All work must be original and unpublished.
Theme: “Offline: Reclaiming Presence in a Hyperconnected World”
We are more connected than ever—yet so many of us feel unseen, unheard, or strangely alone.
In an era of endless scrolling, algorithmic curation, performative identity, and digital ghosts, what does it mean to be truly present? To listen without recording? To remember without archiving? To feel without posting?
For our December 2025 issue, Literature Today invites submissions that explore the quiet rebellion of going offline—not just as disconnection, but as reconnection: to self, to others, to the physical world, to silence, to slowness, to the unmediated moment.
This theme is not anti-technology, but pro-humanity. We seek work that examines the tension between digital life and embodied existence—and celebrates the fragile, necessary acts of attention, intimacy, and stillness that resist erasure.
Possible Angles (not prescriptive):
1. The Last Unrecorded Moment
Moments lived fully without documentation—births, farewells, sunsets—experienced only through memory. What is gained (or lost) when we choose not to capture?
Examples: A child’s first step unseen by a camera; a private grief never posted.
2. Digital Ghosts
The spectral traces we leave online—abandoned accounts, unread messages, AI-generated “memories.” Who mourns a deleted profile?
Examples: Logging into a dead friend’s social media; receiving an automated birthday wish from a defunct app.
3. Attention as Sanctuary
The radical act of sustained focus in an age of distraction—reading a book cover to cover, listening without interrupting, watching clouds without checking the time.
Examples: A student turning off notifications to study; a couple dining without phones.
4. The Myth of “Always On”
The exhaustion of perpetual availability—work emails at midnight, instant replies expected, the guilt of silence. When does disconnection become self-preservation?
Examples: A therapist’s burnout; a teen deleting all apps for a week.
5. Analog Rituals
Everyday practices that resist digitization: handwriting letters, using paper maps, brewing tea without a timer, lighting a candle instead of flipping a switch.
Examples: A grandmother teaching knitting; a writer using a typewriter.
6. Memory Before the Cloud
Trusting the mind over external storage—recalling phone numbers, birthdays, recipes, or poems by heart. What happens when memory becomes muscle, not metadata?
Examples: An elder reciting family history; a poet memorizing their own work.
7. The Body Remembers
Sensations that cannot be digitized: the weight of a hand, the smell of rain on soil, the ache of hunger, the rhythm of breath during silence.
Examples: A dancer’s muscle memory; a refugee remembering the taste of home.
8. Curated Selves vs. Lived Selves
The gap between online personas and inner reality—highlight reels vs. hidden struggles, filtered faces vs. unmade beds.
Examples: A influencer’s breakdown off-camera; a teen comparing real life to TikTok fantasy.
9. Generational Disconnect
Elders who’ve never used smartphones; children who’ve never dialed a rotary phone. How do we bridge worlds when our tools of connection differ so radically?
Examples: A grandfather confused by video calls; a child asking, “What’s a library card?”
10. Offline Communities
Spaces where connection happens without Wi-Fi: neighborhood gardens, protest marches, choir rehearsals, AA meetings, subway commutes.
Examples: Strangers sharing umbrellas in rain; a book club meeting in a café.
11. The Silence Between Notifications
The rare, precious intervals of true quiet—when the phone is off, the screen is dark, and thought can unfold without interruption.
Examples: Waking before dawn; sitting alone in a park at dusk.
12. Digital Detox as Rebellion
Choosing to unplug not for wellness, but as political or existential resistance—to surveillance capitalism, algorithmic control, or the commodification of attention.
Examples: A writer deleting social media; a family banning screens on Sundays.
13. Lost in the Feed
The erosion of linear narrative—how endless scrolling fragments memory, identity, and time. Can we still tell our own stories when life feels like a highlight reel?
Examples: A memoirist struggling to recall sequence; a teen whose diary is a Notes app.
14. The Future of Presence
Speculative visions: Will future humans know solitude? Will AI companions replace human touch? What rituals might emerge to protect attention?
Examples: A poem from 2125 about “the last person who read paper books”; a play set in a world without silence.
15. Tending the Inner Signal
Reconnecting with intuition, gut feelings, dreams—the internal “signal” drowned out by digital noise. How do we hear ourselves again?
Examples: A woman quitting her job after a dream; a man meditating to “mute” his anxiety.
These subthemes are designed to be literary, emotionally resonant, and culturally relevant, offering writers rich entry points into the central tension between digital saturation and embodied presence. They avoid technophobia while honoring the irreplaceable value of human-scale experience.
Use them as inspiration—not constraints. We welcome work that interprets “Offline” in unexpected, poetic, or even paradoxical ways.
Let your words be the flame that flickers—not the screen that glows.
Why This Theme?
As AI generates poetry, influencers monetize vulnerability, and virtual spaces replace public squares, literature remains one of the last sanctuaries for unfiltered human presence. This issue is a quiet manifesto: a space to unplug, reflect, and reclaim what cannot be streamed, liked, or saved—but only lived.
Publication: Early January 2026 (Print & Digital)
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