I think that the potential is there for Substack to host future iterations of literary magazines. I was having a conversation the other day with someone on this topic. I think it is doable but I agree with Joshua that is would require some curation.
One of the reasons I thought about this was because the number of publications just keeps growing everyday. While I love the idea that everyone has their own publication, it becomes increasingly challenging to subscribe to and support all the writers we would like.
Something like a journal or a joint publication with multiple writers would provide a means for readers to subscribe in one place to multiple people. Obviously there are some big outlets doing this on Substack already for journalism.
It would be an interesting step in the literary evolution.
Yes, another good build on Josh's thought about all this ... But then you, in a way, are doing this with an occasional anthology--so kudos for that ... xx
So moving, Mary. I love the tenderness in capturing her voice, her helplessness, your awkwardness. Just lovely.
I agree, Substack is the new place where literary writing can flourish. Honored to be in company with you here. Everything is being upended and media is transforming. But here, at least, are kindred spirits.
Thank you and all who come here with stories to share, for nurturing the possibilities.
Beautiful, moving and complex story, Mary. I’m glad you shared it, and you can see how many others feel the same. I checked out Iron Horse on Duotrope and it says ‘market temporarily closed.’ Since it’s a university publication, the department may have had their funds/staff cut and are only managing to keep social media posts going. Xo
Ah, Elizabeth, lovely words about the essay--and my thanks for your research on Duotrope--that may explain what happened. This magazine has been around "forever" --so sad that they may have lost funding ...
First of all, what a lovely piece. So tender and loving. I’m glad you’re sharing here for more people to see. Which brings the second point— I wonder about literary magazines all the time. I want to find a way into that world, the affirmation and external approval, and respectability of publication credit. But you see stories like yours, and like the recent Narrative Magazine contest, and wonder where it’s all headed. Who knows. Either way, I’m glad we have Substack.
Hi, Stephanie, First thank you for the lovely words. Second, you've hit on exactly what I'm exploring after the essay and, considering my link to "Literary Magazines, Why Bother?", that world is where I got started and discovered. I, too wonder about the enormous lag times for a response, the lack of circulation--and yet the unquestionable importance of that world to my writing and even my teaching life. I am, like you, so glad for Substack! xx
Possibly -- meaning a comparable for authors and learners in the way television has changed in our time. Do agree, Kara? Or, to put it another way: Is that what you meant?
The way I see it, what has changed is how we interact with paper versus modern devices (I “read” all the time by listening to Audiobooks). This makes me think that, yes, I am glad for Substack for being able to come here each night and find a whole new world of surprises and “meet” new people with different points of view. It’s the literary magazine for our times.
but... had waited to return to the short story book when i most needed it with wonderful painting on cover and the many Olivias and it has provided much needed comfort 💫❤️🩹
Thank you for sharing this touching piece, Mary. For what it's worth, I do not see Substack as a new literary magazine. The old model was based on curation by discerning readers: editors often built their journals over lifetimes, and they set a standard based on craft that aspiring writers could meet. That model was subsidized by institutions, which created an almost zero-cost entry point. Once journals started charging reading fees and selecting fewer pieces due to the glut of digital submissions, the culture changed profoundly. Substack might be a platform where we build new literary journals with low overhead and zero cost for hosting. But curation must be part of that model, in my opinion.
An absolutely beautifully written piece. This brought tears to my eyes. My youngest daughter is still little, but I know there will come a day she will be caring for me, just as I have always cared for her
I am sobbing over here, because I now care for my mother with dementia. I felt every second of your Dance. I have lived every second. I can’t comment on the literary magazine part, but I sure am glad you are posting it here. Thank you for showing me again that I am not alone.
Oh, Amanda, your words here mean so much and possibly more than you know. I am so glad we have connected.
