World Literature Today is publishing an issue titled New African Voices and invites writers to submit work in any genre, with an emphasis on prose writing in fiction, narrative non-fiction, flash-fiction, or hybrid forms. The issue is being guest-edited by award-winning poet Mahtem Shiferraw. Writers selected for publication will be paid.
Selected works will be published in World Literature Today in the Spring of 2022. World Literature Today is an international magazine that features “essays, poetry, fiction, interviews, and book reviews from all over the world.”
Submit up to 3,000 words of original, unpublished work, via Submittable.
Deadline: November 15, 2021.
Submissions can be short pieces, or excerpts from larger works (the latter need to be self-contained).
Though work in any genre will be considered, the editor is primarily looking for prose writers (fiction, narrative non-fiction, flash-fiction, hybrids, etc).
Writers should expect to hear back by December 2021
COMMENTS ( 1 ) -
Madalitso Phiri October 16, 2021 11:40
~Luggage of Pain~ Just like the sugar coated manifestos of the government, my own blood has made me drink of promises that only grow in me diabetis of sorrow! I have not a mother to hawk me out of my ordeal. My father has been so reckless and cold bloodedly inspired by the heartless vile of negligence. "I will take care of you", has become a nostalgic tune in my ears. Maybe, they mean to say I will take care of your funeral ceremony not my life testimony. My heart soaked in blood pools, pierced through by the sword of promising shadows. That's how I watched my late parents, my mother's funeral being hosted like the burial of a great queen. When she was alive, no one cared or showed her any humane service but her corpse received awards that will only be eaten by termites of rust. I have profound relatives but I am not found by them. Why do my extended blood despise my lifeful body that longs for support and care? But await my lifeless body that won't feel the stimuli of their support and care? Promises made. Promises unfulfilled. Alas, I have even been nick-named as "Mr school fees indebtor" by both my classmates and my teachers. I have won rewards of soiled marks on my body, for not affording to pay for my school fees. My attractive tattered holed uniform. My torn socks that got stitches from my premature sewing talent. My only saving grace is my grand father, who has clocked his old age and is terribly sick. Who is to save who? Do I place a burden on a sick old man who I should be nursing back to health? Now, I see why teenagers fall astray just to gain support and care. I fear for I may be counted among those teenagers that lost their way, because I am loosing myself gradually. The irony of life! Here I am zealously in love with education, but have no money to nurture my passion. I am becoming the school drop-out, the orphan in need of care and support! I am also an orphan that is advocating for my fellow orphans! Why glorify the dead, when you have a life to live. But I'll be better tomorrow when that pitiless demon of bigotry perishes in the hearts of the protectors turned suppressors You are just my family by title, not in deed! Today, I scream at the madness of a world shielding violators who mistreat their own, yet claiming to love them. I'll be better tomorrow when villains are cuffed and blamed for their vile craving of defiling childhood and purpose of humanity. I'll be better tomorrow when families protect their own Until that tomorrow, I'll spit venom into the eyes of impunity. Today, I bandage my wounds of despair in the clinic of hope that those who hold the reins of power would see my value. ©Model.it.so✍