Remember the exigencies of geography. Five thousand people may be trapped by floods in Bangladesh, but when are five thousand people not dying in Bangladesh? Think of the countries your protagonist would be able to identify on a map of the world. This might be many. This might be few. This is, either way, your outer. This is the plotline that will dog the protagonist. This is the beast that rears its head.
Jasmine V. Bailey
John-Michael Bloomquist
William Virgil Davis
Haines Eason
Tina Egnoski
Samar Fitzgerald
Scott Garson
Stephen Germic
Susan H. Maurer
Thorpe Moeckel
Justin Perry
Ole Pophal
Linwood Rumney
Andrea Scarpino
Ronald Wallace
and more
cq_coverfileFINAL5.indd 1 12/4/10 9:59:39 AM
P O E T R Y | F I C T I O N | E S S A Y S | R E V I E W S
F A L L 2 0 1 0 I S S U E | V O L . 6 0 , N O . 3
H A B I T U A L L Y N A S C E N T S I N C E 1 9 4 8
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The Carolina Quarterly
AUTHOR NAME 3
INTERNS
Bhumi Dalia
Rebecca Hart
Benjamin Miller
Heather Van Wallendael
F O U N D E D I N 1 9 4 8AT T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O RT H CA RO L I N A – C H A P E L H I L L
ABOVE | untitled
Michael Anderson
COVER | Ole Pophal
Matthew Hotham | EDITOR- IN-CHIEF
O N L I N E AT www.thecarol inaquarterly.com
F O U N D E D I N 1 9 4 8AT T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O RT H CA RO L I N A – C H A P E L H I L L
FICTION EDITORS
FICTION READERS
Jerrod Rosenbaum
Ted Scheinman
Ben Thompson
Nate Young
POETRY EDITOR
Matthew Harvey
POETRY READERSRachel Kiel
ART EDITORS
Samantha Kiefer
COVER DESIGN
P O E T R Y
10 HAINES EASON | Old Woman, One Porch Down Payphone Elk in Summer
17 JASMINE V. BAILEY |
22 TINA EGNOSKI | Explorations of the Gulf Stream with Notes on the Body Ill
23 STEPHEN GERMIC | Miner’s Creek
33 JOHN-MICHAEL BLOOMQUIST | Bright Star Preparing the Altar
36 LINWOOD RUMNEY| Low Tide in the Penobscot Bay
38 ANN RYAN | No Telling
39 WILLIAM VIRGIL DAVIS | Orchards The African Violet The Helicopters
42 ANDREA SCARPINO | After the Stroke, Poplar Trees Practice Runs
74 RONALD WALLACE | Occlusion Memo to Myself Found in My
Appointment Book
77 THORPE MOECKEL | Terra Sutra
95 SUSAN H. MAURER | Arte no es la vida. 1-31-08
F I C T I O N7 CAITLIN HORROCKS | Start With This
45 SAMAR FITZGERALD | You’re a Big Success
78 SCOTT GARSON | The Goth of SecurityOne Field
C O N T E N T S
F A L L 2 0 1 0 | V O L . 6 0 , N O . 3
N O N - F I C T I O N24 JUSTIN PERRY | The Quiet
R E V I E W S96 BENJAMIN MILLER | Ziggurat
A R T6 APRIL DAI | Untitled
16 MICHAEL ANDERSON | vacancy
20 LACEY LAMBE | Madame and Monsieur Dubious summertime
32 MICHAEL ANDERSON | untitled
44 MICHAEL ANDERSON | early june peas
72 LACEY LAMBE | Birthday for Rhino Harmony’s Garden
94 MICHAEL ANDERSON | phone in motel lobby
98 Contributors
6 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
APRIL DAI | Untitled
CAITLIN HORROCKS 7
CAITLIN HORROCKS
Start With This
Breaking news: someone trapped somewhere, inside of something.
Consider the practicalities of location, identity, quantity, likelihood of
of daily life. Remember the exigencies of geography. Five thousand peo-
people not dying in Bangladesh? Think of the countries your protagonist
would be able to identify on a map of the world. This might be many. This
might be few. This is, either way, your outer. This is the plotline that will
dog the protagonist. This is the beast that rears its head.
beneath fallen rubble. She lives a life beyond the raw wreckage of such
events. The walls must be clean and tight, off-white or brightly colored.
her husband, there is the gusting pressure of his emotional absence, the
is trapped by her body, by illness or disability, by weight she cannot seem
line, life line, fate line. This is the inner story.
