Sunday, June 5, 2011

Death of the Herkimer

There are many ways for a blog to die. Some have walked out into the frozen tundra, arms splayed, coatless, never to be seen again. Some die slowly of VD, some suddenly of heart attacks. Some bleed to death after being stabbed eighteen times in the side with a shiv made from dental floss and a ball-point pen. Some have a secret wife, a treasure chest, and a bad conscience, and burn, spectacularly and justly, in a mysterious fire. Some accidentally eat poison intended for rats. Some buy a box with a Dybbuk in it. Some drink a cup of molten gold. Some die of laughter after getting their donkey drunk, then watching it try to eat figs. Some just die of old age.

The Herkimer Review has died, but it won't say how. It would prefer that you think of its death in whatever way makes you most comfortable. Perhaps it's turned into a ray of light. Perhaps it's reincarnated into a new blog--a better blog. Perhaps it didn't really die at all, but is still with us, inside the hearts of those who will always remember it.

The Herkimer will never forget you. It would like to leave two things behind. First, its utmost thanks to those who have contributed, whose work will be enshrined and accessible on its electronic walls forevermore. Secondly, this video, which it thinks is pretty awesome, and which, like its death, it would like you to make of what you will.

Deepest thanks from beyond the grave, where glaciers break, and dogs sing daily.

Write with guts!

Saturday, April 16, 2011

The Herkimer Review is on Facebook!

The Herkimer Review is now wordsmithing like a champ on Facebook!

Check out the Herkimer on Facebook for superlatively current updates on sponsors, prizes, and submission deadlines!


Sunday, March 27, 2011

Submit now to be featured in our relaunch!

Hi from the Herkimer!

In case you haven't noticed, the Herkimer has been sleeping. Sleeping like a beast. Sleeping like a dragon. Sleeping like a herpes infection. And soon, it will wake up--and ravage springtime like a herd of bloodthirsty buttercups.

In the next few weeks, the Herkimer will be undergoing some changes and gathering some work to display in its heart-stopping, brain-shattering, soul-exploding, season-dominating relaunch--complete with prizes, giveaways, and general hubbubery.

We're looking for fiction, prose, poetry, and memoir under 1500 words to feature. We're also looking for writers who want to contribute to the Herkimer regularly. We strongly encourage submissions by unpublished student writers.

Romance novels and children's books dominate the literary market. We have nothing against that per se--but we are not about that shit up in here. We like it weird. We like it odd. We like it unheard of. We especially like stories about things traditionally perceived as dark, strange, bizarre and obscure. If you're writing a romance novel about a girl with decreased intellectual capacities falling in love with a poodle, we would love to read it. If your children's book is about a hundred and one ways to try not to die, then it might be appropriate for the Herkimer Review. If you've never sent work to a journal before because your work is too something--then you should send it here.

We're kind of goth. We're kind of gross. We're kind of awesome. And we kind of TOTALLY want to read what you've written.

Submit now at And check back often for relaunch updates.

Write with guts!

Saturday, February 19, 2011




1.   a person who purposefully speaks loud enough to be heard by others who are wearing headphones.

2.   a musical instrument of the Victorian era that was played at parties during dull moments in order to arouse laughter among the guests.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Great Tufted Snorglitz

Great Tufted Snorglitz, n: a matted, woolly sheep-like creature specific to the Swiss Alps, possessing of two curly decorative horns and a large and musical schnozz. Not to be confused with the Lesser Tufted Snorglitz, a tropical goat.

Ex: "Jolly good, Buncombe! That's a Great Tufted Snorglitz you've felled! I bagged a Lesser Snorglitz when I was in Bermuder with Mandy last Easter. Time for tea?"

Onomatopoeia: Make up and define a funny-sounding word.

Hi from the Herkimer!

This week, make up and define a really funny-sounding word. It can mean anything at all, as long as it makes you snort with glee.

Write with guts!

Mentos and manatees,


Sunday, February 13, 2011


At eight, Gabriel was the type of boy who was constantly seeking to occupy small, dark spaces -- the nooks and crannies of the house, garage, backyard, and so on. And if no such nook existed to his satisfaction, he would build it, preferably high up in the trees. Perhaps it was a consequence of his upbringing. You see, eight years and six or seven months ago, when Gabriel's mother and father became aware that he was on the way, a decision was made. The older boys were much older and not open to sharing their rooms with a newborn. So, mom and dad kept Gabriel and his crib in their room until he was ready for his own space, and what was once the kitchen pantry became a mattress lined cubby. Of course, it was not designed as a kitchen pantry either; it was merely the space above the stairway going down and below the stairway going up. In fact, as built, this interstitial had no floor, but rather it had a forty-five degree plywood ramp, which was also the ceiling of the lower staircase. To convert it into a pantry, Gabriel's father had installed a floor that was three feet high, and accessed by a step ladder. To convert it into a bedroom, Gabriel's father lined the six- by four-foot floor with bedding foam. From the very beginning of his occupancy, Gabriel bounced all around. He was obviously very pleased to live in the cubby, and because of this his parents were pleasantly surprised and felt validated in their decision to place him there. They could not, however, foresee the ways in which it would shape his entire life.