Kapua Iao

April 30, 2024

Stitching Stories: A Conversation with Sara Lefsyk, Editor of Ethel Zine & Micro-press

Kapua Iao

April 30, 2024

By Melissa Nunez, written November 2023

I was the heart being held, holding the heart, all the other hearts. I didn’t know if I could do it. - “The Doll,” Wild Apples: A Flash Memoir Collection with Writing Prompts by Joanna Penn Cooper

For many people, publication means a printing by one of the “Big 5,” a place on the shelves of a brick-and-mortar store like Barnes & Noble, or an appearance in digital libraries of Amazon’s Kindle readers. They think fast and mass produce. But for people like Sara Lefsyk, publishing means something more: The art of handcrafting the cover of a collection with the same painstaking precision as picking the perfect words to create the world held within the pages. Each stitch designed and carried out with diligence. Sara started Ethel Zine & Micro-press in 2018. She puts out twice yearly zines and publishes collections of writing in many genres (poetry, flash fiction, flash memoir, and more). Melissa Nunez, Yellow Arrow Publishing interviewer, and Sara recently discussed the creative inspiration behind this press and the motivation to maintain a space that promotes a more personal publication experience.

What inspired you to start Ethel Zine & Micro-press?

Since I was young, I have always had to be making something, keeping my hands (and mind) busy. After I received my MFA, I’d often ask my poet friends for poems that I would then sew into little books, for the fun of it, and give out copies to each author. My friend Joanna Penn Cooper had the idea in 2018, when I was very unhappy and unstimulated, working 50 hours a week as a prep cook, that I start a small press and handmake the books. So, I did.

What is the inspiration behind the name?

When we were in grad school together, Joanna, my classmate, and I became friends. She would have me come visit her in New York City often, where she would make me eat and perform fake rituals that really worked to help pull my spirit halfway back into my body—I was dealing with a lot back then. During one of those trips, she just started calling me Ethel for no particular reason. When Joanna suggested I start the press, she also suggested I name it Ethel.

What is your mission as an indie press?

My main mission is to bring book publishing away from being mass produced by machines in some warehouse . . . back to each one being almost completely handmade [though] I do get the book innards printed by a local print shop. [With Ethel,] I also want to publish as wide a range of styles and voices as possible.

Maybe I haven’t written these stories yet, because it feels more sustainable to write about something else, anything else. – “Stories I’m not writing,” Predator/Prey by Frances Cannon

Why handmade journals and books? What sparked your desire to go this route?

First, as I said above, it was a hobby before I started the press. I love finding various objects, papers, and images and sewing them together. I didn’t really know or think much about the publishing world before I started Ethel, but as I began to understand it more and more, I realized that barely anyone is hand making books anymore. I like being able to offer a different way of being published to those interested.

I’ve read several collections from your press and there are so many styles of writing from lyric poetry to CNF snapshots set alongside writing prompts to magical memoir. What do you look for in a submission?

I honestly am not looking to publish anything in particular but want to represent as wide an array of authors and writing styles as possible. I suppose every person has their particular likes so really in reading [submissions] it’s just whether I like it and it excites me or not. Personally, I like strangeness and the unexpected in writing, I like the grotesque, I like things I haven’t seen or thought about before. That isn’t to say that is all that I publish, but that is just what excites me.

What is your favorite part of publishing?

A few things, I love the process of working with the authors to come up with a cover design and the process of making it. I also like publishing people who otherwise may not have been published. I have heard from authors that if you’re not part of the writing community—and especially the community or those who have an MFA—it can be hard to be noticed or published widely, but there are so many amazing voices that aren’t part of that world and that deserve to be read. I think this is why the micropublishing world is so important. That and the fact that micropublishers are the ones who are saving the art of bookmaking.

What is the hardest part of publishing?

Money. Sometimes I am afraid I can’t keep Ethel going financially. I personally don’t make any money off the press, all the money that comes in goes back into making more books, but when I have a couple months of low sales, it can be really hard to keep running. There are a lot of costs involved in running a small press, from printing to supplies to postage to website costs.

What female identified writers does your press admire?

Outside of books that Ethel has published, lately I have really been getting into the work of Kim Hyesoon, translated by Don Mee Choi. I have also been reading the short stories of Leonora Carrington. Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza by Gloria E. Anzaldúa is another book that I love and continue to read. I also love and admire Inès Pujos’ book of poetry Something Dark to Shine In.

tell me: that i don’t sleep to white noise, learn to whisper lies to myself. that i don’t pretend, that i am not the daughter of an alien. – “burning haibun in white lies,” Moongazing, ephemerally. by Kayleigh Sim

What other female or BIPOC-led presses do you admire?

Bloof Books, Gutslut Press, Porkbelly Press.

Are there any especially cool collections forthcoming from Ethel that readers should look out for?

The next in line to be released are Juliet Cook’s Your Mouth is Moving Backwards, Hal Sansone’s Wild Garlic, healing poems for my root system, Ariel Moniz’s Nostos Algos, and Anne Whitehouse’s Being Ruth Asawa.

What advice would you share with other editors/artists?

Ooooh, I guess I would say do what makes you happy but don’t get in over your head like I did. Leave yourself space to also be able to focus on your own work.

You can find the latest issues and collections coming out from Ethel Zine & Micro-press on their website at ethelzine.com. You can also get glimpses into their publishing process and news on their submission cycles on Twitter @the_ethelzine.

