PUB: c r e e k w a l k e r: Poetry & Photography

2010 Creekwalker Poetry Prize

  • Submissions accepted between June 1 and September 30, 2010
  • Poets from all countries are welcome
  • No thematic restrictions
  • Previously published, restriction-free poetry accepted
  • Submit two (2) copies of five (5) poems:
  • Copy 1: include 5 submitted poems plus contact information at the top of each page:  name, address,
    phone number and email address
  • Copy 2: (to be used for judging) include 5 submitted poems without contact information
  • Poems must be 25 lines or less in English submitted via typed hard copy (no email submissions)
  • Include a short biography with your submission package
  • Fee: $15 US. Make checks payable to: Creekwalker Poetry Prize
  • Award: $400 US
  • The 2010 Creekwalker Poetry Prize Winner and two Finalists will be announced October 31, 2010 via
    Facebook and Creekwalker.com.  To follow Creekwalker on Facebook or Twitter, click on links or icons,
    below.
  • Email questions to:  2010prize@creekwalker.com
  • Mail two (2) sets of five (5) poems of 25 lines or less in typed hard copy to:

    Creekwalker Poetry Prize
    5620 Paseo Del Norte #127-240
    Carlsbad, CA  92008

     

    PUB: 3 Writing Contests - Missouri Writers Guild

    Missouri Writers Guild

    Contests

    Do you have a contest that may be of interest to Missouri Writers' Guild members? Send information to Jennifer Jiang at jjiang@earthlink.net" title="mailto:jjiang@earthlink.net"> jjiang@earthlink.net

     

    Contests

    MISSOURI WRITERS’ GUILD – FLASH FICTION CONTEST

    1. Flash Fiction – Get to the point in 500 words or less. Subject is open, but no gore or pornography.
    2. Deadline for entry—submissions must be postmarked no later than September 30, 2010.
    3. Entry fee:
      $10 for non-members,
      $8 for members.
      Maximum of three entries per person.
    4. Checks payable to: Missouri Writers’ Guild.
    5. Prizes: 1st place - $100, 2nd place - $50, 3rd place - $25.
      Three honorable mentions will receive certificates.
    6. Short stories must be in English, unpublished at the time of submission, and original work of the contestant.
    7. Contestants retain all rights to their stories. Standard manuscript format: 8 1/2 x 11 paper, typed and double-spaced on one side of the paper, pages numbered, title of entry on every page, 12 point Times New Roman. Paper clip pages together. Contestants name or other identifying information should not appear anywhere on manuscript.
    8. Attach a separate cover sheet and include: story title, contestant’s name, address, e-mail, phone number, and MWG chapter name (if applicable). Do NOT send by certified mail!
    9. Mail entry fee and two copies of each entry, flat, not folded, by September 30 (postmark) to:
      Tricia L. Sanders
      Missouri Writers’ Guild – Flash Fiction Contest
      90 Westwood Trails
      Foristell, MO 63348
    10. Stories exceeding word limit, not having adequate postage, or not adhering to contest guidelines will be disqualified and entry fee will not be returned. Decision of judge is final. Not responsible for lost or misdirected entries. Stories will not be returned. For a list of winners, visit our website in late October 2010: www.missouriwritersguild.org
    Certificates and prizes will be mailed by the end of October.

    WRITING IT REAL CONTEST:
    READING PERIOD: AUGUST 1 - OCTOBER 31, 2010

    It’s a special kind of contest aimed at helping you develop your work. Everyone’s a winner because when you send in a draft, a free-write, or a piece you think may be done but you wonder about; within two weeks you’ll receive detailed response to your work from master teacher Sheila Bender, author of over ten books on writing, most recently Writing and Publishing Personal Essays from Silver Threads publishing and Creative Writing Demystified forthcoming from McGraw-Hill. After you receive Sheila's response, you have until October 31, 2010 to enter a revision for final judging by a guest editor.

    The earlier you get your pieces in, the more time you have for rewriting. Initial entries may be up to six pages of double-spaced prose or three poems. The rewrites you do may become longer and will be entered into the final judging by our guest editor.

    PRIZES!

    By November 30th, three winners will receive a tuition waiver ($120) for a Writing It Real online class and a half-hour consult by phone with Sheila But everyone’s a winner because everyone receives professional help on their writing!

    CONTEST SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

    Contest Deadline: Work must be sent electronically or postmarked by October 31, 2010. There is no additional fee for the revised draft to be entered for judging. First drafts can be up to six pages double-spaced of prose or three poems. Expect Sheila’s response to the work by email within two weeks. Our electronic submission form and mailing directions are below. Second drafts may be longer than the initial entry and should be mailed or emailed (iinfo@writingitreal.com) by November 15th.

    $15 Reading Fee for Current WIR Subscribers: If you are sending a check from outside the United States, be sure the amount in US dollars is officially typed by a bank and not handwritten. Checks should be made payable to: "Writing It Real." The electronic submission and payment form is below.

    $45 Reading Fee for new subscribers or renewals: That is $30 for a year’s subscription to Writing It Real and $15 for the contest reading fee. If you are sending a check from outside the United States, be sure the amount in US dollars is officially typed by a bank and not handwritten. Checks should be made payable to: "Writing It Real." The electronic submission and payment form is below. To read more about Writing It Real please visit our magazine page.

    Note: International entrants who use Ikobo for payment may submit their manuscript to info@writingitreal.com Credit cards are accepted using the link supplied with the online submission form.

    Mailed Essays: The submitted essays and poems must be accompanied by the reading fee and a cover sheet that contains the author's name, title of the works, phone number, address and email. Pages should be numbered. Don't worry; the cover sheet won't be counted toward length; so again, please make the cover page separate from the essay. Mailed submissions will NOT be returned -- NO SASE's please.

    Paper submissions should be mailed to:

    •  
      •  
        •  
          1. All entries must be the original, unpublished work of the contestant.
          2. Do not enter the same prose or poetry in more than one category
          3. All manuscripts must be typed on 8½ x 11 paper in standard manuscript form.
          4. Prose must be double-spaced and poetry must be single-spaced.
          5. All entries must have a title except the haiku.
          6. Place the category name and number, plus the word count for prose, in the upper left corner of each entry. List the poetry form where applicable.
          7. DO NOT PUT YOUR NAME ON THE ENTRY. Include a cover sheet listing ALL entries by category, name, number, title, and the first line of the manuscript or poem. Put your name, address, phone number and email address on the cover sheet.
          8. Keep all originals; no copies will be returned. No entries/winners will be published.
          9. Winners will be announced and awards given at the October 2010 regular S.W.G. meeting or mailed to those unable to attend.
          10. DEADLINE: All entries must be postmarked no later than October 1, 2010. SWG is not responsible for lost, misdirected, or postage-due entries.
          11. For a list of winners, please include a SASE with your entry.
          12. There is no limit on entries per category. However, no entrant may win more than one award per category entered, regardless of the number of entries.
          13. Any entry that does not follow these guidelines will be immediately disqualified without reimbursement.

