I’ve been a fan of Susan Perabo ever since Robert Sean Leonard performed her story “Counting the Ways” on Selected Shorts, so it is a great pleasure to welcome her into the One Story family. We’ve just heard that Selected Shorts will be recording “Indulgence” in the coming season as well, so: keep your dial tuned to your local public radio station! And now: I’ll turn the mic over to contributing editor Will Allison, who brought this marvelous story to our pages. -HT

In 2007, the Motion Picture Association of America announced that it would start to take into consideration depictions of smoking when it rated films. Fortunately, the story in our latest issue—Susan Perabo’s “Indulgence”—isn’t subject to the MPAA’s scrutiny. Otherwise, it might be rated X for excessive smokiness.

This was no accident on the author’s part. “I wanted to write a love letter to cigarettes,” says Perabo in our interview with the author. “I wanted to write a story that genuinely, without irony, celebrated smoking.” (Spoiler alert: read the story before you read the Q&A!)

But “Indulgence” is much more than a delightfully transgressive paean to cigarettes. It’s also one of the most moving stories about death and loss that I’ve read—one that still leaves me choked up every time I read it, even though I know what’s coming.

Much of the story’s power derives from its unexpected ending. But this is no trick ending. Early on, Perabo quietly sets about preparing the reader for what’s ahead. That the ending still comes as a surprise is a tribute to the subtlety of her technique.

The result is one of those wonderful endings that is at once surprising yet inevitable in retrospect. “Indulgence” is a story you’ll want to read twice.

Our new issue is by Douglas Watson, one of our 2013 Literary Debutantes. “The Messenger Who Did Not Become a Hero” appears in his forthcoming debut collection, The Era of Not Quite, which will be published by BOA Editions next month. Part fable, part comedy, and part philosophical meditation, “The Messenger Who Did Not Become a Hero” reminded me of one of my favorite authors, Italo Calvino. I’m thrilled to have Douglas Watson in our pages, and excited to celebrate his debut  on June 6th at the 2013 Literary Debutante Ball. Now I’ll turn the mic over to Will Allison, who found this remarkable story and brought it to our shores. –HT.

Many years ago, when I was working in Cincinnati at a magazine called Story, our wise old contributing editor, Max Steele, said to me, “Will, I have never seen a story that could not be improved by editing.” I took those words to heart, not only as an editor but as a writer. To this day, it frankly makes me nervous when an editor accepts work of mine as-is.

Here at One Story, we pride ourselves on thorough editing. Sometimes we go back and forth with an author through multiple revisions before we feel the story is just right—a process that can take upwards of a year. At the very least, Hannah and the issue editor give every story a good, hard scrub, with plenty of editorial suggestions.

But then there’s the story in our current issue, Douglas Watson’s “The Messenger Who Did Not Become a Hero,” a brilliant, funny, heartrending tale of a king’s messenger who finds his life turned topsy-turvy just when he thought he was more or less done living. (Be sure to read our interview with the author.)

The day after we accepted the story, I sat down with my editorial scrub brush and went to work—only to discover, after several reads, that I had not a single meaningful editorial suggestion to offer. Not a one.

Usually, when I don’t see ways to make a story better, I assume I’m blinded by my admiration for it, and I rely on Hannah to bail me out, to see what I don’t. But this time, Hannah didn’t have any edits either.

I don’t, of course, mean to suggest that Douglas’s story is un-improvable. That I didn’t see how to improve it is as much a testament to my shortcomings as an editor as it is to his strength as a writer and editor of his own work. If anything, “The Messenger Who Did Not Become a Hero” is the exception that proves the rule—and yet it’s also a reminder (my apologies, Max!) that now and then, we editors should just leave well enough alone.

Our new issue, “Running Alone” by Halimah Marcus, connects the physical and spiritual lives of three family members: Albert, Irene, and Hunter. It’s difficult to pull off three different points of view in one short story, but Halimah Marcus handles it with great skill, the same way her character Hunter outpaces the competition in the middle-distance races that consume his life.  Hunter is a talented teenager, with a remarkable ability to focus and lose himself in the physical act of running. Coached by his father Albert—a high school teacher who finds his peace in mathematical formulas—Hunter puts all of his energy toward the upcoming National Championships, until an unexpected illness rears its head, and Hunter must learn to push beyond his physical strength to become mentally tough as well. His mother Irene, meanwhile, has her own rough path to tread, and yet seems to find a way to tether this high-flying father and son back to the earth. By weaving together the inner lives of this family, “Running Alone” captures how we all strive to remain connected to one another, even as our individual obsessions threaten to consume us. Be sure to check out the author Q&A to hear about the research Halimah did for this story, as well as her feelings about calculus, Steve Prefontaine’s hair, and her own experience as a runner.

