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Publishing Addendums

Grant R 1In creating a broadside, I approach it much like any other creative endeavor: a stack of blank copy paper and .05 roller ball pens. I begin with a preliminary read of the author’s work and produce sketches enveloped by the initial gut feeling. The...

Originally blogged by The Best American Poetry, April 3, 2014.

It happens I am a fool. It happens I’m rather good at being a fool. It happens I am at my foolish best in Lisbon.

...

My copy of The Divine Comedy smells as good as it did when I acquired it decades ago. Previous owners’ comments embroider the lines, punctuated with exclamation points and question marks, stars and circles, lines and arrows. The pages, dry as fall leaves (of course), are a darker brown around the perimeter, a reverse halo, circumnavigating the terza rima stanzas that to this day reek of...

Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen

Lyrics:

I threw a wish in the well,

Don't ask me, I'll never tell

I looked to you as it fell,

And now you're in my way

Many cultures throughout history have regarded water, because of its vital necessity to human existence, as a sacred gift from the gods. The idea of a wishing well, a body of water which will grant wishes, comes from this...

I took a job for a year on Shemya, a small remote island at the end of the Aleutian chain 1,500 miles west of Anchorage, Alaska, an area familiar to some of you from the series Deadliest Catch. The job, cleaning and general maintenance, with...

I’m fascinated by gimmick memoirs—what’s sometimes referred to as “schtick” lit. You know the kind of book I’m talking about: Julie & Julia, Nickel and Dimed, everything by...

So, let's be frank—I am a hypocrite creatively.  If I could paint the content of my stories a color it would most likely be gray.

tucker boys NAR illustration

I grew up like most of...

It is not a quick and dramatic emergency room reveal; it a process of many tests and scans, after each of which you may get the phone call that interrupts your day: you cannot save your sibling’s life. In this fall’s issue of the North American Review, my poem, “Love Poem to my Kidney,” will appear. It is a poem about the time about a year after my brother’s kidney transplant, for which I was the donor....

Throughout middle school, I was bullied by multiple people. The bullying wasn’t physical in nature, but emotional and social, which perhaps made it all the more traumatizing. Even today, at age twenty-four, I still feel its lasting effects in my most vulnerable moments. I tried to capture that intensity, pain, and hyper self-awareness in “Like Snowflakes,” a story that is at once distant from my own specific memories yet intimately personal—and intimately adolescent...

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