        Writing It Real Contest
        394 Colman Drive
        Port Townsend, WA 98368

        Electronic submission available here: http://www.writingitreal.com/page.php?p=essay_contest

         


        2010 Springfield Writers’ Guild 17th Annual Literary Awards
        DEADLINE: All entries must be postmarked no later than October 1, 2010

        Jim Stone Grand Prize Memorial Awards
        #1 Poetry any subject, any form Limit: 1 page, single spaced
        #2 Fiction any subject Limit: 1,500 words
        #3 Non-Fiction any subject Limit: 1,500 words

        Awards for categories #1 - #3:
        1st place - $100 and certificate Two Honorable Mentions and certificate
        ($3 per entry for categories 1-3)

        Prose Poetry
        (Limit of 1,000 words/entry) (Limit of one single-spaced page)
        #4 Essay or Article – Ozarks Related #9 Rhyming – any subject or form
        #5 Short Story – any genre #10 Humorous Verse – any form
        #6 Nostalgia/Reminiscence #11 Free Verse – any subject
        #7 Humor – any subject #12 Haiku – traditional (5,7,5 – nature theme)
        #8 Essay or Opinion Piece

        Awards for categories #4 - #12:
        1st place - $20 and certificate 2nd place - $10 and certificate
        3rd place $5 and certificate One Honorable mention and certificate
        ($2 per entry for categories 4-12)

         

        Entry Guidelines:

        Mail contest fees and entries to:

        Dr. Jerry Wible, SWG Contest
        2987 E. Kemmling Lane
        Springfield, MO 65804

        For more information:
        Email: jwible@sbcglobal.net or mandybarke@yahoo.com
        Phone: Jerry (417) 889-8370 or Mandy (417) 830-7660
        Make all checks payable to: Springfield Writers’ Guild Contest.

     

    REVIEW: Book—Writers, Writing on Conflicts and Wars in Africa > from CRITICAL LITERATURE REVIEW

    Sunday, 15 August 2010

     Conflicts and Wars in Africa

     

    This week, Critical Literature Review presents Ikhide Ikheloa's review of "Writers, Writing on Conflicts and Wars in Africa". Enjoy!


     

    Forgetting is the final instrument of genocide. To witness genocide is to feel not only the chill of your own mortality, but the degradation of all humanity… even the most brilliant photography cannot capture the landscape of genocide.
                               -    Simon Norfolk

    The writers Okey Ndibe and Chenjerai Hove are two of Africa’s finest thinker-writers. They are awesome wordsmiths, word cannon balls boom fiercely out of their fecund minds pulverizing their targets with uncanny accuracy. They write with an uncommon sensitivity to the issues that Africa faces. This they do with respect and compassion and one is taken by the honesty and industry that they bring to their craft. They have just co-edited a slim volume of essays, Writers, Writing on Conflicts and Wars in Africa, published by Adonis & Abbey Publishers Ltd. It is a largely academic but highly accessible treasure trove of reflections on war by an army of mostly African writers who have been affected by Africa’s myriad wars and genocides. In about 200 pages and sixteen chapters (including the introduction), the reader comes face to face with the anxieties, nightmares and dreams of sixteen diverse and eclectic artists. These are issues covering past and present wars all over Africa; Biafra, Zimbabwe, the hell delta of Nigeria, Darfur, the Congo, South Africa, etc. Kudos to Ndibe and Hove for ensuring that these writers are a judicious mix of the known and unknown. The resulting essays are refreshing and filled with uncommon candor. The references alone are invaluable. I wrote down passages in the book that spoke to me and then I walked among the words, talking to them. I was shaken to my soul’s roots. Even the cover is evocative in what it does not say. It is an image of beautiful children born into wars they did not ask for. There are all these children mugging for the camera with Africa and decay as a surreal backdrop. 
     
    As an aside, this compilation of essays came out of a workshop attended by the just-departed poet-warrior Dennis Brutus. In the book, Ndibe and Hove recall his spirit with eerie nostalgia: “Dennis Brutus, the South African poet whose back bears the scar of an apartheid bullet, lent a measure of revolutionary gravitas and hard-earned moral capital to the workshop. When Brutus spoke or read his poems, his voice, though slightly enfeebled by age, still rang out with stunning range and power.” (p11)  
     
    This book is several conversations burning at once. The writer Yvonne A. Owuor starts the conversations rolling in a piece she admits is a rant. It is a rant pregnant with profound gems. She questions why the West glorifies its own wars with stories of valor and views Africa’s wars as savage and barbaric, pointing out that there have been equally gory examples to draw from in the West. Again, Chinua Achebe, in his seminal volume of essays Home and Exile, reminds us of the proverb: “Until the lions produce their own historian, the story of the hunt will glorify only the hunter." I agree. Africans must tell their own stories or risk the total annihilation of their humanity by the other. We should write about our own humanity, for war is about the sorting of individuals into bins of identity and differences and the hunting down of those anxieties that lurk behind ancestral masks. 

    This book is a defiant ode to the power of the word and Hove captures it neatly: “Those years of war… gave me scars and smiles. Scars because real bullets pierced and tore apart the bodies of real women, children and men. Smiles, for, in the midst of death and pain, I saw children, women and men who proudly showed human resilience even in the face of death as they fought for the restoration of their dignity.” (p38)

    The last chapter, Reflections on Inyenzi is an evocative essay bearing a conversation between the writers Karin Samuel and Andrew Brown. Brown wrote the book Inyenzi: A Story of Love and Genocide based on the Rwandan genocide. That chapter alone is worth the price of the book. It brings to great closure several issues engaged by the other writers in the book. In simple, almost clinical prose that flogs the reader’s conscience wide awake, the writers weave fascinating images of war and one is reminded of the starkness of images of apartheid’s war housed in South Africa’s Hector Pieterson museum. 

