“X-Marks-the-Spot Where Four Months Converge” book review of Fire Season by Philip Connors on the Lit Pub

· “X-Marks-the-Spot: Where Four Months Converge” book review X personal essay of Fire Season: Notes from a Wilderness Lookout by Philip Connors book recommendation on the Lit Pub (April 2013)

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I can easily say I’m a reader (who loves coincidence), but at the same time I feel pretentious calling myself a writer (especially a writer who enjoys coincidences). Connors seems to feel similarly. He jots notes while smoke watching, but mostly he reads. Connors writes Fire Season without revealing too much about his personal life, (evading a lingering focus on his brother’s suicide as well as recognizing how he forces a comparison of wildfire smoke to smoke from the towers on 9/11, which he witnessed) and instead he supplements his personal writing by writing about other writers’ lookout tenures; including Gary Synder, Norman Maclean, and Jack Kerouac.

I understand the need to connect with other writers (even via coincidence); just to at least have someone else who you can connect to with what you’re doing. I need someone else to say it’s odd, but not crazy, to sit at your desk and write; just as I’m sure Connors liked to know that others sat in a tower and watched.

Read the entire review X essay hybrid HERE.

 

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“Entering Lit Mag Contests: The Fine Print” on thereviewreview.net

Seven Considerations of Entering Lit Mags Contests:

1. Ethics

2. Monies

3. Parameters

4. Timeline

5. Reading

6. Judging

7. Value-Added Extras

Read the fine print HERE.

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“This is Tossing” in MAKE magazine

· “This is Tossing” in MAKE magazine’s architecture-themed issue (Issue#12, Spring 2013)

 

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“Again and again and again” on Marco Polo Arts Magazine

· “Again and again and again” on Marco Polo Arts Magazine

Here you are: halfway out of a halter-top, stuck under your armpits like a bib.

Read the entire 100-story HERE.

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“Flashover” in Saw Palm

· “Flashover” in Saw Palm Issue#7, Spring 2013

  Before the chief lit the pine barrel, he gave a speech about back-in-the-day—they didn’t have these fancy hoods that wrapped around their necks—when they relied on the slow cook of their ears’ cartilage and they waited for the sudden singe like sunburn on their shoulders to let them know that it was too hot to go any deeper into a burning building. The chief said you can’t feel the fire anymore, that’s why you needed to see it. Then he shut the doublewide’s door and the room turned a bruised color. A wick-thin flicker appeared, and the chief continued. He said in new buildings where the walls, floors, and ceilings are all made of synthetic materials the insulation locks in the heat and it seems like the entire room spontaneously combusts.

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Subscribe to Saw Palm to read the entire short story.

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