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Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 1
Issue 14
Bittersweetness
10th April, 2016
This issue features the parallels and contrasts of Bitterness and Sweetness,
embodied in joy and pain, beauty and conflict, comfort and hardship: the
extreme emotions we feel in equal and profound measures. We encounter
lovers on a journey from pain into hope, the uncomfortable squirm of projected
judgment, and the realisation that toast can trump love. We introduce the first
in a series of connected short stories by author Nicole Bostrom, in which a
young woman must make a difficult personal and social choice. We also have
our first album review by editor Ana’Rchy, and another curated collection of
contests, competitions and calls-for-submissions from organisations in Australia
and elsewhere in the world.
Don’t forget the writing exercise on the back page (extra credit for sending us
a submission that came from one of our writing exercises!), and connect with us
on Facebook and Twitter for more Underground updates.
~ Jemimah
Editor-in-Chief
2 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
Editor-in-Chief
Jemimah Halbert
Volunteer editors
Timi Adeyemi Dylan Dartnell
Kate Lomas Glendenning
Ana Victoria L. Neves Candace Sharpe
Shelley Timms Jessica Wilson
Contributors
Trevor Scott Barton
Nicole Bostrom
Shelby Traynor
Ana Victoria L. Neves
Underground Literary Magazine is published four times a year
Underground would like to respectfully acknowledge this magazine was produced and edited on the
traditional lands of the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, and also on the traditional lands of the Wadjuk
people of the Nyoongar nation. As an internationally-reaching magazine, we also pay our respects to the
traditional custodians of all the lands from which the stories and poems in this issue were sourced.
Views expressed by authors are not necessarily those of the publisher. Copyright is reserved, meaning no one is
permitted to scan or photograph our pages and publish them anywhere else. Reproduction in whole or part is
prohibited.
Contact
Submit your work to Underground at [email protected]
For general enquiries email us at [email protected]
Our website is underground-writers.org
Find us on Facebook at Underground Writers
Follow us on Twitter @undergroundWA
Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 3
Contents
Cover…………………………………………………….Editor’s Letter
4…….…….………..Review: Panic! At the Disco’s Death of a Bachelor,
by Ana’Rchy
6……..…….Feature piece: My Subconscious Doesn’t Care About You,
by Shelby Traynor
7………………………………………Look, Frida, by Shelby Traynor
8-11……….……………………….Revolution, by Trevor Scott Barton
12-16…..….A fine morning on the Oakland Estuary, by Nicole Bostrom
17…………………………………………Introducing: Nicole Bostrom
18-19…………………………….…….Upcoming Local Opportunities
20-23……………………….….Upcoming International Opportunities
24-25……………………………………………...……….Our Editors
Back cover……………………..………….Writing exercise & Contact
Apology for incorrect attribution
Underground would like to issue a correction and apology regarding issue
13. The pieces Gush and Firestarters were incorrectly attributed to
Lunabella; the correct author's name is Luna Ma Narama. We apologise
for this mistake, and the corrected version of issue 13 can be downloaded
from the Underground website.
4 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
‘Death of a Bachelor’
Panic! At the disco
A lot of people feel betrayed that Brendon Urie is still performing
on his own under the moniker of Panic! At the Disco.
The band has been known to change up their style for each album,
and it’s been thought that this had been done to keep up with the
tastes of fans. I consider this theory to be a bit simplistic. I think fans of the band
and their brand have been able to relate to their growth and evolution over the
years, and every time a new album is released, can appreciate the story it tells.
Death of a Bachelor is no different. This album incorporates some very
small elements of what made the old albums so “Panic!” but completely reinvents
and reinvigorates their sound. Starting strong with Victorious, to Brendon’s
beautifully haunting vocals in Emperor’s New Clothes, quickly followed by his
mellow crooning in the titular song, Death of a Bachelor, the whole album
leaves the listener with a gorgeous story to piece together.
Being that Brendon is now the sole creator and contributor to this album,
the lyrics feel almost autobiographical, and keeping that in mind, the album is
more than anything we’ve come to expect from Panic! At the Disco in previous
years. This shows such a dedication from Brendon Urie to the fans, but also a
respect for the name of Panic! At the Disco. It’s a welcome rebirth for one of the
noughties’ favourite bands!
Recalling a time when P!AtD and Fall Out Boy were compared to each
other, The Good, The Bad And The Dirty, is a fantastic anthem, reminiscent of
our collective emo/pop-punk phases, with some bad-ass lyrics to match.
