The Splinter Generation, a literary journal for and about people born between 1973 and 1993, has begun its next reading period and is now accepting submissions for creative nonfiction, fiction and poetry from October 1-December 1.

Do Talk to Strangers, our new interview series will be taking submissions into the new year. You can read all about that here.

We’re looking for the most powerful work you have—work that makes us look at ourselves in a new way and work that challenges (or, you know, confirms in some subversive way) the stereotypes that paint our generation as lazy or stupid or narcissistic or victims of the times. But it’s not just for the kiddies anymore. If you have a poem, story, or nonfiction piece that relates to those in the Splinter Generation or Generation Me, send it our way.

Take a look at what we’ve previously published to get a sense of what we’re seeking. But we can tell you this much right now: we want to feature the best new voices we can find—voices that aren’t just of the moment, but will still be meaningful when future generations look back at the journal. We want to feel, to think, to get excited, and to advance online literature. We do not want political rants, cute pop culture references, or nostalgia for the sake of nostalgia.

For more on why we call ourselves The Splinter Generation, go here.

To submit, please follow these guidelines:

• All submission are to be emailed to the proper genre gmail account with your last name and the word “submission” in the subject line. ex: Smith Submission
• A brief cover letter with your name, year you were born, city of residence, and titles of submission is required.
• Simultaneous submissions are accepted and encouraged. If you do submit simultaneously, please let us know immediately if you’ve been accepted elsewhere.

Fiction: email submission to splinterfiction@gmail.com. Maximum 3000 words. You may query for longer work. Please send work in a .doc or .txt document, but not in a .docx. Also, include your name and contact info on the document itself.

Nonfiction: email submission to splintercnf@gmail.com. Maximum 3000 words. You may query for longer work. Please send work in a .doc or .txt document, but not in a .docx. Also, include your name and contact info on the document itself.

Poetry: email submission to splinterpoetry@gmail.com. Maximum three poems, no longer than five pages, posted into the body of an email. If the poem is unable to go in the email due to form considerations, then please attach one document containing all poems being submitted.

Deadline: Our current reading period is open from October 1, 2011-December 1, 2011. Submissions that don’t meet our guidelines will be sent back unread, so please be sure to read this page carefully. For any other requests, correspondence or to be added to our newsletter, please email splintergeneration@gmail.com

THE CITRON REVIEW

The Citron Review is still accepting submissions for Fall and Winter 2011 Publication. The Citron Review is an online literary journal edited by alumni of the esteemed Antioch University Los Angeles Creative Writing Program, listed as a top five low residency program in Poets and Writers and Atlantic Monthly.

What should you submit?  The Citron Review accepts submission of Micro-Fiction, Flash Fiction, Poetry and Creative Non-Fiction.  For word count specification, see guidelines below.  Ultimately, we are looking for works that have that unmistakable magnetic pull.  Stories that make us jump up from our seats or throw our head in our hands and cry, yes!  Make us feel, make us think, be captivating, be moving, be infinite.

General Information: To submit to The Citron Review, send your work tosubmissions@thecitronreview.com, with a subject heading of “Citron Review Submission: (Genre).” In the body of the e-mail, please include a short bio in the third person (by way of introduction–no more than a paragraph) and the text of the submission. For photography and digital arts, please attach as a standard web-readable file (.jpg preferred, but .gif, and .png, are fine as well). We have no thematic requirements for submissions, but do require all work to be of the highest quality.

For Micro-Fiction: Submissions should be no more than sixty words. You may submit up to five micro-fiction selections per quarter.

For Flash-Fiction: Submissions should be no more than one-thousand words. You may submit up to two flash-fiction selections per quarter.

For Poetry: Submissions should be no more than 30 lines. You may submit up to five poetry selections per quarter.

For Creative Non-Fiction: Submissions should be no more than 1,000 words. All genres of non-fiction (memoir, essay, articles, reviews etc.) are acceptable. You may submit up to two  Non-Fiction selections per quarter.

Or go HERE for full guidelines on our website!

Reading of Submissions: We read submissions quarterly. Typically, we will respond to you at the beginning of each month. However, in times of high submissions (in the case of contests and the like), our turnaround time may be a bit longer. You can expect a response in less than a month, in most cases. If you have not heard from us in six weeks, please feel free to contact us for an update.

