SUBMISSIONS

Submissions are accepted on a regular basis, year-round.
Can include, short stories, essays, poetry and prose.
Must not exceed 3,000 words.
Must be written by a current ESA student, or alumni.
Submissions are accepted: e.s.say.says@gmail.com

Friday 14 December 2018

Brentwood's Teen Writers' Group and Open Mic Nights

Brentwood's Teen Writers' Group and Open Mic Nights will be starting again in January!

More information for both events below or at:





Teen Writers' Group Open Mic Night

7:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. on recurring dates listed below
60 mins

Location

Brentwood
If you love to sing, rap, perform spoken word or comedy, come and join members of the Brentwood Teen Writers' Group as they share their work at their monthly Open Mic Night. Too shy to step up to the mic? Bring some friends and cheer others on.
For teens ages 13-19. Drop-in.
Sign-up to perform starting at 6:45 p.m. in the Teen Lounge.

Series

TPL Teens • Young Voices

Audiences

Teen

Categories

Culture Arts & Entertainment

Upcoming Dates:

Tue Jan 22
Tue Feb 19
Tue Mar 19


Teen Writers' Group

4:30 p.m. - 6:00 p.m. on recurring dates listed below
90 mins

Location

Brentwood
Do you like to write but have no one to share it with? Are you working on a novel, short story, play or poem? Come share your work with other teens and special guest writers, and get feedback to make your writing stronger. Not sure what to write? We've got prompts for that! New writers are always welcome! Drop-in. For teens ages 13-19.

Series

TPL Teens • Young Voices

Audiences

Teen

Categories

Book Clubs & Writers Groups

Upcoming Dates:

Tue Jan 15
Tue Feb 05
Tue Mar 05
Tue Apr 02

Wednesday 17 October 2018

CRAZY GREY SKY

What’s that I long for?
What’s that smell I long?
The wafting scent of sulfurous fumes
What’s that sensation I long?
The rumble of the crumbling, rocks passing under my feet.
Or
The whispering slick parting of air as we rush along the surface.
What’s that sight I long?
The sight, of the transparent yellows, or the deep dark greens, the flashing scarlet
An endless changing chain it seems.
Like the one we ride.
What’s the sound I long?
The sound of a distinct silence,
That teams with textures but is creased by our rhythmic pace.
I am protected by the dank earthy mud below
And
A crazy grey sky above

That fades away to a plummeting blue.

-Gina Louisa

Sunday 7 October 2018

ROOTS

Burgundy and Magenta roots of the twisted oak
Wandering, roaming through tumbling hills of endless grass
Sailing out to the deep, blue ocean of mountains
To the stone castle.
A girl drifts past the wild, flowered, dirt paths
She goes, blending into the gold, magenta
Burgundy roots are her roots
Her roots are my roots
In the forest
Where we stand.

By Louisa

Tuesday 2 October 2018

Teen Writers' Group Special Guest: Sterling Dillinger



Tue Oct 09, 2018
4:30 p.m. - 6:00 p.m. 
90 mins

Location

Brentwood 
Speaker Box host and poet Sterling Dillinger hosts an interactive spoken word and slam poetry workshop. Express yourself and explore your poet and song writing talents!
This is a drop in program for teens ages 13+.
More info at link

Sunday 23 September 2018

Art Fest at Toronto Public Library


Young Voices Writing and Art Fest at the Toronto Public Library link
TICKETS ARE FREE! Supplies and lunch are provided! If you are interested, registration is here!

Location
Sat Sep 29, 2018
9:30 a.m. - 4:30 p.m. 
Join us for a full day of writing and art featuring Alexandra Shimo, Randell Adjei, Kendra Yee, Rachel Guglielmelli, Alicia Nauta, Domenico Capilongo, Falen Johnson and JP Larocque. They will be hosting a variety of free workshops on various topics including clay modelling, book binding, spoken word and more! 


Thursday 6 September 2018

Submissions Your Manuscripts

About Stefanie London

Stefanie London
Stefanie London is the USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary romances and romantic comedies. Stefanie’s books have been called “genuinely entertaining and memorable” by Booklist, and her writing praised as “Elegant, descriptive and delectable” by RT magazine. Her stories have earned prestigious awards such as the RT Top Pick and have achieved bestseller status with USA TODAY and iBooks.
Growing up, Stefanie came from a family of women who loved to read. After sneaking several literature subjects into her ‘very practical’ business degree, she got a job in communications. But writing emails for executives didn’t fulfill her creative urges, so she turned to fiction and was finally able to write the stories that kept her mind busy at night.
Originally from Australia, she now lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is currently in the process of doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges in her passions for good coffee, lipstick, romance novels and anything zombie-related.

