Storyglossia Issue 20 Is Complete
Want to read all my commentary on Issue 20 on one page? Yes
Issue 21 will start in a week or so.
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
The Art of Short Stories
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
My mother and I have the same birthday. Today she turns fifty-five. I will be thirty-two. I hear that time speeds up as you get older, that one night you go to bed in the prime of life and the next day you wake up old. It's not that you look old, and you don't act old, but you sense it, from the tip of your eyelashes down to your toenails, which is exactly where the anxiety begins, in the parts of your body that are noticeably dead. But it's not too late, you think. You run your tongue over your gleaming white teeth (they run in the family). Past that, you can taste your salty center. The core of you is intact, it's just the outer shell that needs a little work. So you go to someone, anyone with competence and the patience to listen, and tell him you want a tune-up. You tell him you want to be new again.Which expresses universal and timeless concerns while adding an absolutely sweet contemporary spin by asking for a "tune-up." Yeah, Dr. Mechanic, a shaman for our times.
All during the dinner with my mother and Dr. Mechanic, I could feel their giddy energy. It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement. My mother's voice acquired an upward lilt. She gestured wildly with her hands. Every once in a while she would squeeze his arm, though whether it was to reassure him, or herself, I couldn't tell. In between her exclamations, he took over as the ringleader. Part of it had to do with the inflections in his speech. Everything with enthusiasm and showmanship. He described the food as being "out of sight!" and the service as a "miracle!" He called my mother "doll face" and me "doll face two." There was also the sight of my mother sitting next to him. She looked younger, more vibrant, and not just because, after her facelift, the skin around her cheekbones was taut and shiny. She glowed from the inside out.The narrator is drawn deeper into their spell as the story progresses, including a scene at the end that includes cake (you knew food had to be in the mix, too, didn't you?), which I will leave for you to discover as you read this wonderful story.
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Dara stood before the open window, almost invisible in the dark. She held the paintbrush in her hand, brushing the sable bristles against the sharp angle of her jaw. Down her throat. The air was heavy with salt, the sea a black canvas flecked with gold. She watched as waves dipped and rolled. The moon looked ready to fall into the ocean, fat and succulent. She imagined it beckoning beneath the sea.It's not just mood that drives this story, however, but the grit of a relationship gone sour:
She tried not to pull away. Nonetheless something showed in his face. His eyes, almost black in the moonlight. She wondered why she had let him come back.As you might expect with a story about painting, metaphor is prominent, and yet, despite being expected, the primary metaphor comes naturally from within the story, which is a difficult feat to pull off and a reason that I admire this story.
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Myfanwy Collins work has been published or is forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, Cream City Review, AGNI, The Jabberwock Review, Swivel, Caketrain, and other venues. She is an Assistant Editor at Narrative Magazine.
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
She didn't mean what she said. I'm fairly certain of that. Or, if she did mean what she said, she probably didn't mean for what she said to come out the way that she said it. Perhaps she didn't mean for it to come out at all. I remember she turned her head slightly to the left afterward (I was on her right), a gesture I interpreted at the time as regret, though it is possible, in hindsight, that she turned her head to the left to clear her view (she has very long hair, this woman) and the thought of regret never even entered her mind. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.I went ah ha! This is a far different form of the pleasure of the text than that meant by Barthes, but one that I thoroughly enjoy.

Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20
Labels: Storyglossia Issue 20