Sara Lefsyk is Editor-in-Chief of Ethel Zine & Micro-press, through which she hand makes/sews/binds chapbooks and an annual journal of art and writing. Sara has one book of poetry available from Black Lawrence Press—We Are Hopelessly Small and Modern Birds—and chapbooks with Dancing Girl Press and the Little Red Leaves Textile Series. She hopes to be able to delve more into the art of bookmaking and artist’s books in the future, starting (and ending) with an unending accordion book called The Doll Tome.

Melissa Nunez makes her home in the Rio Grande Valley region of South Texas, where she enjoys exploring and photographing the local wild with her homeschooling family. She writes an anime column at The Daily Drunk Mag and is a prose reader for Moss Puppy Mag. She is also a staff writer for Alebrijes Review and interviewer for Yellow Arrow Publishing. You can find her work on her website melissaknunez.com/publications and follow her on Twitter @MelissaKNunez.

*****

Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we AMPLIFY women-identifying creatives this year by purchasing one of our publications or a workshop from the Yellow Arrow bookstore, for yourself or as a gift, joining our newsletter, following us on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, or subscribing to our YouTube channel. Donations are appreciated via PayPal (staff@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@yellowarrowpublishing), or US mail (PO Box 65185, Baltimore, Maryland 21209). More than anything, messages of support through any one of our channels are greatly appreciated.

Kapua Iao

March 26, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

Writing in my Neighborhood

Kapua Iao

March 26, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

By Mel Silberger, written February 2024

Writing in a variety of places throughout the year, depending on where I am in the United States, allows me to find inspiration through the numerous people, places, things, and ideas that surround me. I was raised on Long Island, New York, go to school at Loyola University Maryland in Baltimore, and work at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Here are the top places I prefer to write, depending on where I am and what project I am working on that day.

Home: Long Island, New York

I was raised on Long Island, New York, and visit home during school breaks and occasional weekends. Over the years, I found myself seeking new places to write as I grew as a creative, looking to find inspiration in places other than my desk at home.

My favorite place to write in my hometown is at Sagamore Hill National Historic Site, home to President Roosevelt’s house, multiple walking trails, and a path to the nearby shore. Sagamore Hill is only 30 minutes away from my house, so on warm days, I love making the drive (sometimes with my dog!) out there and sitting on Roosevelt’s porch to write. I can see miles of land in every direction and feel the sun and a slight breeze on my face. I find this to be a great place for all kinds of writing, whether it be for a journal entry or a draft of a story or poem. Afterward writing for a bit, I walk my dog down to the shore and we go in the water, which makes for a relaxing but fun day.

Alternatively, when home, I love working while in the presence of my three younger siblings, so I am often found writing in our loft. The four of us will sit together, the three of them completing their homework while I write creatively. I especially love writing about our relationship and effortlessly find inspiration through them. Admittedly, we get sidetracked every once in a while, but I love writing in the presence of others, theirs above all else.

Work: Walt Disney World, Orlando, Florida

Living in Florida provides countless opportunities to write in places that I wouldn’t get anywhere else, the first and foremost of these being Walt Disney World itself. On days that aren’t too hot, I find myself writing inside one of the four Disney parks, typically at outside seating areas nearby major attractions.

While at first I found it difficult to concentrate in loud, busy places, I discovered that I could shift what I was writing to better accommodate my surroundings; for example, I try to mainly focus on outlines and journals instead of in-depth, intricate stories or poems. I enjoy sitting in high traffic areas and letting the ongoing traffic consume me. I’ve realized that it is easy to find inspiration through people watching, especially in a place as busy as Disney World and use what I see to generate story outlines, especially for fiction.

I also find that over time, and with repeated exposure, I have gotten used to working in loud environments. Taking simple steps, such as wearing headphones to eliminate background noises and turning my phone on to ‘do not disturb’ have allowed me to concentrate despite the business of my surroundings. I find that I can focus better when listening to instrumental music than songs with lyrics (I’m currently listening to The Nutcracker on repeat), and I try to minimize distractions from my phone.

When I am interested in writing alone, my top two spots are next to our apartment community’s pool or in a hammock. I always bring a journal with me to the pool (and also find that it’s a great place for reading)! Because I live in Orlando in the summers, laying in the sun gets hot very quickly, so I take breaks between reading/writing by going in the pool (who wouldn’t love that!). Sometimes, I even read while in the pool (keeping my book dry, of course).

I typically write in a hammock after the sun has gone down (which isn’t until 8:00 p.m. in the summers). I love letting the crickets chirping and the light breeze consume me while I stare at the stars; it feels magical, and I constantly take inspiration from my surroundings. Being outside, completely immersed in nature (especially at night) puts me at ease, and I never struggle to come up with ideas for new stories and poems.

School: Loyola University Maryland in Baltimore, Maryland

I am currently a senior at Loyola University Maryland and spend most of the calendar year in the amazing city of Baltimore. I spend most of my time here on Loyola’s campus, and within it are an abundance of places to write—my favorite one being outside on our Quad! Nothing beats a pen, journal, and picnic blanket on the grass during a warm, sunny Baltimore day. I love letting the breeze and nearby chatter of people and animals consume me while I either complete homework assignments or journal about anything on my mind.

