NONSENSE

Deadline: 9 FEBRUARY 2014

Mad Hatter: “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.

“No, I give it up,” Alice replied: “What’s the answer?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter.

We want to start 2014 a little feverishly, like a carnival ride, with our hats on sideways and a wink on our grins, paying tribute to one of our favourite writers and illustrators: Lewis Carroll.

We’re inviting you all to put your top hats on, dine with candelabras, sing with mice and grin at Cheshire cats. Maybe even indulge in a pen name. Perhaps invest in a feather pen and tip the clock hands back, stand on your head with your hands in your shoes – tell us something silly.

But, remember – there’s logic in nonsense, you just have to know where to look.

Lewis Carroll

Yes, we’re paying tribute to Alice in Wonderland's creator, but we’re also remembering the nonsensical wonderers who came before and after ­– Edward Lear, Roald Dahl, Dr Seuss, Edward Gorey, Ivor Cutler. Take the eccentricity from each of these writers and artists, and through thick, blurry specs, you’ll see the logic and the dots the lines, the clever craft of painstakingly intelligent and illogical penmanship. 

Sometimes though, you won’t see it. Sometimes it’s just nonsense. But it’s always fun – it’s illogical logic. Are we making sense? No? Good.

Rhymes & riddles

Lewis Carroll is the pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, but you all knew that. Make your own pen name. Dodgson was a tremendous mathematician, professor and photographer, there was always more than meets the eye.

Carroll also had a habit of making up words and making them stick, making them memorable and fun to roll around in our mouths – uffish, mimsy, galumphing – even more than 100 years later. He was a neologistic wizard. Try it yourself – see if it sticks. Become a portmanteau connoisseur.

Or give us riddles, puzzles, acrostics, rhymes that we can remember and say over and over again, just because it sounds nice, beats like a drum and has a steady, galloping rhythm.

Fairy tales

Of course we want fairy tales – à la Alice in Wonderland - but we don’t want the sickly, happy ever after, cupcake sort of stuff. No Once Upon a Time. Nor do we want Brothers Grimm (we’ll save that for a different theme), we want weird worlds full of characters that fizz, hiccup and chortle - the Mad Hatter, the Mock Turtle, the Dodo, the rabbit.

Become a child again. Carroll, Dahl and Lear were writers that seemed to understand how to talk to children. If you've forgotten, you might need to look through the looking glass again.

Taboo

Don’t be afraid to go a little outside the box, here – we welcome this with wide, Cheshire grins. Carroll was never afraid of taking Wordsworth’s words, sticking them on the wall and playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey with them. Bend the rules, we’ll let you.

Better yet, have a nosey on Carroll's lesson on how to apologise to someone for standing them up. It's brilliant.

Read our submission guidelines for full details on where, what and how to submit. Read a list of our favourite things to see the sort of things we love. Even better, unlock our archive and get a taste for our style - it'll only help you in the long run. After all, we might not be your cup of tea, and we'd like to be. Like a tea tray in the sky...

We're looking for the very best illustrators, photographers, designers and artists to work with. If you think you've got what it takes, get in touch with us at synaesthesiamagazine@gmail.com.

The madder, the better. And please don’t be late, we simply can’t accept your submission otherwise. Plus, you’ll upset the rabbit.

Source: Vintage Winnie

Editors' Note - SCIENCE & NUMBERS

Like language, science and numbers bind us together. They’re the reason we're able to open our mouths and say hello and tell each other stories. They’re the reason we're able to open our eyes in the morning, to listen to jumbled scores of the world daily, and close our eyes again at night. They’re the light behind our computer screens and the way our muscles arch and expand after a good stretch.

From changing gear in your car, to the mechanics behind the wheel, to the glossy interior and leather seats and the winding country lanes, science and numbers work in harmony and are an integral part of what makes our globe so fascinatingly beautiful. Science and numbers are everywhere, no matter how much you try to avoid them.