Submitting Your Manuscript

Manuscripts will be accepted from Tuesday, September 4, 2018 to Saturday, October 20, 2018.
Writers of romance fiction are invited to submit manuscripts for review and feedback. The Writer in Residence will meet with the first 35 authors whose manuscripts submissions satisfy the requirements below. We regret that the Writer in Residence may not be able to meet with everyone who submits a manuscript. Meetings with the Writer in Residence are by appointment only, and only those granted an appointment with Stefanie London will be contacted.

Manuscript submission requirements

For romance fiction, submit only one piece, up to 10 typed pages, double-spaced, 12 pt Times New Roman, single-sided. Writers may also submit a synopsis of their work of up to 3 pages, double-spaced, 12 pt Times New Roman, single-sided. Include a cover page with your name, address, email, and telephone number.
Material submitted will not be returned so please do not submit originals.
Mail or bring your submission to:
  • Writer in Residence - North York Central Library
  • Language, Literature and Fine Arts Department (3rd Floor)
  • 5120 Yonge Street, Toronto, ON M2N 5N9
  • Or email your submission to write@torontopubliclibrary.ca
For more information, call 416-395-5639.
Toronto Public Library typically hosts two residencies per year.
  • A longer residency, usually four months, in the Spring
  • A shorter residency, usually two months, in the Fall
Writers who have held residencies at the library include Gail Bowen, Chester Brown, Austin Clarke, Karen Connelly, Deborah Cooke, Farzana Doctor, Sarah Ellis, Rabindranath Maharaj, Elizabeth Ruth, Robert J. Sawyer, Karl Schroeder, Allan Stratton, Sugith Varughese, Tim Wynne-Jones, Alissa York, David S. Young and Kim Echlin.


Tuesday 4 September 2018

Calling all writers! The CBC Short Story Prize is now open

Ready to submit? Enter now!

The 2019 CBC Short Story Prize is now open for submissions. Canadian writers can submit original, unpublished short stories until Oct. 31, 2018. Your story can be up to 2,500 words in length.
The winner will receive $6,000 from the Canada Council for the Arts, attend a two-week writing residency at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity and have their story published on CBC Books. Four finalists will win $1,000 from the Canada Council for the Arts and have their story published on CBC Books.
You have until Oct. 31 at 11:59 p.m. ET to enter. The entry fee is $25, which covers the costs of administering the prize.
Last year's winner was Leah Mol for Lipstick Day. You can read all the 2018 finalists' stories here.
Need a little motivation to get you going? Subscribe below to the CBC Short Story Prize newsletter. We will send you writing tips, tricks and prompts every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday while the CBC Short Story Prize is open. During the month of September, we'll be doing a random draw each week and one lucky newsletter subscriber will get to submit their entry for free.
Want even more support? Join our brand new Canada Writes Facebook group, where you can connect with writers from across Canada.
The CBC Literary Prizes have been supporting and celebrating Canadian writers since 1979. Past winners include Michael OndaatjeMichael Winter and Frances Itani.
If you're looking to submit to the Prix de la nouvelle Radio-Canada, you can enter here
The 2019 CBC Nonfiction Prize will open in January 2019. The 2019 CBC Poetry Prize will open in April 2019.
Have questions? Email us at canadawrites@cbc.ca.

Friday 24 August 2018

Exciting (FREE) writing programs!

Hello!

There are some really exciting opportunities in the upcoming fall program at the Brentwood Library.

Teen Writer's Group and Teen Writers' Group Open Mic Nights take place on Tuesdays

Another program is the after-school Youth in Arts program on Mondays
You can access further information in the links below.

Teen Writers' Group, Teen Writers' Open Mic Night, and Youth In Arts.

Thursday 16 August 2018

Toronto Public Library Writing Event!

Hello all!

Hope you are having a wonderful summer!

The Toronto Public Library (Brentwood branch) is hosting Phoebe Tsang on Tuesday, August 21st in the Teen Lounge for the presentation of "Dr. Frankenstein's Laboratory for Hybrid Writing".

