Contrary to the first impression, this isn't really short fiction written on, uhm, feminine products. Nyahaha.
Esquire mailed table napkins to 250 writers and asked them to write stories on it. Takes off from that often repeated romantic notion that writers hang out in cafes, daydream, stare into the wide blue yonder, scribble magic words on paper, and voila! (or as a student of mine once said, "Wala!") A story is born.
I haven't read all the entries yet, but there are stories from Rick Moody and A.M. Homes.
Curious things: There's a writer included in the project called "Bud Wiser." Ha-ha. And I wonder if "Ethan Pacquin" is what Ethan Hawke will be called if he--by some strange twist of fate--marry Anna Pacquin. Gah.
Swiped from twisted
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