So often, we see this division between those who are ‘artsy’ and those who are ‘scientifically minded’ - this month’s theme aims to unite the two. We wanted 9 and nine to meet, shake hands, maybe throw an arm around each other. We wanted to pit words and numbers together and watch as they come together through osmosis.

We were extremely lucky to interview award-winning short story writer Adam Marek, to find out his thoughts on synaesthesia, science and technology, and how he integrates these in his short stories.

This issue sees the futuristic lust in short story, 'David', collide with the overwhelming explosion of numbers at a social function in Xavier Wright's account. It marries fractals with honey bees, and all the while, the clock keeps ticking in John Rutter's 'Two Twenty-Two.'

'Science and Numbers' has been incredible to design, read, explore and inhale, and thanks to everyone who submitted. We'll leave you to immerse yourself in a fraction of what the world is made of.

Annabelle and Carlotta
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Synaesthesia Magazine Short Story Competition 2014

The Synaesthesia Magazine team are proud to announce our first short story competition!

We have had a fantastic first year at Synaesthesia Magazine. It makes us so proud to see our readership growing and our contributions increasing, so what better way to end the year than to give you all the opportunity to take part in our very first competition?

Opens
15 November 2013

Closes
7 January 2014

For this exciting leap into 2014, we're lucky enough to have Adam Marek, award-winning short story writer of two fantastic collections, Instruction Manual for Swallowing and The Stone Thrower, as our guest judge.

Here are the delicious prizes we have lined up for our winner and runner-up:

Winner:

• £60 Amazon voucher
• 2 x books courtesy of Comma Press
• Publication in Synaesthesia Magazine's February 2014 issue
• Winner's interview in Synaesthesia Magazine's February 2014 issue

Runner-up:

• 1 book courtesy of Comma Press
• Publication in Synaesthesia Magazine's April 2014 issue

All submissions will be judged anonymously, with our top stories read and judged by Adam Marek!

The rules are simple, but please read them carefully:

• Only one (1) submission per person
• Word limit up to 2,500 words maximum
• Entries must be in English
• Entries must be previously unpublished
• All short stories must be in .doc, .docx or .pdf format, with Name of Entrant, Story Title as the file name
• All entries must be sent via email (as an attachment) to synaesthesiamagazine@gmail.com
• Subject line of email to include: Name of Entrant, Story Title, Short Story Competition
• Body of email must include author's name, email address and PayPal address
• No corrections can be made after submission, nor fees refunded
• There is no set theme
• The competition is open to all; it is not restricted to UK residents only.

As we run the magazine entirely on love and coppers from our piggy banks, for this competition there is a small entry fee (£4.00) which is available to pay via PayPal only.
 
If your entry fee has been successfully processed, each entry will be accepted, but unfortunately we cannot reply to each and every email (as much as we'd like to!). A shortlist will be published on our blog and sent to all entrants in January. The winner and runner-up will be notified by email, and asked for their address for the prizes to be sent to. 

Good luck!

About our guest judge:

Adam Marek won the 2011 Arts Foundation Short Story Fellowship, and was shortlisted for the inaugural Sunday Times EFG Short Story Award. His first story collection Instruction Manual for Swallowing was nominated for the Frank O’Connor Prize. His stories have appeared in many magazines, including: Prospect and The Sunday Times Magazine, and in many anthologies including Lemistry, Litmus and The New Uncanny from Comma Press, The New Hero from Stoneskin Press, andThe Best British Short Stories 2011. His second story collection is entitled The Stone Thrower.

Entry Payment 1 x Entry £4.00 GBP

These are a few of our favourite things

by Carlotta Eden - Editor
@1chae

Editors are mothers. They cradle words in their ink-stained hands and rock them gently until they hiccup and burp and sleep without fidgeting. Sometimes they have to be strict, and tell words that they can’t play with that other word because that other word isn’t good for them. Sometimes they have to say no because that’s how stories get better. But mostly they love words and just want to see them grow into great, great stories that others point at and go, heck, I wish I’d written that.

