Digital Read: f(r)iction

The Weird Lit crew had a fantastic time in LA at the 2025 AWP conference last month. We connected with dozens of lit journals, small presses, and publishing-related groups at the massive bookfair and conference that attracted more than 10,000 fellow writers, educators, and publishing industry folks. 

We made fast friends with several like-minded publications, including f(r)iction, an imprint of the literacy and storytelling nonprofit Brink Literacy Project. Those of us working to highlight authors on the outskirts of mainstream fiction don’t often get to meet each other in person, so when we do, it feels significant! Like writers, small publishers and magazine editors do a lot of (often unpaid) work on their own, and connecting with others who are similarly passionate reinforces our own excitement and drive for what we do.

f(r)iction publishes experimental and genre-melding work that raises important social topics including poetry, nonfiction, comics, short stories, and flash fiction. They sell both print and digital versions of their issues as well as subscriptions, where you can access their massive archive, but you can also read a small selection of works available digitally in the f(r)iction log alongside posts related to books, reading, writing, and the magazine itself. There I read a flash piece by Katy Mullins entitled “Hunger” which crammed in so much sensory description in its small space, detailing the hoarding and accumulation habit of the narrator’s grieving mother after the death of her husband. The images of continually encroaching everything (groceries, appliances, silverware, dish soap, random junk) that the mother refuses to throw out in this piece were so visceral and easy to imagine, and I felt more and more uncomfortable in this space as I read. I loved the building of tightness that continued through the piece right from the beginning and then the slow skid into that last, action-packed and violent scene that breaks the discomfort. There ought to be more work like this, stories that shower the reader with a raw presentation of stuff, and an even more raw perspective on how that stuff makes us feel. We are confronted with our relationship to material items all the time, but beyond filling out a scene description, it rarely appears in fiction in a meaningful way. In this piece the accumulation of things almost becomes a character in itself, but it’s also a plot device, a stand-in for processing loss, and ultimately, a messy symptom of grief. 

There’s something for everyone at f(r)iction, and their site is jam-packed with author and editorial content that feels energetic and considered. I highly recommend you head over and take a look—just make sure to give yourself more time than you think you’ll need.

Check it all out at https://frictionlit.org.