    This is a slim book bearing weighty reflections on conventional wars in Africa. Wars still rage on in Africa, most of them wreaking havoc below the radar of our uncritical eyes. Every day alien religions wake Africa up and rape her with impunity and send her to bed sobbing inconsolably. Capitalism marches through Africa unchallenged reducing her millions of victims to needy supplicants to the God of more and more. We should reflect on why Africa is in this condition. The book does not. It is not a criticism; a book can only do so much. Africa is enduring many wars and while this book focuses on conventional wars, I propose that today’s most devastating wars are the unconventional. If we don’t focus on those we may be writing our way to irrelevance. Why is the world indifferent to the travails of Africa? 

    In the book, Lauryn Arnott’s drawings are harrowing in their detail and they nicely complement the writing. But it is not enough. In the age of the Internet, the book is dying a long slow death and it is no longer a robust medium for expressing the horrors of war or the joys of triumph over adversity. I dream of creating a virtual museum dedicated to Africa’s suffering – a total convergence of all media and all voices singing with one earth-shaking voice of the horrors that we have seen and heard. And the griots Ndibe and Hove would be the leaders of that mother of all projects.  

    Let’s accept some responsibility. Owuor makes this profound observation: “This war, this violence is ours. Ours is the hateful thing – a roaming stain that prowls through the society and sows seeds of chaos – that thing that appalls our within-ness. And horrifies us with the blood it wastes.” (p21) However the book is virtually silent on the crucial question: Why are things the way they are in Africa? There are many questions folded into that question. What is it with Africa and conflict? Why are we constantly forced to question and justify our humanity? What is the role of the writer in shaping events in today’s Africa? Why do some of our writers turn Goebbels on the people? What is the best medium for forcing the people to focus brightly on the fires that burn so fiercely all around Africa? Is this generation of African writers self-absorbed and narcissistic and why?  Has the African writer deserted the role of the writer as the land’s conscience, priest and town-crier? We must seek answers to the why even though it might frighten us. 

    The Internet, that new world that holds the promise of liberation from hell on earth, is right now busily retrieving Africa’s brightest and best minds from Africa and dumping them in Europe and America.  Virtually all of Africa’s best thinkers are writing about Africa from the outside looking in. Thanks to technology, sadly, this exodus includes those writers who physically live in Africa 

    Hope Eghagha in his essay evokes the spirit of the poet-seer Christopher Okigbo using lines from Okigbo’s Hurrah for Thunder:

    The smell of blood already floats in the lavender-mist of the afternoon
    The death sentence lies in ambush along the corridors of power;
    And a great fearful thing already tugs at the cables of the open air,
    A nebula immense and immeasurable, a night of deep waters –
    An iron dream unnamed and unprintable, a path of stone


    This poem was written four decades ago; one could argue that it seems prophetic today only because the situation in Nigeria is heading South fast and the future is certainly frightening. But then the question is why this constancy of turmoil. Okigbo would not know; he was murdered by Nigerian troops on Biafran soil in a war he did not ask for. This book is one more compelling proof that the sacrifices of Okigbo and other African thinkers hunted down and slaughtered for owning words have not been in vain. I salute Okey Ndibe and Chenjerai Hove.

    [Ikhide R. Ikheloa is an arts critic, writer and journalist. He can be reached at xokigbo@yahoo.com]

     

    EVENTS: London—OMO LONDON > In our Theatre > Oval House Theatre.

    OMO LONDON

    Nigeria in British Playwrighting: a Festival

    A Nigerian woman in traditional dress walking away from St Pauls on the Millenium Bridge

    This autumn we’re very proud to be marking the 50th Anniversary of Nigerian Independence with a 3 week festival of work focusing on Britain’s Nigerian communities, and celebrating the growing influence of Nigerian playwrights on British theatre and new-writing culture.

    Sept 21 ­- 9 Oct, Tues­ - Sat 7.45pm
    Inner City Theatre presents Estate Walls
    Written by up and coming Nigerian-born playwright Arinze Kene, using rich, witty urban street language, Estate Walls tells the story of Obi, a young writer who dreams of leaving
    his estate, but with bad boys Myles and Cain for best friends, there are bound to be setbacks... 
    Tickets £12 / £6 concessions


    London Naija
    3 staged readings of new plays by exceptional casts:
    Mon 27 Sept 6pm
    EGUSI SOUP by Janice Okoh

    A fast, furious and funny new family drama about life in London, death
    in Lagos and
    soup on the kitchen table!
    +
    Mon 4 Oct 6pm
    FIXER by Lydia Adetunji

    Northern Nigeria. When militants attack a new oil pipeline, journalists, spin doctors and
    consultants rush to the scene. In the middle is one man who thinks he can play them all.
    +
    Mon 11 Oct 6pm
    PANDORA'S BOX by Ade Solanke

    On holiday in Lagos with her streetwise teenage son, a British-Nigerian mother is in turmoil. Should she leave her only child behind in a strict Lagos boarding school, or return him to the battlefields of inner London? 
    Tickets £5


    25 Sept 2.30­ - 6.30pm
    Stages of Independence
    A debate exploring the past, present, and future of Nigeria in British Theatre.
    Curated by acclaimed playwrights Oladipo Agboluaje & Mojisola Adebayo 
    Tickets £5

    _________________________

    A Nigerian woman in traditional dress lost in thought in front of Big ben
    £TBC 
    Dates

    Tuesday 21st September 2010 -Monday 11th October 2010

    Venue

    Entire Venue

    Extras

    Email this page to a friend

    Please note that the advertised times are the start of the actual performance, not the time when doors open: please arrive in good time to collect your tickets and take your seats as, in most cases, we CANNOT admit latecomers for whatever reason. If you arrive after the start of a show you will NOT be entitled to a refund, so why not come early instead and enjoy a drink or a meal in our licensed Cafe/Gallery beforehand.

     

     

     

     

     

     

    INTERVIEW: NourbeSe Philip > Caribbean Beat

    “PARADISE COMES WITH A PRICE”
    by Lisa Allen-Agostini

    Tobago-born Marlene NourbeSe Philip is an award-winning writer. Yet she tells Lisa Allen-Agostini her career has been one of “struggling with the language”

    Marlene NourbeSe Philip Photograph courtesy M NourbeSe Philip/Hardie Philip-Chamberlain

    I was born (in 1947) in Tobago, in Woodlands, Moriah, and went to school there until I was eight. Then my dad moved us to Trinidad. He was a primary school principal. (At) UWI, Mona, I did a bachelor’s in economics with a specialisation in political science. I went to Canada, did a master’s and did law there and practised law in Canada for seven years. I think I did law because my father wanted to do law and never did do it. I had been married and separated and had a son. I thought, “I need a profession for myself as a single woman.” But I think I was finishing family business.