From 4:30 to 6:30 p.m. you will have the amazing opportunity to experiment with writing compositions!

Make sure to bring in a newspaper article or a novel you began years ago but never finished. Leave this workshop with brand new, publish-ready pieces that will be nothing like you have ever written before.

Here is a link to more information if interested!

Wednesday 13 June 2018

The Perfect Gift

The Perfect Gift
By Madeline Thaller

It was absolutely lovely 
The perfect gift 
Don't I seem happy
And I smiled as we said goodbye
Why should I cry
When you keep me laughing
Of course everything changed
The minute the lights went down
But that's to be expected
It was an honour to have you around
And look what we found 

It was absolutely beautiful
The finest things
The finest flings
And there's nothing left to say
But I still remember every page
The rooms empty the beds been made
And I know that you leave on tomorrow's train
And everything fades 

Don't try to go back
Or get stuck in a past that was all pretend
And yes it was beautiful
But the best things still end
Don't think of it now or how there are bridges you know won't mend
Or roads that were bound to bend
Or how it's about to end 

We could talk about intention
An empty bowl, the right direction
Sometimes you just want more but I know there's a reason for closing that door
It's all over a bit to fast
One day you're in heaven
Then just like that
It's all in the past 

Don't try to go back
Or get stuck in a past that was all pretend
And yes it was beautiful
But the best things still end
Don't think of it now or how there are bridges that you won't mend
Or roads that were bound to bend
Or how it's about to end 

And now it's just another glass half empty on the table
The jokes you catch that no one else can hear
Another thing I know I should forget but won't be able
And I hope I've made it clear
That you gave me my best year 

Don't try to go back
Or get stuck in a past that was all pretend
And yes it was beautiful
But the best things still end
Don't think of it now or how there are bridges you know won't mend
Or roads that were bound to bend
Or how it's about to end 

It was absolutely perfect


 ************************

Written for the 2018 Graduating Music Theatre Class.

First performed live at Lula Lounge on Monday June 4th, 2018.



Tuesday 29 May 2018

The Fields

The Fields 
By Meagan Sutherland

Run. That’s all I could think. My life changed from peace to tragedy in the blink of an eye. As I ran I heard the peacefulness of the farm go by. I faintly heard the cows mooing and the tree leaves brushing against each other as I quickly went past. I rushed towards the grassy green pastures and blue sky’s. Father was on my trail. He was still a bit far behind. He was an old man, in his late 50’s. He wore his overalls, covered in tractor oil and manure, his jet black books, soles covered in dirt and of course, his favourite, old, worn down Chevrolet baseball cap. “Get back here boy or I’ll whip your ass until it bleeds!” He yelled with his leather belt in hand. He may be old, but boy could he run like the wind. He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, but he still had that extra power in him. I disappeared into the wheat fields. Every grain of wheat hurting more and more the faster I run. Luckily the fields were tall and thick so you couldn’t see anything from the sides. As soon as I felt far away and safe, I stopped. “God damn it!” Father shouted. Making the fields ripple like when a drop hits water. I fell to my knees, heavy and weak. Almost as weak as my arms feel after we stack the bales of hay in September. My short brown hair covering my eyes as I look up to the bright blue sky. The warm July sun, covering my skin like a cozy wolf blanket. For once, it felt a bit calmer on the farm. As I bask in the glow of the warm sun and watch the wheat sway as the gasps of wind go by, the peacefulness suddenly vanished. I stopped and stared blankly into the mounds of wheat before me. No expression. Not the sense that Father was near, but something else. Something more dreadful. I slowly picked my body weight back up and stopped in shock. I couldn’t move. I suddenly remember that it was Thursday July 15, 1973. Thursday. Then the terrifying sound of wheat being cut started just north of me. My knees turned to jelly all of a sudden, and I fell to the dirt ground with a thud. Head in hands, I slowly look up at the sky for the last time. A single tear ran down my freckled cheek. The tearing sound getting louder and louder, worse and worse and snap. It’s all over. But how did I get here?

