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Joyland is a literary magazine that curates fiction regionally. We’ve chosen several editors to select and post stories and excerpts by authors connected to locales across North America every week.

Toronto

The Entertainment Room

Daniel Scott Tysdal

They are all anonymous. There’s the budding actress who takes the controls of the subway train for her first solo drive. Five years ago, after receiving her BFA in Theatre Studies, she never would...

Midwest

The State of American Letters

Chris Leslie-Hynan

When we arrived at the colony, they sat us on the lawn and told us, don't drink and drive on the major streets. We'll bail you out if you do, they said, but only the first time, and we listened, and...

San Francisco

A Tarantella

Zoë Ferraris

Massimo was not weak. You could not call him weak. He was tough, mean, and shithouse poor, scrubbing toilets and cooking ragu in a sleazy hostel, but only because his brother owned the place and was...

Los Angeles

The Measure Everything Machine and Other Sketches (an excerpt)

Mark Wallace

Troll A man devotes much of his energy to studying poetry. At times he even manages to write poetry, yet whenever he sits down to write, he thinks of all the great poets throughout history who have...

Montreal Atlantic

My Last Summer in Washington

Sarah Steinberg

At first, I said moving to DC was like stepping inside a candy wrapper. That seemed right at the time but, then - not. A candy wrapper isn't necessarily humid or sticky inside. DC's summer was the...

Vancouver

The Morrigan

William Ilan Rubel

Wren Connected to the bog-land by a wooden causeway, the crannog roundhouse was ringed by rough, stout poles. Wisps of smoke rose from its chimney, as it sat, squat and secure, built atop four crude...

Consulate

Tiger’s Got Teeth

Ethel Rohan

Roberta refused to move past the antiques shop, its grimy front window crowded with Korean furniture, ornaments and bric-a-brac. Anna protested her immovable mother; they were on a once-in-a-...

Joyland South

Day Trip

Erin Brooks Worley

My sister would sneak out late, after midnight. I’d hear her door open, then watch through my bedroom window to see her run down the end of our dark, curving driveway. Then headlights through the...

New York

Ghost Theater

Robert Schirmer

Terrence Sheppard wasn’t sure why he decided to run in an isolated wooded section of Prospect Park that afternoon. Usually he jogged one of the paved roads that divided the park into sections, or...