    When my first marriage was breaking up I began keeping a journal, and it was what saved my life emotionally. It was just a place to put everything that was upsetting me. I was 21.

     

    When I practised law I began writing poetry. It was very tentative. Being a writer was not something that parents wanted for their children. It was very foreign. I never thought that I would become a writer. It was actually as much a surprise to me that I found myself wanting to write, enjoying it and thinking, “Oh, maybe somebody might want to hear what I have to say.”

    I practised law for seven years and in those seven years I published two books, Thorns and Salmon Courage. I always knew I was going to do something else. I think when I realised I was going to leave it was when I came back to Tobago for the first time since I was eight. I went back when I was 35 to where I was born, Moriah, and I wrote a poem called “Salmon Courage”. The poem is about the salmon needing to go back to the spawning ground, swimming upstream against all odds. Something about the experience, this image, the hardship, wanting to become something larger, was what shifted (my career).

    Unlike the States, where you have a long tradition going back to Phillis Wheatley, who was a slave poet, in Canada you were actually creating your own audience while you were writing the work. When I finished Harriet’s Daughter, for instance, and sent it out, I was told by one of the most prestigious publishing houses there that they liked the writing but they had a problem with the characters being black – which sent me into a tailspin for about a year and a half. If they tell me the writing is bad, I can fix that, but if they tell me they have a problem with the race of the characters it’s like telling me they have a problem with my self.

     

    What got me into writing fiction is that I realised very quickly you can’t earn a living writing poetry. I think I come to poetry instinctively, that is my first calling. I thought maybe if I could write fiction, it’s more saleable. The average print run of a poetry book is 500 copies. Harriet’s Daughter was on the CXC list for several years.

    I would say that the issue that has chosen me – because that’s how I put it, something kind of claims you – is language, in all its manifestations. Starting with the original womb for us in the “Afrospora”, who lost their languages, had languages taken away from them. How do you reconcile losing a mother tongue, particularly when you have a language imposed on you that doesn’t mean you any good in terms of how it’s structured? To me, the English language has been profoundly contaminated by its experience as a colonising language – English, French, Spanish, all those colonising languages. And then the debate that was raging for a while, what language do you write in? The demotic? Standard English? Do you write in nation language? And then that branches out to issues like memory, exile.

    In Harriet’s Daughter there’s Margaret, who’s speaking standard Canadian English. And at the other end is Zulma who is speaking Tobago talk. Right there, there’s a kind of Pan-African linguistic pattern in the book. And you go to works like She Tries her Tongue: “I have no mother tongue I must therefore be tongue dumb.” What I’m trying to say is that this language is brought to us by a male coloniser, so it is a father tongue – but it’s the only language we have. For me as a writer, I never feel at home in English; as much as I love it, I always treat with it as if it’s a bit of a foreign language. That pays dividends in certain ways because you’re working with it in a very conscious way, you’re not taking it for granted, and I think that’s why I employ a lot of avant-garde techniques around it.

    In ideas, issues of memory/history have been issues driving Caribbean thought and continue to drive it. It’s the writers who are creating new ways of looking at these things – the transatlantic slave trade, indentureship. I feel very strongly that the people who are going to heal us are our griots – dancers, musicians, writers, poets – they are the ones who are going to help us come to terms with what has happened. The wounds are still there.

    I have always seen myself as a Caribbean writer. The subject matter I’ve written about has been connected with the Caribbean in some way or form. I was already fully formed (when I went to Canada) and what formed me was this place, particularly Tobago…that’s where I write from.

    I have two favourites in my own work. Fiction: I would say Harriet’s Daughter. That was my second novel. My first novel has never been published. I put it aside ten years ago. My all-time favourite piece is the last section of my most recent book, Zong! In that section I feel like I got my revenge on the English language. The way I’ve done it is by breaking the words up, fragmenting it, so although they are English words they begin to sound like another language. I feel like it’s capping a career of struggling with the language.

    They speak about these islands being paradise, but we know paradise comes with a price. It’s always on a knife’s edge. Maybe it’s the history that’s always under the surface. So much blood, so much death. When you confront the pain of what these islands have meant, you have to hang on for dear life and keep them going, for the little ones.

     

    INFO: Clutch & Motions Present: Black is the Color: Hair Love Stories | Clutch Magazine

    Clutch & Motions Present: Black is the Color: Hair Love Stories

    Monday Sep 6, 2010 – By Clutch


    Clutch
    and Motions present “Black is the Color: Hair Love Stories.” This series of short films features inspirational testimonials by three young women. Expressing their love for their treasured tresses, these women recollect intimate and endearing memories of mothers, music, and men. Celebrity Hairstylist Nikki Wright of Beverly Hill’s Wright Salon offers viewers tips on achieving a voluminous roller set, a short relaxed hair cut, and a twist-out using the latest Motions products!

    Check our third segment of “Hair Love Stories”! What’s your hair story?

    HAITI: Wanda in Haiti: Pain, protest, planning for the future | San Francisco Bay View

    Wanda in Haiti: Pain, protest, planning for the future

    September 3, 2010

    by Wanda Sabir

    Little children make the best of growing up in a makeshift, post-earthquake camp in the huge city of Port au Prince, where nearly 2 million people have no real homes to live in. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Daddy died this weekend – Saturday, Aug. 14, the anniversary of the Haitian revolution, Bwa Kayiman – and here I am in Delmas now with Rea Dol, principal of Sopudep School, and her family. I am so happy she picked me up first before she ran her errands. Her house is almost finished outside and inside it is a mansion – oh my goodness! I was sleeping on concrete at BAI (the human rights law office Bureau des Avocats Internationaux) for two days before Chris, an intern, let me sleep on his air mattress last night, and today I am in bed with a mosquito net – I have arrived!

    We went to check on Rea’s account with a building supplier – Arnold Azolin, a Black man who lets the savvy business woman buy on credit when she doesn’t have the money up front. She is preparing to open the Sopudep School II site for the older kids in temporary classrooms made from bamboo this October and keep the younger children at the old site where some people are still living since the earthquake because of the shortage of shelter. Her family members, the larger two families, have their own places now and some of the younger people who were also camping here do as well.