So we’ve decided to write about what we like and what we don’t like in our submissions. And if you don’t like what we do like, then that’s fine. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. It’s important to remember that your submission absolutely doesn’t have to be perfect. We’re not expecting Shakespeare. If you bring us something that makes us coo we’ll tell you it makes us coo, and we’ll work with you to turn that extra o into an r so it makes us go corr.

We like poetry that howls from the rooftops. We don’t like poetry that shouts into a microphone. One commands, the other imposes rudely. We like modest poetry, poetry that tells us, actually, it’s pretty terrifying being human but y’know what? Here’s a puddle. Look at its rainbow.

We’re not particularly drawn to poetry that laments, or mourns, or talks about how much it misses its boyfriend. We don’t like poetry that feels sorry for itself.

We like poetry that talks to us like we’re humans, sometimes even friends, and poetry that goes bungee jumping and, if it’s not feeling up to it, puts its feet up and flicks through crappy TV channels. Not because it can’t be bothered, but because it’s honest. It doesn’t try hard. 

We like short stories that come to bed with you and kiss you somewhere you didn’t know you liked. We don’t like short stories that preach, or teach us a lesson, or politicise or talk about David Cameron, unless it’s about someone who performs plastic surgery on himself to make him look like David Cameron because, wow, what? We like short stories that make us go wow, what?

We like short stories that tease and don’t necessarily give us what we want. If there’s a word in your story that you have to think twice about, get rid of it. Get in and get out. We don’t like stodgy prose or long-winded narratives. We can tell if you’ve tried to be Mary Shelley. We really, really can.

We like short stories that say hey, babe, take a walk on the wide side. We like stories that take us on a Greyhound bus to Baton Rouge. We like stories that have been gunned down to the ground and come back fighting. We like short stories that question the minority that are questioning the majority without asking a direct question. We like short stories that are the beginnings of a knock knock joke but not the end. We don’t like sob stories, but we do like stories that whisper, I had to write this.

And if you still want to know what we like, we like Ian McEwan, Miranda Kerr, Adam Marek, Alice Munro, Kurt Vonnegut, Denis Johnson, Ben Brooks, Tobias Wolff and James Frey.

We like it even more when you read our submission guidelines. Please stick to our theme; we simply cannot accept your submission otherwise, no matter how wonderful. We only have a limited amount of space to design in the magazine, so submissions must stick to word limits. We just want to make your page look magnificent.

Editor's Endeavour: Lazy-itis

Our editor, Annabelle Carvell, has embarked on a new journey in her own writing. Be part of this journey with her, and follow her updates on the Synaesthesia Blog! @AnnabelleCsyn

#3 Lazy-itis

So. Well done you, Annabelle.

You've got yourself your arc. You've preached about where to start and what to do every day and what do you do? Not follow your own advice in the slightest.

Lazy-itis is a serious illness. It creeps up on you unawares and seeps into your pores. It's what keeps you sat on the couch watching Emmerdale, or glued to Facebook hoping for that little red '1' to pop up after you've updated a mindless status. It's fast (which is pretty ironic given its symptoms), and it'll catch any writer in its sticky claws.

How do we overcome it? 

Motivation. For everything we do in life we need motivation. And for motivation, we often need to set ourselves goals, because goals = growth. Whether this is for bigger life goals such as getting a new job, buying a house, saving for a new car, or our smaller personal goals such as sending a story into online literary magazines or competitions, or trying to eat more healthily, goals allow us to grow in some way or another.

I think what I need to get over this lazy-itis is a date. This doesn't work for everyone though, I understand that. I know some people feel put off by the pressure of having to have something done by a certain date, but for me, that's what keeps me focused. A date means a goal, and a goal means novella growth - how could this go wrong?

What we need to be careful of is the easy possibility of guilt tripping yourself - it's very easy to feel guilt ridden after you have missed a personal deadline. Here, I'd suggest a little trick - give yourself small deadlines, multiple deadlines, preliminary deadlines and final deadlines.

e.g:

This is my new timeline which takes me up to my goal for next year. It means that if I miss my first deadline, it's not the end of the world; if I miss my preliminary deadline, it's not great but I can still get a big bulk done; and my final deadline, if I don't hit that then I will probably wish I'd have stuck to my deadlines in the first place.