Although I am way booked for Inner Life into the fall, you might want to think about writing here as my guest for sometime in the fall of 2025. If you can't find my email address, direct message me and we can discuss, as time allows. xx
As I age and watch my own daughter with her babies, and help my dad with his declining health (dementia) I felt this story in my bones today Mary. Thanks for sharing it here.
Kim, Means so much that you took the time to comment, that the essay resonated and this--to share what you said here with the paradox of hope and loss.
From my heart to yours Mary… the poignancy of this essay, the tenderness… like Veronika, I too wonder about memory, how those tiny snippets of time revert to the now.. how we hold them close?
As for your question, this heavenly place is already my literary magazine.
My heart swelled with your words, Susie. The sense I when I posted this essay so close to me and with the story of its publication was that perhaps I write into a void. But finding you and the others who have commented here assures me that small as I may be on this site that so many of us trust with our words and our souls, really, is worth the connections ... And you are a treasured connection, Susie.
Mary I never had the chance to hold my elderly mother, the occasion to see her grow older was stolen when she was younger than I am now…my father also. Your important, and it is, heartfelt essay was not only beautiful and poignant and tender, it filled me with an exquisite melancholic longing. Words that have such latent power are meant to be read and shared, they tough an inner chord often neglected. And you, beautiful lady, are masterful at that! ♥️
I loved this piece so much Mary. But I’ll admit, the magazine made it nearly impossible to share! I know I emailed you my thoughts, my gratitude, but I feared it wouldn’t get the eyes and praise it so deserved. I forwarded the link a few people and they all struggled to figure out where your essay was within the larger Photo story. That’s all to say, I’m relieved to see it here! Yes, Substack feels very much like the new Lit Mag, or at least in the circles we engage over here, though I do miss the look and feel of a favorite collection in my hands.
Indeed! Kimberly, I read your comment on a day (yesterday) that took all my time away from me and, clearly, I did not say what needs to be said: I don't think I ever emailed this to you--but am off to search for our exchange. The very fact that the link didn't work for folks to find to find the essay on the literary magazine bemuses me further (believe it's on p.20 if that helps).
Here's what I most need to say: You are a light in my life, Kimberly, dearest.
And to your question about the literary magazine...
I think yes! We should create one right here on substack. We are writing here, poems, essays, whole books, and publishing them... a literary magazine on substack seems like an obvious next step.
What an incredibly beautiful piece, Mary! To write in your mother's voice ~ so precious.
I feel especially moved by this paragraph:
"She cannot know, as I sense her fear ease in the details of the washing, how I once feared I’d drop her small, bare body in this tub. She cannot know, as she raises up my limp and sagging arm, how I once cradled her inside the crook of this old elbow. She cannot know, as she squeezes water from the washcloth to drip onto my mottled back, how I made sure my grip was firm and how she curved into my arc. She cannot know, as she soaps my yellowed toes, how the scent of her skin was a confection to my soul and that she’d once lain with perfect ease inside my arm."
It makes me wonder about memory, and ways of knowing, and how we remember in our bones, skin, muscles and the whole body of emotion.
The repetition of 'she cannot know' shines a light precisely onto those other ways of knowing, as if from the inside ~ ways of knowing which we cannot rationally know or explain... she cannot... but of course she does... not least because she was there, and because, the inseparable bond between mother and daughter. 💗🙏
I think that the potential is there for Substack to host future iterations of literary magazines. I was having a conversation the other day with someone on this topic. I think it is doable but I agree with Joshua that is would require some curation.
One of the reasons I thought about this was because the number of publications just keeps growing everyday. While I love the idea that everyone has their own publication, it becomes increasingly challenging to subscribe to and support all the writers we would like.
Something like a journal or a joint publication with multiple writers would provide a means for readers to subscribe in one place to multiple people. Obviously there are some big outlets doing this on Substack already for journalism.
It would be an interesting step in the literary evolution.