    Rea Dol, principal of Sopudep School, and her husband, Bataille, right, talk with Arnold Azolin, the owner of a construction supply business who generously gives them credit. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Rea is getting ready to adopt another child – a girl whose parents died during the earthquake. Her neighbor who has been keeping the child can’t feed her. The community also wants her to adopt an infant, but with her busy schedule, that would be rather impossible. Rea is also taking care of a neighbor who is so weak she can’t stand – she showed me a photo of the woman. Her legs are a thin as twigs. After taking her to the doctor, Rea said the diagnosis is starvation, the women just needs to eat, so Rea takes food by the neighbor’s house for the children to cook. One child dropped by the house this evening.

    We stopped off at another supplier, a woman from whom Rea purchases beans and rice to feed the hungry children in the neighborhood where Sopudep I is. After she found out why Rea was buying beans and rice, she told her she would extend credit to her as well. Rea stopped by to pay her, and the woman didn’t want to take her money. I love the cooperative economics employed here – dollars circulating in the Black community, turning over again and again: Ujamaa at work!

    The last stop was the grocery store where we got sodas and water. The bill was 129.00 gouds I thought, but I paid with two 500.00 goud notes. The change was 200.00. Yes. I am confused. I have to figure out what that means in Haitian dollars.

    Today was a long one. I visited three Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps this morning and afternoon. Chris, intern at the Bureau des Avocats Internationaux (BAI) and interpreter, and I walked downtown with Gisele, one of the camp leaders, who introduced us to women who’d all suffered sexual violence – from the young girls barely out of their teens to their mothers and grandmothers, who often suffered such violence as well.

    When one thinks about generational traits, rape is not one that comes to mind, yet those women who speak up like Malya A. Villard, secretary of KOFAVIV, and Marie Eramithe, two women I met who lead KOFAVIV: Komisyon Fanm Viktim pou Viktim, and young girls and other women are targeted because they don’t have anyone to protect them, which is certainly the case in many of these women’s lives since the earthquake in January. Rape is becoming normalized. Visit http://ijdh.org/projects/rapp.

    Women have been beaten and raped, often brutally, sometimes by multiple attackers, as a warning to stop being politically active. In many cases, women become pregnant and, as abortion is illegal and women can be incarcerated, these women are left with a living breathing reminder of the trauma. Most women cannot hold a job if they are the leaders and they need protection getting to and from their tents.

    Women have been beaten and raped, often brutally, sometimes by multiple attackers, as a warning to stop being politically active.

    BAI offers this kind of support and there is even an advocate on board, Jocie Philistin, who is also an evangelist, prison and human rights advocate and coordinator of YAHVE RAPHA Foundation and herself a victim of rape by Haitian military. Philistin and Villard’s stories show how rape as a weapon of war is not recent – however, the recent events post-earthquake have highlighted a renewal of these crimes against women and girls – Villard raped again this year.

    Both Mrs. Villard and Mrs. Eramithe have children, two sons at university. One son writes:

    “I’m Saint Quitte Yvens, the son of Mary Delva Eramithe, a victim who has been raped since 1992 by armed police had entered the door of his house with his force power and violated fight my father. After this incident, my father suffers from a disease that eats away at his body and caused his death in 1999.

    “My mother has seven children and I am the eldest of the family. I am in second year Computer Science, third year this year. To achieve this level, I really suffer. My father was everything to the family, my mother does nothing [does not have a job]. After the death of my father, I thought there was no life for my family because I do not see how we were eating, housed and educated. My mother has no economic means, but thanks to [her] intelligence, [her] courage and determination, she did everything she could to educate his children.

    “I finished my classical studies since 2005, lack of economic means, my mother could not help me to attend a university. I was forced to spend three years doing nothing. About the year 2007, my mother collected everything she had and ready to make some friends specially for my university studies, she had to spend a whole year to see how she could send me to university in 2008.

    Buildings that collapsed during the earthquake haven’t been removed and more are still collapsing eight months later. A building collapsed while I was in Haiti. Luckily, no one was injured. Much of the debris has yet to be cleared away and cleaned up. Yet the people still conduct business to survive. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    “In Haiti, education is very expensive. To pay for a university it costs a lot. Mom did everything she could to pay the two years previous shows, this year the money is really difficult and even impossible for him. I may lose this year because she cannot do anything for me.

    “I would like continue my studies, because it is the only way that could give me the same opportunity to help myself and my family. I said thanks for your assistance in helping young scholars to continue his studies and I never cease to thank you for everything you [can do] for me.” To reach the mothers and find out how you can assist Saint Quitte and Mrs. Villard’s university enrolled sons, contact Jocie Philistin at pjocie@hotmail.com. I suggest going through the organization BAI.

    BAI intern Christopher Eves, who is completing a masters in social work in Chicago, translated for me and filled in missing information when requested Saturday, Aug. 14, as we visited the camps. Afterwards, I wanted to visit the National Museum, so we took a taptap downtown, but it was closed – it has been closed since January. So we’re strolling towards an artist marketplace and Chris runs into a friend who invited us to visit his home across from the French Embassy, which is gated. We could see the official looking building from afar.

    These IDPs seemed to have a better situation than those I’d met in the morning, who are mostly women – all the ones I met victims of sexual violence. At Place des Artistes, where artist Jude Jean Pierre, Chris’s friend, stays, men patrol the camp and even resolve disputes, which I witnessed as we were departing. Jude pulled one of the young men away from the other. There is a camp director, a position Williams James Marc Else fell into after the earthquake when so many people found themselves displaced.

    I guess the similarities and differences in camps can be equated with degrees of heat in hell – Dante’s inferno. One woman in the second camp had a tin roof, so at the time we visited it was almost unbearably hot, the roof cooking the interior, but there were no leaks so unlike others nearby, when it rained the family didn’t have to awaken drenched and then stay wet the rest of the night. The rugs which covered a dirt surface below, however, would get wet – clothes, bedding – and if unable to adequately dry would get molded.

    Mario Joseph, director of the Bureau des Avocats Internationaux (BAI), is the hub of human rights defense in Haiti. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Williams and Jude are both members of the organization that meets at BAI. It seemed that if anything was happening in Port au Prince around policies or policy development, it was connected to Mario Joseph’s BAI. It was great to be situated in the progressive nexus – too bad I didn’t fully comprehend the extent of all the activities like the eight of so men and women who filed down the hall into human rights attorney and BAI director Mario Joseph’s office to change as I was leaving Aug. 14. Several well-dressed men came back with Mario from a funeral – I presume of an important person in the community. Delourdes mentioned she was attending a funeral and Mario hadn’t seen her, so it must have been huge.