It's giving yourself a couple of chances before you're sent to the headteacher's office. But it's important to have goals in writing, else we have no growth. There comes a time for everyone I think where lazy-itis really can get the better of you, and it's so easy to suddenly not have written in months. But with the help of deadline dates, and motivation, we can beat this epidemic! 

Editor's Endeavour: The early stages

Our editor, Annabelle Carvell has embarked on a new journey in her own writing. Be part of this journey with her, and follow her updates on the Synaesthesia Blog! @AnnabelleCsyn

#2 The early stages

Discipline has not been my forte when it comes to writing. As I have mentioned previously, I have a very rigid writing style, and normally, if the time isn't right then it's not time to write.

Writing the novella has been a little different though. I've discovered that if I don't keep up my momentum, I could easily start to lose the direction of my story. 

I've found that recently to be honest - up until starting these blog posts, in fact. I had a good, strong stint of writing frequently, where I was making time to write, and was committed to my story. But, as we all know too well, life can get in the way - or so we tell ourselves... Often, I find that that is just my own excuse for being scared to be committed to my story. Before I knew it, my novella hadn't been updated in over a month. 

Writing the novella has been very different from writing a short story for me. With the short story, I have the whole nutshell encapsulated in my mind before I even have chance to blink, so when it comes to writing it, I can keep momentum. 

The novella is different. It isn't over in the space of a blink of an eye. It's drawn out. It teases memories out of the air as slowly as threading a needle. It takes time, and patience.

What helps is to exercise your mind weekly if you can - not necessarily on your novella itself - but by writing something every week, you'll find you'll stimulate your story and leave work desperate for the commute to hurry and pass so that you can get back at your keyboard.

Take a look at this nifty little inspirational diagram below:

There are some really important points to take on board here - these are what I am now trying to do daily:

• Write on your commute to work. Describe the people you see; the morning you've had; the breakfast you ate; the dream that woke you up; the mistake you made at work yesterday
• Record your memories. Write down your childhood memories. Memories are a goldmine. Writing what you know really does make your story more authentic. 
• Learn about something new. Wallpaper making; Aristotle; the history of the tudors. Learning not only stimulates your mind, but also really helps to add depth to your characters' interests, to places - little details that make your story so much more convincing. 

The main tip I'd stress is to write every week. It doesn't need to be everyday - sometimes life really does get in the way (I swear!) but keep your momentum. 

It'll help you in the early stages. It'll help you to maintain faith in your story. 

Editor's Endeavour: Where do you even start?

Our editor, Annabelle Carvell has embarked on a new journey in her own writing. Be part of this journey with her, and follow her updates on the Synaesthesia Blog! @AnnabelleCsyn

#1 Where do you even start?

I was lucky that I had an idea for a story before I had the idea of writing it as a novella. My advice for where to start is this; find your idea (it needn't be a fully fledged idea) and then work out the arc of your story.

Right now, my novella has a shape. I know the beginning. I know the middle. I know the end.

I was sitting in a cafe in my home town with a friend from work fairly recently (she’s also a writer) for the first writing workshop I had done on my own writing in a very long time. I had sent her roughly three scenes of my story – these were the beginning, the middle, and a hint at the end... although, at this point, I didn’t know that this was the case.

We talked for hours (quite literally) about what I had written so far, and it was only through conversation with another writer that it clicked that I had the arc of my story right in front of me. It seems primitive, I know, to follow primary school teachings of how to write fiction, but really, finding your beginning, middle and end is what makes the process so much easier (at least it seems to be working for me so far).

I don’t want to get technical on you, but this diagram is literally how I envisaged my story once my friend and I had this revelation:

As soon as I realised I had a beginning, middle and end, my arc appeared instantly in my mind. Your arc will possibly look different from mine. Let me stress that this ‘middle’ is not the same as the climax for my arc. What is most interesting about this structure is that the ‘middle’ section instantly signified change. The rising action in my arc leads to the ‘middle’ where we reach the turning point, but not the climax. A diagram for climax in my tale would look much different, and probably not the smooth curve that you can see.

