The Menu: Season Two Submissions OPEN
Overview
The Menu is a magazine that has carved out a distinct editorial territory: the short, the strange, and the formally restless. Season Two submissions are now open, with no fee to submit and a fixed deadline of 1 November 2026. The publication's stated interests—flash fiction, micro fiction, prose poetry, hybrid work, fragments, and 'strange little monologues'—signal a curatorial commitment to writing that resists easy categorization. The word count ceiling of approximately 500 words is not merely a constraint but an invitation to compression, to the kind of writing where every sentence must justify its presence. The editorial vision is deliberately omnivorous. The magazine's description gestures toward a wide field of reference: food, pickles, art, technology, boredom, supermarkets, labour, salamanders, super soakers, Arrakis, weird jobs, Sporty Spice, Wotists, soggy socks, takeaways, Mortal Kombat characters, loneliness, Toilet Duck, Brahms, smelly foyers, scratchcards, and the act of writing itself. This is not a list of themes so much as a sensibility—one that finds the absurd and the melancholy entangled, that treats the mundane and the pop-cultural with equal seriousness, and that values wit without sacrificing emotional weight. The instruction to 'tell us about funny things that are sad, and sad things that are funny' is the clearest statement of the magazine's aesthetic: a tonal double-consciousness, a refusal of easy sentiment or mere cleverness. For writers, the opportunity is straightforward: publication in a magazine that has already established a Season One identity, with no submission fee and a clear word limit. The absence of a prize or monetary award is not unusual for literary magazines, and the value here lies in editorial attention and placement within a curated season. The magazine's invitation to read Season One before submitting is not a formality; it is a practical instruction. The work that succeeds here will be work that understands the magazine's frequency—its appetite for the odd, the compressed, and the tonally complex.