Nothing actually happens in this story, not yet. She puts toast in the
the impact in her jaw, her eye sockets, the back of her brain. Her daugh-
ter has forgotten her lunch and the protagonist takes it to the school of-
her desk, or her refrigerator, or the wallpaper of her cell phone. She does
8 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
not really know how she feels about kittens. She is duty, uncertainty,
regret, love and its miseries. She is the egg the author taps on. She can’t
crack, not yet, not yet. But soon.
Several pages later, there is a scene something like this: in the al-
receiving allergy shots, two each week, one in each arm. The shots are
far-off country: the raging of the waters, the remoteness of the region,
the number of people who will die. She has followed this story only on
radio, as she commutes or ferries the children. She sees the images now,
the desperate crowds, the white sacks of food aid, the endless churning
rope around the neck of what the bottom of the screen says is the last
survivor of a hundred-head herd. They are on a little pimple of land,
sending the water scudding outward in circumference. The cow bends its
wind-pressed head and lows.
is safe.
This is true, but meant to be ironic, and if the farmer is saved and
she remains threatened by her own ennui, it is more ironic still. Or if the
farmer dies and inspires her to leave her husband, that is an epiphany. Or
to change her life.
-
ing tight and hard against the allergen in the muscle. Stop, the woman
almost says to the nurse, a needle poised above the other arm, but the
poison is already inside the girl.
Or go ahead, the woman thinks, because she has feelings about her
daughter that she never says out loud. The girl is her love and her poison
both.
Or the woman says nothing. She levitates. She pulls out a laser gun
and mows down the nurse. She grows bat wings, scaly and hooked. She
CAITLIN HORROCKS 9
her own television show where men compete to marry her, and try to
impress her by giving her daughter extravagant gifts. She lives in a home
with rooms with no particular purpose: great room, craft room, exercise
room, spare room, other spare room, other other spare room.
-
bat wings. She has miscarriages. Her celebrity husband is unfaithful.
Her house burns down and out of all those rooms the only thing she is
made before she was eaten by an alligator during a family vacation to
Florida.
her television show must have been staged. Her celebrity husband leaves
her. She clutches the tongue-depressor cow.
her wings so fast they carry her through time. She visits those miners,
that submarine crew, the dog in the storm drain, the farmer and his cow
standing on a thin spit of land in the midst of rising waters. The whir of
the helicopter on the news, all those years ago, was really her bat wings.
Their spread is enormous. She blots out the sun. She lands and puts her
so afraid. There is nothing here but water and fear, human and animal.
Stand your ground, she tells them, because maybe you will die, and
maybe you will not. We can be the same story, she says. Not stories
nestled inside each other, the cyanidic pit tucked inside the peach, but
impossibility.
16 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
MICHAEL ANDERSON | vacancy
22 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
TINA EGNOSKI
Explorations of the Gulf Stream,
with Notes on the Body Ill
-
ule his pyelogram for Tuesday. Kidney waste, salt water, piss water. We
sleep vociferously, wavy. During the procedure, dye (a submersible) en-
technician he says, Please don’t tell me again about the body’s dynamical
equilibrium. Medicine loves a choke point: occlusion, pencil-lead-thin
-
-
channel fever. Columbus skirted the Gulf Stream by way of Samana Bay,
Haiti, believing he had discovered Cathay.
Doctors and oceanographers consult the medical report. lt reads:
north to the Grand Banks. Tumor as large as Newfoundland with the
density of a water particle. Their suggestion: rest comfortably, plenty of
Cheerfulness and bravery: concepts that enable scientists to sepa-
rate emotion from fact. Dialysis or hypernephroma? Thirty million cubic
meters of water cleanse the Florida Straits. Dreaming of Cipangu and
percent solution.
24 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
JUSTIN PERRY
The Quiet
Young man anywhere, in whom something is welling up
that makes you shiver, be grateful that no one knows you.
—Rainer Maria Rilke
the city with three pieces of luggage weighing together one-hundred and
into France, exhausted and ghostlike and strangely agitated, throwing
chinos sat with his suitcase squarely in front of his legs. From his col-
on the bench or waiting on the platform. The station was small and
quiet there.
the impression of intense activity with a book. This didn’t work: after
another minute he called to me across the bench.