For all the hype that comes with the rest of the album, the second last song,
House of Memories, though catchy, leaves the lyrically inclined listener wanting,
as its lyrics seem lacking in much depth. This makes it a bit of a let down,
considering the quality of the rest of the album, and makes the lead-up to the
final song less poignant. If this song had been left off the album, it wouldn’t be
missed.
Revie
w
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The album ends on a melodically captivating note, with the final song, Impossible
Year, carrying the listener through beautifully thought out metaphors and subtle
clichés. The sound of the piano lifting the spirit to a crescendo as the final song
signals an almost classical goodbye, brings forth the images of a black and white
movie, where one can’t be entirely sure if the ending was a happy one… Like
Casablanca.
I have found this album easy to listen to, all the way through, regardless of
how I’m feeling. I’m still constantly impressed by the attention to detail, and the
effort Brendon Urie put into this creation. I always used to say Panic! At the Disco
was all Brendon Urie, and now, we can definitely say Brendon Urie is Panic! At
the Disco. And I, for one, am so excited for what this new era will bring!
4/5 - would listen again!
P.S. Make sure to watch the music videos for the full experience.
~ Ana’Rchy
6 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
My Subconscious Doesn’t Care About You
Shelby Traynor
there is nothing I can pull from my memory
quicker than the smell of toast
or the crunch of toast
the sound of curved cutlery on crisp bread
turned golden by red hot wire
and melting butter
I can’t yank that feeling of lips curving
that person singing
those bones weighing down hospital beds
so what does it say
of my subconscious
when all it ever really gives a shit about
is toast?
Shelby Traynor is a nineteen year old writer from the suburban wastelands of Perth, Western Australia.
Fea
ture p
iece
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Look, Frida
Shelby Traynor
Frida Kahlo is staring at me from the head of my bed. Her self-portrait is taped in lilac
at the corners, her flower crown balanced on her head like a bouquet.
She makes me want to be spectacular
– she’s my dreamcatcher, and right now she’s looking pretty disinterested.
My bed is my cushioned hell. It’s where I sit to be glared at by Frida, to
crumple my posture and crack my spine. Yawn and weigh the justice of my eyelids.
It took me a day to notice the barbed wire circling her neck, and the hand
hanging from her ear. She just looked so pretty, so tired, amongst my pillows
and through my sleepy eyes.
8 Underground
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Revolution
Trevor Scott Barton
I t was a rainy morning in Havana. He looked out the window over the old city and
saw the dark clouds rolling in from the sea. He felt the cool breeze across his body.
He turned quietly and watched her sleeping. The sheet rose and fell with each of
her deep and rhythmic breaths. He was glad she was finally resting. "Is she
dreaming of a time or a place, of the sea or of what brought us here?," he wondered.
Yesterday, they thought they would not see the light of the new day. There was a
cut across her cheek, a rip in her jeans, and a determined look on her face as they
struggled hand in hand across the countryside. They arrived at the hotel in the night. He
washed away the dirt and pain from her body, took her worn and tattered clothes off of
her, and soothed the fear and chaos within her. He remembered the look of fearlessness
and hopefulness that were in her eyes as they journeyed together, a look that comforted
him now as he watched her sleep.
He laid down beside her. The curves of her body reminded him of the gently rolling
hills below the mountains where he lived as a boy. She was beautiful like that land, like
the flowers he found as he roamed the countryside, like the soil he walked over
barefooted as his grandfather turned the earth with a donkey and plow, like the leaves
of the trees that sparkled green after the rains of the rainy season. He moved close to
her until he felt the breathing of her breath upon his face and the beating of her heart
upon his chest. He closed his eyes.
He felt the heartbeat of her as a little girl.
She had lived with her landless family on a farm in a neighboring village. Her
weathered Father was a campesino, with wrinkles on his face for all of the times he had
walked down long rows of beans in the hot sun to hoe away weeds. There was a kindness
in his eyes that welled up from the deep feelings he had felt as he worked to keep his
family alive. His hands and feet were calloused and gnarled for they had been blistered
and broken and used as tools all of his life. He had worked from the time he had toddled
beside his own Father and the workers of the plantation of his childhood until now, in the
time of the middle of his life, when the same land, the land of the wealthy owners, had
bent his back to make it appear as if he were continually genuflecting to God, or to the
wealthy, or to the land itself. He was not a political person. She had observed his life,
however, for she was a gifted girl who saw deeply into the lives of people and knew,
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Underground 9
simply knew, the inner workings of their minds and hearts and the true meanings of their
words and actions. In that observation she saw the life of her Father eloquently speak, "I
am a human being...no person is more important than another...my family has a right to
food, shelter, clothing, school, and medicine...We are human beings," and those words
grew with her and were watered by the laughter she laughed as she was playing with
friends in her community and the tears she cried as she was laying in bed hungry from
only one meal from the day.
