The Writer's Workout

Hello! Jennifer Martin here! I'm a budding short story writer and a new volunteer at The Writer's Workout as well as a recent graduate. I have learned that breaking into the literary world can be daunting feat and so I am taking every opportunity to meet new and interesting people in the literary community, like today's guest, and personal friend of mine, Caden Tarbox. A lover of the dystopian and fantasy genres, Caden Tarbox has begun their journey in the independent author

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Hello! Jennifer Martin here! I'm a budding short story writer and a new volunteer at The Writer's Workout as well as a recent graduate. I have learned that breaking into the literary world can be daunting feat and so I am taking every opportunity to meet new and interesting people in the literary community, like today's guest Michael Isaac Shokrian. As a writer and editor, Michael Isaac Shokrian cannot keep himself away from the literary world. From running his own literary m

What the Body Refuses by Aneisha Gupta First Place The first time my throat tightened at the temple, I thought it was God. I was ten years old, standing barefoot on the cool stone floor of our local Hindu temple, waiting for my offerings, waiting for my prashad. As far back as I can remember, my birthdays always began with prayers at the temple alongside my family. Incense curled toward the ceiling, blurring the golden edges of the deities. The priest’s voice rose and fell

Nail Biter by Jade Josie Second Place My cheeks feel warm buried in the crook of my elbow. I am something dead to the world, bloated and still. My scrawny limbs bend and spread across my desk as my mind floats anywhere else but here. I feel more comfortable than I ever could be in my bed, even in all of the clattering noise before first period. A chirping voice and a tap to my shoulder drags me from my haze. “Hi!” A hand waves in front of my face, making the pale school li

She's Back by Claire Beaver Third Place 1. On her hands and knees, loose pieces of grout piercing her skin between tiles, Avery scrubbed. The sponge was chunky with bits of vomit and fingernails intended to land in the toilet, but she didn’t stop until the splattered bits were gone. Avery couldn’t remember the last time she had thrown up, really thrown up. Maybe in college after a night of binge drinking with her sister; May knew how to drink. Avery pulled herself up by the

“I just need to vent a bit, so scroll on if you don’t have the spoons.” This was the beginning of a recent post from a neurodivergent writer's group I follow on Facebook. Less than a year ago, I would have been very confused. Spoons? What spoons? Instead, the post made me chuckle since I knew exactly what the person was talking about. For those of you—like me—who are fairly new to this neurodivergent (ND) way of thinking and are still learning some terminology, let me enlight