In this installment of State of the Art, New Flash Fiction Review editors and recent contributors—those winning and commended in this year’s contest—share insights on their writing lives and processes.
Denise entered the extended stay hotel room, tugging off her damp windbreaker over her
pharmacy scrubs. She called, “Hello, my darling girl.” A small collie jumped toward Denise.
Mom took me to an outdoor mall after picking me up from kindergarten. In the middle of an
atrium, enormous rocks were piled on each other like giant meatballs. She let me climb over
them while she waited on a bench nearby.
Valerie Fox speaks with Dan Crawley, author of The Wind, It Swirls, and Blur, about figurative language, seeking connections, and joyful challenges.
I’m sure Ellie doesn’t want to go out for her birthday. She’ll bury her nose in a book, and I’ll let her be. Plus, I have more DVRed shows to watch.
A young boy entered the sunken ball court through the skinny entrance not far from the ancient pueblo ruins.
I’m sitting with my mother this morning at the rehab hospital. She is learning how not to be so vulnerable, using a walker, working at not dragging her leg after her like a heavy sack, lifting small weights over her head.
