Tag: folded word

Gisela: Extending the Pre-order Window

If you hadn’t quite gotten around to pre-ordering the sustainable edition of Gisela: Princess, Empress, Abbess, Saint by Marcus Speh yet, don’t worry! We’re extending pre-orders until 30 June 2017.

LEVEL UP: Which edition works for you?

Whether hand-bound or printed on demand, our titles have always included a print choice with an ebook option eventually joining in. Now we’re offering three editions, released in the following stages:

Water Ways

Folded Word announces the release of its second 2017 title, WATER WAYS, a collection of poems by William O’Daly with essays and photographs by JS Graustein.

Out and About with The Fold

Video chat with Samantha Priestley, plus invitation to reading with William O’Daly and JS Graustein.

Winter Kindling: The Conversion Continues

After sparking some interest in our newly-converted chapbook titles last week, we’re fanning the flames with two full-length ebook conversions this week. This batch was a little tricky because one of them contained a lot of accented letters. These letters converted well in the…

Winter Kindling: The Conversion Begins

It’s been awhile since we converted any of our print titles into ebooks (two years, in fact), so we’re excited to announce that the log-jam has been broken! Huge thanks go to Kurt Graustein, who trawled many a forum to find ways to expedite…

Pushcart 2017 Nominees

Folded Word is proud to nominate the following work, published in 2016, for the 2017 Pushcart Prize:

Draw Me A Dream

He parked his car in the multi-story, got out and breathed the cold air in. The rain swayed in through the upper open plan area like a slow swarm of midges. The sky was the colour of a 4B pencil.

I wonder what you see…

INVITATION: All art grows out of paying attention: in sight, sound, scent, taste & touch. You are invited to craft a written response (poetry or prose, 50 words or less) to the images and scene below.

Guerrillas

“The soil’s not very good.” he said. She crouched down next to him and shone her torch onto the area where his hands delved into the earth like he was baking bread. It was just past midnight and the street was the black of an iced over lake.