My Head

My Head
By Michael No Name


A marching band all in my head
I don’t want to get out of bed
It fills me with dread
Stomach full of lead, dead
Everyday is a balancing act but I got a knack for this
It’s whack
They're always telling me to pick up my act
It's hard to do while keeping my interest intact
Always forget to put my coat on the rack
Teetor-totter wobble
Crack my head open leak out my thoughts
I wish I could keep a thought for more than a second
Keep a verse and run through it, man, that would be heaven
But I gotta keep switching up sorry I get bored
They dont think Im listening
like I'm out of it, day dreamer, whistling
Listing these crippling, persisting, fears that fulfilment’s missing
It’s constricting
I wish I didn't have an excuse
I tried it one too many times it's no use
Its hard like red spruce
And sour like lime juice

Temptation

Temptation 

by Olivia Nitti

Between the sheets, we are safe.
As our love perpetuates,
Out in the cold and disdain.
There is our inevitable pain.
While the world around us grows thicker,
Our time together goes away quicker.

Be warned to cherish, and be sure not to miss.
The disarming embrace, of each time we kiss.
I wonder if you know, that our special place,
Is separate from darkness, it’s where I see grace.

Now what will I do?
When I have someone like you,
Who is holding me together, yet ripping me apart.
Who is the one, only being, in tune with my heart.
Overwhelmed by your presence, longing for your essence.
In fear you won’t be around, to hold me to the ground.
When everything starts slipping, as it usually does;
The one thing that is assertive, is painfully,
Our love.








We stand at the edge of the earth.
We could fall any second.
Standing on crumbling ground,
What is happening to us.
I am at a loss of what to do,
I knew I loved you.
Well, I think I do.
Which way will we go?
Into the abyss, never to be saved,
Or piece back together the stones beneath stolen waves.

Where Are You?

Where Are You?

by Olivia Nitti

We were lying silent and still.
Our faces were so close that when I fluttered,
My eyelashes touched your nose.
I felt safe, for the first time in a long while.
I could breathe without trying.
You were my breath of fresh air.
Yet still, there is this pitiful feeling that you don’t really care.
I wonder if it’s just me.
But as I read your signs,
All I see is in front of me.
Your heart and mind are elsewhere.

Redemption

Redemption 

by Olivia Nitti


But I am just a human.
A victim like some, an abuser like others.
My actions have isolated me.
Made me weak and terrified.
So I sit and wonder.
Who will recognize that I am more than my actions?
That we are more than our actions.

I Want You Anyway

I Want You Anyway 
By Olivia Nitti

Waiting for you is like waiting for a meteor.
To hit my world.
To set it on fire.
Let it explode with light and flames.
Until my world is burned out.
Until nothing is left.
All because that meteor came.

Only While I Am with You

Only While I Am with You

by Olivia Nitti

My words are like bile.
Like tears, like rain,
The starting never connects with the finish line.
Some viral of un-guarded emotions I cannot contain.

Ruins

Ruins

by Olivia Nitti

You open your eyes. I close mine.
I wish I could have seen
What went on in those eyes.
Out of touch, Out of luck.
If only it weren’t how it was.
We could love.
I don’t know how we got here.
No control, and I’m falling apart.
Then you trace my body, like I am art.
And all our troubles seem so far,
Although right underneath the surface,
It remains dark.

Paper Thin Walls

Paper Thin Walls 

by Olivia Nitti

With nothing more than a light tap,
These walls will fall to the ground.
They are so poorly built.
It wouldn’t even make a sound.

If you look close enough;
Not a common thing to do,
You would see they are not tough.
In fact, you could see right through.

Not quite sturdy enough to stand on their own,
No wonder they have built such a broken home.
One more loud slam of the door,
These paper-thin walls just couldn’t endure.

Though no one understands to treat these walls with grace,
Those who come along display such distaste.
Can’t you see these walls are completely alone,
so drawn out, weak, and worn to the bone?

And if they were suddenly to disappear, no one would miss,
Their faint inability to there exist.
Too paper thin to take any grit,
These walls will fall and crumble amidst,
The very few people who choose to care
A dangerous task. I’d never dare.

The tail (tale) of a squirrel

The tail (tale) of a squirrel
by Erika Sage


The squirrel was searching for a nut
Because he was hungry at that time of day
He finally found his snack but,
A bird snatched it and flew away!

The squirrel was upset for losing his lunch
And decided to look instead for a seed.
He found a bunch and was ready to munch,
But a chipmunk stole them all out of greed!

The squirrel was losing patience
So he started looking again and found a mushroom
But a dog was running towards him
So he decided to leave the fungi and zoom!

The squirrel was fuming like a flame,
But he stumbled across some bread.
And he decided, out of his hunger,

That he would have a sandwich instead.