SQN - Sine Qua Non - Issue 1 - Journal - Page 22
Creative Prose Introduction
hen I sent out the call for writers to submit their 昀椀ction and non昀椀ction works to the
Inaugural issue of the Sine Qua Non, I asked them to submit stories that would inspire,
challenge, and connect us. I asked them to snub traditional notions of form (insert your own
de昀椀nition of “form” here) and test the edges of storytelling. I asked for weird and provocative
prose. Our submitters did not disappoint.
The authors we have chosen as winners for our prize competition, in addition to the authors
we have included in this publication, engage with style and form in clever and unusual ways. Not
only do they challenge our perception of reality, but they also create a bridge between form and
content that alters our experience of storytelling. This bridge is the author’s true gift to you, dear
reader, one carved from memory, experience, hope, and inspiration. It is the shape that feels most
familiar—the shape of resonance. To me, “resonance” is the hero at work in all these stories,
pulling us in on sticky webs of emotions that, for a moment, have no other place to be. There
is no concrete way to explain it, I suppose. Resonance is a mystery to me. It is like love, except
it can last longer or maybe not as long. Some call it an echo, which seems quite literal, but this
kind of echo, you can feel in your tippytoes. It lingers in the place where you might 昀椀nd a soul or
a shadow or a bunch of noisy chatter. Come to think of it, you might say it’s a deep connection
to the characters or plot, except connections don’t haunt you in the same way resonance does.
Nevertheless, dear reader, you will have to experience the stories for yourself. You will have to
take part in the crisscrossing of lives and sharing of trauma, which are maybe neither experienced
nor shared but somehow felt deep within.
For you to truly understand, you will have to read what we’ve carefully curated for you:
six short stories that create new understandings about bodies in transition, love, moving on,
and becoming. Here, you will 昀椀nd prose rooted in resonance. Perhaps this is accomplished
through repetition like Penny Walker’s “Badland.” Or nurtured throughout the narrative as felt in
James B. Nicola’s “Buddy.” Maybe it’s metaphor, maybe it’s magical—Teresa Milbrodt’s “The
Hedgehog” shows us this by toying with our emotions and feeding our imagination. What do
Hedgehogs eat? According to the narrator, “‘Cheese crackers.’” Who knew? Some of the works
in this issue construct fabricated realities to 昀椀nd peace in odd places, while others blend humor
with familiarity to stir our emotions. Dean Gessie’s “On the Telephone with Mom” takes us on
a creative journey that explores the su昀昀ering and sacri昀椀ce attached to love and family, whereas
Renate Wildermuth’s “When a Body Meets a Body” encapsulates the su昀昀ering linked to an
author’s craft. (I mean, what writer doesn’t keep a Sharpie in the shower?) Add in “Life Line” by
Hayley Pisciotti and you will know what it means to lose yourself and 昀椀nd yourself and remake
yourself in the weird and wonderful ways that we all do. You will know resonance.
But don’t take my word for it, dear reader. I will leave it to you. Bring tissue.
W
Carmon Brandow
Managing Editor, Prose
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