Simultaneous submissions are accepted, but it is expected authors must notify us immediately if their work is published elsewhere.

There is nothing worse than getting a paper cut. Some people will try to argue differently, but those people are always wrong and we should feel sorry for them.

Some people will try to tell you they experienced something worse when they lost all their money, and to those people I always say, “How’d you lose it, gambling in a casino?” They always say “No,” which pretty much proves they’re lying. And there’s nothing worse than being lied to. Except, of course, getting a paper cut. In terms of the worst things, it goes: 1) getting a paper cut, and 2) being lied to.

Now you’re probably wondering what number three is, and you’ll be sad to learn that you’re actually doing number three right now: being nosy. Someone being nosy to you is the third worst thing that could happen to you. Trust me. One time, someone was being nosy toward my mother and, twelve years later, she and my dad got a divorce.

The fourth worst thing that could happen to you is dying at the hands of the thief in Zork I.

Obviously, someone misspelling your name at Starbucks is the fifth worst thing that could happen to you. I can’t tell you how many times I spell out my name to the barista and, still, she always write ‘Shitstain.’ You’re probably thinking, “What’s the big deal? It’s not hurting anyone.” Tell that to the 80-year-old woman I accidentally spilled my coffee on last week.

My wife committed the sixth worst thing while we were in bed last night. She stole the covers. As if that weren’t enough, she eventually committed the seventh worst thing when she stole my third pillow, otherwise known as my ‘straddle pillow.’

Look, I know lists like this can seem pointless. Just the other day I was watching the Travel Channel, which is also pointless. I guess what I’m trying to say is, we all do things that are pointless.

But maybe you’re right. Maybe this list is pointless. Maybe everything’s pointless. Why leave the house when you’re just going to come back home later? Who’s even going to notice whether or not you mow your lawn? And what’s the point of making your bed when you’re only going to set it on fire later?

And yet we do all of these things over and over, every day.

We are, as it turns out, creatures of habit. For instance, you’re probably thinking I’ll make this list of worst things go up to ten because that’s what we, the human race, are used to. But you’d be wrong. Which, now that I think about it, is the worst thing. Yes, there’s nothing worse than being wrong. And that, dear reader, brings us back full-circle to those people who actually think there’s nothing worse than getting a paper cut.

Who’s the shitstain now, barista?

In the September issue of Word Riot, Melissa Chadburn has plans to be loved.

xTx is featured in the debut issue of Safety Pin Review–a charming new magazine.

Over at Housefire, a raw story from Ryan Bradley.

You’ll find a very short story by Court Merrigan at Staccato Fiction.

Robb Todd will teach you how to survive strong pesticides. Or something.

At Annalemma, a wonderful essay by Devan Goldstein.

There’s a new story by Jen Michalski in the new issue of storySouth that is well worth the read.

MG Martin has work at Used Furniture Review.

Marcus Wicker, Karrie Waarala Jonterri Gadson, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz and others have work in the Best of the First Year print issue of Muzzle.

In Drunken Boat 14, Shira Dentz, Kathleen Rooney, Derek Henderson, Catherine Zobal Dent, Nina Feng, and many others.

Before we go any further discussing objective versus subjective descriptions or read essays by Heather Rogers and EB White or beat ourselves over the head with anymore comma splices or discuss how some of you begin a paragraph in past tense then switch to present tense then past tense again, I want to talk about first impressions.

Did you know we have only seven seconds to make a first impression? That means other people look at us and then decide within seven seconds what kind of person we are based on our appearance. That’s right. Seven seconds. A first impression.

Consider my appearance today. Here I am dressed in tennis shoes, a tee shirt, and overalls. Do I look like a college professor to you? Better yet, if I had arrived to our first class dressed like this would you have thought, “Why has someone from Hillbilly Handfishin showed up to teach us how to clasp a twenty pound catfish between our knees then wrestle it to the surface? I want a tuition refund.” If you’d thought that based on how I’m dressed right now, I wouldn’t have blamed you. After all, I don’t look professional like this, which implies I don’t take my job as a college professor seriously, which means you should doubt my credibility and even my commitment to academic achievement.  Whether we like it or not, people make snap judgments about one another based on appearance and presentation all the time.  As a college professor, I can’t show up for class looking like this. I can’t show up looking like Hesher either. You don’t know who Hesher is? He’s this guy right here.