    All of the IDP camps in the capital are called collectively Champ de Mars. One doesn’t wander through the camp unescorted – it is a “gated community” (smile). Unfortunately, the resources don’t seem able to get into each of the sites equally. Chris said the camp dwellers don’t control who gets the mobile health unit, which one has a school, who has childcare or preschool. But in Pétion – the camp right behind the Palace with a fountain which used to work – the space is densely populated with not much room to move around – tents and people literally on top of one another.

    I wish I’d had a before and after image of the earthquake damaged areas.

    It’s sort of how people feel about New Orleans, pre- and post-Katrina, now pre- and post-BP spill. The polluted shoreline, the displaced and destroyed natural habitats and their inhabitants – birds, fishes, plant life and of course human beings – the cultural decimation is irreplaceable, its cumulative impact impossible to calculate.

    It is the same here in Haiti. With the timing of the election and the vote just two months away, one wonders what is in store for this tiny country with major karma in opposition to the lives and well-being of people, African people who just want to be left alone to live – really live.

    Maafa Hurricane Katrina’s Fifth Anniversary

    Speaking of Katrina and the fifth anniversary, Sunday, Aug. 29, also the birthday of the late Michael Jackson. Listen to Wanda’s Picks Special on Katrina Five Years Later: www.blogtalkradio.com/wandas-picks. I interview Ms. Diane Evans, who with her grandson is about to be evicted from her home this month, September. She needs $1,900 to stay. Call her at (415) 786-4773 or email dianeevans504@gmail.com.

    Maafa Awareness Month is next month. The 14th Annual Maafa Ritual is Sunday, Oct. 10, 2010, predawn. Visit www.maafasfbayarea.com for the specifics, also for related events and activities, or call (641) 715-3900, ext. 36800#.

    Intensifying the pain in Haiti

    There was high unemployment for Haitians, those educated with skills and the unskilled as well, prior to the earthquake. For a government official to tell a BAI representative that withholding food was a way to motivate lazy people looking for a handout to get to work is a gross misread of the problem. Since when is physical hunger a motivation when hunger is not anything new to Haitians who have had to deal with food insecurity for as long as President Aristide’s programs were effectively shut down?

    For a government official to tell a BAI representative that withholding food was a way to motivate lazy people looking for a handout to get to work is a gross misread of the problem.

    Although Wyclef Jean doesn’t have a clue on how to run a country, some feel that he is interesting Haitian youth in the electoral process for the first time because of his interest in running for president. It’s great he is proud of his Haitian heritage but it’s like a person who has been passing for white all of a sudden claiming his or her African ancestry for an associated perk.

    I don’t see any evidence of relief for any of those people I met who spoke to me Saturday in the camps. One young mother said she was happy to see visitors but although many people come through, nothing follows.

    Can you imagine being homeless in a displaced persons’ camp? Kind of hard, right? Definitely, but I met a grandmother who doesn’t have a bed and sometimes when she wakes up she can barely move. I knew exactly what she meant, having spent two days on the ground myself. I also met a woman who has several children who also needs a place for her children. Gisele, who was our tour guide, had to send her children away because it was too dangerous for them at the camp – their mother with a contract on her head.

    A temporary camp dwelling, studier than most, is decorated with a drawing of Tupac. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Women wore their badges with whistles attached. I asked one woman to let me hear it. When blown a certain way, help comes – if it is within earshot.

    Jude is also an artist – a painter – and when I met him he’d made some brew – green with ginger sediment at the bottom of a glass bottle the size of a fifth. He explained that there were different flavors which had certain properties when ingested. Chris and I walked through an artists’ village area, which reminded me of the Ashby Flea Market, just fewer items and variety. An artist wanted to sell me a painting on a canvas for just 500 goud, but I wasn’t feeling it. None of the art spoke to me; it was “I Love Haiti” key chains and bracelets and necklaces.

    I saw a couple of elderly women begging and a clearly deranged man – he was so dirty his skin looked like it was covered in charcoal. If I wasn’t feeling so skittish, I would have given the women and the man an offering, but I didn’t have the money in my pocket ready to pull out. With the money belt under my top around my waist tucked into my waist band – my passport getting a steam bath daily as I heated up, my waist pack on the outside with less money inside a baggie, my tape recorder, FLIP inside, my glasses case hooked to the fanny pack, and then my camera around my neck. I even had my TJ (Trader Joe’s) bag full of kids’ supplies.

    However, when I saw the older women and the man who looked like he needed a medical intervention – well, to reach the money would have been a major task. On Sunday at a fast food restaurant, I was able to give a mother standing in the rain with a babe in arms and one standing next to her a little something. Rea had picked up Pastor Wilbur Blanc, now living in Oregon, with a friend of his. Pastor Blanc hadn’t been to Haiti since the earthquake and he wanted a tour.

    Comic books and leaflets explaining people’s rights were passed out at the protest march Aug. 12. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    When I arrived in Haiti a few days earlier, it was raining hard. This wet weather is new for this time of year, Rea said, just a sign of the natural environment’s instability since the earthquake. I’d been traveling for two days: left San Francisco Tuesday early (12:30 a.m.), an hour late, and subsequently missed my flight from Miami to Port au Prince (PAP).

    The day after I arrived, the organization where I was staying, Bureau des Avocats Internationaux (BAI), was preparing for two demonstrations: one to protest the eviction of Internally Displaced Persons and the other the third anniversary of Lovinsky Pierre-Antoine’s disappearance. Visit http://ijdh.org/. Lovinsky founded the Fondasyon Trant Septanm (September 30th Foundation) that works with the victims of the coup d’états of 1991 and 2004. Visit http://www.haitiaction.net/News/HIP/2_18_7/2_18_7.html.

    The march commemorating human rights champion Lovinsky Pierre-Antoine, missing for three years now, and the Internally Displaced Persons camp dwellers march come together at the capitol. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    So when things are as dismal as they seem, what can one do? Thanks to more than a few friends who sent money to me for this trip, I was able to leave money with one mother for her son’s university fees for a month and pay for a child’s visit to a private doctor to address a terrible skin rash that was eating him alive – I wired some more money to the child’s family once I got home for the medicine. I left money for another woman’s heart medication. She could only afford two of three prescriptions. I left my tent and sleeping bags for a displaced family.