This arc shows me the pivotal moment where something changes in the tale to determine the direction of the rest of the story. For me, this is usually where the characters make a decision, or don’t make a decision – something that creates tension, that lets the reader know that something is going to happen, and has them tempted to flick through the pages to discover what that might be. My advice here would be to personalise the shape of your arc – it might be skewed to one side – but whatever it is, it has to make sense to you.

Most importantly, this arc signifies movement. That I have a story waiting to expand and develop. 

Editor's Endeavour: Writing the novella

Our editor, Annabelle Carvell has embarked on a new journey in her own writing. Be part of this journey with her, and follow her updates on the Synaesthesia Blog! @AnnabelleCsyn

I have taken on a new challenge: the novella. I'm not entirely sure whether or not it is one that I will conquer and complete, but for now I'm happy to see where it leads me.

The journey and evolving of my writing has been strange – I began as being more compelled to write poetry. In all honesty, I think it was partly through laziness and fear of writing anything longer than ten lines. I enjoyed the short space I was allowed on the page, and the crisp abstract images woven with hints of something bigger.

Throughout my degree, this slowly shifted – eventually I was ‘sold’ by the short story and how a world could be captivated in such a small space, with such little (but strikingly poignant) change. Whilst I was unemployed, all I could write (and wanted to write) were short stories – the odd poem popped up here and there, but my energy was fully thrust into a short story collection.

To explain a little about my rigid writing style, I very rarely write something that starts off as a poem or a short story, and then moulds itself into something different. Usually, if I set out to write a poem, it stays a poem. My focus doesn’t shift; my writer’s mind is fixated on that form and never wavers.

A while ago, I had begun to write another short story. A short story that burned with fiery marigolds and salty kisses. I had the whole story saved on my mind’s hard drive, but the space was the equivalent to the core of an apple. Its flesh was only just enough to encase the seeds, yet carried weighty backstory – exactly how I liked my short stories, scratching the surface just enough to reveal worlds beneath. 

However, something stalled me writing this particular short story. Generally, whenever I write in the short story form it flows freely; I tend to write short stories in either one go during the course of an intensive writing day, or in two or three chunks. Yet this particular story would not budge.

I don't know why, but it clicked that this tale needed more – the flesh around the seeds needed to grow into a full, ripe apple. So now, I have dedicated my time and efforts into something new, something daunting but incredibly exciting.

These blog posts, I hope, will help me to maintain my momentum, and shall follow my endeavours to write in an alien form; the novella.

Editors' Note - CITIES

Ah, cities: home to beach fronts and boardwalks, multi-storey car parks and huge, huge green parks. There’s something about cities that we like... no, we need, to write about. There’s something about being able to turn onto a street corner and flit between art galleries and bookshops and cinemas and banks. There’s something about lairy pubs and the people that go into them, and there’s something about walking onto a train platform and meeting a loved one in between crowds of others that is so very, very powerful.

Some of the stories in this issue have cracks in the pavement, others are noisy and bustley and a few are like quiet, abandoned streets that just need another soul to love them. Our Venetian short story, ‘Volare’ by Amanda Oosthuizen, on page 93, is a trickling, smokey canal, with cats sidling along the walls and water slapping against stone: “And then, blood orange accordion music bounces between the buildings...” that's sure to sail you along with it.

Some of our poems are sky-high complexes that try not to look down, and some are busy jazz cafes that clap and sing. Robert Klein Engler leaves trails of broken city scenes throughout the magazine, each one reaching the edge of the universe and turning left back down Anonymous Avenue and taking another look around. Julie Kim Shavin’s poems dance between urban worlds and Jo Davey’s ‘Atlas’ flashes blue, blue, blue.

But we don’t ever just hand you words, and then leave. This issue is one big neon sign, demanding your attention with mind-blowing photography from an abandoned island in the Nagasaki Prefecture to sepia-toned markets in Vietnam. 