He felt the heartbeat of her as a young woman.
She had been there at the mass rally at the university in Santiago de Cuba the
week before the struggle began to overthrow the Batista regime. He had been there,
too. Their voices joined together with the voices of hundreds and thousands of students,
campesinos, professors, and rebel leaders and rumbled across the night sky to the
furthest reaches of the island. "We ask for a fair price for beans and rice...we ask for a
fair price for a room to sleep...we ask for a fair price for shirts and shoes...we ask for
schools for our children...we ask for care from doctors and hospitals...we ask for work so
we can build up these things for our people because we need them to live...we need
them to live!" It was then that he had seen her for the first time. Her fist was clenched
and raised to the sky, her black hair hung down along her back, her brown eyes
glistened under the lights of the field where they shouted and sang their hopes and
dreams for their country, for their poor families, for their people. Out of all the people
there around him, she was the one...the one his eyes could not leave...the one his heart
could not forget. He knew then that their courage and compassion would draw them
together and bond them as friends and lovers. In those first days he thought of what it
might feel like to be with her, to feel her hunger for his body, for her to feel his hunger
for hers...to be with her, to hear the stories of her childhood, to share the stories of
his...to be with her as they were together now, naked and holding each other, loving
each other, protecting each other.
He felt the heartbeat of her as she was now.
One week ago, he was sitting in a barracks in Santiago de Cuba, shoulder to
shoulder and knee to knee with compañeros, under the watchful eyes of Batistas
henchmen. Those government soldiers had fired their guns in the air and jammed them
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Issue 14: April, 2016
into their backs as they left a mass meeting demanding rights for the campesinos and a
new, democratic government for the people. The prisoners had been stripped down to
their undershorts, slapped across their faces and heads, and spit upon by the soldiers.
One soldier had taken his hands, hands he had used to write the speech that was
delivered that night at the mass meeting, hands he had used to build up instead of tear
down...the soldier had taken those hands, tied them to a table, and hit them over and
over again with a heavy, jagged rock until they were swollen and sore, broken and
bleeding, until tears streamed down his cheeks and fell off onto the dirt floor like drops
of rain from a heavy sky. The prisoners had not eaten for three days and drank water
from a bucket and a rusty, dented dipper set down in the middle of the room early in
the morning and late at night. His eye was swollen and blackened from the abuse, his
stomach hollow and cramped from hunger, and his tongue so dry he could barely speak.
It was then, as he held his head in his arms, hunched over, falling into despair, that he
heard explosions and gunshots around the camp. The guards ran this way and that way
in confusion. The prisoners moved en masse toward the door and spilled out into the
night. He made his way to the barbed wire behind the barracks and she was there. She
leaned close to him, catching her cheek on a barb, and took the wire into her own hands
and pulled it apart until he could step one leg and then his whole body through to
freedom. She pulled him to her and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Hola, mi cariño," she
had whispered. "Gracias," he had breathed. "Estoy aquí," she had gently sang, "Estoy
aquí," as she rocked him back and forth in her arms, and he had wept as if he were a
boy lost but then found by his mother, and the tears fell again but not onto the dirt floor
of the prison but onto Gabbys dark, tender skin. In all of the chaos around them, she
took his arm. "Vamos, tenemos que ir," she said and pulled him away.
For one week they had made their way west across the island toward Havana,
finding clothes and shelter in the homes of friendly, frightened campesinos along the
road, eating sugar cane and drinking water from rivers and swamps, sleeping in the
swamps covered with mosquitoes but surrounded by stars by night, making their way to
the great city where they would continue their work in the revolution. Now they were
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here, body to body, heartbeat to heartbeat, in the morning light of a rainy day in
Havana.
She sighed and began to stir. There were times in their lives when their lovemaking
was like a thunderstorm. He would come home from the University or the barrio and as
soon as he walked through the door she would push him down onto the couch and take
him into herself as if he were a deep breath of air. Or he would take her hand at a
gathering and lead her to a private place and lift her dress and take her from behind as
if he were a strong gust of wind across the land. Sometimes it was like a hurricane. They
would crash upon the bed and lose themselves in time and space rolling across, under,
above and into each other until they were left soaked and silent in each others arms. And
sometimes it was like a soft rain. Their fingers would gently tap, tap, tap across each
others skin, their lips would brush against each others lips like a soft breeze, and they
themselves would move into each other as if they were leaves twirling down from a tree
in a spring shower. Today their lovemaking was like the soft rain. "Tomás," she trembled
as she opened her eyes. "Mi mariposa hermosa," he answered. "Estoy aqui, estoy aqui."