    My friend Kamau Amen Ra is going to sponsor a young woman’s college tuition for four years. Another friend, Makulla Godwin, is purchasing an air mattress for a grandmother who doesn’t have a bed and is finding it hard to sleep on the ground. I also had lots of baby clothes and men and women’s clothes and sturdy and attractive women’s and men’s shoes. My daughter bought children’s toys and coloring books, pipe cleaners, action figures, stickers and miniature cars and another friend sent crayons and felt pens, paper, water color paints, a calligraphy set and lots of paper. I couldn’t carry it all. I also had medical supplies which I had to leave here. As it was, my suitcases were too heavy and I had to take items out, make friends in the screening line and hope no one would enforce the carry-on limit (smile).

    The wall around the new school, Sopudep II, is finished and classrooms framed with bamboo are under construction. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Hopefully the Haitian government will start looking at relocating people to permanent housing. I didn’t see any rebuilding going on anywhere. I wonder where all the Internally Displaced Persons came from and how much, family by family, would it cost to rebuild their homes so they could return to a normal life? Like Habitat for Humanity, if the government allowed multinationals to come in and rebuild, that is, gave land at cost, slowly we could help Haiti rebuild in an economically and environmentally sound way. This would provide jobs to the unemployed and skill development to youth, as we could encourage community development and leadership in the process after the land and the resources were identified.

    If several American corporations adopted a region in Haiti hit by the earthquake for this task, it wouldn’t cost as much to actually make this happen – I don’t think. I learned of college professors in San Diego who are paying for afternoon and weekend English language classes for women victims of sexual assault at BAI. In Palo Alto, a class raised $10,000 to help rebuild Rea’s school. College students visited Rea recently this summer to help complete the wall around the new school, which she is getting ready for fall semester. They are working on the temporary bamboo walls now.

    Linda sits with her newborn, Ricarlindo, and her sister-in-law as Rea Dol’s son, Padre, watches the baby. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    She just told me that she started making micro-loans to women and is planning to help more women start businesses. See http://www.sopudep.org. One woman during the tour talked about Haitian women as the backbone of their nation. I think women are the backbone of any nation – they are the providers and primary nurturers. Men provide protection and when all is working well additional support such as wages and balancing the energy in the home and community. However, throughout the world Black men are being targeted or allowing themselves to be duped and then disillusioned by golden calves which are just gold plated bovine that don’t even produce edible milk.

    Rea introduced me to another neighbor, a young couple who’d just had their fourth child, Ricardo and Linda. The husband works for an organization that does youth leadership training throughout Haiti – and his wife is actually a Haitian American citizen, born here and raised in Haiti. It is a difficult tale, which ultimately boils down to America’s biased and racist immigration policies towards Haitian nationals, even those born here, even after the Jan. 12 earthquake. We took by some of the baby clothes I’d brought with me.

    That we’re still here – alive and ALIVE … if not as well as we’d like … despite our ancestors’ unwilling transport to this region hundreds of years ago through legal slave trafficking, is encouraging. There is a lot of work and one problem isn’t more important or compelling than another. All the work is necessary whether we’re in Haiti or Dakar or East Oakland. It’s cyclical and similar. The enemy is the same and the fight is the same as well, just more urgent on some fronts than others, like Haiti and New Orleans and the Gulf Region. In the U.S. we have laws that are supposed to prevent such catastrophes as the British Petroleum spill, but how is that possible when people – plant and animal life – are placed second to monetary gain?

    I went to a part of Haiti I hadn’t visited before, Kenscoff, located in the mountains near Port au Prince. Jean Yvon Kernizan is working in an afterschool program with young leaders and teachers to get rural development programs off the ground. The world’s interest in Haiti post-earthquake is waning and humanitarians like Kernizan are scrambling to continue programs. He and his wife have opened a restaurant to provide income for the afterschool programs they support.

    Wanda enjoys the children of Pou Soléy Leve. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    At Pou Soléy Leve (For a Rising Sun), the kids have agriculture projects where they learn to grow food; they also have a strong art program. The children get a free hot meal daily, which for some is their only meal for the day. When I spoke to the children and asked them about career goals, most of them wanted to be doctors and nurses. I suggested they open a hospital in the community given their shared goals.

    Yvon and I were there on a Friday, the Muslim holy day. It was also the first Juma during the Month of Ramadan. On our way down the mountain we run into a Muslim from Senegal on his way to Juma prayer. We give him a lift to the masjid. Yvon was in a rush, so I couldn’t go inside, but next time. I was happy to have seen Muslims the first week of the Blessed Month of Ramadan. Visit http://www.pousoleilleve.org/.

    People do not make the world go round and this is why, if we aren’t careful, there will not be a world left to profit from. In the meantime, we can’t wait for the governments to get their stuff together; there is much that can happen under the radar in the midst of chaos, from sponsoring a college student in Haiti and the Dominican Republic – even the U.S. – to providing health care and food to helping get small businesses off the ground with micro lending programs.

    Jean Yvon, center, the director, and teachers at Pou Soley Leve take a break. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Under the gaze of the great generals Dessalines and Pétion and Christophe sit their people in abject misery. The fountain which once gave respite to the weary traveler and thirsty bird lies fallow filled with scum bordered on all sides by tents and other temporary shelter so tightly packed one can barely walk between them if at all. The largest camp is in the foothills where I believe Rea said there are 30,000 displaced persons, maybe more.

    One sees the blue tarps dotting the landscape from afar as we drove through Pétionville, a suburb of Port au Prince, separate from the city itself on the northern hills of the Massif de la Selle. It was named after Alexandre Sabès Pétion (1770–1818), the Haitian general and president later recognized as one of the country’s four founding fathers. The district is primarily a residential and tourist area. Pétionville is part of the city’s metropolitan area, one of the most affluent areas of the city, where the majority of tourist activity takes place, and one of the wealthiest parts of the country. Many diplomats, foreign businessmen, and a large number of wealthy citizens do business and reside within Pétionville, according to Wikipedia. See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Haiti_earthquake.

    I met the former mayor of Pétionvville, Sully Guerrier, in April. He is a civil engineer and, as I mentioned in other writings, is consulting with Rea on the new school site she is building to make sure it is seismically sound. Rea told me that he leased her the property where her first school site resides. The lease is up in 2011 at the former Duvalier regime torture site. Sopudep school’s presence there and its positive impact on the community has been a way to change the karma of the place from negative to positive. See http://www.haitiaction.net/News/HIP/8_8_8/8_8_8.html.

