Submission Guidelines

Please make sure you read the following guidelines closely. If you’re unsure about any of the guidelines, please contact Voiceworks editor Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn at editor@expressmedia.org.au.

We are only able to publish work by writers and artists who are under twenty-five at the time of submission. Please also keep in mind that because of our funding arrangements, we are only able to publish writers living in Australia or Australian writers living overseas.

Voiceworks only considers previously unpublished work (which includes personal websites and blogs). We accept simultaneous submissions, but please let us know if your work is accepted for publication elsewhere.

If your submission is unsuccessful, we will notify you as soon as we can and then provide you with detailed feedback a little later. Feedback is written by a small group of volunteers and we receive a lot of submissions, so we appreciate your patience. If you think something’s gone wrong, or you haven’t heard from us three months after the submission deadline, please get in touch.

Fiction Guidelines

Send no more than two fiction pieces, each no more than 3000 words. If you are submitting two stories, please upload them both in this submission (as two separate documents), rather than creating a second fiction submission.

We encourage you to submit across genres, but please send us no more than four submissions in total (excluding visual art).

Those seeking to submit nonfiction, poetry or visual art, please see the separate submission categories.

Deadline: Sunday 4 December, 11:59 AEST


Theme: Static

It is a memory, the anti-gravity of static fizzling on your skin and filling the air. You recall its odd magical quality. As a child, you felt the prickle of hot static as you pressed your fingerprints to the screen; it surrounded you like an invisible storm, rising as you jumped on the trampoline, lingering in a web of silent, undulating ribbons. The metal springs and rods zapped at your touch, causing you to recoil.

Now it sends sparks through you, jolts you alive to your core. The fleeting memory returns as you gather socks and underwear from the dryer. Once again you are electrified. A stray thread, a bristling lint cloud. In the whimsy of childhood it meant something more, but now it’s just nostalgia.

Sitting too long on the sofa, you fold socks into balls, the wool’s residual heat warming your palms. Your hair stands on end. You feel the blood drain from your legs, numb now except for the fuzzy, tingling feeling running through you. Your body is a radio station in a regional town, buzzing; a TV on an analogue station, greeting you again with its grainy particles; pins and needles in a pin cushion, repeatedly puncturing its plush stuffing to no avail. 

You’ve been static in every sense of the word as of late, speckled and grey and stationary. The sound of electronic voice phenomena, infrasound, ghost hunters and alien broadcasts, UFOs half-caught on film, your tongue burnt raw or your head spinning from a cold rush. 

Steve Lacy: ‘Would you feel the noise?’ You interrogate yourself as the microwave turns, whirring with a low gamma drone. Taylor Swift uploads seven seconds of silence that accidentally makes the #1 download on iTunes. And yet the microwave persists. It only takes seven seconds for the grating sound to become soothing, like white noise or heavy rainfall. In a small house on the edge of the highway, the revving of cars lulls you to sleep. The feeling weighs you down. You hear that there are some dead galaxies where the gravitational pull is so heavy, only radio light can exist.

You wake to a phone call. On the line, all you hear is static. White noise envelopes you, the sound of a seashell held against your ear. You’re not really hearing the sea, but the ambient noise of your body, a body. The silence is rendered orchestral by its vessel. Sand falls through an hourglass, siphoned through an empty shelter. You’re hearing emptiness—the ocean’s roar, the vacuum of time. You cannot escape it. Opening your mouth to speak, your voice, too, breaks into static.  


~Thanks to EdCommers Seb Petroni and Helena Pantsis for the blurb~

Remember, you don't have to stick to the theme. Most of all, we want good writing!

Rates of Pay
$100 per published piece.

Terms of Publication
Express Media publishes work in Voiceworks on a non-exclusive, irrevocable and royalty-free basis. We require writers who will be published in Voiceworks to sign a licence deed granting us permission to publish work in the printed Voiceworks magazine, on the Express Media and Voiceworks websites, and for use in promoting our magazine. Writers retain copyright of their work and are free to use in whatever way they’d like in the future. Please only submit your work if you are satisfied with these terms. For more information about this, please contact us.

Subscribe

 To get a better idea of what kind of work we publish in the magazine, and to help us continue to support young writers, you can subscribe* to Voiceworks here.