Though their bodies had been broken by the revolution, they made love to each other
like the rain that fell softly out the window on the city of Havana.
Trevor teaches at an inner-city elementary school in Greenville, S.C. and writes for the community newspaper, The Greenville Journal. You can follow him on
Twitter @teachandwrite
12 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
A fine morning on the Oakland Estuary
Nicole Bostrom
W ith difficulty, she labels a test tube containing another water sample.
Given the rocking canoe and screaming from her ridiculous sister and
friends on shore, Molly, Molly, the fools chant, it’s all she can do to
print neatly, much less get the information down in its correct order:
12/8/16 – Oakland Estuary, 14:22 hours, 37.7940 N, 122.3153 W. She hands the
slender vial to Laura, a cranky double-major grad student: Environmental Science and
Engineering – with honors. Dark-haired and scowling, Laura’s seated at the bow of her
precious canoe. Specially engineered concrete canoe, she’s drilled into Molly since morning,
which feels like a week ago.
“Thank you,” she tells Molly, pressing skinny lips into a fake smile before inserting the
sample into a tray of two-dozen others. They each hold water Molly’s siphoned from
different points along the narrow inlet. “Sit carefully!” Laura adds for the thousandth time.
But Molly’s already back in her cold perch in the hull. Her chubby thighs squeezed together,
allowing room enough to row and avoiding the witch’s next command to step lightly.
But Laura’s meaner to Josh. Bearded and owl-faced, Josh does the heavy paddling
at the stern and is in the School of Journalism at Cal. He’s won a big award for publishing
a series of articles on pollution in the estuary and surrounding neighborhoods. His work was
even picked up by The Times; though Laura claims journalists are wimps. Clearly, she’s
jealous.
“Your friends will shut up?” Laura asks, fixing Molly in the center of her blue Ray-
Bans.
A chubby, brown-haired girl in each lens nods back. She should have definitely slept
in this morning. Half the ecology class did, including Fred, who’s now screaming loudest on
shore and flapping his short arms. He resembles a bellowing sea lion, balancing on short
flippers. And there’s her tiny, blonde sister, Mia, at the end of the bunch, jumping and
waving, like an annoying gnat. She’s flanked by two stuck-up BFFs in big sunglasses, skinny
jeans – and vaping, of course. Idiots. And skinny Charles stands behind his camera, filming
everything. Shit. What are they doing here anyway?
It’s not like any of them care about Mrs. James’ family, or the Lakeside community.
They probably haven’t even read Josh’s articles that Ms. Fischer assigned: Two hundred
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Underground 13
families sickened by local drinking water. Mia certainly didn’t read them. They’re
probably here scoring dope, or whatever.
And she’s stuck in a canoe with a madwoman and being blamed for her sister’s
obnoxious friends. Meanwhile, Charles is pointing the camera right at them. Damn. She’ll
just ignore him. Tune all of them out. At least she’s doing something useful. And they’re
heading back to the pier. They’ve collected all the samples Laura needs. And they’re
moving with the current. And it’s high tide, thank god, since the row of collapsed factories
they’re approaching stinks; though Josh says it’s way worse when the tide is out.
It used to be a homeless village until the support pillars rotted, causing a cave-in. A
few people were killed, others injured; it was awful. And now a huge cyclone fence
surrounds the mess with big warning signs to KEEP OUT. She can’t imagine wanting to go
in.
Molly, Molly.
This has to be her sister’s idea of a joke. Pulling back on the oars more vigorously,
her upper arms are killing her: swim team or not. How does tiny Laura do it? Must be the
long, orangutan arms she’s got.
Molly, Molly!
Laura groans in front while Molly ducks her head, letting the Warrior’s cap cover her
face. Take that, Charles. Though this could be Fred’s doing: his dumb way of asking her to
Spring Fling – like she’d go.
Doubling-down on her effort, she’s just managing to keep up with Laura’s maniacal
pace; but once they pass the bend of factories, they’ll be out of sight of the fools and
almost at the pier. And she’ll be free of this horrible woman.
Still, Ms. Fischer reminded them this morning that it’s been the hard work of Cal
students, like Laura and Josh, to have identified the estuary as being the probable source
of toxic levels of cadmium, mercury and lead; the very same chemicals found in Mrs.
James’ drinking water and much of nearby Lakeside for the last two years. No local or
state environmental agency has lifted a finger to investigate. Instead, it’s been the sole
work of Cal students to draw national attention to low-income families being poisoned by
their drinking water.