“Nos valises sont le même, n’est-ce pas?” he might have said.
“Comment?”
looked over my suitcases. “Did you buy these at Costco in the US?” he
alike.”
WILLIAM VIRGIL DAVIS 39
WILLIAM VIRGIL DAVIS
Orchards
corrected me—Churchyard.
You were right. But still
the stones in their awkward
rows reminded me of an old
to play in the summers.
This winter, when we eat
apples, we will remember
you your death.
40 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
The African Violet
—for Nancy
of its pot (left like a stranded
crown of dirt) and rested—
its delicate, velvety leaves
toward the light—on the top
with many windows, a room
overrun with words and pictures.
44 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
MICHAEL ANDERSON | early june peas
SAMAR F ITZGERALD 45
SAMAR F ITZGERALD
You’re a Big Success
banner, the giant percentages frosted on glass? Tasteless, he thought,
printing solutions in north-central New Jersey. He had survived the en-
next stage of their lives, had started dismantling. Just weeks before clos-
-
and to the cheap and abundant pleasures of Chinese takeout. Forever
-
ping the edible origami in his mouth while Helen read aloud everybody’s
You may attend
a party where strange customs prevail. The oddly beguiling tautologies:
Your emotional nature is strong and emotional.
done reading, there was always, unexpectedly, a whiff of solemnity that
lingered as the bill was passed around.
the Gannons’—were grown and long out of the house. The point being
46 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
slender frame, the round eyes, so much like her mother’s. He did notice
that she had this perpetually agitated, time-is-money way, and she kept
snapping her cell-phone open and shut, open and shut. Her long black
coat was draped over her shoulders like a cape, and when she fanned the
the catalogue of card stock onto the counter.
“Have you decided on a type of paper or a printing method?” he
asked.
She shook her head and her eyes drifted to the photo of his family,
strain on the consonants, a tightness around the vowels.
usually a good place to start.
-
ple think this wedding is going to totally bankrupt us.” She looked up
from the catalogue and smiled, “Which of course it is.”
He laughed along. “We certainly don’t want to bankrupt you.” The
truth was, he had always liked these types, their particular tastes, their
them, without their eye for imported Japanese linen and platinum bevel-
been nothing.
little touch, something that people notice without being knocked over
-
her purse. She pulled out several prototypes: wedding invitations that
she had received and held onto for this exact purpose. He moved the
catalogue aside.
“Something like this here is very nice, very classic,” he said, produc-
ing his veteran-of-the trade expression—lower lip slightly protruding,
him: a mid-weight ecru stock with deckled edge and charcoal engraving.
SAMAR F ITZGERALD 47
Black, or charcoal, in his opinion, were the best colors to show off the
rich, Braille-like precision of engraving. “Bo-ring,” Yvonne, his wife,
brides liked these days, blue ink on brown paper, plum on pistachio.
about it, it was all a little too much like decorating holiday cookies now,
and it was just as well that he was on his way out.
could repeat it on the napkins, the matchbooks, and the place cards too.
Can you do that kind of printing here?”
“We can do that. Sure,” he told her. There was a time when he did
what was needed to stay ahead. Yvonne signed him up for conferences,
and he went, dutifully. He sat on hard folding metal chairs, balanced a
stale Danish on one knee and a notebook on another, while some young
female star lectured to a roomful of men like him about how brick and
-
ering in the shadows of their hulking, creaking printers. There were mo-
dad,” his son Bernard, then in his early years of graduate-school, would
supposed to make him feel better or worse. But over the years, he tried
most of the popular professional advice: he got personal with custom-
ers because websites couldn’t, he partnered with other wedding-related
handle matchbooks and napkins.
