Prose – Aly Writes

A Smart Accessory to Murder

Alexa, play that song that goes, “those black-eyed peas, they tasted alright to me, Earl.”

New Beginnings

I like the slow build-up of warmth, he said, the creeping anticipation of the lengthening days and strengthening sun and—

Should You Talk About Your Writing?

I soon realized that having a sounding board when I’m trying to work out a sticky plot point is invaluable. Sometimes just the act of saying it out loud can help ideas to congeal into something tangible.

I Am the Deafening Silence

I am the slow spurt of water, reluctant, always too hot and always too cold. I am three hairs stuck to the shower wall in different coloured shapes and lengths that are so far from home they’ll never be un-lost.

10 (More) Notable Canadian Literary Magazines

I’m back again with ten more quality literary publications that are based in Canada. Most of these magazines accept submissions from all over the world, but for all my fellow Canadian writers, it’s a little bit special to find a home for your work that is close to home.

I Choose the Lonely Road

It’s overcast and gloomy, and the tin shacks sprinkled alongside the road look somber, as if they’re depressed too when the sun’s not out.

A General Feeling of Vague Writerly Dissatisfaction

Perhaps that is just what the increasingly heavy state of the world does to us. It seems an insurmountable challenge to be joyfully creative when there are much weightier issues to be concerned with.

And Still the Planet Burns

We must evacuate alike; we all will suffer loss, equal now if only in our devastation. Our memories go up in smoke as we flee. What are we running to? There is no future.

How to Write a Third-Person Author Biography

Give your readers a sense of who you are, lend credibility to your writing, and arouse interest in your work.

There’s a Fist-Sized Hole in the Kitchen Window

It’s that kind of day where you pray for a whisper of a breeze to kiss the beads of sweat that sting your eyes. You don’t move a muscle, lying on the dock, fingers trailing in tepid water. The lump of a secret too huge to swallow grows in your throat until you think you’llContinue reading “There’s a Fist-Sized Hole in the Kitchen Window”