Yes, another good build on Josh's thought about all this ... But then you, in a way, are doing this with an occasional anthology--so kudos for that ... xx
So moving, Mary. I love the tenderness in capturing her voice, her helplessness, your awkwardness. Just lovely.
I agree, Substack is the new place where literary writing can flourish. Honored to be in company with you here. Everything is being upended and media is transforming. But here, at least, are kindred spirits.
Thank you and all who come here with stories to share, for nurturing the possibilities.
So clearly said, Robin -- and with my heartfelt thanks for your first sentence—and then continuing the so-much-needed conversation ... xx oo ~Mary
Beautiful Mary.
Ah Jeanine, my heart to yours. xx
From the afghan on--and so interesting to write through your mom and her thoughts.
Beautiful, moving and complex story, Mary. I’m glad you shared it, and you can see how many others feel the same. I checked out Iron Horse on Duotrope and it says ‘market temporarily closed.’ Since it’s a university publication, the department may have had their funds/staff cut and are only managing to keep social media posts going. Xo
It’s Texas, after all.
Another good point, Elizabeth ...
Ah, Elizabeth, lovely words about the essay--and my thanks for your research on Duotrope--that may explain what happened. This magazine has been around "forever" --so sad that they may have lost funding ...
First of all, what a lovely piece. So tender and loving. I’m glad you’re sharing here for more people to see. Which brings the second point— I wonder about literary magazines all the time. I want to find a way into that world, the affirmation and external approval, and respectability of publication credit. But you see stories like yours, and like the recent Narrative Magazine contest, and wonder where it’s all headed. Who knows. Either way, I’m glad we have Substack.
Hi, Stephanie, First thank you for the lovely words. Second, you've hit on exactly what I'm exploring after the essay and, considering my link to "Literary Magazines, Why Bother?", that world is where I got started and discovered. I, too wonder about the enormous lag times for a response, the lack of circulation--and yet the unquestionable importance of that world to my writing and even my teaching life. I am, like you, so glad for Substack! xx
It seems like it will now be the television for our times too. The everything in spot.
Possibly -- meaning a comparable for authors and learners in the way television has changed in our time. Do agree, Kara? Or, to put it another way: Is that what you meant?
The way I see it, what has changed is how we interact with paper versus modern devices (I “read” all the time by listening to Audiobooks). This makes me think that, yes, I am glad for Substack for being able to come here each night and find a whole new world of surprises and “meet” new people with different points of view. It’s the literary magazine for our times.
Flavia, I get exactly what you are saying--and the fact that you are here reading "Last Dance" (I hope, anyway) proves your point.
Beautiful and intimate, Mary.
Oh, Jennifer: heart to heart--and that happens only here on Substack; amazing isn't it?
Amazing indeed, Mary!
Simply beautiful piece. Thank you.
Oh my, so grateful here.
not sure how i wasn't subscribed to this 🤔
but... had waited to return to the short story book when i most needed it with wonderful painting on cover and the many Olivias and it has provided much needed comfort 💫❤️🩹
Oh my goodness, Appleton: Thank you so for reading _The Woman Who Never Cooked_ and for reading "Last Dance."
i dole them out....like spoonfuls of (real) maple syrup very insightful (given the memoir)
Thank you for sharing this touching piece, Mary. For what it's worth, I do not see Substack as a new literary magazine. The old model was based on curation by discerning readers: editors often built their journals over lifetimes, and they set a standard based on craft that aspiring writers could meet. That model was subsidized by institutions, which created an almost zero-cost entry point. Once journals started charging reading fees and selecting fewer pieces due to the glut of digital submissions, the culture changed profoundly. Substack might be a platform where we build new literary journals with low overhead and zero cost for hosting. But curation must be part of that model, in my opinion.
Good point, Josh.
An absolutely beautifully written piece. This brought tears to my eyes. My youngest daughter is still little, but I know there will come a day she will be caring for me, just as I have always cared for her
Oh, Marcy, so lovely. heartfelt thanks.