How much faith would you have in this guy if he was your college professor?

But Ms. Voth, you might say, I saw that movie, and regardless of Hesher’s appearance and presentation, he taught that boy and his father a valuable lesson. Sure, in a movie. Also, we’re not discussing how a character who looks like a dirtbag becomes an unexpected metaphor for Jesus right now. We’re talking about seven seconds to make a first impression. We’re talking about college.

This weekend, I finished reading your first formal writing assignments (unless you got yours to me late, in which case, I’ll finish reading those by Wednesday) and several of your papers made a less than favorable first impression. Some of them came off a little like Hesher. I’m not talking subject matter here. I’m talking appearance and presentation.

Imagine me, your esteemed professor not dressed in overalls, regarding each one of your papers the first time. Unfortunately, some of them fell loose from my fingers because you hadn’t stapled your pages. Once I was finished feeling  annoyed by that, I picked said essay back up and then arranged it again before scanning it. Now I saw the heading I had instructed you to use on both our class syllabus and the grading rubric for the assignment was incorrect. I also saw how said writer had thumbed his nose at my formatting guidelines. Was I annoyed at this point, or was I angry? Take a guess. I saw margins that weren’t one inch. I saw font that wasn’t 12 point but so tiny I had to pull out my magnifying glass to read it. I saw font that wasn’t Times New Roman. I saw text that wasn’t double-spaced. I saw typos even though I said at least three times to read your papers out loud to yourselves so you’d catch those. I saw sentences that ended with no punctuation. I saw sentences that began with a first word that wasn’t capitalized. I saw “I” spelled in lower case rather than uppercase like this, “i.”  Since when is that correct? Text messages maybe. In college, this type of inattention to proper grammar and punctuation is sloppy. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re not Hesher. If ever in doubt, imagine the presentation and appearance of your paper like this.

Somebody Proofread Bradley Cooper Before Turning Him In For A Grade.

You’re college students, and I’m a college professor, and my job, beyond teaching you about comma splices and narrative, is to prepare you for the real world. You haven’t been there yet? You’ll love it. Here you get to work for someone who will tell you how to dress, how to conduct yourself, maybe even how to speak. They’ll also expect you to complete specific tasks in a specific way. Yes, parameters. Yes, cramping your style. Yes, setting all kinds of rules you must follow. I’m the first to admit having to do something exactly how someone else tells me feels claustrophobic and frustrating sometimes; but what do we do in the real world?

We do it the way our boss tells us if we wish to keep our jobs. That’s all there is to it.

Regarding class, or more specifically your papers, I allotted a certain amount of points to formalities and proofreading, in other words, appearance and presentation. Before collecting your second formal writing assignments, I’ll ask each one of you to lay your paper on your desk, and then I’ll walk up and down the aisles like a Nazi and check each one for the correct formatting. If I see you haven’t doubled spaced or used 12 point font Times New Roman or one-inch margins, or if you haven’t used the correct heading or stapled your pages together, I’ll not accept it. You’ll have to fix your paper and then turn it in late and lose points for turning in a late paper. By the way, those of you in my ten a.m. class aren’t allowed to ask your classmate for his stapler anymore. I’m instructing him not to loan it to you. Your paper isn’t his responsibility, so how dare you put it on him or even expect him to pay for all those staples. You can find mini-staplers at Rite Aid or Wal*mart or even Office Depot. They aren’t expensive.

Now let’s talk a minute about following directions. Back to the real world again. Let’s say your boss assigns you a specific task. Let’s say you don’t understand it. What do you do? You ask for clarification. When do you ask for that clarification? Here are your choices.

A.) After you’ve completed the task incorrectly?

or

B.) Before you get started?

The correct answer is B. Not only is time money in the real world, but if you complete a task incorrectly because you didn’t understand the instructions and didn’t bother to ask your boss for clarification, your boss will think you’re dense.

