Philadelphia Stories Names the Winners of the 2020 Marguerite McGlinn Fiction Contest

August 2020, Philadelphia, PA: Philadelphia Stories, a non-profit literary magazine serving the Delaware Valley and beyond, has named Colorado author A.C. Koch as this year’s winner of the Marguerite McGlinn Prize for Fiction for his story, “Young Americans.” Koch will receive a $2500 prize for “Young Americans.”

Editorial board members read through hundreds of submissions to narrow the list to seven finalists, which were then reviewed by the 2020 judge, Karen Dionne, the bestselling author of The Marsh King’s Daughter and The Wicked Sister. Dionne described “Young Americans” as “…[a] short story [that] ticked all the boxes for me. A nuanced, pitch-perfect father-daughter road trip told with an economy of language and an easy rhythm and flow that sucked me right in.” She went on to say, “Clearly plotted, well-drawn characters, along with just the right mix of atmosphere and insight make this story a winner!”

This year’s second place goes to Arkansas author Allie Mariano for her story, “Dead Women.” About this story Dionne says, “A character at a crossroads is always intriguing; how did they come to this place and what will they do going forward? I love stories that focus on undoing the consequences of bad choices. That this story is also beautifully written is a bonus.” The second-place prize is $750.

Third place goes to Philadelphia author David Updike for “Feral Wives.” Dionne writes, “This short story begins with an irresistible premise: women all over the country are leaving their families to live in groups in the forest, constantly on the move, building temporary shelters while they hunt and fish and forage. An engaging and thoughtful commentary on what it means to shed the labels of ‘wife’ and ‘mother.’” The third-place prize is $500.

2020 Finalists:
Charlie Watts, “Almost Happy,” Freedom, NH
Holly Pekowsky, “Almost There, ” New York, NY
P. Jo Anne Burgh “The Women in the Club” Glastonbury, CT
Shanteé Felix, “Magic Hair,” Baltimore, MD

Koch, Mariano, and Updike will be honored at special virtual reception and reading on Saturday, October 10, 2020 immediately following the conclusion of Philadelphia Stories’ annual Push to Publish Conference, which will also be held online this year. Author Karen Dionne will be the keynote speaker. The annual conference is held in partnership with Rosemont College, which offers an MFA in Creative Writing and an MA in Publishing and actively supports the writing community through such literary events.

Letter from the Editor: PS Junior Released Despite Obstacles

By Eric-Ross McLaren

I’m a rising senior at the Friends’ Central School, and I worked on Philadelphia Stories and Mighty Writer’s most recent issue, PS Junior 2020, as the Lead Editor!

I’ve been working with Philadelphia Stories and Mighty Writers since my freshman year of high school. In my two years working with both organizations, I’ve learned that they’re home to a very creative and unique group of students and mentors. They have a very special place in my heart, and I am grateful to the program directors for giving me such a wonderful opportunity.

I’ve gotta say, these past few months have been beyond abnormal. Who knew that we would be told to stay in our homes, and if otherwise, be victim to a nasty this wicked virus.

I remember chatting with a couple of friends a few days before New Year’s eve (2019), talking about how “2020 is going to be the year” and how “it better kick 2019’s butt!” We had yet to learn about a global pandemic sweeping through not only the states, but the world itself. This most definitely caught my friends at Mighty Writers and myself off-guard.

We were working on the PS Junior 2020 issue when Governor Wolf sent out an order to quarantine. It was a very scary and uncertain time, and the mentoring editors and I had to come together to come up with a new gameplan: “What should we do?” The team and I had to follow a new and unfamiliar format when finalizing the issue. We had to hold many “ZOOM calls”, a term everyone had become accustomed to a few weeks into quarantine. Schools were going virtual, and many people’s schedules were running rampant, frazzled with uncertainty.

The editing process of PS Junior follows a carefully planned procedure: gather student-submitted creative pieces, organize editors into teams and assign stories, select and edit the stories, send all creative pieces to our designer, then have the actual issue printed. It’s a very tedious process, especially when we fall back on deadlines. Yet, I am still surprised to this day how cooperative and hard-working the team was during the height of the pandemic. They stayed connected with me throughout the whole “virtual” editorial process, which was very difficult. Many of our editors either had family disruptions, or they had to take care of a younger sibling while also juggling tasks for the issue. I am so proud of every single one of them.

