WRITE 1200 WORDS. WIN $500.
WRITE 1200 WORDS. WIN $500.
All You Can Ever Know is Nicole’s story of being adopted, which quickly widens into an intergenerational weaving of two families and the event that pins them together; it’s about loss and love and the incredible complexities that relate one person to another.
1. What book do you find yourself coming back to again and again?
AG: Any book by Toni Morrison. I’ve read her again and again and it always lifts me into a better version of myself, doubles the size of my heart, and restores my faith in the power of beauty. I’ve also read Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg many times and expect I’ll keep reading it for the rest of my life.
Leesa Cross-Smith wants you to write 200 words on the theme of BRIGHT—words so shiny we almost can’t look at them directly. But we’ll risk it anyway, just for you.
Introducing Leesa Cross-Smith, the judge of our third Micro-Fiction Award. Leesa Cross-Smith is the author of the novel Whiskey & Ribbons (Hub City Press, 2018), the short story collection Every Kiss A War (Mojave River Press, 2014), the forthcoming short story collection So We Can Glow (Grand Central Publishing, 2020) and forthcoming novel This Close To Okay (Grand Central Publishing, 2021).
An intimate interview with artist Annamarie Williams - an illustrator and sculptor, whose artwork adds to the conversation of physical, sexual, and mental abuse and inequality. Her work looks closely at the chaos that often surrounds the female body and the uterus. Williams constructs garments and her canvases from these delicately stained fabrics. Each garment is in honor of a victim of sexual abuse, and each is decorated with symbols to represent each person. Williams allows the random staining and blots to be the outlines of various faces and hands, reminding us that the human form is perfect and organic, including its past stains.
Once, as a kid, while we were preparing for a move, I was helping clean out my family’s storage space and found a copy of Little Black Sambo. It was from the ’70s or before, possibly an original, and because of that, possibly valuable. I did not have any context for the book. All I knew at the time was that it was cute, though a little racist. I called my dad’s attention to it, and he most likely dismissed it as an old childhood book, but there had to be a story to it.
Paper Darts is an independent, entirely women-run magazine of art & lit. We make art and literature come together in big, bold ways to fight the big, bad world. We don’t make money, but we make meaning. We make space. Want to help? Purchase today and keep art + lit allllliiiivvvvveeee.
It makes my heart swell and expand (and feel loads less alone) to report that sixteen women were courageous enough to share publicly, here on Paper Darts, that they struggle with their mental health. They were also brave enough to let me draw pictures of them even though I have little to no actual previous practice with drawing real human faces. Some of the women you’ll meet are writers, others are personal trainers and real estate agents and software engineers. (Mental health issues are not picky about occupations)...
That’s right! Carmen Maria Machado is judging this year's Paper Darts Short Fiction Award.
I just can't take another manic penciled dream girl. Please. No more. No more male fantasies perpetuated as visual art, please. Do we really need another unexamined portrait of a nude female body created by a white male artist? No. Even on Instagram? No.
Dear 2017, you were ugly, but your covers were gorgeous. As we say goodbye and look forward to the new year, don't forget there's still time to add these lovely books to your collection, and there's 365 fresh Instagram squares to fill with all your good taste. ❤
Art Basel is long gone. Scott Disick went home. The Miami spectacle of sun, celebrity, fashion, and $$$ may have faded, but gosh darn it, the artists deserve remembering. We vow to follow these 20 artists wherever they go, into the new year and beyond. Join us, won't you?
This has been an extraordinary year for the dark, the weird, and the speculative, especially by women writers. It's easy to feel lost and frozen while facing a daily carousel of political crises, but nothing gives us more hope and strength than the brave women who share their art and stories in spite of it all. Here we focus on a few of our favorite collections of the year.
The first time I was introduced to Marlena Chertock was with her short story “Wonder Women,” an intimate construction of two friends as they don costumes for a comic convention. The real wonder woman, however, is Marlena herself. In addition to being a stellar short fiction writer and the poetry editor of District Lit magazine, Marlena has published two chapbooks: On that one-way trip to Mars from Bottlecap Press, and Crumb-Sized, out this year from Unnamed Press. Marlena writes with a clarity that makes sci-poetry digestible and as informative as it is relatable. After picking up her collections, you’ll feel smarter and stronger as you stand in solidarity with Marlena’s brilliant mind.
In the mid-’90s, book clubs took a new form with Oprah. Oprah has been a uniquely influential personality in several ways, not the least of which is her culture of accessibility. Her book club selections are, as Anne Helen Petersen describes them in her book Too Fat, Too Slutty, Too Loud, decidedly “midcult”—that is, not quite high art, but not quite lowbrow culture. They reflect a diverse authorship, often discover new and overlooked talent, and remain unintimidating to her substantial fandom.
Without your micro-fiction, we’re like a flightless bird, sauceless noodles, or decarbonated LaCroix. We loved the response to our last contest so much that, naturally, we’re having another one.
Lesley Nneka Arimah is a Nigerian writer living in Minneapolis. Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, Harper's, GRANTA, and other publications. What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky, her debut collection of stories, was published in April by Riverhead Books.
“Please,” your father says once we’re aboard, wrapping my hand over his. “Call me Hugh. Or, hey, call me Captain de Chaumareys.” When I withdraw, the palm of my left hand is indented with the shapes of his rings: a hexagon with a diamond within it, an egg, and a five-pointed star.
Esmé Weijun Wang wants you to write 200 spotless words on the theme of cleanliness for an award of $100.