   *Choosing not to subscribe will not impact your submission.

Submission Guidelines

 Please make sure you read the following guidelines closely. If you’re unsure about any of the guidelines, please contact Voiceworks editor Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn at editor@expressmedia.org.au.

 We are only able to publish work by writers and artists who are under twenty-five at the time of submission. Please also keep in mind that because of our funding arrangements, we are only able to publish writers living in Australia or Australian writers living overseas.

Voiceworks only considers previously unpublished work (which includes personal websites and blogs). We accept simultaneous submissions, but please let us know if your work is accepted for publication elsewhere.

 If your submission is unsuccessful, we will notify you as soon as we can and then provide you with detailed feedback a little later. Feedback is written by a small group of volunteers and we receive a lot of submissions, so we appreciate your patience. If you think something’s gone wrong, or you haven’t heard from us three months after the submission deadline, please get in touch.

Poetry Guidelines

Poetry: send no more than three poems, each no more than 100 lines. We recommend reading our poetry guide here before sending us your work.

We encourage you to submit across genres, but please send us no more than four submissions in total (excluding visual art).

Deadline: Sunday 4 December, 11:59 AEST


Theme: Static It is a memory, the anti-gravity of static fizzling on your skin and filling the air. You recall its odd magical quality. As a child, you felt the prickle of hot static as you pressed your fingerprints to the screen; it surrounded you like an invisible storm, rising as you jumped on the trampoline, lingering in a web of silent, undulating ribbons. The metal springs and rods zapped at your touch, causing you to recoil.

Now it sends sparks through you, jolts you alive to your core. The fleeting memory returns as you gather socks and underwear from the dryer. Once again you are electrified. A stray thread, a bristling lint cloud. In the whimsy of childhood it meant something more, but now it’s just nostalgia.

Sitting too long on the sofa, you fold socks into balls, the wool’s residual heat warming your palms. Your hair stands on end. You feel the blood drain from your legs, numb now except for the fuzzy, tingling feeling running through you. Your body is a radio station in a regional town, buzzing; a TV on an analogue station, greeting you again with its grainy particles; pins and needles in a pin cushion, repeatedly puncturing its plush stuffing to no avail.

You’ve been static in every sense of the word as of late, speckled and grey and stationary. The sound of electronic voice phenomena, infrasound, ghost hunters and alien broadcasts, UFOs half-caught on film, your tongue burnt raw or your head spinning from a cold rush.

Steve Lacy: ‘Would you feel the noise?’ You interrogate yourself as the microwave turns, whirring with a low gamma drone. Taylor Swift uploads seven seconds of silence that accidentally makes the #1 download on iTunes. And yet the microwave persists. It only takes seven seconds for the grating sound to become soothing, like white noise or heavy rainfall. In a small house on the edge of the highway, the revving of cars lulls you to sleep. The feeling weighs you down. You hear that there are some dead galaxies where the gravitational pull is so heavy, only radio light can exist.

You wake to a phone call. On the line, all you hear is static. White noise envelopes you, the sound of a seashell held against your ear. You’re not really hearing the sea, but the ambient noise of your body, a body. The silence is rendered orchestral by its vessel. Sand falls through an hourglass, siphoned through an empty shelter. You’re hearing emptiness—the ocean’s roar, the vacuum of time. You cannot escape it. Opening your mouth to speak, your voice, too, breaks into static.

~Thanks to EdCommers Seb Petroni and Helena Pantsis for the blurb~

Remember, you don't have to stick to the theme. Most of all, we want good writing!

Rates of Pay
$100 per published piece.

Terms of Publication
Express Media publishes work in Voiceworks on a non-exclusive, irrevocable and royalty-free basis. We require writers who will be published in Voiceworks to sign a licence deed granting us permission to publish work in the printed Voiceworks magazine, on the Express Media and Voiceworks websites, and for use in promoting our magazine. Writers retain copyright of their work and are free to use in whatever way they’d like in the future. Please only submit your work if you are satisfied with these terms. For more information about this, please contact us.

Subscribe

 To get a better idea of what kind of work we publish in the magazine, and to help us continue to support young writers, you can subscribe* to Voiceworks here.

   *Choosing not to subscribe will not impact your submission.

