"Established in 1990 at the University of Idaho, Fugue biannually publishes poetry, fiction, essays, hybrid work, and visual art from established and emerging writers and artists."
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
3-6 months
Payment:
No
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
$3
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
Yes
Examples online:
Yes
Average acceptance rate:
?
Country:
United States
Year founded:
1990
Has Masthead info:
Yes

Important stuff

Active on social media
Make you feel at home: cozy, meme-friendly, a sense of community, all that stuff
Available both in print and online
Contributors get a 2-year subscription
Submission fee

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max pieces: 115 pages max
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 5000Max pieces: 1
👌

Poetry

Min pieces: 3Max pieces: 510 pages max
👌

Review

Max pieces: 5
👌

Art

Max pieces: 5

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Masthead

We currently list only main editors, more will be added later!
If you're an editor, you can edit your masthead in our admin panel :)

Afton

Editor-in-Chief

Crystal Cox

Managing Editor

Examples

'Performance' by Charlotte Hughes

(excerpt)
We had gone to the aviary in the empty country an hour away because you said it was the sort of thing interesting people did, and in that green gazebo smelling of honey and hay, sacks of birdseed slashed in the middle, you cupped both your stubbed fingers to the glass and leaned over the chipped guardrail, though not on your tiptoes. All you could see was a sparrow, a single one, picking the dirt then looking up at you, unblinking. I saw it chirp, sing to you like it loved you, with its onyx eyes and mouth gilded with millet kernels.
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'Click Here to Get Ripped' by Owen McLeod

(excerpt)
Play the lottery. Pray all you like. Odds are, tomorrow you’ll be stuck in some basement washing socks. Remember when we let Jesus into our hearts? That lasted, what, three months? Now we’re on eBay, selling industrial corn starch in jars labeled Muscle Builder Max.
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'Minimum Wage' by Matthew Dickman

(excerpt)
My mother and I are on the front porch lighting each other’s cigarettes as if we were on a ten-minute break from our jobs at being a mother and son, just ten minutes to steal a moment of freedom before clocking back in, before putting the aprons back on, the paper hats, washing our hands twice and then standing behind the counter again, hoping for tips, hoping the customers will be nice, will say some kind word, the cool front yard before us and the dogs in the backyard shitting on everything.
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'Happy' by Jill McDonough

(excerpt)
We can make each other happy, Harry Nilsson screams from our speakers, and I say, Oh, Harry: no we can’t. We turn it up, drive up the coast with the windows down, sing every part, even the wack-ass Whoa–oa-oa -oa-oh!s. I had never heard of Harry Nilsson, being younger than Josey, a fact I mention as often as I can. Like me, it never gets old. So I knew all the songs, didn’t know they were all by one guy.
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