14 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
In fact, Laura suspects that an old computer mainframe factory, which is inside the
fenced off heap, is causing the pollution, especially since water tested around the area
contains the highest concentration of the three chemicals. And the three chemicals are
standard byproducts of computer manufacturing. Josh agrees. It’s the only thing they seem
to agree on, but it’s kept them working together all through graduate school.
Strange, the estuary’s never looked so clear. Sunlight bounces off gentle ripples and
San Francisco shimmers in the distance: everything sparkles. But Josh warned her against
splashing any water in her eyes or mouth and to wash her hands thoroughly before eating
or touching food. Actually, he and Laura also agree there’s probably a leaking storage
tank full of waste from the computer factory that’s buried close by. But the City of
Oakland’s too preoccupied with building luxury apartments downtown to cleanup this area
and the statute of limitations has run out to prosecute the factory owners.
Molly. Molly. Molly.
“Can’t you do something?” Laura twists around, snarling with shoulders hunched.
“Can’t you shut them up?”
In all honesty, Molly would love to shut them up – shut everyone up – but what is she
supposed to do? Ask folks politely to be quiet?
“I can’t think with these Neanderthals,” the double-major-doctoral-candidate
continues. “And I still have work to do, if-you-don’t-mind.” She jolts back and attacks the
water.
Damn. Laura’s a bitch. And no way can Molly keep up now. But then, Mrs. James sat
in their living room a few days ago crying, because half of Lakeside has moved out. She
and her three grandchildren are living in a wasteland, she told Molly’s mom. And she’s too
sick to clean their house. Her grandkids are sick too; the whites in their eyes have turned
piss-yellow. Molly saw it herself. It’s liver failure, Josh explained, from cadmium and
mercury poisoning.
Molly, Molly!
She’s up, turning to the fools on shore, “Hey, guys,” she yells. “Guys!” But damn, if
the canoe doesn’t lurch away all of a sudden. Her feet and legs are moving forward, while
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Underground 15
the rest pitches backwards; her head’s going for a concrete side, for sure. And the whole
boat’s skimming fast away. Shit!
Screams blanket her while she braces for impact – it’s fucking going to hurt. Then
she’s bouncing right into contaminated water.
Eyes closed, she hits something solid, but not too hard. And strong arms hold onto
her.
“Gotcha,” Josh says into an ear.
But she squirms; she doesn’t want him to feel how fat she is.
“Fucking shit!” Laura’s shriek pierces the clamor. “Morons!”
The test tubes! A wild thumping now fills her chest and ears and she tries to sit
upright, clasping a bleeding hand onto grey concrete. But Josh keeps hold.
“Oh my God! Molly!” she hears Mia, exclaim. “Are you all right? My God!”
“All’s well,” Josh shouts to the group, still securing her in the seat.
“Jesus Christ!” Laura breaks in. “All is not well! Stupid – stupid!”
“Awesome!” Fred yells. “You were taking out the boat!”
She lurches up just as Laura secures a lid over the metal box of samples. Thank god.
“Yo, is Ms. Fischer with you?” Fred yells at her. “Am I in trouble?”
“Sweet, Jesus,” Laura says. “Can we get out of here,” she fumes, fitting the square
container under a seat before eyeing Josh. “Huh? Can we move?” She takes up her oars
and ignores Molly.
“Are those my Chookas?” Mia now shrieks. “Molly!”
Shit. Leave it to Mia to spot her stupid boots. And, of course, Charles has his
camera up.
“You’re wearing my boots!” Mia continues.
“You okay?” Josh asks her quietly, as a full-throated chorus of Molly-Molly starts in.
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Issue 14: April, 2016
She’s jammed back in the hull, hand still bleeding, and rows in time to Josh’s soft
count of one-two, one-two – in rhythm with Molly, Molly. Stupid Mia; it was dark when she
grabbed the dumb things.
But she almost ruined a whole day’s collection of samples. Thank god, Ms. Fischer
went to the San Leandro Estuary with the rest of the class. Molly-Molly. Thank god they’re
paddling away. Laura’s shoulders lurch up and down, like she’s pounding someone to
death. Molly-Molly. She should have fallen in. She’d have hidden under the computer
factory until dark. Then gotten cancer and died.
“I’m interviewing Mrs. James later,” Josh tells her. “We both want you to come.
Okay?”
Molly-Molly. No. It’s definitely not okay. Nothing’s okay. But she nods
affirmatively, keeping time with Laura’s pace.
The End.