I gave you a specific topic to write about for your first formal writing assignment. That assignment was to write a personal narrative about a time you wished you had spoken up but failed to do so. A few of you came to me before the paper was due and asked if it would be alright if you took the opposite approach; in other words a few of you wanted to write about a time you spoke up and stuck your foot in your mouth and wished you hadn’t. I said yes to all those students. I also said yes when a student asked if she could write from the perspective of her best friend. In all actuality, I’m a flexible person who appreciates creativity. I also admire initiative. I respect people who think ahead, who think outside the box even; what I don’t appreciate or admire or respect is when a student decides to write a paper off topic without coming to me first and asking, “May I do this?” and then turns it in like it’s no big deal. It is, in fact, a big deal.

“First rule of Fight Club, know the instructions for an assignment.

Second rule of Fight Club, ask your professor for clarification if an assignment doesn’t make sense or if you’d like to discuss approaching an assignment a different way.

Third rule of Fight Club, failure to abide by rules one and two will result in ten points off the top of your grade, plus you forfeit an opportunity to revise.”

Sincerely,

Tyler Durden

And that’s just this time. Next time, you get a zero if you don’t follow my instructions without checking with me first. I’m tough that way. Most your professors will be tough this way. This is college and part of our job is to prepare you for the real world. Haven’t been there yet? You’ll love it. You get to work for The Man. He wants things done his way or the highway. Sometimes The Man is a woman, and she wants things done her way too. She’ll say, “Jump.” And you’ll say . . ?

“How high?”

Look. I’ve been there. I’ve jumped and jumped and jumped. It feels frustrating, exhausting, even demoralizing or demeaning sometimes. The Man will make you jump just because he can. She’ll get off on it, watching you jump. It’s a power trip for some supervisors. Or maybe it’s not even that: you just need to swallow your pride and buck up. So I’m tough on you. Because I’ve learned the same way some of you will: the hard way. I’ve cut off my nose to spite my face. I’ve shot myself in the foot then limped off into the horizon. I’ve burned a couple of bridges.

Why?

Because I hate anyone telling me what to do. I hate lines in the sand. I hate boxes. I loathe feeling patronized and belittled. I have a master’s degree. I’m an artist. I write to rebel. I’m a Renegade Writer. Says so on my coffee cup. Even so. I’ve paid a price for not following the rules. That’s just the way it is. Some rules we must follow to get where we want to go. Heck, just to survive. Yes, some people get to tell us what to do. I’m your professor, and beyond teaching you how to write descriptive essays and complex sentences, I must prepare you for what comes after college.

It’s terrible.

What I mean is, have you checked the economy lately? People are being laid off; people are losing their homes; people are going without health insurance. Don’t give your one-day potential employers any reason to let you go or not hire you in the first place because you can’t follow instructions or don’t bother to complete a task at all. Show initiative. Do the work. If you haven’t turned in your first formal writing assignment yet and haven’t even bothered to tell me why, you’ll fail this class. This is college not high school. By the way, quiz Wednesday. Did you take notes? Know our syllabus too.

Consider this as well: slouching at your desk communicates disengagement. Crossing your arms over your chest communicates defensiveness. Sitting at the back of the room provides you an opportunity to tune out. That’s all I’m saying except how many of you can identify the tense inconsistency in the following paragraph? How about a comma splice?

I rode my bike to school yesterday and came across this guy with long hair and tattoos all over his body. He grabs me by the neck of my shirt and then drags me across the ground a few feet like he’s going to beat me up or something, but then he lets me go. The guy jumped into this piece of crap van and drove off just like that. Later, he showed up at my house. I mean he’s inside my house using my grandmother’s washing machine without asking. My grandmother said, “Is this a friend of yours?” and I said, “Not really.” Then my grandmother wants to know my friend’s name, and I tell her I don’t know. “My name is Hesher,” the guy said, he just stands there in his underwear smoking a cigarette and smiling, and then my grandmother says, “Nice to meet you, dear.”