Our new issue, “The Zen Thing,” is the debut publication of Emma Duffy-Comparone. OS edtior Will Allison will handle the introductions.  I’ll just stand here at my desk and applaud. -HT

As any story writer knows, getting your first story published is tough. I know from experience: back in the dark ages, before the Internet got huge, it took me seven years of sending out stories before one was accepted.

Today, given the breadth of online publishing opportunities, I imagine things are a bit easier for first-time authors. On the flip side, the Internet has made it more difficult for print magazines like One Story to “discover” new writers: by the time most writers send us a story we fall in love with, they’ve already notched a few publications elsewhere, often online.

Introducing our readers to brand-new voices remains the single most exciting thing we do here at One Story. That’s why we are particularly pleased to present in our latest issue “The Zen Thing,” a debut story by enormously talented newcomer Emma Duffy-Comparone. If you’ve ever been party to an awkward family get-together, you’ll relate to the hilarity—and horror—of Emma’s multi-generational beach vacation gone awry. (To read more about the story, please see our interview with the author.)

I hope those of you yet-to-be-published writers will take heed: please keep writing, don’t let rejections get you down, and know that nothing would make us happier than to someday showcase your first published work in the pages of One Story.

Our new issue, “Break Me In and Out” by Kindall Gray,  won us over with its plucky heroine Toby, her fascinating neighbor and friend Edilio, and wild and beautiful descriptions of monitor lizards and border-crossings. It was discovered and curated by One Story editor Karen Friedman, so I am turning the introductions over to her. I hope the setting of Phoenix, AZ will keep everyone warm in these cold winter days.-HT

I live in a small town with a large immigrant population – which is to say, a large Hispanic immigrant population. Our public elementary school has a majority of ESL learners and simultaneous translation devices for parents attending school events. We have two Mexican markets, but when I want them, I can get fresh tomatillos and plantains at my usual grocery store. Diversity is one of those nice, liberal ideas that I grew up embracing and one of many reasons my husband and I chose to move to our town. However, when I’m honest, I have to admit that I don’t actually know any of my immigrant neighbors. They live quite literally on the other side of the railroad tracks that bisect my town. As a white Anglo-American, it is easy not to see what I don’t want to and to pretend immigration is an amorphous blob of political interests. It is easy to talk about exploitation of the day laborers who stand outside our 7-11 hoping for a job or who live in a single-family home with three other families, without any real idea of what those things mean.

The first time I read Kindall Gray’s “Break Me In and Out” I was taken in by the simple humanity of her story. It’s not so much a story about immigration, but rather about life on the margins and the way a person learns to navigate such a life. With subtlety and compassion, Gray takes us behind the politics to show a relationship between an illegal immigrant, Edilio, and his young neighbor, Toby. Edilio’s faith and empathy, the way he shares his food and stories with someone who is more vulnerable than he is, speak to a side of life rarely glimpsed by most of us. The legalities of how Edilio came to live next door to Toby matter so much less than what he leaves her with. For more on how Gray created these surprising and real characters, check out our author Q&A.

Excerpts rarely work as stand alone pieces, but our new issue, “The Soul Keeps the Body Up,” feels complete all on its own. A part of Amity Gaige’s novel, Schroder (just-released by Grand Central), this heartfelt father-daughter story will keep you on the edge of your seat. It was brought to us by contributing editor Will Allison, and so I will now place the introduction reins into his very capable hands. -HT

Is it possible to kidnap one’s own daughter and still be a good parent? The story in our current issue, Amity Gaige’s “The Soul Keeps the Body Up,” suggests the answer might not be as clear-cut as you’d think. The first time I read the story, I was struck by the sweetness and lightness of the rapport between the narrator, Eric, and his six-year-old daughter, Meadow. Their love for one another—their ability to click—shines through on every page, even as Eric gives in to his most reckless instincts, leading his father-in-law on a high-speed car chase with Meadow in the backseat. As Amity observes in our Q&A with the author, Eric treats Meadow more like a peer than a kid. Sometimes the results are touching, other times darkly comic. The good news is, if you love this story as much as we do, there’s more. “The Soul Keeps the Body Up” is an excerpt from Amity’s third novel, Schroder, which is due out in February, and which is receiving raves from the likes of Jennifer Egan, Jonathan Franzen (“The measure of Gaige’s great gift as a storyteller is that she persuades you to love a narrator who shouldn’t be lovable”), Adam Haslett (“You will not want to put this book down”), and David Bezmozgis (“Amity Gaige has written a flawless book”). Here at One Story, we rarely come across an excerpt we feel can stand on its own—and stand out—as a short story, but we hope you’ll agree this one is a gem.