When it was time to help her draft the wording of the invitations,
“You don’t want to draw attention to the actual words,” he ex-
For now, at least, no one was getting creative, rethinking “The honor of
48 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
purchased the press from had had only an inkling of invitation etiquette,
starters, there needed to be a layering of envelopes—an outer envelope
that takes the stamp and a mailing address (absolutely no abbreviations),
an inner envelope addressed as if you were hand-delivering the invita-
tion, and a third, for guests to respond—like the layering of a wedding
cake, he liked to say. For years, there he was, a foreigner, shining a light
him and nothing—perhaps not even his friendship with the Gannons—
ever made him feel more deeply accepted. For Yvonne, it was one more
sign that anything was possible in this place, that obstacles to success
She looked at him. His words, instead of comforting her, seemed to
have an opposite affect. For a moment, she looked ready to reconsider
everything, and it occurred to him that she perhaps did not trust his taste
and preferences. He hastened to ask for her name and phone number.
“You can come for the proofs in three weeks,” he said.
my mother over to pick them up.”
“Gannon. Debbie Gannon.”
the girl more closely, and then there it was: Helen’s familiar little pout,
the marble eyes, the small frame. Helen had been just as pretty, but stin-
gy with her looks, usually wearing loose jeans and t-shirts from hospital-
sponsored fundraisers.
Debbie nodded, gathering up the samples she’d brought and tucking
them into her bag. “You know my parents?”
SAMAR F ITZGERALD 49
was an old house with a long driveway, a shed that Doug had built in the
back, and a woodpile that the kids were always climbing.
was at work.”
“Yvonne watched you, that’s right.”
She looked around the store with mild new interest. She said,
“You’re the one who made that salad my dad loves, with the parsley and
cracked wheat.”
remember.”
demonstrating “little.”
“Oh.”
“Wait, don’t go yet. How are your parents? Do they still live in the
same house?” He shook his head unabashedly. What a fool, she must
be thinking. But it was too much. “Helen and Doug’s daughter,” he re-
She nodded indulgently and answered his questions. Her parents
still lived on Finley. They tore down the partition recently, remodeled
the whole thing. “Thank God,” she said. “Or else, there was no way we
-
opted brother was studying medicine. She herself was a banker in New
York. Her father was scouting out land to build a summer home and her
mentioned that Yvonne was starting a catering company. He offered that
his son, Bernard, was living in San Francisco.
suffered a stab of guilt. But then he continued: “He’s studying anthro-
pology, something to do with urban social networks and public trans-
know.” He shrugged, tried to smile.
“That’s great,” she reassured him.
72 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
LACEY LAMBE | Birthday for Rhino
LACEY LAMBE 73Harmony’s Garden
74 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
RONALD WALLACE
Occlusion
This morning on my way out the door
to fetch the morning newspaper,
the bite a bad new dentist
(comfortably, at least) in weeks.
My mouth was full of marbles,
asymmetrical, askew. What can
ground some high spots down
with her trusty dental burr.
went home and suited up
went for my afternoon run. For
the four miles without stopping.
slick with sweat and exultation.
My wife was especially beautiful.
We went out to eat at Samba,
every kind of meat off
RONALD WALLACE 75
in weeks. So much for toothless
diets. So much for mashed potatoes,
jello, pudding, cream of wheat.
leg of lamb, roast beef. Here,
take my lucky penny. You look
can grace the headlines, you can be
78 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
SCOTT GARSON
The Goth of SecurityOne Field
Harlan Cichowski
Brad Colliers
154 5th
Brooklyn, NY 11215
Dear Mr. Colliers:
th
what must seem my delay in response.
Secondly—and with all due respect to you, sir—it’s my feeling that you
-
hit the mark with others, but not with me.
-
one takes your view and tries to make something of my having been the
SCOTT GARSON 79
“only man to close a mitt” on fastballs thrown by Osterbauer during an
actual game.
Good luck with your book project, sir. Certainly his story is a tragic one.
Harlan Cichowski
*
80 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
Harlan Cichowski
Brad Colliers
Brooklyn, NY 11215
Dear Mr. Colliers:
-
By chance, however, you catch me during the cocktail hour, which brings
an infusion of violet to the hemlock woods.
Madison Osterbauer. No player will ever be as great as the one from
-
to write a mystery book.
What might have caused the rookie “phenom”—the kid who had, in a
matter of weeks, “captured the imagination of fans the world over”—to
be so quietly dispensed with in a sudden off-season trade? You have my
could spend some time on my own. Why did they say that they loved me
in Detroit?
my locker out. Why?
to rely on others.
