If you’re looking for a great amount of reading packed into one issue, look no further than the latest issue of The Writing Disorder. And this issue is even larger than their typical issue, expanded to accommodate even more writing.
The fiction section brings characters who are breaking, molding, changing. In Caroline Rozell’s story, the narrator finds herself vulnerable, trying to mask the large bite mark on her lips from an eager man. Marc Simon’s “The Honeylocust Tree” portrays an elderly woman who is seemingly loosing her memory; she leaves her assisted living home and wanders to her own house, finally learning, with dismay, that her sons have sold it and she no longer owns it. And the character in Linda Nordquist’s piece, out on a walk with her dogs, finds reflections and ponders through the passing of puddles: “I am not well-equipped for avoidance. I look the world straight in the eye, always have. I would like to say I never look back, but I do—often—curious as to why of it, why this road traveled and not that.”
The poetry brings “dark eyed hookers,” secrets kept in boxes in kitchen cupboards, “soft and buttery babies with wings,” dusty rooms, a boy’s eyes that “looked like the / muddy waters of a childhood / creek,” and love notes to Katy Perry.
Chelsey Clammor tells her nonfiction story through a list of numbered sections, stopping at 42 because it has always been her lucky number: “and so I will end here, not wanting to break the chain of luck, to endanger my hopeful belief that something positively ominous will seep out of this waiting.”
With 10 pieces of long fiction, 5 pieces of nonfiction, multiple poems from each of the 6 poets, and 3 featured artists, The Writing Disorder certainly makes use of the online venue, possibly publishing more than would be feasible or affordable for a print magazine.