I am sobbing over here, because I now care for my mother with dementia. I felt every second of your Dance. I have lived every second. I can’t comment on the literary magazine part, but I sure am glad you are posting it here. Thank you for showing me again that I am not alone.
Oh, Amanda, your words here mean so much and possibly more than you know. I am so glad we have connected.
Although I am way booked for Inner Life into the fall, you might want to think about writing here as my guest for sometime in the fall of 2025. If you can't find my email address, direct message me and we can discuss, as time allows. xx
Oh that is a fantastic idea. I will find it and message you when I can.
As I age and watch my own daughter with her babies, and help my dad with his declining health (dementia) I felt this story in my bones today Mary. Thanks for sharing it here.
Kim, Means so much that you took the time to comment, that the essay resonated and this--to share what you said here with the paradox of hope and loss.
From my heart to yours Mary… the poignancy of this essay, the tenderness… like Veronika, I too wonder about memory, how those tiny snippets of time revert to the now.. how we hold them close?
As for your question, this heavenly place is already my literary magazine.
My heart swelled with your words, Susie. The sense I when I posted this essay so close to me and with the story of its publication was that perhaps I write into a void. But finding you and the others who have commented here assures me that small as I may be on this site that so many of us trust with our words and our souls, really, is worth the connections ... And you are a treasured connection, Susie.
Mary I never had the chance to hold my elderly mother, the occasion to see her grow older was stolen when she was younger than I am now…my father also. Your important, and it is, heartfelt essay was not only beautiful and poignant and tender, it filled me with an exquisite melancholic longing. Words that have such latent power are meant to be read and shared, they tough an inner chord often neglected. And you, beautiful lady, are masterful at that! ♥️
You are a gem, Susie. So glad we found each other.
♥️
I loved this piece so much Mary. But I’ll admit, the magazine made it nearly impossible to share! I know I emailed you my thoughts, my gratitude, but I feared it wouldn’t get the eyes and praise it so deserved. I forwarded the link a few people and they all struggled to figure out where your essay was within the larger Photo story. That’s all to say, I’m relieved to see it here! Yes, Substack feels very much like the new Lit Mag, or at least in the circles we engage over here, though I do miss the look and feel of a favorite collection in my hands.
Indeed! Kimberly, I read your comment on a day (yesterday) that took all my time away from me and, clearly, I did not say what needs to be said: I don't think I ever emailed this to you--but am off to search for our exchange. The very fact that the link didn't work for folks to find to find the essay on the literary magazine bemuses me further (believe it's on p.20 if that helps).
Here's what I most need to say: You are a light in my life, Kimberly, dearest.
And to your question about the literary magazine...
I think yes! We should create one right here on substack. We are writing here, poems, essays, whole books, and publishing them... a literary magazine on substack seems like an obvious next step.
Ah, Maybe we can figure out a way to do this? xx
What an incredibly beautiful piece, Mary! To write in your mother's voice ~ so precious.
I feel especially moved by this paragraph:
"She cannot know, as I sense her fear ease in the details of the washing, how I once feared I’d drop her small, bare body in this tub. She cannot know, as she raises up my limp and sagging arm, how I once cradled her inside the crook of this old elbow. She cannot know, as she squeezes water from the washcloth to drip onto my mottled back, how I made sure my grip was firm and how she curved into my arc. She cannot know, as she soaps my yellowed toes, how the scent of her skin was a confection to my soul and that she’d once lain with perfect ease inside my arm."
It makes me wonder about memory, and ways of knowing, and how we remember in our bones, skin, muscles and the whole body of emotion.
The repetition of 'she cannot know' shines a light precisely onto those other ways of knowing, as if from the inside ~ ways of knowing which we cannot rationally know or explain... she cannot... but of course she does... not least because she was there, and because, the inseparable bond between mother and daughter. 💗🙏
What a generous and lovely and insightful comment, Veronkia, love.