Author Archives: Steph

Does Size Matter?

Posted in: 25 Cities Project, News by Steph | 6 Comments Thursday, September 15, 2011

To those of you who visit us often, I do apologize for not doing a good job of updating the website and giving you new material.  This summer has been difficult, and Nicolette and I have begun full-time jobs now, so time does not come so easily or quickly.  Adam is bombarded with work, too, and for that reason, he has stepped down as full-fledged editor and is now in a more supporting rose as Assistant Editor.  So, for now, it’s just Nic and I, plus our two readers John and Mack.  And speaking of the former, I hope you’ll get a chance to read the couple e-views he posted, as I find them heartening and enlightening.  There’s some great fiction being written out there, and we will make more of an effort to bring that fiction to you in the form of our e-views.

I want to talk about 25 Cities, though.

I just got back into the swing of reading our 25 Cities submissions, and I am thoroughly enjoying myself.  And reading these stories has made me wonder:  might we not end up publishing flash fiction in this book?  It seems weird because each city only gets one story and you’d think that it isn’t fair to only give that story and hence that city one page (or, less than one page).

But I just read a wonderful and captivating piece that’s about 150 words, submitted to our New York category.  The story really captures the spirit of New Yorkers and New York, itself.  But I’m torn.  After all, we’ve got over 60 submissions to that category already, and might our readers not prefer to read a longer piece about one of the greatest cities in the U.S.?  And so I ask you:  does size really matter?

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John reads “Raggedy Slippers” by Cathy Eaton from Bartleby Snopes

Posted in: E-Views by Steph | No Comments Thursday, September 15, 2011

Cathy Eaton uses sweaty sock smell and ironically, death, to breathe life into “Raggedy Slippers.” Her short piece (somewhere between flash and conventional short fiction) is filled with those fascinating things that inevitably get left behind:  slippers, overalls, wives, and sons. All of these things belong somewhere after they are left, and Eaton looks to explore where.

 

“Raggedy Slippers” follows Becca, a Pennsylvania farmer, as she traverses the solemn days following her husband Henry’s death. Household uncertainty is paired with “casseroles and pasta salads,” and despite the enormity of what’s happened, chores still remain. The Steelers hat of Roger, a friend of the deceased, and the Jersey cows that Becca tends are subtle reminders that this is a land of duty and a culture that has long stood without stagnation as a result of personal emotions. Becca must face what has befallen her with the same stoic resolve that has kept her community intact all this time.

 

Through the arrival of Seth, Becca’s son, the full effects of Henry’s death are illuminated. But what the interplay between these characters reveals is that the effects are quite different for each character individually. There is, on the one hand, the young man mournfully reflecting but still looking forward to initiating his own life, and on the other, the mother who has seemingly just lost half of hers. Both characters know this truth about the other. The final dialogue between the two is simple and yet it bleeds with the sympathy and compassion found in human nature.

 

In the bio of Eaton provided by Bartleby Snopes it states that she believes “conceiving a story and then living through its many transformations is like being pregnant giving birth, and raising a child: some days a joy, other days a heartache.”

 

I’m not sure there is a more perfect way than this to describe how “Raggedy Slippers” works. Nor is there a more apt setting than that confused and purgatorial space that exists after the death of a loved one through which to explore those feelings and themes that emerge out of simultaneous joy and heartache. On the surface of “Raggedy Slippers” are ordinary circumstances and situations that most people must face. Underneath the objective prose breathes an existence that is cyclical despite its spontaneity. There’s no telling when joy or sorrow will be found, but they lead up to the same thing. “Raggedy Slippers” is not celebration nor is it tragedy. It’s simply life; unrefined, uninhibited.

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25 Cities trends

Posted in: 25 Cities Project, News by Steph | 3 Comments Friday, July 22, 2011

Hello, hello!

Well, things are finally calming down here at Avery, now that we’ve got A7 out the door.  Hopefully, many of you have received your copies by now.  If so, let us know what you think.

We had a great time at the July 1 release.  Tons of people were there, and we editors got a chance to meet a few of our writers, which is always a treat.  Kurt, Ben, Robert, and Jason, I hope you had a great time.  Thanks for coming.  It was great to hear your stories in the flesh (does that metaphor work?).

So, yeah, things are quieting down so I’ve finally gotten a chance to read some 25 Cities submissions.  To those of you who submitted in January and February, I am so sorry it’s taking us so long to get back to you.  But I read a lot this morning, and I thoroughly enjoyed a lot of what I read.

In case ya’ll were wondering (I’m trying to channel Tammy Taylor here – for those of you who don’t understand the allusion, shame on you for not having watched the greatest TV show on network television!) … I have found some interesting (and in some cases, weird) 25 Cities trends.

To those of you who live in Austin:  I am jealous.  Apparently, music and art and young people surround you.  More power to you!

To those of you who live in Baltimore:  I am … concerned.  Apparently, you not only have a plentitude of Chevy Impalas driving around but more concerning is the stash of drugs in the trunk.  Or in a lap.  Or in a glove compartment.  Or, just in an apartment.  Weird, my friends.

To those of you who live in Vegas:  I am not surprised to learn that it is indeed hot in your area of the county.  And that you covet your water.  Drink up!

And finally (for now) to my fellow New Yorkers (fine, I was born and lived most of my life in Cleveland but whatever, I live in the Bronx now – OK fine, Riverdale, but technically, that’s still totally the Bronx):  we have lots of roommates.  Lots of roommates.

I’ll try to keep you posted as I continue to read.  We aim to publish 25 Cities by the end of the year, so we’ve got plenty of reading to do.  And please, tell everyone you know to submit!  We’ve still got cities that are not represented!

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