As many from the area may know, the weather of Baltimore is often unpredictable, so I never go too far from our campus Starbucks. Loyola’s Starbucks is my favorite place to write because I love the background noises of a coffee shop while also seeing my friends as they pass through. When I need to concentrate on my assignments or editing a piece, I am sure to sit toward the back to minimize disruptions while still feeling immersed in my surroundings. On the other hand, sometimes I enjoy sitting in the middle tables so I can bounce plot ideas off friends walking by.

For complete silence and concentration, I can be found writing in our school’s library. I love being surrounded by books of all kinds with minimal distractions. I can spend hours in our library without realizing time has passed; there have been too many occurrences where I go midday and leave when it is past sunset!

Final Thoughts: Where do You Write?

Overall, there are many great places I like to go to write, and the place I choose to go to for the day often depends on the type of writing I am doing. As much as I love the busy-ness of my loft, the amusement park, and Starbucks, I also love the serenity of Sagamore Hill, the pool, or the library.

Some other writing tips/ideas to keep in mind suggested by myself and fellow Yellow Arrow board/staff are to first, always keep a notepad next to you for anything work related while you are trying to write. This way, if anything separate from your writing comes up, you can write it down to do later, rather than distracting yourself during the writing process. Additionally, it can be great to bring a notebook to a coffee shop just to jot ideas down to go back to later, allowing for a wide range of inspiration. Lastly, whether it be for a collaborative or individual piece, writing in the presence of others can help everyone remain on task with minimal disruptions.

So, my question to you is where do you enjoy writing? What environment do you seek out when it’s time to put pen to paper?

Amelia (Mel) Silberger is a senior at Loyola University Maryland majoring in psychology and writing and minoring in political science. When she is not working, she enjoys writing and rock climbing. Mel has spent the past two summers living in Orlando, Florida, while participating in the Disney College Program. She has loved creating stories since she was six years old and hopes to continue to grow and build with other writers in the future.

*****

Kapua Iao

March 19, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

Taking the Reins Back: Reframing Rejection

Kapua Iao

March 19, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

By Diann Leo-Omine, written September 2023

The sun is up, and I’m up doomscrolling. I catch the concise subject line of the morning’s first email: “(Publication title) Decline.” It’s a simple form letter rejection. I nearly burn myself with my coffee, and I can’t discern whether the hot coffee stings more than the rejection itself.

Conventional wisdom advises “to get back on the horse” right away. ChatGPT suggests the phrase involves reapproaching “a difficult or challenging situation with renewed determination and optimism.”*

Don’t take it personally.

Importantly, DON’T RUMINATE.

I scrawl “good enough” in my notebook. The gravity of those words weighs on me. I lean into writing about the thing I most want to avoid, a technique gleaned during my Tin House workshop with Cyrus Dunham.

To ruminate is to deeply reflect.

Good enough good enough good.

To ruminate is perceived as negative.

Rejection triggers competition. Well, so-and-so was able to get into this publication, or that workshop, or a residency. Then, why am I not good enough?

What if:

instead of hopping back on the horse right away . . .

I catch myself, like tripping on upturned cement. I name what’s happening. I know in my mind this is scarcity mentality, the concept that “everyone exists along a spectrum of competition instead of collaboration.”**

What if:

I sit for a second, to listen?

I analyze where the news of this rejection lives in my body. It strikes me in the solar plexus and the belly. I feel sadness in the key of grief. Underneath sadness festers fear. Digging deeper, the question gnaws at me, why do I write anyway? I don’t have to write.

To ruminate can refer to the ruminants.

Maybe my writing just isn’t good, good enough?

Ruminants are creatures, such as goats, that munch on partially chewed food.

I tune in to The Write Attention podcast, whose fourth episode focuses on rejection and failure. Fourteen minutes into the episode, cohost Jeannetta Craigwell-Graham suggests that rejection can be an indication to shift focus elsewhere. This resonates, as my shoulders are still tingling, a sensation I name as frustration. I click the stop button on the episode, for now.

To ruminate is colloquially “chewing the cud.”

Good is following the rules.

When my grandmother was alive, in the limited village dialect of hers I could understand, she would always ask if I had been “good.”

Good enough enough good good.

Horses are hindgut fermenters, nonruminants; goats are foregut fermenters, ruminants.

Rejection spurs past memories of times I was not “good enough.” Maybe I sit too close to that fire, remembering: the dream college with the amber fall leaves and the renowned creative writing program; the summer internship in New York I was deemed too “West Coast” for; the love interest who left me at the transit station to trace the tangle of blue and green and yellow bus lines back to Portland.

Horses don’t ruminate.

I remember how sad I felt then, even as years pass into decades. Yet through fire, the leaves crunch, the sticky July air dissipates, the lines on the bus map crumple.

To ruminate is “room.”

Rejection triggers scarcity, I name it in its tracks, again. There is not enough room for everyone, so I have to be good. And it’s hard not to think about scarcity in publishing, an industry as a whole that tokenizes marginalized writers.

To ruminate is “innate.”

I understand in my body, as my shoulders hunch over my soft belly, a protective bird over her nest. My ribs clench like a metal cage. This stony emptiness in my belly is fear.

Room, period.

Rejection. Scarcity. Good (enough). Fear. I’ve started identifying fear as a trauma response, a protective mechanism. I duck, I cover. I think of the ways I’ve held myself back, especially the ten years I didn’t write, because I was afraid of not being good enough, of failing.

I am tired of fear being my default reaction, the driver of my narrative.

Innate, period.

I am tired. Of. Being. “Good.”