Nicole Bostrom has written scripts for PBS, HBO, and the Lifetime Channel. She’s worked with directors Chris Columbus, George Lucas and Wayne Wang, among others, and teaches
screenwriting at City College of San Francisco and San Quentin State Prison. She’s researching a novel set in Shanghai and lives in Melbourne.
Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 17
Introducing...
Introducing author Nicole Bostrom, who is developing a series of connected
short stories to be published over the next few issues of Underground.
A fine morning on the Oakland Estuary introduces Molly Steadman, a high
school student in her junior year engaged in a volunteer project with her Ecology
Class. The feel-good project is to help uncover a source of contamination that’s
polluting a low-income neighborhood’s drinking water.
Ostensibly, Molly’s collecting water samples to be analysed later for levels
of toxic chemicals. In reality, she’s confronted by a choice that will seal her
immediate future at the very least: social girl or nerd? And while this banal
selection can only exist among those fortunate enough not to think about survival
basics, it’s the Mollys of the world who hold the potential for opening doors to
those in need of a leg up who will then offer opportunities to others.
This first piece is from a developing collection of linked stories set in
fictional Crocker Gardens, California, and Shanghai, People’s Republic of China.
18 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
Antic
Antic is a new not-for-profit online literary magazine of fiction, non-fiction, poetry and
criticism open to Australian and international writers. anticmagazine.com.au/
Monash University Undergraduate Prize for Creative Writing
This prize is open to all undergraduate and honours students from all universities across
Australia and New Zealand. All forms of creative writing are accepted between 1,500 and
3,000 words. Closes 18th April. monash.edu.au/
The Rachel Funari Prize for Fiction 2016
This is a themed fiction competition open to all Australian women, female-identifying and non
-binary writers; the theme is ‘Other’, with a focus on women’s stories. Entries can be up to
2,000 words, closing 22nd April. lipmag.com/
Wildcare Tasmania Nature Writing Prize 2016
Open to both fiction and non-fiction between 2,000 and 4,000 words. Entry is $20 and the
winner receives $5,000, publication in Island magazine, and an optional 2 week residency in
a Tasmania National Park. Entries close 2nd May. taswriters.org/natureprize/
2016 Dangerously Poetic Byron Bay Writers Festival Poetry Prize
Dangerously Poetic Press is an incorporated community group that encourages, publishes and
promotes quality poetry. Writers are invited to submit up to 40 lines on the theme
‘Connections’, with a first prize of $500 and a three day ticket to this year’s festival. Closes
10th May. dangerouslypoetic.com/
Griffith Review Novella Project IV
Griffith Review are accepting submissions for their annual Novella Project edition, prizes are
a share in the $25,000 prize pool and a free one-year digital subscription to Griffith
Review. They are seeking original works of fiction between approximately 10,000 and
35,000 words, submissions close 13th May. griffithreview.submittable.com/
Upcoming Local Opportunities
Opportunities from Australasian and New Zealand publications and organisations
Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 19
Ubud Writers & Readers Festival and AAWP Prize
The Australasian Association of Writing Programs (AAWP) and Ubud Writers & Readers
Festival have teamed up with a prize for emerging Australasian writers: a ticket to Ubud
Writers & Readers Festival and a one-year annual membership to the AAWP. The theme
is ‘Tat Tvam Asi’, which is a Hindu concept meaning ‘I am you, you are me’, and pieces
should be in the form of up to 30 lines of poetry or up to 3000 words of prose.
Competition closes 15th May. www.ubudwritersfestival.com/aawp-prize/
The Lifted Brow & non/fictionLab Experimental Non-Fiction Prize
Open to Australian and international writers, this prize focuses on experimental fiction up
5,000 words in length. Entry fee $7 (free entry for The Lifted Brow subscribers and RMIT
students and alumnus), closes 29th May.
theliftedbrow.com/experimentalnonfictionwritingprize
The Big Issue Fiction Edition 2016
The Big Issue’s annual fiction edition is open for entries between 300 and 3,000 words.
Closes 31st May. thebigissue.org.au/
Local publications regularly accepting submissions
Grouch Publishing—grouchpublishing.com
Tincture Journal—tincture-journal.com/
Island Literary Magazine—islandmag.com/pages/submit
Voiceworks Magazine for Young Writers—oiceworksmag.com.au/contribute/
Going Down Swinging—goingdownswinging.org.au/site/submissions/
Cordite Poetry Review—cordite.org.au/submissions/
Creatrix Poetry & Haiku Journal—creatrix.wapoets.net.au
Uneven Floor Poetry Magazine—unevenfloorpoetry.blogspot.com.au
20 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
Narrative Magazine—San Francisco, USA
Narrative Magazine accepts year-round submissions of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.