SCOTT GARSON 81
You ask about the defacement of the locker-room wall, for example. Yes,
this happened. No, we never learned why. No one confessed. No one, in
fact, was accused.
might be.
understand something, Mr. Colliers: while it isn’t unheard of—a Septem-
particular player, is management so eager to behold?
These were the questions which underlay the experience of seeing him
Madison Osterbauer? Television distances oddities, renders them small
the road. “You’re kidding me. You are kidding me.”
What we saw: rail-thin kid, about seven foot tall; barbell piercing the
somewhat sore-looking skin of a sparse blonde eyebrow; mess of dyed
trump card: black disc, like a tartar-sauce cap, in the stretched-out meat
of his earlobe.
94 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
MICHAEL ANDERSON | phone in motel lobby
SUSAN H. MAURER 95
SUSAN H. MAURER
Arte no es la vida. 1-31-08
Sympathy for the piano.
like a sleeping baby, imported from
can prop its lid up with a little piece
no, no, yes and smashes it with a
red mallet. He is in a circle of salt and
the pianos are delivered by a woman in German costume.
yes, yes, no and no one in the audience is hit by the
shards of shattered wood.
96 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
BENJAMIN MILLER
Zigguratby Peter Balakian
84 pages; $25.00 hardcover
Ziggurat, juxtaposes the author’s mem-
ories of working as a mail runner in Downtown Manhattan during the
at Ur four-thousand years ago. Using iconic art, dates, and pop-culture
references, Balakian provides a backdrop for the towers’ rise and fall.
poetry, Ziggurat balances between the pain and strength that come with
recollection.
Divided into three sections, the book spans from before 1963 until
backdrop for the towers through a collage of Warhol paintings and events
-
gate testimony. These poems build towards the second section, which
poem, Balakian’s penchant for lengthy couplets adds kinship between his
lines and a pace that pulls the reader forward towards the next line.
if the merging of writing and bureaucracy started urban life,
if a city could levitate on arbitrage and junk bonds—
BENJAMIN MILLER 97
While his best poems uniquely blend the historical and the poetic,
-
plores this empathy through the vibrant images of the Warhol paintings
and black hole of loneliness rose up in me.
“Omens,” said Ovid, “are wont to wait upon beginnings.”
You said:
Poets are paranoid, apocalyptic
style-drunk, sense-lusters, hypochondriacs.
With a mix of one-liners and historical depth, this poem incorporates
at Ur and adapt it into an elegy for the World Trade Center Towers. The
couplets build upon themselves until they begin to take other forms such
as dialogue and the narration of communal memories.
Balakian’s book rebuilds conceptions of poetry as something his-
readers who didn’t live through the events described. The empathy
and unity in the predominating couplets of Ziggurat
culture that we share, but also embody the rebuilding of culture and life
after a great tragedy. The human capacity to transcend is a theme that
clings to the core of Balakian’s poem, uniting us today with the builders
98 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
C O N T R I B U T O R S
F A L L 2 0 1 0 | V O L . 6 0 , N O . 3
MICHAEL ANDERSON is a Wisconsin photographer who focuses on
journal were selected from The Things We Left Behind, a collection
of images that examines the neglected underbelly of the entertainment
industry of the Wisconsin Dells.
JASMINE V. BAILEY is the O’Connor Fellow in Creative Writing at Col-
poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in the minnesota review, 32 Po-
ems, Rhino, The Portland Review, and other journals. Her chapbook,
Sleep and What Precedes It,
JOHN-MICHAEL BLOOMQUIST works as a writing tutor and stud-
bloodlotusjournal.com.
APRIL DAI
a book arts and printmaking concentration. Her work incorporates
-
WILLIAM VIRGIL DAVIS’s most recent book is Landscape and Journey
of poetry: One Way to Reconstruct the Scene, which won the Yale Series
The Dark Hours,
Winter Light. His poems appear regularly in leading
journals. He has published in Poetry, The Nation, The Hudson Review,
CONTRIBUTORS 99
The Georgia Review, The Gettysburg Review, The New Criterion, The
Sewanee Review, The Atlantic Monthly, TriQuarterly, Harvard Review,
PN Review, Southwest Review, and in many other journals. He has also
R. S.
Thomas: Poetry and Theology, as well as scores of critical essays. He is
HAINES EASON’s poems have appeared widely in journals such as Bos-
ton Review, Yale Review, New England Review, and American Letters
& Commentary. He is a regular critic for Smartish Pace and American
Book Review, Boulevard.
