You're Write Online Zine
Calling all teens ages 13-17: share your writing in our online zine, You're Write

Submit your writing

Anyone from the age of 13 to the age of 17 is welcome to submit short stories, poems, and creative nonfiction via the submission form. We will select and post work on a quarterly basis, with new issues going up in January, April, July, and October. We'll let you know if your work has been selected within a month of your submission date.

Next issue (Summer) comes out July 26.  Deadline for submissions is July 19, 2019. Please read our submission guidelines before submitting.

Selected for You're Write

“Doodle bug, doodle bug, come out of your hole,” my mom whispered, her face inches from the dime-sized cylindrical burrow on the dusty barn floor. I whispered too, and the dust stirred and tickled my nose. No doodle bug awoke and came to the surface to answer, but I knew the twitching grains held a stirring bug beneath them.
The sky was as blue as an August day could offer, like cotton candy or a blue raspberry lollipop. The heat of a late Tennessee summer was stifling and sticky, but the cheerful breeze refused to let my spirits melt. At seven years old, it was no matter to me where my shoes were planted as long as my imagination followed where they went (that is, if I was even wearing the hateful, restrictive things).

The Roof

The sun glared down and baked the road, sending silvery heat waves up from the broken asphalt. Vehicles were scarce, and the rare one I saw sputtered and clanked like it was in need of a few vital parts. Often, a mule-drawn cart would drive past, loaded with metal scraps and old machines. The people standing on the side of the road stared at me with empty eyes that perused my blonde hair and fair skin. I smiled when they stared, but not a muscle moved in their stoic faces.

Camping, something I've been asking for for years, is finally underway. The tradition welcomes me with open arms, but is somewhat lacking the stereotypes I remember so fondly. Slowly trucking down the long driveway in silence in the dusty white Ford was building up for a big reveal, even though I've seen the same house many times before

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