And for the first time ever, we’re introducing music. Whenever you see a ‘play’ button, hit it. The page will come alive with glittering piano notes or ghostly voices  - and if you’ve had enough, just press ‘stop’. But we’re pretty sure you’ll want to hear it out.

It’s our biggest issue yet, and we’re so excited to present you treats for the eyes and the ears. We wouldn’t exist without our contributors though, so we’re dedicating this issue to each and every one of our writers and artists who were willing to share their creativity with us. And, of course, to our readers. You’re all the best.

Annabelle and Carlotta
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What's in a name?

by Harry Harris

 @CmonHarris 

Set yourself a challenge – think of your favourite novel, one you know like the back of your hand, one that maybe you’ve read a couple of times, have picked apart and put back together. One that you would give to someone important and go: “Read this.” Got one? Okay, try and imagine it with a different title. A nigh-on impossible task, but fascinating nonetheless. How does a title of a piece of writing impact how you interpret that piece of writing?

Titles seem rather innocuous at first. As a writer, they’re often the launch pad, a match to a keg of gunpowder that explodes into devilish prose and immersive dialogue. For the longest time I carried an idea with me, a song loosely based on an old Welsh bloke I used to work with who told me stories of when he worked at Graceland and owned Elvis bars all over the world. That was the germ of an idea that took many forms, but it wasn’t until I came up with the title 'The Day I Met The King' that the story of the song began to take shape. Conversely I wrote a song not too long ago that I think is okay, and I think is finished, but the only title I can think of at the moment is 'Letters', which just kinda blows. It won’t see the light of day until that’s remedied.

A nice way to imagine titles are as frames – in that, they instruct you how to look at something. Herman Melville named the greatest novel in the English Language Moby Dick; or, The Whale, and yet the titular character is very much present by his absence in the novel itself, the narrative instead focusing on the narrator Ishmael, the psychotic Captain Ahab, the deliriously entertaining Queequeg. Yet, despite the whale never appearing until deep into the book, the title literally hangs over every page, mirroring the struggle within the narrative. Similarly, the balance of the title is directly reflective of the way Melville will occasionally move away from the narrative entirely to just describe the behaviour of whales – some of the most beautiful passages of prose in the book. So, with that title, Melville is pointing us in two different directions, setting the course for the novel without us even opening the page.

Then there are the titles that are perhaps more elusive, more puzzling, ones that don’t seem to directly reference anything in the novel, the ones that make you keep your eyes peeled for something hiding between the lines. Carson McCullers is wonderful in this regard – I’m currently reading her short novel Reflections In A Golden Eye, which so far is a typically melancholy, intimate story of the goings on within an army barracks. There’s a beautiful passage in which McCullers talks of a man falling asleep imagining a great bird coming to land on his chest, the golden eye of the title being the eye of the bird, so, the title line is never said, but in that moment the reader gains a new sense of clarity, and it informs the way in which we view that character and indeed the rest of the story.

Without getting all “death of the author” on you, what a good title can really do is empower the reader to interpret the story in his or her own way, which is the most wonderful thing about writing any kind of story. Nothing belongs to you. Once it’s out there, it’s out there, and you’ve got to let it do its own thing, sometimes it comes back to you in a way that you never expected. But that doesn’t mean you can’t point people in the direction you want them to go in. Next time you finish a story, or a poem, or a song, think about what you want people to get out of the story, the character you think is most interesting or the tone you want to strike. Give it three titles. Give those three stories to three different people and see how their reactions differ. Which reaction most chimes with what you wanted? Call it that.

The Art of Storytelling

by Victoria Galvin

@v_ff_g

I’ve always loved a good story. But then, that’s hardly unusual. Everybody does; from the story your best friend is telling you about their latest disastrous dating experience, to the best-selling story that famous author wrote, which that famous director brought to film, with an inspired soundtrack written by that famous singer/songwriter. Society is built on the way we interact with one another – and one of the most basic ways of doing that is through the telling of stories.

