Spilt Infinitive Volume 1, Issue 3 Selected Author Works
by Emily ScottRead More +
Leaves few and green and dead yellow.
A thumb blending colors against a dusty canvas.
Open brown fields replacing tar and concrete.
Windows of air between buildings getting wider, then night bleeding black over all that.
She rested her heart heavy head on me. They will call,…
by Yong TakahashiRead More +
She glistens in the sunlight that streams through the stained glass windows. She turns and winks at me. I wonder if I could be any happier if Lizzie was my biological daughter.“I love you,” she mouths to me. She smiles then tries to be serious again. Her…
by Dylan Otto KriderRead More +
My hours are from 8 to 5 Tuesdays through Fridays. Sunday’s taken, and ain’t anyone except graduate students at the university on Saturdays, and they’re stubborn as mules. Don’t like Mondays. I don’t have a job, so this is what I do. You just have to…
by Sherri HoffmanRead More +
From inside the yellow sky, the city was the same. Skyscrapers clustered at the foot of Capitol Hill. Mount Olympus a gray jut of granite. The red-brown gash of the open gravel pits. Gravity Hill where, in neutral, every tourist’s car appeared to roll uphill.A blonde stewardess…
By Leigh RaperRead More +
“Isn’t this exciting?” the woman from Pittsburgh said.I nodded. It was exciting. For that tiny moment, we were all winners. We had survived The Test.We were ushered into a small waiting area where we sat in yet another set of metal folding chairs. The Who Wants to…
by Ben ShabermaniRead More +
When I was 10-years old, my father took me to a Boy Scout track and field competition at the local school playground. The scouts in my troop were competing in events like the 50-yard dash, long jump, high jump, and shot put. While the idea was to…
Spilt Infinitive Volume 1, Issue 3
Blog Posts from Our Editors
Adjuncts, Ass-hats, and Adding to the Ether
Last week, an essay of mine that focused on the plight of adjunct life in higher education was published in the Chronicle Review. It was received, for the most part, very well. There were a couple of ass-hats who took me the wrong way, but where there’s an opportunity… Read More +
From Memories to Memoir
As an editor of Creative Nonfiction for Spilt Infinitive, I often get asked what we’re looking for, and that’s a valid question. Creative nonfiction encompasses a wide array of writings, so if you’re a writer looking to submit to us, it might be difficult at first to know what it is… Read More +
When Spilt Infinitive was starting up last year, I was in a Season of No. You’ve been there (and if you haven’t, keep your good fortune to yourself). It’s that stretch of a week, maybe even a month if you’ve been ambitiously submitting, when you can’t pick up your phone without… Read More +
Three years. Four drafts. Enough revision that I could feasibly switch the suffix of the word from re- to de-. I’ve lived and breathed the same story before and after work, during the course of an MFA program, and through the tumult and pleasure of getting married. Yet, I still can’t… Read More +
Scars are the result of the body’s natural healing process. The body mends the damaged skin by forming collagen fibers and, once healed, the skin becomes tougher, thicker, with a different color and texture than the surrounding skin. While trying to protect us the process leaves a physical memory, a record rarely forgotten. Sometimes these memories aren’t bad. The first… Read More +
Birthright: When your story belongs to someone else, do you have the right to tell it?
When your writing is young, you keep it safe from the outside world. You gaze at it lovingly. You stay home and baby it. Then the day comes when your writing grows up, and you have to let it out into the world.
My writing is growing up. I need to let… Read More +
The High Cost of Remembering
On a cold, drizzly night in early March, I came home from dinner to discover my 10-week-old puppy dead in my back yard. I had left Hemingway in the yard with our two other dogs, something we’d been doing regularly. At some point in my short absence, I’m sure… Read More +
The Magic Fish
When I was a kid, one of the children’s books in our home library was The Magic Fish. It was one of those generous, wide children’s volumes with illustrations by a true artist. When I opened it up above my head in bed, the world… Read More +
Shiny Treasures Plundered from Better Writers
I’ve been busy lately. My book The Wax Bullet War is through the developmental edits, the line edit is starting, the marketing plan is coming together, and the cover is being designed. I am currently reading submissions for Spilt Infinitive, our amazing new literary magazine. I’m also going through a series… Read More +
“Life moves pretty fast,” said Ferris Bueller. “If you don’t stop to take a look around every once in awhile, you could miss it.” I took note when I heard these words back in 1986, when I was fifteen years old and my life consisted of little more than school and soccer practice and clanging out power chords… Read More +