narrativemagazine.com/
Limnisa Short Story Competition 2016—Methana, Greece
Open to all writers, this competition accepts fiction of up to 3,000 words and the winning
entrant receives a Writers’ Retreat or Workshop in 2016 or 2017 at Limnisa, a seaside
writers’ centre in Greece. Free to anyone who shares the competition on social media, closes
15th April. www.limnisa.com/
The Bath Short Story Award—Bath, UK
This award is open to local, national and international entries from published and
unpublished writers. The fee is £8, they accept stories of all genres and styles up to 2,200
words, closing 25th April. bathshortstoryaward.co.uk/
The Novella Award 2016—Cheshire, UK
This award is for a fiction novella of 20,000-40,000 words of any genre by a writer of
any nationality. It costs £17 to enter, closing 29th April. thenovellaaward.com/
Tom Howard/John H. Reid Fiction and Essay Contest—USA
Open theme and style, entries may be published or unpublished short stories, essays or
other works of prose, no word limit. Entries cost $US18 each. Closes 30th April.
winningwriters.com/
2016 Bristol Short Story Prize—Bristol, UK
This prize is open to all writers, accepting works of up to 4,000 words with an open theme.
£8 per entry, closing 30th April. bristolprize.co.uk/news/
The Ghost Story Supernatural Fiction Award—Union, USA
This award accepts short fiction from approx. 1,500 to 10,000 words in length featuring
any supernatural element. Entry is $US20 per story, closing 30th April. theghoststory.com/
Upcoming International Opportunities
Opportunities from international publications and organisations
Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 21
14th Annual Conference On The Short Story In English Story Contest—Shanghai,
China
This contest is open to all writers; they accept short stories between 2,000 and 3,000
words, and the suggested theme is The Short Story—Influence and Confluence, East and
West. Closes 30th April. www.shortstoryconference.org/story-contest
The Exeter Story Prize and Trisha Ashley Award—Exeter, UK
This prize accepts stories up to 10,000 words with no lower limit. It costs £10 to enter
and stories may be on any theme, but only humorous stories are eligible for the Trisha
Ashley Award. Closes 30th April. creativewritingmatters.co.uk/2016-exeter-story-prize
2016 Shooter Short Story Competition—UK
This competition has no genre or style requirements and accepts submissions up to 5,000
words. Entry is £7, closing 1st May. shooterlitmag.com/competition/
The David Nathan Meyerson Prize for Fiction—Dallas, USA
A prize for short stories up to 8,000 words with an entry fee of $US25. Entries close 1st
May. smu.edu/SouthwestReview/
Conium Review 2016 Innovative Short Fiction Contest—USA
Accepting entries of any combination of short stories or flash fictions totalling up to
7,500 words. Entries are $US15 each, closing 1st May. coniumreview.com/contests/
Lorian Hemingway Short Story Competition—USA
No theme or genre requirements, up to 3,500 words, entry is $US15 per submission.
Closes 1st May. shortstorycompetition.com/guidelines/
The Raymond Carver Short Story Contest—Dallas, USA
Run by Carve Magazine, this prize accepts short stories up to 6,000 words. Entry is
$US17 for online, $US15 for mailed entries, per story; there is no theme. Entries close
15th May. carvezine.com/raymond-carver-contest/
22 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
The Sitcom Mission 2016—UK
The Sitcom Mission is a UK-based international comedy writing competition accepting scripts
for sitcoms up to fifteen minutes in duration. Entry is £10 and there are several levels of
entry, such as entering the script early to be read and returned in time to rewrite it for entry
into the main competition. The final deadline is 15th May. comedy.co.uk/sitcom_mission/
info/
A Very Short Story Contest—2016—Gotham, USA
For flash fiction writers, entries of no more than ten words. Entry is free, closing 16th May.
writingclasses.com/contest/very-short-story-contest-2016
Swansea Writers Horror Writing Competition—Swansea, UK
There are three categories to this competition: Scary short stories (1,500-2,500 words, £6
per story), Spine-chilling scripts (TV/film/radio/stage scripts up to 25 minutes, £6 per script),
and Eerie poems (up to 42 lines, £4 per poem). Closes 20th May. swanseawriters.co.uk/
Welsh Poetry Competition—Wales, UK
Accepting up to 50 lines of poetry with an entry fee of £5 per poem. Closes 29th May.
