New Fiction Editor Please extend a warm welcome to regular contributor turned staffer, Adam Robinson. Adam will be taking over for Alecia as fiction editor while Alecia focuses her attention on some personal projects, including grad school. We will miss her, but look forward to having Adam join our team!
BOO! Halloween and Autumn are both in full swing now, and The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society is ready. We have plenty of strange, scary, weird, and wonderful things to share with you in our October issue, so buckle up.
We want to take a moment and say thank you to everyone that submitted to RP&D this month. Our October theme "The End" was extremely popular among contributors, and we had many submissions to get through. It is difficult to narrow down from over 100 submissions to just the 23 we share with you this month, but we know the ones we've chosen brilliantly represent what RP&D stands for.
Sadly, the last month's submission period was Alecia's last as Fiction Editor. Between her personal projects and some courses she is taking, her focus must remain elsewhere at the moment. We wish her lots of luck in all her endeavors and hope she will find some time to write and submit to RP&D. Stepping into the hard-to-fill shoes as Fiction Editor is frequent contributor Adam Robinson. Check out Adam's bio on our staff page and make sure to send him your best fiction for the last issue of Volume I.
Speaking of Volume I of RP&D, our first birthday is fast approaching. We have quite a few tricks up our sleeves to celebrate and hope you will join us. Watch your e-mail, our blog, and our social media for information on how YOU can participate in our celebrations! RP&D could never have come as far as it has without our readers, so we want to make each and every one of you a part of our party. Stay tuned.
Make sure to check out the bottom sections of our newsletter this month, which include more image prompts (this time depicting the fears of your RP&D staff) and an exercise into the five senses focused around the Autumn season.
You'll also notice this month that along with our usual artist spotlights on Wednesday and every day quotes via our Tumblr, there will also be some announcements and special treats for our readers on our blog. Keep click that "blog" button on our menu to stay up-to-date on RP&D goings-on.
Say, what are you all being for Halloween this year? Are you going to be something scary? Taking your kids trick-or-treating? Going on a hayride? We love Halloween and would love to hear about your Halloween experiences! We may even share some of your Halloween stories/memories via the blog, so make sure to kick them over to our inbox, Facebook, or Twitter. You know we'll be having a seance (hoping Faulkner answers this year...)
Stay creepy, readers! We sure will. Get Ready.
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Getting a Sense of Autumn Your RP&D Staffers tackle their favorite season via the 5 senses:
JORDAN: (SMELL) The smell of rain is overwhelming. It is not the refreshing, rejuvenating cool rains of spring, or even the warm, enticing rains of summer. Instead, it is the unending rains that make the fabric in your car seat smell dank. It's the smell of wet leaves that you've tracked in the back door. Rain like spilled pumpkin beer. Rain like running mascara. Rain like wet dog and cigarette smoke. Damp people waiting in line for a concert in New Jersey. Smoke wafting from the last embers of a bonfire put out by the last hard cider. The oven on self-cleaner after the pie exploded. Rain at the Thanksgiving Day parade. Rain at the edge of a year.
JEN: (SIGHT) The most obvious thing that comes to mind when you think of what fall looks like is the sight of the leaves changing color. This is especially striking in the mountainous regions of New York and Pennsylvania, and words can't describe the beauty of those mountains in September and October. But there are other visual signs of fall. Apple orchards and pumpkin farms. Roadside stands selling harvest fruits and vegetables. Signs for corn mazes and haunted houses and hay rides. Jack-o-lanterns, ghosts and witches outside people's houses. Instagram photos of pumpkin spice lattes. The list goes on, and that's the great thing about fall: there's so much to love.
BEE: (TASTE) You remind yourself that the veins of leaves aren't full will blood; that the metallic taste of dying that fills the air is the byproduct of a process you may never understand. You spend Autumn arm-deep in mixing bowls, freshly grated spices under you fingernails, constantly making pungent food in the hopes it covers, or at the very least compliments, the thin spray of iron oxide you swear coats the back of your throat. You slurp, and swallow, and scratch, your mouth perpetually full of cinnamon-citrus cardamom, almost acrid almond, homemade sage black tea bags, your mouth perpetually full of everything so long as it's not full of blood, or leaves. You put your fingers in your mouth, your fingernails dirty with nutmeg, you taste what you know is not metal but might be metal but also might be canned pumpkin. You bake the dying into your crust, the unavoidable task, the unavoidable taste.
ADAM: (SOUND) Silence.Early morning purgatorialstillness.An absence of sound that only spreads with a chill. Sun yet fully risen; creature limbs still cold in their burrows and the holes in their trees, waiting a bit longer to rustle the leaves above and below. A lack of noise so deafening you can almost hear the divorce between a leaf and the branch it once clung to, or the dew rolling down blades of grass before hitting the earth like claps of thunder.
ALECIA: (TOUCH) You wake up on a morning in October, and for the first time in months, your fingers are stiff with cold. You grab a sweater from the back of the drawer and throw it on, hurrying to the kitchen to thaw your bare feet in the early sunlight from the window. You click on the burner under the tea kettle and reach for the thermostat, cranking the heat up; your old steam radiator emerges from its hibernation, clanking and humming to life. As the warmth fills your kitchen, so does the warm smell of the heat, a smell that brings you back to the endless cold mornings of your childhood, dressing in layers in the dark, gulping hot oatmeal at the counter with sleep still in your eyes. The kettle screeches and you pour your tea; it smells like home, and you bring your mug back to bed. The world can wait a little while today.
Fears In honor of the scares that accompany the Halloween season, your editorial staffers share their greatest fears (besides missing Oxford commas and empty coffee cups):