Anonymous Manuscript #3

Transportation will soon be announcing our print program for 2018-19. In the meantime we will be posting anonymous quotes from novels we like. The first person to pick the novel will receive a free copy of one of our publications, of your choice.

‘Our hands touch just as Dad crashes through the door, and golden electricity jumps from my skin to hers, burning lines around her base off her right ring finger. Little Jane instantly reaches for her head and her screams of fear became screams of pain. All around her is golden light.

The memory hits me like a physical blow. This was my first migraine. ‘

Anonymous Manuscript Extract # 1

Transportation will soon be announcing our print program for 2018. In the meantime we will be posting anonymous quotes from novels we like. The first person to pick the novel will receive a free copy of one of our publication (until we run out!), and if they already have a copy we will give them a free copy of our next published collection.


‘A story of blinding love,

Always about to be,

Never forgotten.’

Where there is Smoke

We recently launched our first collection of microfiction, Smoke One. It contains the best entries from our inaugural international competition. Susan Lloy is a writer who lives in Montreal, Canada. Her story ‘Wishful Thinking’ is included in the collection, which is available for puchase here.

You can hear her reading from another of her recently published short stories, ‘But When We Look Closer’ here.

This story contained in a collection of her short stories by the same name which was published by Now or Never Publishing earlier this year.
Susan is a graduate of the Nova Scotia College of Art & Design University, and has been published in the United States, Canada, Europe, Australia and the United Kingdom.


Akis Papantonis

Akis Papantonis is an Assistant Professor at the University of Cologne. He has published prose in English and Greek literary magazines, and has translated Miroslav Penkov’s short stories and Raymond Carver’s poems into Greek. For his first book, the novella Karyotype (Kichli, 2014), he was awarded the Anagnostis 2015 First Book Award.
We are really please to have Akis’s story ‘Lights That Never Go Out’ in Smoke One, Transportation Press’ first collection of the best work from our international microfiction competition.
Transportation Press has always been about Tasmanian writers, and connecting Tasmanian writers with authors and editors in distant places… and because of this the inclusion of a writer from Greece is absolutely brilliant.
In acknowledgment of this we have asked Akis to create some audio files for us, and Akis has kindly obliged.

Raymond Carver

Raymond Carver

Follow the post below to go to our website and to hear Akis read his own work, Rear View Window, in Greek & English, and to read one of the Raymond Carver poems, Morning, Thinking of Empire, Carver in Greek & English also too.


Order your copy of Smoke, 21 microfiction stories here. 

Who Won Smoke One?

First prize –
Dalian Blood Futures by Daniel Young
Runners Up
Zoo by Robbie Arnott
What is a Hornet by Patrick Lenton

Highly Commendeds
A Transformation by Peter Timms
A World by Jasmine Searle
Lights That Never Go Out by Akis Papantonis
Green by Miriam McGarry
Wishful Thinking by Susan Lloy
Hope Floats by Madeleine Habib
The Expert by Ben Walter
Every Story is a Detective Story by Bella Li
Chasing A Cairo Coffee by Kali Myers
Connect and Divide by Bel Woods
Letter to Genghis by Konrad Muller
Eyelashes by Tania Marlowe
Choked by Matt G Turpin
Do You Mind If (after OW & SB) by Stuart Barnes
Antlers by Andrew Harper
Touch Me Not by Cam Daeng
Oh My Dear Twilight Sparkle How I Love You by Victor Medrano-Bonilla
A Great Weight by Michael Louis Kennedy


Order your print copy here
Order your electronic copy here

On Microfiction, by Geordie Williamson

St Jerome as Scholar, El Greco

There were, at last count, almost four and half billion indexed web pages on the Web. Even my smartphone’s Kindle app holds more texts than a Renaissance princeling could have accumulated over a lifetime. We all sense it, don’t we: words marching across every surface and every screen in serried rows, enclosing our attentional commons. All of which makes microfiction – with its resolute brevity, its pinprick epiphanies – nothing less than antidote to the present. The wonder of good microfiction lies nestled in this paradox: that a few, well-chosen words can weigh more than a phone book. Paul Celan called poetry ‘a kind of homecoming’, and in the best microfiction there is a sense of return, too: to first principles, to a sense that there is a craft, valuable in itself, to arranging the right words in the right order – that such passages can be densely packed with allusion and implication, can carry meaning or feeling or insight far beyond the range of the fragment that holds them, not in spite of such concision but because of it. In Weimar Germany hyperinflation became so rampant that people were obliged to carry their Deutschmarks around in wheelbarrows. The price of a cup of coffee would climb even as the patrons of a café drank them down. The only recourse for an economy trapped in such a spiral is to restore confidence in the currency, stripping the banknotes down, starting again from zero. In an age of textual hyperinflation, microfiction attempts a similar trick – generating literature from the miniscule, from the cursor’s virgin blink.

Geordie Williamson is the Editor-at-Large of Island magazine, an author, Picador Publisher and former Chief Literary Critic for The Australian.

Entries for Smoke, international microfiction competition close on May 16.
Enter here.


The Big Smoke – Sean Preston

The Big Smoke is what people who are not from London call London. Tadhg Muller is not from London, yet altogether a Londoner. For now that is true geographically, and forever in another way, whether he likes it nor not. I wonder if he ever called us the Big Smoke?

If he did, he probably wouldn’t have called it the Big Smoke in front smoke londonof me. And I wonder if he’d admit using it before he became a Londoner? Probably not. He’s guarded like that.

That guard, the inclination to withhold, an amount of smoke and mirrors, is why it was with some surprise that a few years ago on a circular table, our hands rubbing at pints like potters, he laid out a fiendish plot. He wanted to launch a literary publication that bridged writers between London an
d his homeland Tasmania. Did we have a common message? He wanted to find it. I was unsure. I asked him if he minded if I went for a smoke.

“How long have you smoked for?” he asked on my return.

“Not long. I don’t know. I guess long. 20ish?”


“Do you know that Oscar Wilde putdown?” I asked, leaping widly, as I do, “’I don’t care if you…'”

“I think that was Sarah Bernhardt putting the down on Wilde.”

“Oh right. Oh yes.”

Transportation came to be of course. Two anthologies. And they bridge that gap. Not just between London and Tasmania, but Iran too. I edited the London-based writers, and none of them, not even the Tasmanians, ever called London “the Big Smoke”. Writers, I have to admit, on the page, are pretty good at not saying the wrong thing. That’s the craft, right? And not just avoiding the wrong words, but finding the right words? Not just not calling London the Big Smoke, but finding something better. Not for the sake of it. For the sake of clarity. For the sake of saying what we mean, not what other people mean. But not saying too much of what we mean in too obvious a way. Smoke signals work better than HELP! in the sand.

If there’s one form in which you need to make sure you’re saying exactly precisely what you mean, it’s flash fiction short-short stories drabble microfiction.

Tadhg’s not long for London. He’s off. He’s taking to mainland Europe. He likes his wine. I’ll miss him. Or he works in wine. It’s hard to know; he’s guarded. He has an inclination to withhold. Off he’ll go, a magic trick, in a plume of smoke.