Room-innate.

My friend shares that her new essay has been published. Instead of doomscrolling, I read it. I become engrossed in the conviction of her words. In my heart space, I feel a smile spreading, warmth. I realize I can concurrently hold space for both grief and joy, mourning and celebration.

What if:

the horse is not as anxious as they say.

Another email arrives, this time regarding a residency, the words “I’m sorry” in the subject line. I still feel the inevitable gut punch, but my shoulders feel a little looser. I take a walk, I move. This time I finish the rest of The Write Attention episode on rejection. Around the 18 minute mark of the episode, cohost Brittany Felder offers a candid declaration, one I paraphrase until it rings true:

“I still know what I want, and I’m going to make that happen.”

What if:

rejection can be an invitation to revisit my work.

Good enough enough good.

What if:

rejection can be a reminder to celebrate the eventual wins, for myself and other writers.

This I know:

the horse is paddling its feet, back and forth.

What if:

rejection can be an ask to reconsider what it is I really want, if I still want it.

This I know:

I trust the horse will not leave, until I take the reins.

Does rejection change my desire to tell my story? No.

Will I still write, even if my work isn’t chosen? Yes.

The horse will be there.

*AI-generated answer by ChatGPT, accessed 9/20/23

**scarcity mentality definition by Studio ATAO.

Diann Leo-Omine (she/her) is a Pushcart Prize-nominated creative nonfiction writer born and raised in San Francisco, California (Ramaytush Ohlone land). A grateful alum of Tin House and Rooted & Written, she is currently devising a manuscript centering her maternal grandmother. Visit her website at sweetleoomine.com.

*****

Kapua Iao

February 27, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

Amanda Montell: A favorite emerging author

Kapua Iao

February 27, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

By Cecelia Caldwell, written June 2023

I had never heard of Amanda Montell when I saw a flyer announcing that she’d be coming to my school, Middlebury College, to give a talk on Valentine’s Day in 2023. I had heard word of her critically acclaimed book Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism (2021) through the BookTube grapevine, but I had neither read Amanda’s work nor knew anything about her as a human being before taking a seat in the crowded classroom in which she was to talk. If I’m being honest, what compelled me to go was simply that I had heard of this woman, and how could I not attend a talk by someone who was well known? Snow flurries danced outside the windows as a woman bundled in a swath of pink tulle and ruffles strode up to the podium.

What followed was 50 minutes of enchantment. Amanda, infinitely younger, bubblier, and more charming than I ever could have imagined, was there to speak about her 2019 book Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language. Part history lesson, part manifesto, and 100% hilarious, Wordslut looks at the gendered language we use (and have used throughout history) and tracks the ways that it functions to reinforce antiquated and offensive gender stereotypes. Amanda doesn’t shy away from profanity in her work, though. She embraces it. From proudly using the words “bitch” and “cunt” in her daily vernacular, to openly discussing the array of names people use for their genitalia, Montell demonstrates how we can reclaim the language that was once used to oppress us. I strode out of that lecture a changed woman and, clutching my free copy of Wordslut in my hands, vowed to read everything that Amanda Montell writes until the very end of time.

Amanda, a Baltimore native, discovered her passion for linguistics while studying at New York University. Blending that love with a love for writing and social justice, Amanda describes her area of expertise as Pop Linguistics, and through her writing, she hopes to educate others and drive social and institutional change.

This brings me to her more recent book, Cultish. In this book, Amanda manages to analyze the language employed by cults to lure and enamor followers before applying this linguistic framework to argue that many widely accepted cultural institutions of today are, in essence, cults of their own. From Crossfit to multilevel marketing schemes to wellness influencers, by employing these effective linguistic ideologies, individuals and organizations are, in turn, cult-ish. Now, I was expecting to enjoy this book given how transfixed I was by Amanda’s quirky and cute, yet strikingly intelligent persona (also, I’ll admit that I’m a huge linguistics nerd), but I never expected how incredible this book would be. She can explain such a breadth of information and present it to her readers in a way that is simple, yet thorough (and funny!). I learned about suicide cults, Soulcycle, and everything in between.

To me, Amanda Montell’s work is the epitome of what educational nonfiction should be. It’s engaging. It challenges previously held notions and stereotypes. It makes arguments that are well-researched and supported. And, of course, it does all of this through biting, snarky humor. Montell inspires me not only as a writer, but also as a satirist, activist, and citizen of the world.

I could’ve easily not gone to Amanda’s talk that day. But wow, I’m glad I did. If you’re looking for something to read this summer, I implore you to look no further than Amanda Montell. And please—if you have the chance to hear an author speak, do it. You might be surprised.

Both books were published by Harper Collins Publishers, Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language in 2019 and Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism in 2021.

Cecelia Caldwell is at Middlebury College studying English on the creative writing track. She is minoring in Anthropology and Spanish. An avid reader and lover of words, Cecelia is passionate about publishing, editing, storytelling, literacy, and the diversification of all these fields. In her free time, Cecelia enjoys writing satire, working out, cooking, and tending to her garden. She lives in Western Massachusetts with her mom and two dogs, Ollie and Ernie.

