Making Magic – by HM Gruendler-Schierloh

  I have escaped into a vast variety of worlds of my own making for as long as I can remember. Born at the end of World War II in Germany, I was not only lucky enough to survive unharmed thanks to my incredibly resilient mother, but I was also young enough to have absolutely no recollection of the horror of it all. Although food was scarce and I was often hungry during my childhood, there was next to no crime in the

Bullies In My Pages – by Nthepa Moitsheki

  The three years I spent in high school gave me a taste of what it must be like to do jail time for a crime one didn’t commit. I had to change my routes around the school yard each week in order to lose them: the meanies, the big bad wolves. There were three of them, well, one to be exact, and the other two were her little stooges. Kefilwe (Big Fifi) was the leader of the gang, with the prime figure

THE SA WRITERS’ COLLEGE 2013 Annual Short Story Competition – Final call for entries

      THE SA WRITERS’ COLLEGE 2013 Annual Short Story Award For Emerging Writers in South Africa Closes 31 March 2013 This competition is to acknowledge excellence in creative writing in the Short Story genre. The contest is open to any emerging writer residing in South Africa who has had fewer than four stories/articles published in any format (print or digital).   PRIZES: First Prize: R 5 000.00 plus entry into one of our short courses Second Prize: R2 000.00 People's Choice Award R 1 000.00 Top two entries will be

Born to be a Writer – by Michael Taylor

  The city is pretty… These were the words I wrote in the first attempt I made of a poem after moving to Johannesburg, South Africa as a teenager. I was born in Klerksdorp, and attended Klerksdorp Primary School where I was voted “most likely to be an author” at the young age of nine. My stories and poems had always received great acclaim from teachers and parents.  For as far back as I can remember, I needed to write. From

The Other Woman – by Amanda Bidwell

I liken my passion for writing with the exuberant style in which I tackle housework. I'll admit that ultimately writing gives me more joy than the latter, but there is also something very satisfying about an empty laundry basket. The trouble with this comparison is that I only have room in my life for one at a time. This can lead to some serious inner tension and often I feel as if the two are fighting for my attention. If I

In Search of the Poetic Impulse – by Ross Fleming

  I will never forget my first published poem. Well ‘published’ may be a loosely applied term, but it was certainly visible to anyone who happened to walk past the passenger-side door of my Father’s brand new Kombi. If you were there in our street on my 7th birthday, you would have seen, scratched into the shiny green duco, evidence of my first excursion into total, passionate honesty: I KIST EMILI SMITHIRS. Sadly, my creative expression of beautiful, abandoned joy  did not enthrall my

The Writer in the Closet – by Eleanor Talbot

  I’ll be honest. I don’t really consider myself a writer. John Steinbeck is a writer. Cannery Row is so effortless and quiet that you can hardly feel yourself reading it. It’s as if you are sitting in a comfy chair with someone telling you about a set of lives been and gone. By comparison I am simply an individual who possesses the ability to hold a pen. The hope is that one day the light of the Almighty, if she’s