But where did it all start? 

My enduring fascination with this question was a big part of my decision to study Classical Studies at university, because it took me right back to the beginning of things – to the origins of Western culture. What’s stuck with me the most is the aetiology of literature. The basic genres and storylines we all know and love today were already being created by a civilisation that goes so far back into the mists of time, it hadn’t even discovered writing yet.

At this point I realise I’m starting to sound a bit like the beardy guy from Jurassic Park, but a little context never hurt anybody. Incidentally, if Romeo had been given a little more context concerning Juliet’s “death”, then their love story probably wouldn’t have ended up a tragedy. Then again, Shakespeare might never have found the inspiration for Romeo and Juliet if it hadn’t been for the influence of Greek tragedy (and comedy) from the 5^th Century BC.

Anyway, back to the slightly more recent past. After graduating last year, I went on to study a Masters in Radio. I’d had a great time being involved in student radio during my undergrad degree, and, harbouring an irrational fear of “The Real World” (reinforced by the comparatively sheltered university lifestyle), I decided I’d like the chance to focus my career path a little more before surrendering myself to the cold dark of Unemployment (that one’s inspired by Gandalf).

And I’m so glad I did. Radio is, of course, at one of its most basic levels, just another medium for storytelling; and that is exactly why I love it. It’s the sheer pervasiveness of storytelling – through societies, through generations, through time – that I find amazing. And it’s something to which I have attempted to do justice in my own radio work.

For our final creative radio production this year, we were given the task of making a fifteen minute feature on absolutely anything we wanted. We were of course strongly advised to keep a few ideas floating about in our minds, just in case plan A didn’t work out – we might not have been able to get all the interviews we wanted, or it might turn out that the idea just wouldn’t translate well for a radio piece. That’s exactly what had happened to me for one of my previous creative pieces (a word of advice – just because somebody has fantastic facial hair does not mean they have a story to tell). But this time I had no plan B, because this time I was going to do a feature on storytelling – and what could possibly go wrong with that?

The truth is, a lot could have gone wrong. Luck plays a big part and, well, luckily I was lucky. What I wanted to do was convey the beauty of storytelling in all its different forms. I interviewed four very talented storytellers, all of whom tell their stories in very different ways. The feature is by no means an all-encompassing expression of every single type of storytelling there is; I’d need closer to fifteen hours rather than fifteen minutes for that – but it’s a start. Storytelling is all about inspiration, influence, imagination. I myself was inspired by these four artists to make this feature – my own sort of story, about storytelling.

I hope that, in some way, it inspires you too.

July theme: The Seven Deadly Sins

Our next theme is the seven deadly sins. The deadline date is 7 July, 2013.

How many of us can actually remember all seven?

Lust

Gluttony

Greed

Sloth

Wrath

Envy

Pride

If you're in need of inspiration for submissions, try out some of the following ideas:

Lust

• A photograph of high heeled stilettos.
• A story revolving around Objectum Sexuality (sexual attraction to an object); a man falls in lust with his old sewing machine; a woman secretly visits a trolley park after dark.
• A poem describing the sound of lovers' fingertips through the taste of fruit.

For some visual stimuli... head on over to Jack Vettriano's website - one of our favourite artists, and without a doubt, a keen explorer of this theme! Here's a little (non-explicit) taster...

Jack Vettriano - An Imperfect Past

Gluttony

• A photograph of plates and plates of rotting fruit and vegetables.
• A poem describing the juices running down the chin of a man/woman who the narrator is disgusted/turned on/obsessed with.

©July 2011 'Gluttony' by Fabienne Lopez

Greed

• A conversation between ten pound notes as they are passed from hand to hand.
• A poem describing money only through their smell and sound.

'Greed' by Liol

Sloth

• A story about a man whose laziness and inactivity leads to his rotting with the house he lives in, as mould, rubbish and the stench of stagnancy builds up around him.

Found on hannahruthkellett.wordpress.com

Wrath

• An illustration/painting/photograph of an explosion of colours symbolic of rage.

