Find out how to enter our Random Word Contest during National Poetry Month, which will be judged by John Corey Whaley!!
Plus, you know, you can win stuff.
Click here!
A Contest! Margarita Engle! Ellen Hopkins! Holly Thompson! John Corey Whaley!!
Here at YARN, we are a bit biased about the fourth month of the year. Sure, the weather is getting warmer, the days are getting longer, the end of school is getting closer, but this is not why we love April.
We love poetry.
Welcome to the new year at YARN! We hope everyone had a restful and productive and delicious holiday season.
We’re excited to be back publishing the best in YA short fiction, poetry, and essays.
We were so honored that YARN alums John Corey Whaley, Cecil Castellucci, Mitali Perkins, and Terra Elan McVoy championed YARN!
[...] Debut authors of all ages mix and mingle with established writers and eager readers around the YARN story fire, sharing original essays, fiction and poetry that—for once—isn’t subject to the narrowing whims of the market. – Mitali Perkins
THANK YOU, Loyal Readers, for making this such an excellent 2013. Without your eyeballs on your computers/phones/tablets, the work we publish wouldn’t mean much…..which would be a shame, since 2013 was quite a year!
By Layla Carr
She sat in the desk closest to the window, at the end of the third row. Her eyes were big and dark and her fingers were constantly moving—running over the surface of her desk, tapping her pencil, pushing through her hair. When we went around on the first day of European History [...]
Two poems by teen writer Alison Rollman
A Poet to Her Poetry
Inspired by Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book”
I create an ice-rink fantasy world//
With the flick of my pencil,//
The snub of my burnt-out, blackened eraser bit,//
The chit-chatter//
Of my cereal crumb computer keys. […}
By Cheryl Lawton Malone
Image of a Dog
Two boys and a girl//
on a beach//
walking their dog,//
not far from the missiles,//
that promise to cut//
their feet like slivered shells. [...]
Jenny Torres Sanchez’s novels “The Downside of Being Charlie,” and her most recent, “Death, Dickinson, and the Demented Life of Frenchie Garcia” combine humor and heart to combat death, growing up, and change in new, original perspectives with a massive side of music.
YARN is beyond pleased to share with you this original short story by Jenny, “Push Up.”
Chanchito’s pops got cuffed and hauled away today. The whole neighborhood saw it. But, s’nothing new. We used to seeing cops. We used to seeing our parents dragged outta here [...]
Get those Halloween treats ready to accompany you as you read this creepy thrill of a story by Colleen Britton.
I lie on my side, losing the feeling in my right arm. I can’t see Dad, but I feel the pressure as he squeezes my hand. I didn’t ask him to come, but I’m glad he did. I try to squeeze back with deadened fingers that don’t move. [...]
By Eileen Donovan Kranz
[...] The first thing Cheez Whiz broke after that was my arm. He told my mom he didn’t mean to do it, but my mom saw the whole thing from the window overlooking the backyard while she was rinsing the dishes to put in the dishwasher. [...]
We’re always happy to get new submissions from YARN alums, and we were so glad when Anna Levine came back to us with two quite different poems this fall!
Modest Goddess
Caught in the nude//
by an intruder,//
she tries to hide [...]
Book titles are an under-discussed art-form. You glance at them as the vibrancy, colors, and images of the covers overwhelm your senses; yet there are some book titles you cannot escape. “The Paradox of Vertical Flight” by debut YA author Emil Ostrovski is one of those.
YARN is thrilled to share with you “So Many Pieces,” an original short story by [...]
By Elizabeth Claire Alberts
My Father’s Bookstore
Every morning he//
rushes to shave the brown stubble//
from his face//
pulls on a clean white collared shirt//
gulps down his steaming black coffee [...]
We know you’ll love this hilarious, confessional essay by high school senior Kathryn Fitzpatrick.
My first boy crush was on Adam Lambert. It was seventh grade. It was an awkward time. [...]
By Tracy Gold
[...] It took a good amount of reserve not to jump out of my seat and just bite it off right now. How dare he not talk to me for weeks, spread rumors about me to the whole school, and then freaking sign-language blowjob in the middle of English class? I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I looked down and kept working on my essay, scratching my pen on the paper [...]
© 2012 YARN | About YARN | How to Submit | Contact the Editors
Recent Comments