*****

Kapua Iao

February 20, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

Meditation, Walking, and a Writing Prompt

Kapua Iao

February 20, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

By Margaret Flaherty, written November 2023

This past September [in 2023], I attended a writing retreat at Zigbone Farm in Sabillasville, Maryland. Every day began with a 20-minute silent meditation. After the meditation, I would walk past fields of feathered grasses and spiky wildflowers: goldenrod, chicory, Queen Anne’s Lace, false buckwheat, and lavender thistles. It was heavenly. On my first walk, these lines appeared in my mind:

I’m afraid of silence. / Every time I draw near, / tears fall.

I was so surprised. I love silence. Why would I be afraid of it?

Later that day, back at Zigbone Farm, we were prompted to observe something natural—a tree, a flower, a rock, an animal—and write a poem describing what we’d observed as precisely and concretely as we could. I paid close attention to the lavender-flowered thistles that towered over weeds and wildflowers along the road. Somehow, the line I’d heard about silence engaged with the image of thistles and, voila, I had the start of poem I never would have imagined absent the meditation and the prompt. I found this intriguing. Every day thereafter at the retreat, when I meditated and took my walk, I would notice that phrases or lines of poetry would effortlessly appear. Was this a coincidence or had I stumbled on a connection between meditation, movement, and poetry?

Like most writers, I’ve always noticed a connection between walking and coming up with lines or words I can use in a poem. But I was less familiar with meditation. I canvased other poets and asked if they meditated, and if they did, what effect, if any, does it have on their writing. A few reported that meditation helps clear away distractions so they can tune into their truest voice. One said silence allows her to unburden her consciousness, so she has access to her most creative self. Another cautioned she goes so deep in meditation; she sometimes loses her words and has to wait a while for them to return.

Religious friends told me about “centering prayer,” a form of meditation in which you repeat a sacred word. I tried this and, after a few false starts, landed on “peace.” This turns out to be a fruitful meditation practice for me, especially in this unsettling time of war. The susurrating repetition of “peace” calms my anxious mind and I find myself more aware, more open to the phrases or possible lines of poetry that bubble up.

Recently, I’ve added the following three-step prompt (adapted from an online class) to my meditation/walking practice:

1. Write a poem that utilizes only end-stopped lines, then reconfigure the poem using enjambment. Notice how it changes the poem.
2. Write the poem in any lineated style, then reconfigure it into unlined prose.
3. Reconfigure the poem from prose into a new lineated form without looking at the original.

Did your intention or goals for the poem change during these iterations? To which I added, did you discover something hiding in the poem you didn’t know was there?

I'll admit, following this prompt practice is a lot of work, and I don’t have enough time to follow it for every poem I write. But I like how it forces me to pay close attention to the flow of the lines, the narrative undercurrents, and the poem’s rhythm. It also helps me spot when I’m leaning on a pattern or structure that is keeping the poem from going where it wants to go. As a retired lawyer with an ingrained habit of imposing logical structure on what I write, questioning pattern and structure helps me to loosen up.

James Baldwin wrote that “every writer has only one tale to tell, and . . . has to find a way of telling it until the meaning becomes clearer and clearer, until the story becomes at once more narrow and larger, more and more precise, more and more reverberating.” At least for me, a meditation/walking practice combined with an iterative prompt, like the one above, helps me to dig more deeply into the tale I write to tell and offers a path toward making what my poems mean clearer and more precise to me, and hopefully, to readers.

Here is the poem that came out of my meditation/walking practice:

Transmutations

I fear silence; if I draw near, tears fall.
I’d rather be brave as chicory, roadside sentry,
aster blue vagrant. Or evasive

& crouch under glitter-webs & false
buckwheat’s seedy chandeliers; camouflage
my self a savage shade of purple.

Should silence spot me encircled
by goldenrod & spiked grasses, I’d make my
edges sharp as bristled lavender

thistle, armor my center with braided
brambles from briar thickets girdling Grimm’s
gray castle. I’d be opaque as

the ancient portcullis guarding the keep where tears
fall, condense & transmute to jewels in silver caskets.

Maggie Flaherty began writing poems in high school but stopped for a busy 50 years or so. In 2016, after retiring, she attended a workshop taught by the poet and essayist Lia Purpura at the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts. There, her interest in poetry returned like a homing pigeon. In 2020, she graduated from the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University with a masters in poetry. These days, Maggie works in the garden or watches the birds. That’s where many of her poems begin: in the always-changing weather. She has published poems in Passager and Yellow Arrow Vignette AWAKEN. Maggie recently won first prize in the Bethesda Urban Partnership’s 2023 poetry competition.

*****

Kapua Iao

January 30, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

Podcast Spotlight: We Can Do Hard Things

Kapua Iao

January 30, 2024

Yellow Arrow musings

By Samantha Pomerantz, written November 2023

Have you heard the We Can Do Hard Things podcast? With over 500K monthly listeners and multiple appearances at the top of the Apple Podcasts chart, this is one for the books! The world of We Can Do Hard Things is one that inspires hope and community. It is a safe place for sensitive souls and all curious human beings to dive into the recesses of the daily hard things and the macro, worldly hard things that we face in our 21st-century lives. Author Glennon Doyle converses with cohosts Abby Wambach and Amanda Doyle, as the three bring their hard questions, and those of the community, to expert seekers who have figured some of these hard things out. From interviews with author and clinical psychologist Dr. Becky Kennedy to author and First Lady Michelle Obama, the WCDHT podcast offers a way to engage with the pain and the pleasures of our world.

My to-read list is mostly padded with books written by WCDHT podcast interviewees. These episodes offer a way to get to know the author behind their best-selling work and allow you to feel like a part of the conversation. They are human, they are advocates, they are activists, and listeners get to fight for a freer world alongside them as we ask ourselves the hard questions together.