welshpoetry.co.uk/entry/
Finchley Literary Festival Short Story Competition—Finchley, UK
Open to any theme and genre, entries have a 1,000 word limit. £5 per entry, closing 31st
May. finchleyliteraryfestival.blogspot.com.au/
1,000 Word Challenge—UK
Limit of 1,000 words on the theme of ‘Lift’. Entry is £5 (or £8 with feedback). Closes 31st
May. 1000wordchallenge.com/
Baltimore Review Writing Contest—Baltimore, USA
Accepting up to 3,000 words of fiction or non-fiction or one to three poems on the theme of
‘Games’. Entry is $US10, closes 31st May. baltimorereview.submittable.com/submit/
Upcoming International Opportunities
Continued
Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 23
The 2016 WoW! One thousand word story competition—Exeter, UK
The UK organisation Creative Writing Matters are holding their annual competition for a
1,000 word story on any theme. It costs £5 to entre, closing 31st May.
creativewritingmatters.co.uk/
Fool For Poetry Chapbook Competition—Cork, Ireland
This competition is open to writers of poetry, new, emerging or established, of any
nationality. They accept manuscripts from 16-24 pages in length in English, in verse or
prose poetry. Each chapbook will receive a review in Southword Journal. Closes 31st May.
www.munsterlit.ie/
Hourglass Literary Magazine—Bosnia and Hercegovina
This competition has three categories: Best Short Story, Best Essay, and Best Poem. There
are no theme or genre requirements, entries can be in English or BCMS language (Bosnian,
Croatian, Serbian, Montenegrin). Closes 31st May. hourglassonline.org/contest/
The Brighton Short Story Prize—Brighton, UK
Accepting flash fiction up to 350 words and short stories of 1,000-2,000 words. Entry is £6
for flash fiction, £8 for short stories. Closes 10th June. brightonprize.com/
Bath Flash Fiction Award—Bath, UK
Limit of 300 words on any subject, entry is £9. Closes 12th June.
bathflashfictionaward.com/
The Masters Review’s Short Story Award for New Writers—Portland, USA
An online and print publication that holds an award for new writers, open from 15th May
to 15th July. mastersreview.com/
24 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016 The
team
DylanQuent
I am studying a major in Literature and Writing, here at
ECU, Mt Lawley
I believe that collaboration is an integral component to
the creative process. I favour pieces dark in nature; I
cannot help but visualise a beauty in the macabre. But
the pieces that resonate with me most ultimately leave me
higher spirited by tale’s end.
Candy
I have grown up reading every book I could get my hands on. I have a
borderline addiction to Pinterest, am a vegetarian, am prone to getting
attached to inanimate objects, French fluent, and guilty of becoming too
invested in the lives of fictional characters.
RaeZor
I am majoring in Writing and Events Management with
Minors in History and Hospitality at ECU.
One day I hope to own a book café, where anyone from
anywhere can come and enjoy the atmosphere… or more
importantly the food. That’s what reading and writing is
to me—a medium that anyone from anywhere can
contribute to.
Chief
I am a Melbourne-based reader, writer and editor of
adventures for word-lovers; I have been published in
Voiceworks and on Smashwords. You can find me on
Facebook, Twitter @oddfeatheredit, and my website
oddfeather.co
Issue 14: April, 2016
Underground 25
Read our full biographies at underground-writers.org
Ana’Rchy
Avid reader, writer and feminist. I even taught Mark
Ruffalo how to be a great feminist. You’re welcome ladies
(and Mark – call me later, babes!)
Find Ana’Rchy on Instagram and Twitter @anamonthsago
IntoxiKate
I have spent my life with my head inside books. I am a
perpetual student, zealous writer, incurable reader and
passionate editor. My weaknesses are books, tea and
quoting authors, “Always”.
Tim
I have a Bachelors in Mass Communication from
Redeemer’s University and I am currently a first year
Postgraduate student of Marketing and Innovation
Management at Edith Cowan University. I am a lover
of poems and great speeches, “Let a Hundred
flowers Blossom” by Mao Zedong seems to be my all
-time favourite. I also love star gazing.
ShellShock
I am currently a Journalism student at Edith Cowan University. There’s
something about getting to know the inner workings of someone during
an interview that is compelling, and the same goes for fiction.
26 Underground
Issue 14: April, 2016
Writing exercise #14
Use the following list of words as writing prompts. Read through them until a
strong memory stirs and free-write from that memory until you connect to
another word on the list. Turn this into a poem that uses stream-of-consciousness
association or materiality.
Don’t forget to send us the result!
Fold
Book
Spread
Mandarin
Across
Barb
Stand
Tendon
Crunch
Red
Swept
Powder
Hold
Submit your work to Underground at [email protected]
For general enquiries email us at [email protected]
Our website is underground-writers.org
Find us on Facebook at Underground Writers
Follow us on Twitter @undergroundWA