Recognizing Writers

Echo Ink Review recognizes writers before they become writers–before they become novelists, writing program directors, Pulitzer Prize nominees, or short story writers with credits in The Missouri Review, The Mississippi Review, The Atlantic, The New Yorker.

(Site Under Construction – Still Accepting Submissions)

Broadening our focus to include indie authors.

A 2013 recognition success story includes James Hankins’ Brothers and Bones. Back in late 2012, we poked around on Smashwords and ran across his novel.  It’s a great read. By December 2013, Kirkus named it a 2013 top novel.

Our 4-star review is here up at Booktagon.com

The Talent

We have been fortunate to feature the works of talented new writers before they became writers.  These authors include Marie Manilla, William J. Cobb, Gina Frangello, Kelli Allen, and others.

Below are the latest writers from whom we expect great things in years to come.

2014 Anthology

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Iris - Cover

We are proud to announce our 2014 anthology, Iris: a treatment of women.  Cover art concept.  Due out March 31. Available in paperback and e-book.

Authors include (in no particular order) the following 19 women and 1 man: Read More (465)

“Convalescence” by Hannah Beecher

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The first passers-by were geese.

It was sheer luck that I saw them, for I had only just awakened and I couldn’t see anything but a strip of sky through the narrow window above the head of my bed. I watched the very spearhead of the flock leaders high above pass through my field of view, and continued to stare as the two lines of followers branched into four and then more. It was a large flock against a dusky sky. I explored the bed with my fingers and watched the light fade for a while until I decided that the bed was too large and the window faced west; that meant the birds were flying north. Satisfied, I slept.

Read More (587)

“Household Gods for 20 Occassions” by Chantal C. Beaulne

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I bought the god impulsively.

I’m not sure why. Perhaps I though this burning eyes would make good mood lighting. Or that his booming proclamations of a disagreeable Armageddon in the futures of my great great-grandchildren would serve as an effective alarm. Maybe I just thought his intimidating physique would look good on the mantle, offsetting some the less masculine knick-knacks, such as the porcelain spaniels my wife collected. A simple household god, not unlike those of my neighbors. Then my wife told me their value increased in pairs, and insisted we get a household goddess.

Now the dining room is full of partying demigods, and the bathroom full of yesterday’s partying demigods. Read More (526)

“The Body” by Amber Foster

Posted by | 2013, Pushcart Nominees | No Comments

The dead woman is about twenty-five. 

Pretty.  Long hair, blonde, stuck in clumps to the side of her face.  Kip unzips her wetsuit, revealing a turquoise bikini, little B-cup breasts.  Under white skin, ribs jut like cathedral beams.  Not dead long: minutes, or an hour.  Long enough.

Men shout orders.

“Watch her head.”

“Careful!”

“Move her hair out of the way.”

Read More (571)

“Hill Up” by Gabrielle Lucille Fuentes (2012 Nominee)

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Last night Lamb didn’t come up in the darkening.

When all was pitch and we’re supposed to be tucked in tight, her man Birr came to our shack. Ram stood at our door and listened to his slurring—worry. I got our guns and we went down for her. Ram and Birr painted faces for good hiding. We found her in the woods, no breath, cut up, black braid tied tight across her mouth. Me and Ram covered her, looked around for clues on what got her. Then we tied Birr to a tree next to the chickens for three days so he wouldn’t go vigilanting at Hill Down.

At first sight we thought Lamb was got by some wild brush man. She wasn’t stealing from anyone, wasn’t taking anything that wasn’t hers. Just some beardie, mad about something, crazy hungry and caught her on the way home. But there was cleanness to it, a detail. There was no struggle, no violation. It wasn’t ‘till when Ram and I cleaned her for burial that we noticed it. The scent of ether on her lips. That’s when we got scared. When we started wondering how many days we had left here.

GOD only takes you when you’re sleeping. Read More (419)

“The Mannequins” by Meghan Doraty (2012 Puschart Nominee)

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Edgar (EAMH-1, $322.00) had been the first to welcome her to the store and show her what being a mannequin truly meant.

It had been right after Maggie (MGFH-3, $308.00) was ordered; she was the first fleshtone with makeup to the shop. Edgar was not fleshtone but Maggie liked him anyways. Maggie was still in the back; she’d barely been unpacked. It was after hours and she stood frozen and naked in her warehouse position: her right hand on her hip, her legs splayed and her chin in the air.

“So are you nervous for your first day tomorrow?” said Edgar from the doorway. He was still in his work clothes, a very pricey ($400.00) black and white plaid suit (plaid was making a comeback this season).

Maggie changed positions so her arms hung loosely at her sides. She was still modeling. “What’s nervous?”

“Oh,” he said. “I forgot you newcomers don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“You’ll find out.”

Maggie placed both hands on her hips and nodded her head.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said.

“Doing what?”

“Moving like that. No one is looking at you. It’s after hours. Just stand normal.”

“How do I do that?”

“You have a lot to learn.” Read More (513)

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