Here are four must listen to episodes (descriptions taken directly from the podcast) and the inspiring books written by their interviewees.

Episode 74. ALOK: What makes us beautiful? What makes us free?

On the podcast: “‘The days that I feel most beautiful are the days that I am most afraid.’ ‘What feminine part of yourself did you have to destroy in order to survive in this world?’ ‘Why have we been taught to fear the very things that can set us free?’”

ALOK (they/them) is an internationally acclaimed writer, performer, and public speaker. As a mixed-media artist their work explores themes of trauma, belonging, and the human condition. They are the author of Femme in Public (2017), Beyond the Gender Binary (2020), and Your Wound/My Garden (2021). They are the creator of #DeGenderFashion: a movement to degender fashion and beauty industries and have been honored as one of HuffPo’s Culture Shifters, NBC’s Pride 50, and Business Insider’s Doers.

Instagram @alokvmenon; website alokvmenon.com.

Episode 168. Sonya Renee Taylor: What If You Loved Your Body

On the podcast: “Sonya Renee Taylor—author of The Body is Not an Apology—explores the personal and global promise of Radical Self Love:

1. Examining the way we talk to our bodies – and how to change negative self-dialogue.

2. How to shift from a relationship with our body based on dominance and control to a relationship based on trust.

3. The pitfalls of ‘body positivity.’

4. Recognizing this global moment we are in as a gift inviting us to collective Self Love.

5. The full life that is possible only if we stop believing our body is our enemy, and start seeing our body as a teammate.”

Sonya Renee Taylor is a world-renowned activist, award-winning artist, transformational thought leader, author of six books including The New York Times best-selling The Body is Not an Apology (2018), and founder of the international movement and digital media and education company of the same name whose work has reached millions of people by exploring the intersections of identity, healing, and social justice using a radical self-love framework. She continues to speak, teach, write, create, and transform lives globally.

Instagram @sonyareneetaylor; website sonyareneetaylor.com/about.

Episode 92. Chanel Miller Promises: We Are Never Stuck

On the podcast: “Chanel Miller discusses—

1. Thinking of depression as a way of seeing the world . . . through toilet paper roll binoculars.

2. Why healing might actually just be permission to go.

3. Chanel’s definition of success: refusing to succumb to perfection or exhaustion–and showing up as herself in every moment.

4. The healing moment when Chanel returned to Stanford and was held in sound–which set her free.”

Chanel Miller is a writer and artist who received her BA in Literature from the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her critically acclaimed memoir, KNOW MY NAME, was a New York Times bestseller, a New York Times Book Review Notable Book, and a National Book Critics Circle Award winner, as well as a best book of 2019 in Time, the Washington Post, the Chicago Tribune, NPR, and People, among others. She is a 2019 Time Next 100 honoree and a 2016 Glamour Woman of the Year honoree under her pseudonym, “Emily Doe.”

Instagram @chanel_miller; website chanel-miller.com.

See also The Ultimate Barbie Reading List blog by Cecelia Caldwell that included Know My Name. Find the book here.

Episode 239. Why Are We Never Satisfied? with adrienne maree brown

On the podcast: “Are you capable of being satisfied? Today, adrienne maree brown helps us uncover: How to find beauty and connection in the everyday; How to stop wasting your time on things that don’t feel good; Why the greatest risk of life is also where its preciousness comes from; How, through the discipline of pleasure, we can ALL be satisfied.”

adrienne maree brown is a pleasure activist, writer, and radical imaginist who grows healing ideas in public through writing, music, and podcasts. adrienne has nurtured Emergent Strategy, Pleasure Activism, Radical Imagination and Transformative Justice as ideas, frameworks, networks, and practices for transformation. adrienne’s work is informed by 25 years of social and environmental justice facilitation primarily supporting Black liberation. adrienne is the author/editor of several published texts including Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds; Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good; Grievers; and Maroons. After a multinational childhood, adrienne lived in New York, Oakland, and Detroit before landing in her current home of Durham, North Carolina.

Twitter @adriennemaree; Instagram @adriennemareebrown. Find Emergent Strategy here.

Happy listening and reading! Find the podcast on Apple Podcasts, Audacity, and Spotify.

Samantha Pomerantz (she/her) is a writer and a lover of stories. She is studying English and creative writing at Elon University until mid 2024. And then she will do other things that will likely also involve reading and writing. She is the poetry editor of Colonnades literary and art journal and the second-place recipient of the 2023 Frederick Haartman poetry prize. Samantha has spent most of her life in Germantown, Maryland, hugging trees and learning how to be a person.

*****

Kapua Iao

December 12, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

Where to Submit: Spring Edition

Kapua Iao

December 12, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

Yellow Arrow Publishing supports women-identifying writers from a wide variety of backgrounds, not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it makes us stronger. Women’s voices have historically been underrepresented in literature, and we aim to elevate those voices and stories through our programs, publications, and support.

Part of our mission in supporting and uplifting women writers is to promote those around the Yellow Arrow community with like-minded missions. We’d like to show our support by highlighting submissions open by sister presses throughout the year. This blog will list spring submissions from January to April, 2024 for:

journals/anthologies/zines
chapbooks
full-length manuscripts
online publications

We searched for submissions that have similar beliefs about inclusivity and diversity; they don’t necessarily only publish women but advocate for women-identifying authors in their own way. All listed are for poetry, creative nonfiction, and/or hybrid work.

