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Dear Leo #8

Betty and Veronica— or how opposites attract (the reader) by Leonora Desar Opposites are in. This is in the tradition not only of Paula Abdul, but of film, literature, comics, TV shows. Infomercials, probably, too. There’s Betty and Veronica (Archie). Mike and Eleven...

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The Dear Leo Call for Questions

Is there something you’ve always wanted to know about the writing process? Or maybe you’re curious about the submission process? Maybe you want to know why LEO never wears matching socks, why she’s obsessed with ice cream, why she never takes a normal bio pic. ...

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Dear Leo #7

In Praise of Writing “Dull” by Leonora Desar Or how a simple writing prompt is better than all the good ideas— One day, instead of writing, I was doing my usual. I googled: “writers better than I am” and “writers that will inspire me to get off my butt.” I came across...

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Dear Leo #6

Writing Your Inner Child Or how to see with “Salvador Dali Eyes” (an awesome story by Douglas Campbell that you’re going to wish you wrote yourself)by Leonora DesarSometimes (often) being an adult is lame. Not to mention writing about it. By writing from a kid or...

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Dear Leo # 5

 Talk to Someone Weird (and leave the house) by Leonora Desar When I was at journalism school I was always super curious—and jealous—of the fiction people. They got to make stuff up while I had to hang out at the bodega with weird men named Gabe. I had to get...

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Dear Leo # 4

How to talk to dead writers—and get them to talk back (aka another off-the-rails-column-by-dear-leo) by Leonora Desar My favorite writer is Ned Vizzini. There’s this book, It’s Kind of a Funny Story. It’s sitting here right now. It has a yellow cover and a map of a...

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I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours by Eliot Li

I tell you I’ve only ever shown it to a girl who I met on a tour bus in Moscow, where I was traveling with my parents. She had bad acne, and she really liked Duran Duran.

Fulfilling by Fiona McKay

Kate is not ‘imagining it’. There are small tufts of pale fluff on her neck, and no, it’s not ‘just a tissue in the washing machine’ as John suggests. There’s nothing drifting off his shirts, nothing clinging to Ella’s favourite black top, Josh’s Minecraft t-shirts. It’s more solid than tissue, just on her clothes. And only she can see it.

Bog Iron by Shane Larkin

We make stops on the way to our bog plot to look at the little skeletons. Dad tells me about them. Curlews and skylarks in dancing poses. Tiny skulls.

Electric Storm by Kathryn Aldridge-Morris

It’s been twenty minutes since the first bolt of lightning ripped a scar through the purple night sky. Since my mother said to swim in the rain ― it’s fun. Since her boyfriend Colin said he’d join us― to check we’re ok.

The Storyteller of Aleppo by Donna Obeid

In the barren cold camp, you wear a dusty cape and top hat, wave my cane as if it were a wand and tell me your dream-stories, one after the next, your words spun and tossed like tethers into the air.

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