During this whole process — having to transition to a virtual platform while also managing a team of student editors — there’s one very important skill I learned and developed: how to take immediate action as a leader, and how to uplift and embrace those who work alongside you. You are nothing without a team of like-minded, hard-working individuals, and I saw this amongst my team at Mighty Writers West.

I am proud that, despite the pandemic, this team was still able to produce a collection of stories, poems, and artwork that you can read in the latest issue of PS Junior. I look forward to working with the Mighty Writers editorial team on the next issue, PS Teen, for writers aged 13-18. The deadline is October 9. If you’d like to submit, you can submit through this link — we’d like to read your work!

Poetry Prompt: Using Anaphora as Your Guide

by Grant Clauser

I was watching a movie that took place where snowfalls are measured in feet and the world goes dark for months at a time. The people in this movie still needed to get around their farm, so they built rope guides from the back door to the barn and from the barn to the feed shed, etc. This way each time they ventured outside into a blank canvas of snow and darkness they still had something to hold onto, a guide to keep them going in one direction.

Some poetry techniques are like that, a thing to grab onto and follow. One of my favorites is anaphora: the repetition of a word or phrase, usually at the beginning of a line or beginning of a sentence. For the writer, it’s a kind of handrail to get you started and keep you going in the same direction. Or think of it as steppingstones. Each repeat of the key word is another stone along the path of your poem. For the reader, it triggers our attraction to pattern recognition—we respond to things we’ve heard before and get caught up in the regularity of it.

One of the most famous practitioners of anaphora was Walt Whitman. See how he used the repeated phrase “Just as you” in this section of “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.”

 

It avails not, time nor place—distance avails not,

I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence,

Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,

Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd,

Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d,

Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood yet was hurried,

Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick-stemm’d pipes of steamboats, I look’d.

 

There’s a chant-like feeling to the repetition, like an incantation or a prayer.

In the next example, Gregory Pardlo uses repetition of the phrase “I was born” to allow a sort-of story to unfold.

 

Written by Himself

By Gregory Pardlo

I was born in minutes in a roadside kitchen a skillet

whispering my name. I was born to rainwater and lye;

I was born across the river where I

was borrowed with clothespins, a harrow tooth,

broadsides sewn in my shoes. I returned, though

it please you, through no fault of my own,

pockets filled with coffee grounds and eggshells.

I was born still and superstitious; I bore an unexpected burden.

I gave birth, I gave blessing, I gave rise to suspicion.

I was born abandoned outdoors in the heat-shaped air,

air drifting like spirits and old windows.

I was born a fraction and a cipher and a ledger entry;

I was an index of first lines when I was born.

I was born waist-deep stubborn in the water crying

ain’t I a woman and a brother I was born

to this hall of mirrors, this horror story I was

born with a prologue of references, pursued

by mosquitoes and thieves, I was born passing

off the problem of the twentieth century: I was born.

I read minds before I could read fishes and loaves;

I walked a piece of the way alone before I was born

 

Notice how with each repeat of the phrase he reveals a little more, as if each use opens a new window onto the same person.

When I’m stuck in a writing rut I’ll turn to anaphora as my guide rope. Sometimes I’ll just randomly grab a key word or phrase out of the air, or sometimes I’ll use some tried and true simple ones—single starter words like “If,” Look,” or “Because” can work well. Or you can be more inventive and come up with a phrase like “In grandma’s yard…” or “After the flood.”

Try one of each, an anaphora poem beginning with a single word and one beginning with a repeated phrase. To make it extra interesting, try varying the phrase slightly halfway through the poem and see where that takes you.

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Grant Clauser is the author of five books including Muddy Dragon on the Road to Heaven (winner of the Codhill Press Poetry Prize), Reckless Constellations, and The Magicians Handbook. His poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Cortland Review, Tar River Poetry, The Literary Review and others. He works as an editor and teaches at Rosemont College.