Submission Guidelines

Please make sure you read the following guidelines closely. If you’re unsure about any of the guidelines, please contact Voiceworks editor Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn at editor@expressmedia.org.au.

 We are only able to publish work by writers and artists who are under twenty-five at the time of submission. Please also keep in mind that because of our funding arrangements, we are only able to publish writers living in Australia or Australian writers living overseas.

Voiceworks only considers previously unpublished work (which includes personal websites and blogs). We accept simultaneous submissions, but please let us know if your work is accepted for publication elsewhere.

 If your submission is unsuccessful, we will notify you as soon as we can and then provide you with detailed feedback a little later. Feedback is written by a small group of volunteers and we receive a lot of submissions, so we appreciate your patience. If you think something’s gone wrong, or you haven’t heard from us three months after the submission deadline, please get in touch.

Nonfiction Guidelines

For completed work, send no more than two pieces, each no more than 3,000 words.

We encourage you to submit across genres, but please send us no more than four submissions in total (excluding visual art).

Deadline: Sunday 4 December, 11:59PM AEST 


Theme: Static 

It is a memory, the anti-gravity of static fizzling on your skin and filling the air. You recall its odd magical quality. As a child, you felt the prickle of hot static as you pressed your fingerprints to the screen; it surrounded you like an invisible storm, rising as you jumped on the trampoline, lingering in a web of silent, undulating ribbons. The metal springs and rods zapped at your touch, causing you to recoil.

Now it sends sparks through you, jolts you alive to your core. The fleeting memory returns as you gather socks and underwear from the dryer. Once again you are electrified. A stray thread, a bristling lint cloud. In the whimsy of childhood it meant something more, but now it’s just nostalgia.

Sitting too long on the sofa, you fold socks into balls, the wool’s residual heat warming your palms. Your hair stands on end. You feel the blood drain from your legs, numb now except for the fuzzy, tingling feeling running through you. Your body is a radio station in a regional town, buzzing; a TV on an analogue station, greeting you again with its grainy particles; pins and needles in a pin cushion, repeatedly puncturing its plush stuffing to no avail.

You’ve been static in every sense of the word as of late, speckled and grey and stationary. The sound of electronic voice phenomena, infrasound, ghost hunters and alien broadcasts, UFOs half-caught on film, your tongue burnt raw or your head spinning from a cold rush.

Steve Lacy: ‘Would you feel the noise?’ You interrogate yourself as the microwave turns, whirring with a low gamma drone. Taylor Swift uploads seven seconds of silence that accidentally makes the #1 download on iTunes. And yet the microwave persists. It only takes seven seconds for the grating sound to become soothing, like white noise or heavy rainfall. In a small house on the edge of the highway, the revving of cars lulls you to sleep. The feeling weighs you down. You hear that there are some dead galaxies where the gravitational pull is so heavy, only radio light can exist.

You wake to a phone call. On the line, all you hear is static. White noise envelopes you, the sound of a seashell held against your ear. You’re not really hearing the sea, but the ambient noise of your body, a body. The silence is rendered orchestral by its vessel. Sand falls through an hourglass, siphoned through an empty shelter. You’re hearing emptiness—the ocean’s roar, the vacuum of time. You cannot escape it. Opening your mouth to speak, your voice, too, breaks into static.

~Thanks to EdCommers Seb Petroni and Helena Pantsis for the blurb~

Remember, you don't have to stick to the theme. Most of all, we want good writing!

Rates of Pay
$100 per published piece.

Terms of Publication
Express Media publishes work in Voiceworks on a non-exclusive, irrevocable and royalty-free basis. We require writers who will be published in Voiceworks to sign a licence deed granting us permission to publish work in the printed Voiceworks magazine, on the Express Media and Voiceworks websites, and for use in promoting our magazine. Writers retain copyright of their work and are free to use in whatever way they’d like in the future. Please only submit your work if you are satisfied with these terms. For more information about this, please contact us.

Subscribe

 To get a better idea of what kind of work we publish in the magazine, and to help us continue to support young writers, you can subscribe* to Voiceworks here.

   *Choosing not to subscribe will not impact your submission.

Submission Guidelines

 Please make sure you read the following guidelines closely. If you’re unsure about any of the guidelines, please contact Voiceworks editor Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn at editor@expressmedia.org.au.