The first thing that drew me to E.B. Lyndon’s “Goodbye, Bear” was the voice.  It felt fresh and modern and full of energy, and I loved the wit, intelligence and humor, as well as the fast-paced dialogues that battered back and forth like a game of tennis on speed. But it was the character of Blago—that Skype-loving, clarinet-playing, plane-fearing boyfriend in the story who won me over for good. How can someone so initially repellent become so damn charming? As the pages turned, he began to remind me of Ignatius from John Kennedy Toole’s Confederacy of Dunces, and like that extraordinary novel, “Goodbye Bear” is about how hard it can be to truly connect with each other, especially these days, as we fall away from religion, connect more online than in person, and have lost the social pressure to marry or have children before we are, say, 40. It’s no wonder that  the narrator of “Goodbye, Bear” finds herself at a spiritual crossroads when it comes to love.  Throw in a family wedding, and the resulting sparks as she parries with Blago and navigates her inner life are at turns hilarious and emotionally resonating. Be sure to visit Lyndon’s Q&A where she talks about the inspiration behind this piece, and the writing advice George Saunders gave her that made all the difference.

In our new issue, Jason Ockert’s wild and wonderful “Still Life,” a teenager takes an art project to the extreme. Our talented contributing editor Will Allison discovered this lively tale, so I’m turning introductions, once more, into his capable hands. I leave with a note to our dear readers: No Animals Were Harmed In the Making of This Story.—HT

“Whose story is it?” A writer’s answer to this question almost always determines who his or her viewpoint character is—and in short stories, there’s usually only one viewpoint character.

But the story in our current issue, Jason Ockert’s wonderfully strange “Still Life,” is told from the viewpoints of two characters: Everett Zurn, a marginalized high-school student, and Mr. Ralph, his heartbroken art teacher.

As I read the story for the first time, its viewpoint shifting between Mr. Ralph and Everett, the writer in me couldn’t help wondering: which character would ultimately prove to be the focus of the story? I liked them both and couldn’t decide whose story I hoped it would be.

Happily, I didn’t have to choose. Through the artful intermingling of the two viewpoints in the story’s final scene, Ockert succeeds in making “Still Life” Everett’s story and Mr. Ralph’s story. In the process, he not only offers a refreshing exception to the rule that stories have only one protagonist, but he also provides a well-crafted example of what Mark Schorer might have had in mind when he observed that form is not different from meaning and is itself a gesture toward the meaning of fiction.

To read more about how Ockert conceived “Still Life” (and to learn about his thwarted desire to be a misanthrope) be sure to check out our interview with the author.

Our new issue, “The Imaging Center” by Erin McGraw, is a meditation on marriage and love, set in the world of medical-technicians, where people spend more time looking at CT scans and MRIs than examining their own hearts. Contributing Editor Will Allison brought this wonderful story on board, and so I’m turning the introduction reins over to him this month. Enjoy! -HT

This summer, I went down to South Carolina for my (gulp) twenty-fifth high school reunion. I was looking forward to seeing old classmates, but I admit I was relieved when one of them—let’s call her Dee Dee—didn’t show.

In ninth and tenth grade, I had a major crush on Dee Dee. You know the kind I’m talking about: I inhaled the air when she walked by. I saved her bubblegum wrappers as keepsakes. I aspired to be behind her in line at the water fountain, so that I might put my lips where hers had been. Twenty-five years later, I cringed at the prospect of seeing Dee Dee again and having to wonder if she remembered what a hopeless goob I’d been.

If you’ve ever had an embarrassing crush or two (and who hasn’t?) the story in our latest issue, Erin McGraw’s “The Imaging Center,” will leave you feeling grateful that your lovesick puppy days are a thing of the past.

At the beginning of the story, the main character, Pete Wender, is felled by a powerful crush. Problem is, Pete isn’t in high school; he’s married and middle-aged, with a career. What’s worse, his crush blossoms at a company picnic, in full view of his co-workers. Margaritas and dirty dancing are involved. It’s not pretty—and things only get uglier as the story goes on to explore, with sharp insight and crackling humor, what can happen when two grown-ups start acting like teenagers.

To read more about “The Imaging Center”—including McGraw’s thoughts on middle-aged crushes—please check out our Q&A with the author.