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Glimmer Train is currently accepting submissions for its Short Story Award for New Writers contest through February 28.  The contest is open to writers whose fiction has not appeared in any print publication with a circulation over 5,000.  Contest entries must not have appeared in any print publication.  Stories submitted to this category are typically 1,500 to 6,000 words and should not exceed 12,000 words.

The first place winner will receive $1,500, publication in Glimmer Train Stories, and twenty copies of that issue.  The second and third place winners will receive $500 and $300, respectively, and possible publication.  Results will be announced in the May 1 bulletin, and the winning story will be published in Issue 93.  For more information or to submit your work, visit the website at http://www.glimmertrain.com/newwriters.html.

 

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February Twilight

I stood beside a hill

Smooth with new-laid snow,

A single star looked out

From the cold evening glow.

 

There was no other creature

That saw what I could see –

I stood and watched the evening star

As long as it watched me.

 

~ Sara Teasdale

 

"The Evening Star" by Edward Burne-Jones, 1870

“The Evening Star” by Edward Burne-Jones, 1870

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

 

                         ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

 

"The Frosty Morning" by Nikolay Dubovskoy, 1894

“The Frosty Morning” by Nikolay Dubovskoy, 1894

Presented annually by the UCLA Extension Writers’ Program, the Writers Studio brings together a community of writing students to workshop with some of Southern California’s most esteemed professional writers and teachers.

Participants select one of ten intensive four-day workshops in creative writing and screenwriting planned for the 2015 Writers Studio, including The Joy of Writing: A Workshop in Craft and Creativity, Writing the First Novel, Writing the Young Adult Novel, Accessing Your Stories in a Flash: A Short Fiction Writing Workshop, Writing the Personal Essay, and Writing the Memoir.  Enrollment is on a first come, first served basis, and each class is limited to fifteen students.

The Writers Studio fee of $940 includes enrollment in one four-day workshop February 5-8, a continental breakfast on Thursday, a special Saturday guest speaker event, and a Sunday reception.

For more information and to register, visit the website at http://writers.uclaextension.edu/programs-services/writers-studio.

 

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It was the kind of scene in which Lily had often pictured herself as taking the principal part, and on this occasion the fact that she was once more merely a casual spectator, instead of the mystically veiled figure occupying the centre of attention, strengthened her resolve to assume the latter part before the year was over.  The fact that her immediate anxieties were relieved did not blind her to a possibility of their recurrence; it merely gave her enough buoyancy to rise once more above her doubts and feel a renewed faith in her beauty, her power, and her general fitness to attract a brilliant destiny.  It could not be that one conscious of such aptitudes for mastery and enjoyment was doomed to a perpetuity of failure; and her mistakes looked easily reparable in the light of her restored self-confidence.

 

~ From The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton, born on this day in 1862

 

"Edith Wharton" by Edward Harrison May, 1870

“Edith Wharton” by Edward Harrison May, 1870

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were – I have not seen

As others saw – I could not bring

My passions from a common spring –

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow – I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone –

And all I lov’d – I lov’d alone –

Then – in my childhood – in the dawn

Of a most stormy life – was drawn

From ev’ry depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still –

From the torrent, or the fountain –

From the red cliff of the mountain –

From the sun that ’round me roll’d

In its autumn tint of gold –

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass’d me flying by –

From the thunder, and the storm –

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view –

 

~ Edgar Allan Poe, born on this day in 1809

 

Eyolf Soot, 1895

Eyolf Soot, 1895

To the Dreamer

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

 

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

 

                                   ~ Langston Hughes, “Dreams”

 

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