GossamerWight
Twisting the familiar into the uncanny. A literary magazine.
Twisting the familiar into the uncanny. A literary magazine.
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Submissions Announcement #1 We are excited to announce that the first edition (pilot) of the GossamerWight Literary Magazine Anthology has reached the advanced planning stage. Your story could appear in me! The cover for GossamerWight's 1st Edition (Pilot) Anthology, with the theme to be announced. We will advertise
Submissions Announcement #1 We are excited to announce that the first edition (pilot) of the GossamerWight Literary Magazine Anthology has reached the advanced planning stage. Your story could appear in me! The cover for GossamerWight's 1st Edition (Pilot) Anthology, with the theme to be announced. We will advertise
It will not have escaped the attention of our members that we have given this website a significant makeover... and not in appearance alone. In fact, one might say the changes represent a complete metamorphosis. Our website has broken free from its former chrysalis self and taken wing to mature
The wonderful thing about having a backstage pass to the Green Room at the Hay Festival is that you are never entirely sure who you might run into. When James (James Paxton Priestley, Editor-in-Chief of GossamerWight Literary Magazine) and I whizzed off to Hay two years ago for a two-day
‘The forests have unleashed a tempest, and spores now dance on the wind.’ — Dr João Miguel Gonçalves. Mycologist. For any first-time visitor to the sprawling complex of the South Carolina Department of Health and Environment Control on Bull Street, Columbia, finding the whereabouts of Doctor Aline Silva could prove as
In this essay, I explore how adoption of the graphic novel form by the American cartoonist Alison Bechdel for her 2006 autography Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic allowed her, I contend, to create a narrative with a deeper, more nuanced message than that possible in prose form alone.[1] Of
Never had I so longed to possess the power of precognition. Were it the case, then I would have foreseen upon waking that by eleven o’clock, destiny had appointed this day and time to have me staring at the flaking, corporation brown gloss paint of another’s closed front