Wes Trexler is an American writer and filmmaker based out of New York City. Recent stories have appeared in the Wisconsin Review, Willow Springs, Story|Houston and elsewhere. Several others have appeared in the Rag Literary Review, including one which was awarded their fiction prize in 2015. Mr. Trexler was born in West Virginia. He studied at Eastern Washington University and attended the Squaw Valley Community of Writers workshop in 2005. He plays clarinet.
This is a wonderful list of places for writers to submit their work, awards and publishing. Published in ENTROPYMAG.ORG. This is a very effective tool.
Great website for writers!
Sudden Denouement just published our first book, Superstition, a collection of poetry by the other-worldly Rana Kelly. The book is available through Amazon. It was a labor of love for both Rana and myself. The process of pouring yourself, your life experience into a book is daunting–and rewarding at the same time. Conversely, publishing a book is a great deal of work and undertaken with a passion for great poetry, great literature.
SD is greatly honored in the task. I would ask that anyone interested reward Rana by picking up a copy of her book. We will soon have copies with signed cards inside them. I would also suggest reading Until Her Darkness Goes, her amazing novel, also available on Amazon.
I will give a copy away to the best 100 words I receive about why poetry is necessary in a world of texts, social media, reality television, and the never-ending noise that we wad through in our daily lives.
We will be giving more copies away in the near future. Please support Rana, support the process, the sacrifice, the barring of one’s soul to the world. There is a place for poetry in the world, and Rana Kelly’s Superstition is a reminder of this fact.
Anyone who wants to write 100 words about the importance of poetry in our society, please send you submission to Jasperkerkauwriting@gmail.com.
In response to requests, we have extended the deadline of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and Secret First Draft joint Writing Contest to April 15th. The Divergent Literature Contest is being sponsored to find new writers for the Collective.
Writing Prompt: March Madness
Each entry should be more than 50 words but less than 500
Each writer may submit 1 to 3 (maximum) pieces of writing for consideration
Submissions will be accepted: 3/1/2017 through 4/15/2017
Full prize information to be announced!
1st Place Winner will be granted membership in the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective
2nd, 3rd and 4th Place Runners-ups will be granted membership in the Secret First Draft Collective.
Send your submissions with your name, your pen name (if applicable), the address for your blog and a short biography (1 to 3 sentences to): Suddendenouement@gmail.com
The top three posts will be published on Sudden Denouement and the top five posts will be published on Secret First Draft.
Finalists will be contacted by Sudden Denouement no later than May 30, 2017.
MISSING – David Lohrey
Absolutely everything, dad, absolutely everything,
I have friends who don’t sleep at night.
Are they thinking of what’s happened or worried about tomorrow?
The ball came this close but missed my head.
It’s called a close call.
All of life is a close call, mother said.
Who, what, where, when, why, how?
Mother’s left breast is missing.
Does she miss it? Did he?
Humes. Clover. Des Moines, Iowa. Coldspring.
There’s no tomorrow and yesterday’s forgotten.
You will be missed means you’re still alive.
You’re not dead yet but you will be.
Welcome to your funeral.
Is anything missing?
There is something missing but I can’t put my finger on it.
My front tooth is missing.
I missed the bus.
Where’s my sock?
No, I don’t miss the bus.
I missed the boat.
“I’ll teach you to talk that way to your mother!”
“I won’t miss next time.”
There won’t be a next time, father.
There never is a next time.
I miss you.
On Becoming a Writer – Christine Ray Brave and Reckless Blog
Sometimes, adopting the names ‘writer’ and ‘poet’
Led her to encounters with the most amazing minds
Connecting her with a larger community
At other times she thought that ‘writer’ and ‘poet’
Were the loneliest names she had ever called herself
Waking up every morning
To unzip her chest, her gut
And bare her truths to the world
Because like others of her kind
She was complex, messy, containing
Multiple truths, not a singular one
Sometimes she felt like she was writing
To a small group of intimate friends
At others times,
She felt like she was calling out her truths
Into an empty desert landscape
Without even a coyote or armadillo
To hear her words before they fell away
Forlorn and unread
Unheard and unacknowledged
Rendering the writer, the poet herself
Invisible, diminished somehow
She was always struck by the juxtaposition
Of her physical body negotiating
Crowded subways and jostling city sidewalks
On the way to her day job
While her heart and mind
Wandered in the isolated wilderness
While errant words and wisps of dreams
And drops of feelings like rich, red blood
Continued to seep out of her
Brave and Reckless Blog
Splatter – Aakriti Kuntal
When the ink parts
between my tresses
I unfold like a streak of leather
and disappear into the horizon
A crimson casualty
of lifeless days
In my town
the weather is a dense blue
rivulets and arches, alleyways and purple boundaries
a liquid state
of all matter
a fluidity, a lisp, a demonstration
I have been weeding out
the pellets of time
time after time
they have grown scaly fingers and clumsy feet
You ask me
Where is the ‘ache’ ?
