It’s been an incredible winter here at Waterhouse Towers. Since our last issue, around 6 feet of snow has fallen and at one particularly low point it got down to -40º (C or F, it doesn’t matter) and it was officially colder than the Pole (North or South, it doesn’t matter). It’s weird looking out the window and the only colour you can see is white.
So it feels like it’s taken about eight years to get to April and the Spring edition of Waterhouse Review. In the last few days, temperatures in the 40s have shown the snow the error of its ways, revealing leaves we neglected to rake up in November, three frisbees whose origins remain unknown, and a brand new batch of fiction and poetry that makes the wait worthwhile.
Before I get to that, something that’s been noticed in the submissions we’ve received this quarter is a number of people apologizing for not having any Scottish connection, and another number trying to make one up. You, Constant Reader, will know that since Issue One, Waterhouse has been far from a Scotland-exclusive publication. We’ve published authors from around the planet and been pretty proud to do so. Being Scottish or having a Scottish connection are not mandatory. Writing a story set in Rio de Janeiro and then doing a Find / Replace with Broughty Ferry really isn’t necessary.
That said, we’re pleased to announce that Waterhouse and Scotland regular, Karen Jones, makes her third appearance in these virtual pages this quarter. I’ve long been a fan of Karen’s work and being a wee dear, she’s gone and put quite a lot of that work in an anthology called The Upside-Down Jesus. Please check out her bio at the end of her short story, Various Things About Leaving, for more details.
Aside from Karen, we have four other stories and five poems that we think will apply a feather to your fancy’s armpit. Fiction-wise, we have tales that cover a disturbing game of rochambeau, the perils of nude modelling, the consequences of reading her mind, and what Hank Jensen gets up to when he thinks no one’s looking. From the other side of the fence, a five-pack of craft poems investigate European hillwalking, “keeping busy”, departed friends, precipitation, and a poem that managed to make me feel the warmest I had in months just by using the word “olive”. I suspect I haven’t given any of these the billing they deserve, so please feel free to skip through the rest of this preamble and get to the Current Issue to see how smashing it all is. Smashing.
While folks are off doing that, let me take this opportunity to announce that tentative plans are afoot for Waterhouse Review to run the 3rd Roy Wood Memorial Short Story competition in the summer. The finer points are awaiting sign-off but you can expect a special post in the coming weeks with details of how to enter and what requirements we’re looking for this year. All going well, they’ll be much the same as last year but we’ll be looking for something a bit longer.
Okay, so it’s 54ºF outside, and I really need to get into shorts and flip-flops and find some place that will sell me Irn-Bru and a copy of the Daily Record. Enjoy Spring, enjoy the Spring Issue, and let’s do this again in the summer when we’ll all be complaining about the heat and the overdose of Vitamin D.
Gavin Broom & Helen R. Peterson
PS: Check out our Submission Guidelines for information on how to submit your work to The Waterhouse Review. We read year-round and any submissions that miss one cut-off date will automatically be considered for the following issue.
Cover image (c) 2014 Gavin Broom