The 2021 Short Fiction Competition closed for entries October 1. Guest judge and finalist for the 2021 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction Daniel Mason will award the first prize of $1,000; the second prize of $500; and the third prize of $250; and the three prizewinners and seven honorable mentions will be considered for representation by William Morris Endeavor; ICM; the Wylie Agency; Regal Literary; Dunow, Carlson & Lerner Literary Agency; Markson Thoma Literary Agency; Inkwell Management; Sterling Lord Literistic; Aitken Alexander Associates; Barer Literary; the Gernert Company; and the Georges Borchardt Literary Agency.
T. C. Boyle
NEWS & EVENTS
The editors are thrilled to announce the release of the Fall 2021 edition, designed by the acclaimed musician, actor, and visual artist Tunde Adebimpe, with contributions from PEN/Faulkner Award winner T. C. Boyle, MacArthur Fellow Yiyun Li, and Booker Prize finalist David Means, among others.
Why did you accept the invitation to design the Fall 2021 edition of All-Story?
I’m a big fan of the publication and was really honored to be asked. I had spent a lot of the pandemic drawing and painting, just to draw and paint more, so I was in that mindset when the opportunity came up. I also hadn’t made anything to be printed in a book or art-book format for a long while and was excited to have a venue for all these new images.
FROM THE ARCHIVE
What beach was this, he wasn’t certain. Rock and sand, a harbor town, and everywhere the sort of pottery he’d combed for as a boy in the 1940s. Let his brothers fill their pockets with sticks and shells, ordinary sea glass: he knew how to look for the curved ridge on the underside of a slice of saucer. Flip it over and find the blue flowers of Holland or China, a century ago or more. All his outgrown fixations had returned to him now that he was old. Once, on the beach outside their summer cottage down the Cape, he had discovered two entire clay pipes, eighteenth century, while his six older brothers sharked and sealed and barked in the water; beyond them he could see, almost, the ghosts of the colonists who had used the harbor as a dump, casting out their broken bowls and mugs so he could find them in his own era, put them in his own pockets. But this wasn’t the Cape, or even Massachusetts. His brothers were mostly dead. That is, they were all of them dead but in . . .