I throb, a spinning compass
I am Orion
I am Virgo
I am Polaris and Sirius
stretching and leaping
across time and its variety
the combustible zones of space
I have a mouth of flames
an insurgency of sores, the vacancies of unanswered questions
Time after Time
I pluck my tendons
twist and crack, break and wield
throw it all away
Am I diseased ?
Do I seem irregular to you ?
with my blurriness and putrid hues
Do I deviate from your slumber of stagnant happiness ?
for you continuously ask
Where is the ‘ache’ ?
I stay quiet
pastel white lips, creases of suspended chlorine
embroidered waves of a wallowing blue
the willows and the currents
burgundy and bourbon
I stay quiet
for how must I say
that I am the ache
I am the ache now
I am coarse and viscous
and I spill
Oh, how I spill
I spill like velveteen red blobs
I’m not afraid
I have no sex,
I have no religion, no color, no form
no mind, no interpretation, no perspective
I am sparse and dangling and damaged
Oh, so true
for only the truth can sting, sting and penetrate
and carve circles on your chest
and split you
and chop you
yet leave you calcified
remotely resembling the contours of a human female
Suburban Suicide – Erin Crocker (Author Erin Crocker)
Custom Homes from the Low 600’s
The Monday after I committed suicide, clouds formed over the plastic McMansion he’d promised me before slipping three-quarter karat cyanide on my left hand. Weighted drops of rain thrust their gelled bodies out gray figures like shit the day after a person over-indulges his or herself on a party-sized bag of Doritos.
My corpse, lost, within a forest of highlighted reverse bobs sitting behind leather steering wheels inside black Escalades, complaining how the forty-dollar bottle of ‘Damn Gina’ just stained the side of their ten-dollar iced-caramel-macchiato-choco-latte-Frappuccino—extra skinny, and ruined a selfie.
Blood slid down our AstroTurf lawns, syrup on Sunday morning pancakes, or paychecks from a nine-to-five-but-we-found-ourselves-going-in-at-seven-and-coming-home-at-ten-and-who-cares-if-a-glance-or-two-or-seven-is-exchanged-between-him-and-his-secretary type job, and suffocated us like Spanx.
We needed the money for a closetful of Louis Vuitton, because one should always keep a closetful of Louis Vuitton if she (or he) is attempting to impress fabricated friends to score an invitation to bunko night. Our laughs, GMO free as we dieted on sushi and engaged in photoshopped conversation about The Bachelor, or goldfish. The barrel of the gun cold as I poured a glass of Pinot and pulled the trigger.
[Pictured Elis Regina]
Tomorrow is Last Day of Contest / Tom Slatin
Tomorrow is the last day of the contest. I am looking forward to sending the judges your work. We have received an enormous amount of good work, and it is going to be hard to determine a winner. 1st place is 100 dollars. 2nd is 50 dollars. 3rd is 25 dollars. We will publish the finalists. We do not retain rights to any of the works.
I would like to say that the most rewarding part of this process is talking to other writers, which I’m sure I’ve mentioned before. I wanted to take a second and say a big thank you to Tom Slatin. He has a wonderful website with photography and writing. When I first started, he gave me invaluable advice about the process and sent me several stickers. I wanted to take a second to say thank you to him for taking his time to reach out to someone who was just starting. I have tried to pass that along and will continue to do so. Please take a moment to look at Tom’s wonderful work: TomSlatin.com.
Update on Contest and New Writers
It has been a tremendous week, and we have received many wonderful submissions for the contest. The more I have thought about it, I believe we should add a prize for second and third place.
1st Place: 100 dollars
2nd Place: 50 dollars
3rd Place: 25 dollars
We will narrow it down to five or six pieces and then publish one every day as we make our decision. There is still a great deal of time; the contest ends on the 30th. We look forward to looking at all of the submissions, and, on a personal note, I have thoroughly enjoyed interacting with so many of you. Writing can be a solitary practice, and it is nice to engage with so many talented individuals who share our passion for the written word.
We have showcased several new writers over the last week and appreciate all of the support they have received. We have published works by Georgia Park (Private Bad Thoughts), Laura McGowan (Skinny and Single), Mick Hugh (Mick’s Neon Fog), Nicole Lyons (The Lithium Chronicles), as well as Pbbr, and myself. We have several new writers to publish over the next week, which we are excited about. If you feel like you may be a good fit for us, please drop us an email.