If you think we missed something, please send the information in an email to editor@yellowarrowpublishing.com. We hope you find the list useful and good luck!

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling.

Journals/Anthologies/Zines

Archetype (online and print): accepts essays, poetry, fiction, interviews, reviews, impassioned musings, photography, and art; submissions open from November 1 to January 7 for the spring issue, June 1 to August 6 for the fall issue; no reading fee; no payment

humana obscura (online and print): accepts poetry, prose/short fiction, and art; submissions open until end of February, no payment

Lavender Review (online and print): accepts poetry and art by lesbians; submissions open year round; no reading fee

Levitate Magazine (online and print): accepts fiction, creative nonfiction, poetry, and visual arts on the theme of Insomnia; submissions open until end of February; no payment

Yellow Arrow Journal: accepts poetry, nonfiction, and cover art by creatives who identify as women (theme TBA); no reading fee; $10USD payment

Chapbooks

Backbone Press: accepts poetry chapbooks of 20-40 pages for competition; submissions open from January to March; $20USD reading fee; winning prize of $250USD

Game Over Books: accepts novels, novellas, short story collections, poetry chapbooks, hybrid; prose submissions open March 1 to 22, poetry submissions open May 1 to 31; no reading fee; 30% royalties paid

Kelsay Books (Alabaster Leaves Publishing): accepts chapbooks and full-length manuscripts; submissions open year round; $12USD reading fee, 12% royalties paid

Full-length manuscripts

Apprentice House Press: accepts manuscripts of a variety of genres (not poetry or children’s); submissions open now until January 30

BlazeVOX [books]: accepts poetry and fiction manuscripts (and actively developing a book series that promotes the work of women); submissions are currently open; 10% royalties paid

Game Over Books: accepts novels and full-length poetry manuscripts; prose submissions open March 1 to 22, poetry submissions open May 1 to 31; no reading fee; 30% royalties paid

Kelsay Books (Alabaster Leaves Publishing): accepts chapbooks and full-length manuscripts; submissions open year round; $12USD reading fee, 12% royalties paid

She Writes Press: accepts manuscripts of a variety of genres (not children’s books); submissions for spring 2025 publication is open; $35USD reading fee

Online Publication

ARTWIFE: accepts literary art, visual art, and video art; submissions open year round; no reading fee; no payment

Black Sun Lit digital vestiges: accepts poetry, prose, essays, translations; submissions open monthly (up to 100 accepted per month); no reading fee

Decolonial Passage: accepts essays, creative nonfiction, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry engaged in the decolonial project; submissions open for poetry in January, March, May, July, September, and November, all other submissions rolling; no payment

diode: accepts poetry, book reviews, interviews, and essays on poetics; submissions open year round; no reading fee

Five South: accepts poetry, short fiction, nonfiction, flash, and humor; submissions open year round; reading fees vary by genre

Glint Literary Journal: accepts fiction, nonfiction, poetry, hybrid, review, art, audio, and video; submissions open from November to April; no reading fee; no payment

Literary Mama: accepts fiction, poetry, and creative nonfiction from self-identified mothers; submissions open year round; no reading fee; no payment

Minerva Rising Press’ The Keeping Room online magazine: accepts short stories, essays, free writing, and photo essays; submissions open year round; reading fee unknown; $25.00 payment

NELLE: accepts poetry, short fiction, nonfiction written exclusively by women; submissions open January 1 to September 1; $3USD reading fee

Raising Mothers: accepts experimental and traditional fiction, flash fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, interviews, book reviews, photo essays, and comic/graphic narratives from BIPOC people exclusively; see website for open call periods; payment a small honorarium

Text Power Telling Magazine: accepts memoir, plays, poetry, nonfiction, and art; submissions open January 3, 2023 to January 3, 2024

Waxing & Waning (online and print): accepts poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, plays, art, graphic stories, and short films; submissions open year round; reading fees vary by genre

Willow Springs: accepts fiction, poetry, nonfiction; submissions open September 1 to May 31; $3USD reading fee; payment varies by genre

Wrong Turn Lit: accepts fiction and creative nonfiction; submissions open year round; no payment

*****

Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we SPARK and sparkle this year: purchase one of our publications from the Yellow Arrow bookstore, join our newsletter, follow us on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter or subscribe to our YouTube channel. Donations are appreciated via PayPal (staff@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@yellowarrowpublishing), or US mail (PO Box 65185, Baltimore, Maryland 21209). More than anything, messages of support through any one of our channels are greatly appreciated.

Kapua Iao

October 24, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

On Finding my Path: Musings of an (Unexpected) Creative Writing Student

Kapua Iao

October 24, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

By Cecelia Caldwell, written July 2023

“Let me live, love, and say it well in good sentences.”
from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

If you had told me in high school that I was going to end up majoring in English, I’d look at you like you were crazy. If you had told me, additionally, that within the field of English, I’d be specializing in creative writing, I’d think you were even crazier.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved reading, but I never liked reading, if that makes sense. I liked to read for fun, for entertainment. I despised the type of reading that we did in English class. We read closely, analyzing all the nuances, contradictions, and hidden meanings a text had to offer. And after all that, we’d have to write an essay demonstrating that reading in a way that was concise, yet thorough. Daring, yet professional. I always hated English class, I think, because it made me feel stupid. I could barely even extract a deeper meaning from a text, let alone begin to write a thoughtful essay about it. I had resigned myself to the belief that English just wasn’t my thing and spent hours pouring over sample essays just to stay afloat in my AP Lit class.

