Have you seen Joyland, the fantastic hub for short fiction created by Toronto writer Emily Schultz? This is what I've been looking for. Well, one of the things. Here's a taste of what's on the menu:
Check it out.
Mr. Hardman was silent. Then after a few tumbleweed moments, I was told to stay away from Hypermart for a couple of weeks. A kind of unpaid probation. I swore to myself that I would take the opportunity to hunt Chastity down and ruin her life, unless she called me and wanted to screw around or something.Amanda Stern says
Say that I could fly using just my body. Say that based on the rate at which I lift my arms, I could take flight. Say that I could see through atmosphere and gauge ominous weather using just my eyes and what I know to be true of clouds (sometimes there is turbulence). Then, I think, I wouldn’t be afraid to leave the ground and I could move freely from the place I’m in. I could attend my sister’s wedding; see my mother before she dies. I could spend time with my brother whose two children I have never met.Jonathan Lethem says
“I guess you’re thinking that there might not be a story here,” says The Man Who. “Least not the story you had in mind.”Fresh fiction from several North American cities, each with its own editor. It really gives you a flavor for each town, a little snapshot of Montreal, Toronto, New York. A little slice to go.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t say that,” says the journalist quickly. He’s not sure if he hasn’t detected a note of sarcasm in the voice of The Man Who by now. “I’m sure we can work something up.”
“Work something up,” parrots The Man Who. The Mother Of has his shorts down now, and she’s swabbing at his damp flank with a paper towel. The Man Who sets his mouth in a grim smile and trudges forward. He’s not here, really. He’s out on Io, making tracks. He’s going to be in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Check it out.