pattnaik Paola Aguilar In my literary journeys, while anchored faithfully to writing, I sometimes drift on the passionately pulsating ether of boundless opinion called Social Media. It’s a veritable afterwork hangout, though there’s no closing, no vacations and no time-outs. I check on writer friends I am glad to have known through the writers’ community on there, and read work that catches my attention. The support is definitely unmatched, and I’m infinitely sure

by Mandira Pattnaik Laura Cleffmann Delighted that Butterfly Season is here already, and passionate patterned wings are circling pretty flowers. In clicking a photograph, I create a miniature that’ll capture the evanescent; simultaneously rescue me from my apocalyptic forebodings as the Russian invasion of Ukraine enters its 32nd day. Having convinced myself that I need to appreciate the now and today , and resume writing for any hope of seeing those pieces up in magazines b

by Mandira Pattnaik Luke Porter The world has changed since my last dispatch, and it feels cruel not to write about it. I find sights and sounds of these strange, unprecedented times for a generation and more take form on paper and keyboards around the world, yet I feel utterly numbed, like many others, as though paralyzed in shock. I remember you nodding in approval when I said that writing is like a habit, undertaken in spite of ourselves. That habit makes me try beating m

by Mandira Pattnaik Randy Laybourne For writing the opinion, “The editor’s desk is a cemetery of nascent broken hopes,” I may be taken to task, but I’m waiting, instead, for your love — “What a great line!” — though I doubt it’ll ever come, I get so few responses to my tweets. Waiting expectantly, and endlessly, I revert to my spouse, and that’s where I’m told: it’s subjective, it’s the freaking algorithm, and that I should rein-in my anxiety. Nonetheless, I see myself in a p

by Mandira Pattnaik Warren Wong The trouble with social order is its affinity towards hierarchy and its maintenance. As writers, we follow-up on our pursuance of journal publications with chasing elusive Pushcarts. Later, dream of novels, book deals and Bookers. Along the way, we debate with our inner self whether to write for the love of writing alone, or for money and fame. In circles of reputation, opinions both merge and clash about this. Just as whether to name a library

by Mandira Pattnaik Ashkan Forouzani Word musings bring me to “unbridled.” In India, where I live, it is common to witness chaos theory. Nothing is ever static. There are underlying patterns, interconnectedness, constant loops, repetition, self-similarity, fractals, and self-organization in the perceived randomness of chaotic systems. Chaos is dynamic, delivers diverging outcomes. Hence, once saddened we didn’t have a snowman on Christmas, I no longer think that’s something I

by Mandira Pattnaik Adi Suryanata As writers, we often fret over third-person bios, compulsory companion to submitted work. In private conversations, a writer I know lamented: “there goes my potential Pushcart, for my bio wasn’t good enough!” Little or no publication credits is cited as a reason by writers, me no exception, for their work not finding takers. Conversely, the more accomplished are found experiencing a problem of plenty, which to include and what to leave out. F

by Mandira Pattnaik Tarryn Grignet Different standardized behavior patterns exist, according to her teachers, but for best results, familiarize yourself with the species, and methodology, before committing to it. She scribbles vigorously until lab class is over. Preserved specimens line the walls: reptiles swimming in formaldehyde, frozen eyeballs boring into her. Afterwards, discharging the vows to her mother who died trying to cross over, into the dormitory sink, she retrac