And as they were reclining at table and eating on this, the second-to-last supper, Jesus looked around at his guests. There was James The Greater and, to a lesser extent, James The Lesser. There was John and Peter, who, you guessed it, were fighting again. But, alas, where was Thaddeus? For Thaddeus said he would be at this dinner. Indeed, he said it right to Jesus’s face: “Yeah, I’ll be there.” What was up with that? thought Christ, Prince of Peace. And so he asked his guests about Thaddeus and, lo, they all looked confused. But Jesus was sure Peter knew the answer, for Peter was scratching just above his right eyebrow. That was Peter’s tell.

“Peter,” said Jesus, “is there something you want to tell me?”

To this, Peter replied “Who me?” And then Jesus gave Peter that look. You know the one.

“Peter…” said Jesus.

“Oh,” said Peter, “Yes, that Thaddues. Yeah, um, here’s the thing, Jesus. Thaddeus decided to stay home.”

“Stay…home?” Jesus said. Admittedly, the son of God was a little taken aback. Lo, you would be, too! “Why did he stay home?” Jesus continued. “Does he not like to sup with us?”

“No, no, no, Jesus,” said Peter. “It’s not that at all. He just figured he’d come tomorrow night. You know, for the final supper.”

“The final supper?” said Jesus.

“It’s just, he figured why come tonight, when tomorrow’s the, you know, the big one. The main…supper.”

Jesus sighed.

“Oh,” said Jesus, disheartened. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Yes, that’ll work. So. Okay, then I suppose we shall sup without Thaddeus tonight. Sounds good. No biggie.”

And then Jesus took bread, and after blessing it, broke it and said, “Take; this is my bod—“ but here Jesus stopped short, for Simon was whispering to Bartholomew while Jesus had been breaking bread. Said Jesus, “Um, hello? Simon? Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

Oh, the look on Simon’s face as he realized what he had done! One could tell he felt kind of shameful. Not completely shameful, but pretty shameful nevertheless. About 62% shameful.

“Sorry,” said Simon. “No, nothing to share, for I am all good.”

And then Jesus said, “With all due respect, Simon, why do you talk during my breaking-bread speech? You know how much I like it. There’s a lot of symbolism here.”

“Yes,” said Simon, “Yes, I know. But…I mean, it’s like, you are going to say the speech again. You know, tomorrow night. So, I was just going to catch it then.”

This is a painting of "The Last Supper." There is no painting of the "Second-To-Last Supper" because da Vinci figured why bother? I mean, there was going to be a more important supper the following night, you know?

For the second time, Jesus sighed.

“Okay,” said Jesus, deciding not to persist. Alas, at least Simon showed up. That had to count for something.

And so Jesus continued his procession. He took a cup and, when he had given thanks, he was about to give it to them when he noticed that in the cup was not wine but rather apple juice. “What?” said Jesus. “What happened to the wine?”

“Alas,” said Peter. “The wine hasn’t been delivered yet. It should be here tomorrow morning, in time for the—“

“The last supper, yes,” interrupted Jesus, who was now more than a little perturbed.

And so, for the third time, Jesus sighed.

“You know what,” said Jesus. “Why don’t we just go ahead and start eating.”

And so they ate. Or at least most of them ate. Not everyone did, as a few people had hot dogs before coming to this, the second-to-last supper.

The September issue is alive and kicking and this issue is really something special. In this issue you will find two sharp poems by Corinna Bain including one, “Girls Putting on Make-Up on the L Train,” with language so carefully orchestrated you can imagine the rocking of the train and the trembling hand trying to paint a face. In “Units of Measurement,” Saehee Cho writes of a woman coming to grips with losing her hair in a stark yet moving way. You will also find amazing writing from Stefanie Freele, Court Merrigan, Ian Golding, John Jodzio, Teresa Milbrodt, Shira Richman, Danielle Shutt, Aimee Pogson, Kirstin Chen, Brandy Wilson, Aimee Vitrak, John McKernan, Tyler Sage, Regina Marshall, Tess Patalano, Kit Frick, Thomas Patrick Levy, Suzanne Marie Hopcroft, Tessa Mellas, Wendy Xu, Blake Kimzey, and Andrew Briminstool. Get started here.

Garrett Socol has two new stories: Strange Events of the Senior Year (Underground Voices) and The Company Christmas Party (Nth Position).

Aubrey Hirsch has a story in Daily Science Fiction well worth reading.

At Fwriction Review, work from Suzanne Marie Hopcraft.