    A people’s band keeps spirits high at the Aug. 12 protest march. – Photo: Wanda Sabir
    Where is the glory of a nation, the first Black nation, the most celebrated and popularized in the Western Hemisphere – buried under debris? The Jan. 12, 2010, earthquake is not the first earthquake; it’s just the most tangible evidence of the major and minor tremors occurring in this country for the past 200 years – military dictatorships followed by more coup d’états and then U.S. occupation, followed by democratically elected presidents René Préval and Jean-Bertrand Aristide, Aristide kidnapped, exiled and Préval’s banning of Aristide’s Fanmi Lavalas party’s participation in the November 2010 presidential elections. The saga continues with classicism in the camps – one camp’s residents bumping or evicting the residents of another camp – the displaced displacing others who are lower on the food chain hierarchy. This is also what the Aug. 12, 2010, protest was about.

    Paul, who was working with Sustainable Organic Integrated Livelihoods (SOIL), a non-profit organization dedicated to protecting soil resources, empowering communities and transforming wastes into resources in Haiti, came by Rea’s home the evening before I left (http://www.oursoil.org). It was good to see him. He is working for the Haitian government overseeing the water sanitation in some of the larger camps. He spoke of the various agencies in charge of water, waste management, food supplies and other areas of concern in the camps. It’s unfortunate that the government agencies are not cross referencing yet. The situation in the camps is dismal all around. It was good though to hear the government hasn’t completely dropped the ball.

    I was just musing to myself as I fly home how when I go on vacation it’s to work. I return tired and overwhelmed and jump back into the fast paced day to day movement that is my life and can barely find time to complete all my tasks let alone add new tasks to the ones left to complete as the fall 2010 semester begins. But it is the Honorable Marcus Mosiah Garvey’s birthday and I purposely chose his day to return.

    Time doesn’t move any faster or slower … it moves the same.

    Last morning in Haiti

    On Garvey’s birthday, I wake up at 3 a.m. It’s 5 a.m. now and the barnyard choruses now compete with the early morning crickets and mosquitoes – roosters singing solos, while the dogs carry the bass lines, goats filling in the melody. I like this time of morning. I woke up at 5 a.m. yesterday. It’s time to get ready to go home.

    Bay View Arts Editor Wanda Sabir can be reached at wsab1@aol.com. Visit her website at www.wandaspicks.com throughout the month for updates to Wanda’s Picks, her blog, photos and Wanda’s Picks Radio. Her shows are streamed live Wednesdays at 6-7:30 or 8 a.m. and Fridays at 8-10 a.m., can be heard by phone at (347) 237-4610 and are archived on the Afrikan Sistahs’ Media Network.

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    Joseph's style combines a respect for the modern developments in jazz piano with its history. He works in both contemporary and traditional situations with his music. He is also active in jazz education, helping to form the jazz syllabus for the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music in Great Britain.

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    —Wikipedia entry

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    VIDEO: Pressure (1975) - Britain's first feature length black film > from A BOMBASTIC ELEMENT


    Horace Ové

    BFI Films in partnership with Daily Motion placed some of its vast catalog of films online a while back. Among them are the films of Horace Ové (who broke into film as a (slave) extra on the set of Joseph Mackiewicz' Cleopatra), such as Baldwin's Nigger (a must see - Black Looks blog broke some of it down recently - here) and, above, Britian's first black feature, Pressure (1975). BFI calls it: " less about the tribulations of surviving racism in the UK than the struggle between first- and second-generation Caribbean immigrants" and a "breakthrough film."

     

     

    PUB: Hint Fiction Writing

    Hint Fiction Writing Contest

    Hint Fiction (n): a story of 25 words or fewer that suggests a larger, more complex story.

    For this contest, Gotham welcomes the expertise of Robert Swartwood, editor of Hint Fiction: An  Anthology of Stories of 25 Words or Fewer (to be published in November by W.W. Norton). Mr. Swartwood will select the winner from the finalists in this competition. And, to help you get started, he provides the following advice: 

    Inspired by Ernest Hemingway’s six-word story—"For sale: baby shoes, never worn"—Hint Fiction is not a first sentence, a random thought, or even a sentence or two plucked from a much larger work. Instead Hint Fiction should stand by itself as a complete story, yet also hint at a larger chain of events.

    A title is important in Hint Fiction. While the word limit of a story is 25 words, it does not include the title. The title should add another layer of complexity to the story, helping to give the reader a better idea of what is taking place.

    Ultimately, Hint Fiction is an exercise in brevity, with the writer trying to affect the reader in as few words as possible.

    Here are two examples authored by Mr. Swartwood:

    Corrections & Clarifications

    It was Fredrick Miller, not his murdered son Matthew, who was executed Monday night at Henshaw Prison.

     10 Items or Less

    She saw his picture in the paper and remembered waiting on him two days before: the lighter fluid, her quip about barbequing, his vacuous gaze.

    GREAT PRIZES
    Submit your unpublished 25 word story to our competition and you could win:

    • 10-week writing workshop
    • $100
    • One-year subscription to The Writer
    • Publication of your winning entry in Gotham's Winter 2011 course catalog
    • Bragging rights

    The top five finalists will each receive a copy of Swartwood's Hint Fiction: An Anthology of Stories in 25 Words or Fewer and a copy of Gotham's Writing Fiction: The Practical Guide

    CONTEST ENTRY IS EASY AND FREE
    To enter, just complete the form below. Limit one entry per person. Entry deadline is October 11, 2010.

     

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    By submitting this entry you signify:

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    2. That you are at least 16 years of age on the date of entry
    3. That the work is original, unpublished, and has not been submitted elsewhere
    4. That you agree to the rules of the competition
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    All entries must be received by October 11, 2010 at11:59PM EST, the contest deadline. Limit one entry per person. The competition is open to works of 25 words or less. (The title is not included in the 25 word limit.) Longer entries will be disregarded.

    All entries must be original, unpublished, and not submitted elsewhere until the winner is announced. The winner will be notified by October 31, 2010. If you have not been contacted by this date, you may assume your entry has not be selected, and it may be submitted elsewhere. 

    As entries are for judging as soon as they are submitted, be sure that you’ve uploaded your best work before hitting the “Enter” button. We cannot accept revisions for any entry.

    For complete rules see Hint Fiction Rules.

    For more on writing Hint Fiction, check out Robert's essays:

    Hint Fiction: When Flash Fiction Becomes Just Too Flashy 
    Hint Fiction: One Year Later