2010, his chapbook, A History of Waves, was selected by Mark Doty
TINA EGNOSKI -
lished in a number of literary journals, including Cimarron Review, Fo-
and Louisville Review. She is the author of
Perishables,
SAMAR FARAH FITZGERALD
Story Quarterly, The Southern Review, The L Magazine, and Avery: An
Anthology of New Fiction. She lives in Staunton, Virginia.
SCOTT GARSON edits Wigleaf,
He has stories in or coming from Unsaid, New York Tyrant, American
Short Fiction and others.
STEPHEN GERMIC -
lege in Billings, Montana. He is the author of American Green -
ton Books, 2001), and his poetry and essays have appeared in numerous
journals. He is currently working on a book-length poetry manuscript
entitled Days of Rain and Ticks.
100 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
CAITLIN HORROCKS’ debut short story collection, This Is Not Your
City, is forthcoming from Sarabande Books. Stories from the collection
appear in The PEN/O. Henry Prize Stories 2009, The Pushcart Prize
XXXV, The Paris Review, and elsewhere. She teaches at Grand Valley
State University in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
LACEY LAMBE is an artist, illustrator, and mother currently residing
in Chapel Hill, NC. She has always cherished children’s books, and
her work has come from this love. Her work explores a diverse range
-
-
ented, guitar-building husband. More of her work can be found at
www.laceylambe.com.
SUSAN MAURER has been published in 16 countries. She has 6 little
books and a full length, PERFECT DARK, has been published by un-
governable press.
THORPE MOECKEL teaches at Hollins University. His latest book is a
long poem entitled Venison
JUSTIN PERRY is a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University. He
LINWOOD RUMNEY’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry
Quarterly, Quercus Review, Seven Circle Press, and Potomac Review,
among others. He is a 2010 recipient of a fellowship from the Writers’
Room of Boston and an emerging artist grant from the St. Botolph Club
Foundation. He recently completed a stint as the poetry editor of Redi-
vider. He teaches writing in Boston.
CONTRIBUTORS 101
ANN RYAN lives with her husband and two children outside of Freder-
ick, Maryland. She writes poetry and essays when she can. She works
and training opportunities. She has been previously published in The
Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Wartime Issue.
ANDREA SCARPINO is the author of the chapbook The Grove Behind
-
contributor for the blog Planet of the Blind. Her current projects in-
clude learning to like snow.
RONALD WALLACE -
clude Long for This World: New & Selected Poems and For a Limited
Time Only: Poems,
co-directs the creative writing program at the University of Wisconsin-
-
forty-acre farm in Bear Valley, Wisconsin.
102 THE CAROLINA QUARTERLY
Q U A R T E R LY PAT R O N S
The staff of The Carolina Quarterly wishes to thank
FACULTY DONORS
Fred Hobson Thomas Reinert
GUARANTORS
Brian & Michelle Carpenter
Howard Holsenbeck Grady Ormsby Richard Richardson
SPONSORS
Hunter C. Bourne
Christine & Joseph Flora Jack W.C. Hagsrrom Kimball King Melissa Ross Matron Michael McFee Regina Oliver
P O E T R Y | F I C T I O N | E S S A Y S | R E V I E W S
FRIENDS
Michael Chitwood William Nelson Davis Marianne Gingher
Jim McQuaid Jack Raper Robert Shaw
MEMBERS
Michael Shilling Nancy C. Wooten
Service.
PATRONS 103
Remember the exigencies of geography. Five thousand people may be trapped by floods in Bangladesh, but when are five thousand people not dying in Bangladesh? Think of the countries your protagonist would be able to identify on a map of the world. This might be many. This might be few. This is, either way, your outer. This is the plotline that will dog the protagonist. This is the beast that rears its head.
Jasmine V. Bailey
John-Michael Bloomquist
William Virgil Davis
Haines Eason
Tina Egnoski
Samar Fitzgerald
Scott Garson
Stephen Germic
Susan H. Maurer
Thorpe Moeckel
Justin Perry
Ole Pophal
Linwood Rumney
Andrea Scarpino
Ronald Wallace
and more
cq_coverfileFINAL5.indd 1 12/4/10 9:59:39 AM