'Wrath' by Ricciolo Ribello

Have a look at Ricciolo Ribello's conceptual photography project, 'The Seven Fetish Sins'. 

Envy

• Something green - slime, ivy, mould, a green dress on a woman.
• Why do women tend to be associated with envy or lust? Are women more prone to feelings of jealousy than men? If so, why? Have a go at writing an article discussing this.

Photo found here - ickle_munchkin's flickr photostream

Pride

• A story about a man or woman whose vanity leads to their demise; the mirror they stare in daily begins to crack, and as it does, so does their skin, oozing with thick black tar.

Have a look at Matthew Johnston's quirky interpretation of pride here.

Picture found here

REMEMBER:

Don't TELL us what pride, envy and feeling anger feels like, SHOW us instead. What colour is sloth? Is greed the jingle of a heavy pocket or the healthy shine on a diamond?

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Send all submissions to synaesthesiamagazine@gmail.com


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Submission Guidelines

Deadline & Theme

The deadline is now CLOSED. Check back here soon for a new theme and deadline date!

What to submit

All work must be your own creation

• Short stories and flash fiction
• Poetry
• Songs/lyrics
• Book/short story/poetry reviews
• Writing tips
• Writing exercises
• Creative articles on the subject of synaesthesia
• Photography
• Illustrations
• Cartoons
• Sketches
• Paintings
• Digital design.
• We like interviews. If you have experience with synaesthesia or know someone who has - send them our way! If you think you'd be an interesting candidate to interview, tell us why.
• We can accept already published work, as long as you have permission from the publisher/author/copyright owners, and we have proof. 
• Nothing is off-limits. No, really. As long as it's your own work, there is no restriction on genre, style, format... so long as it's in English.
• Anyone can submit, so long as the work is your own creation.
• Use synaesthesia. Confuse your senses. It can only go in your favour if your submission is either synaesthesia-related, or evokes a sense of synaesthesia. Have a read of our What is synaesthesia? page, if you're unsure what that entails.

Submission requirements

• All submissions must correspond to the current theme. No matter how great your submission is, if it has nothing to do with our theme, we just cannot accept it. If we're impressed, we may keep it for a future issue - if the theme corresponds. But you may have to send in your submission again, because not all of us are elephants.
• We can accept up to four (4) submissions per person; 1500/2000 words for short stories, 1000 words maximum for articles, reviews, writers' tips etc, and go wild with poetry (not Paradise Lost wild..).
• All submissions must be sent to: synaesthesiamagazine@gmail.com. No regular post, because we have no address.
• All submissions must include a 3-4 line author bio in third person. Nothing too verbose, either. Author photographs are also welcome, but not essential. Please note that biographies may be edited for design purposes, but will always convey biographical information accurately.
• Any photography/artwork must be of good digital quality with file size no less than 1MB.
• Please send all submissions on or before the current deadline. We cannot accept submissions received after the deadline.
• Copyright remains property of the author.
• Please let us know in your submission email if you are unhappy for your submission to be accompanied with poetry/photography/words/illustrations in the magazine.

What we can offer you

We appreciate that no-one is making any money out of this (but who's to say we're not getting you one step closer to publishing your future best-selling poetry collection?) and, as writers and photographers ourselves, we know what's like to receive impersonal, detached, demoralising feedback. Or no feedback at all.

Here's how we work: after we've reviewed all our submissions, we'll compile a shortlist. Once we've compiled a shortlist, we'll go into editing mode. We'll give you as much feedback as we can (under time constraints); we might suggest edits, ways you could improve, or we may just praise you unconditionally. No artist improves without a second pair of eyes, and luckily for you, we're your second pair of eyes.

Our blog

Our blog (the one you're reading!) is still in refurbishment. We would to make our blog a place to come to in between issues; a place to pick up helpful tips on writing, photography and artwork, for inspiration and articles and information about synaesthesia. If you would like to be a guest contributor, please don't hesitate to get in touch with us!

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If you have any questions, or you'd like to send a submission, please contact synaesthesiamagazine@gmail.com

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