 We are only able to publish work by writers and artists who are under twenty-five at the time of submission. Please also keep in mind that because of our funding arrangements, we are only able to publish writers living in Australia or Australian writers living overseas.

Voiceworks only considers previously unpublished work (which includes personal websites and blogs). We accept simultaneous submissions, but please let us know if your work is accepted for publication elsewhere.

 If your submission is unsuccessful, we will notify you as soon as we can and then provide you with detailed feedback a little later. Feedback is written by a small group of volunteers and we receive a lot of submissions, so we appreciate your patience. If you think something’s gone wrong, or you haven’t heard from us three months after the submission deadline, please get in touch.

Visual Art and Comics Guidelines
Visual art submissions include comics, illustrations, drawings, graphics, etc. We recommend that you pitch your comics before sending them to us. For advice on how to construct your pitch, check out our handy guide here.
We print in duotone (two colours) and our page dimensions are 170 x 245 mm. Please supply your images in greyscale, at actual size and 300dpi. Please name your files—strings of numbers and letters are easily confused with other submissions.

Deadline: Sunday 11 December, 11:59 AEST


Theme: Static

It is a memory, the anti-gravity of static fizzling on your skin and filling the air. You recall its odd magical quality. As a child, you felt the prickle of hot static as you pressed your fingerprints to the screen; it surrounded you like an invisible storm, rising as you jumped on the trampoline, lingering in a web of silent, undulating ribbons. The metal springs and rods zapped at your touch, causing you to recoil.

Now it sends sparks through you, jolts you alive to your core. The fleeting memory returns as you gather socks and underwear from the dryer. Once again you are electrified. A stray thread, a bristling lint cloud. In the whimsy of childhood it meant something more, but now it’s just nostalgia.

Sitting too long on the sofa, you fold socks into balls, the wool’s residual heat warming your palms. Your hair stands on end. You feel the blood drain from your legs, numb now except for the fuzzy, tingling feeling running through you. Your body is a radio station in a regional town, buzzing; a TV on an analogue station, greeting you again with its grainy particles; pins and needles in a pin cushion, repeatedly puncturing its plush stuffing to no avail.

You’ve been static in every sense of the word as of late, speckled and grey and stationary. The sound of electronic voice phenomena, infrasound, ghost hunters and alien broadcasts, UFOs half-caught on film, your tongue burnt raw or your head spinning from a cold rush.

Steve Lacy: ‘Would you feel the noise?’ You interrogate yourself as the microwave turns, whirring with a low gamma drone. Taylor Swift uploads seven seconds of silence that accidentally makes the #1 download on iTunes. And yet the microwave persists. It only takes seven seconds for the grating sound to become soothing, like white noise or heavy rainfall. In a small house on the edge of the highway, the revving of cars lulls you to sleep. The feeling weighs you down. You hear that there are some dead galaxies where the gravitational pull is so heavy, only radio light can exist.

You wake to a phone call. On the line, all you hear is static. White noise envelopes you, the sound of a seashell held against your ear. You’re not really hearing the sea, but the ambient noise of your body, a body. The silence is rendered orchestral by its vessel. Sand falls through an hourglass, siphoned through an empty shelter. You’re hearing emptiness—the ocean’s roar, the vacuum of time. You cannot escape it. Opening your mouth to speak, your voice, too, breaks into static.

~Thanks to EdCommers Seb Petroni and Helena Pantsis for the blurb~

Remember, you don't have to stick to the theme. Most of all, we want good writing!

Rates of Pay
$100 per published piece.

Terms of Publication
Express Media publishes work in Voiceworks on a non-exclusive, irrevocable and royalty-free basis. We require writers who will be published in Voiceworks to sign a licence deed granting us permission to publish work in the printed Voiceworks magazine, on the Express Media and Voiceworks websites, and for use in promoting our magazine. Writers retain copyright of their work and are free to use in whatever way they’d like in the future. Please only submit your work if you are satisfied with these terms. For more information about this, please contact us.

Subscribe

 To get a better idea of what kind of work we publish in the magazine, and to help us continue to support young writers, you can subscribe* to Voiceworks here.

   *Choosing not to subscribe will not impact your submission.

Express Media