Echolocation, by Myfanwy Collins, is available for pre-order by Engine Books.

The new issue of The Collagist features Jonathan Callahan and many others.

Up at Used Furniture Review, writing from Gary Percesepe.

Anne Leigh Parrish’s All The Roads That Lead From Home is available from Press 53. Anne is a gorgeous writer and you won’t regret buying this lovely collection of short stories.

“In the end and then, all will be forgiven when surrender rises high and I gave what I came to give.”
Red Hot Chili Peppers, Tear.

After a rough few weeks, it is reassuring to be reminded that “in the end” there will be a liberal use of the words “forgive,” “surrender” and “give.” I need that kind of promise. It helps cement and anchor.

Thank you for using LinkedIn. Everyone here at LinkedIn truly appreciates your ongoing support, and we hope our site has provided you the tools you need to succeed in business. With that said, we would like to take a moment to introduce some new features to our networking site, ones that we think will come in quite handy, whether you’re an employee or employer.

For instance, employees looking for work may already be familiar with the “Apply Now” button on some of our featured job listings. But we also have a new button for employers called the “You’re Fired” button. With this button, an employer can fire an employee without that awkward face-to-face confrontation. The employer will simply click the “You’re Fired” button on his or her profile page and select the employee to fire. The employee will automatically receive the following message in his/her LinkedIn mailbox:

Dear (Employee’s Name):

Hello! Consider this your official notice that your job has been terminated. Thank you for all the years of service you have dedicated to this company. And thank you for using LinkedIn.

Sincerely,
LinkedIn

P.S. Now that you need a new job, be sure to upgrade to LinkedIn Job Seeker’s Premium Account for just $29.99 a month!

If the terminated employee rushes into your office in a rage, be sure to click the LinkedIn “Security!” button. Our LinkedIn Security Marshals will be there in no time to escort the poor son of a bitch out of the building. How do we get there so fast? Because we’re already there. Every office building has LinkedIn Marshals hidden around the building. Go ahead, take a look. Just kidding! Those guys are like ninjas.

We know what you’re thinking: “Good enough! Thanks, LinkedIn!” Well, that’s simply not good enough for us. Don’t be so complacent.

Are you familiar with Chatroulette? Then get ready to be familiar with Linkedroulette, because this is one feature employees are going to love. Just turn on your webcam, click a button and get ready to be interviewed by a random employer. It could be any employer from any industry! Maybe you’re thinking, “But what if I don’t have any experience in that employer’s industry? How is this supposed to help me?” and to that we can only say this: Christ, you’re a Debbie Downer.

Other new features include LiveBirth—perfect for when you’re just too busy to make it to the hospital to witness the birth of your child. After setting a few PreBirth preferences, simply click “LiveBirth” on your homepage when it’s go-time and witness the birth of your child from the comfort of your own office. Is it a miracle? Nope. It’s LinkedIn.

Here are a few more new features:

• Uh-oh. You’ve made some mistakes these past few months. Maybe you stole a pen off a coworker’s desk or slept with your boss’s daughter or had a late lunch. Just push the new “Confess” button and an actual priest will IM you your penance. Not Christian? Try pushing the “Convert” button.
• Let’s face it: You’re busy and you don’t have time to catch up on the latest Ayn Rand-based conversations going on out there. No problem. Presenting LinkedIn’s “Ayn Rand Timeline.” That’s right: we’ll feed into your LinkedIn homepage any and all Facebook and Twitter posts in which someone uses Ayn Rand to make a political statement.
• Your LinkedIn profile has been stuck at 80% completion for a long time now. Well, it’s about time you bumped up that percentage. Click the “StealIn” button on your profile page and choose any one of your connections. You’ll automatically steal 10 percentage points from that person! Bingo! Your LinkedIn profile is now 90% complete. If the connection gets on your case about how you stole their points, be sure to tell them, “Hey, nothing personal…just business!” If he or she still gets on your case, go ahead and hit that “Security!” button and we’ll take care of everything.

……………………….

Again, we at LinkedIn want to thank you for your support. Whether you’re an employee looking for the perfect job or an employer looking to avoid confrontation, good luck in all your business pursuits. Then again, who needs luck when you have LinkedIn!