I went off to college planning on majoring in anthropology. I had never taken an anthropology class, but I thought it would combine my love for human culture, storytelling, and history in a meaningful way. My first semester of school, I dove right into my planned major, taking cultural anthropology, the basic prerequisite for all anthro majors. I wanted to love the class, I did, but I just couldn’t. The readings and concepts were interesting enough, but it was all so objective, scientific. After a high school career filled with activism and advocacy, it felt weird learning about racism, colonialism, homophobia, and more without learning anything about how to combat these phenomena. I was utterly disappointed, and yet I pushed forth, hoping my spring semester classes would reignite this passion.

It didn’t. My linguistic anthropology class was dull and as I sat in a classroom filled with 40 other unmotivated students, I’d count the seconds until class was over. My other anthropology class, called Anthropology of Food, was a little more interesting, but I still didn’t feel a spark. I had, however, signed up for another class on a whim: a creative writing class called Writing the Self. The thought of studying English still felt undesirable for me but being a lover of books (and especially memoirs), I thought it could be fun to give writing a try. Writing the Self marked a milestone in my academic development; there was me before that class, and there was me during/after it. In the early weeks of our class, we read pieces of creative nonfiction from a wide range of authors. We dipped our (collective) toe into the world of writers like James Baldwin, Joan Didion, Roxane Gay, Lucy Grealy, Hanif Abdurraqib, and Mary Oliver. These works, so different in form, structure, and message, opened my eyes to the beauty and multidimensionality of personal writing. Through the reading process, we engaged in thoughtful conversation about each author, each work, and what it means to exist as an “I” in a piece of writing. As our observations drew to a close, we began writing our own pieces that we would later present to the class.

As excited I was to dive in, the open-endedness of the brief intimidated me. When I wrote essays for my anthropology classes, at least, I had an idea of the structure and sequence of my work. Here, the world was my oyster. After trying to draft several serious, melancholy pieces speaking about breakups and mental health, I decided to take a left turn. Drawing from my love for brilliant satirical essayist Samantha Irby, I decided to self-administer the New York Times’ famous 36 Questions that Lead to Love questionnaire, answering the questions in a way that was both self-deprecating and funny, and serious, vulnerable.

I padded into class timidly on the day my piece was to be workshopped. Already a generally anxious person, I found the idea of hearing criticism about my work absolutely dreadful. I was convinced that my peers would hate it, hate me, and that all my creativity and vulnerability would be for nothing. Boy, was I wrong. My classmates loved the piece. They thought 36 Questions was hilarious while still being honest, satirical, while at the same time sad. They had critiques, too, of course, but I was warmed and overwhelmed by the support I received, and left the class happy, creatively fulfilled, and hungry for more. At the same time, my anthropology classes were still giving me nothing. At one point, when tasked to write an essay analyzing a piece of poetry that utilizes African American English, or AAE, I was surprised to have only gotten a B+ on the assignment. My professor had left but one comment for me: Remember that this is an anthropology class. You just wrote me a book report.

By the end of the year, I had realized that my passion for anthropology would never grow. At the same time, though, I discovered that my school has a creative writing major. It’s a branch of the English major, except instead of studying solely literature, we’re required to take several semesters of writing classes. It seemed perfect for me. With this plan, I could write, read, and edit without needing to study Shakespeare or Chaucer or Homer ad nauseum.

I am writing now as a student about to enter her third year of college. I am a declared an English, creative writing, major with minors in Spanish and, yes, anthropology. I’ve spent the last academic year writing poetry and creative nonfiction, while also reading extensively in my spare time.

I am often asked what I want to do with my creative writing degree. I am asked if I want to become an author. The answer to these questions is that I do not know. I might write a book of my own someday, but I also might not. What I do know is this: by learning to write, I’ve opened a door into the world and into myself. I can wield my words as a sword to bring about social change. I can craft my words into mazes, discovering more about myself and healing past traumas, even if I get lost along the way. And, of course, I can use my words to help other writers (dreamers, activists, poets, etc.) realize their own goals. I [am lucky to be here, at Yellow Arrow Publishing, where I can do just that.

College is a time for exploration. It’s a time to get things wrong and to try again. It’s a time to discover ourselves, lose ourselves, and discover ourselves again. Words are everything to me. They’re endlessly powerful. Writing is, too. I will never regret the confusion and dissatisfaction I encountered when first coming to college, because all of that led me here. Right where I’m meant to be.

Cecelia Caldwell is a rising junior at Middlebury College studying English on the creative writing track. She is minoring in anthropology and Spanish. An avid reader and lover of words, Cecelia is passionate about publishing, editing, storytelling, literacy, and the diversification of all these fields. In her free time, Cecelia enjoys writing satire, working out, cooking, and tending to her garden. She lives in Western Massachusetts with her mom and two dogs, Ollie and Ernie.

*****

Kapua Iao

August 29, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

The Ultimate Barbie Reading List

Kapua Iao

August 29, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

By Cecelia Caldwell

If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably become enamored with Greta Gerwig’s Barbie, which has been simultaneously delighting and outraging viewers since its record-breaking release on July 21. After three trips to the theater to watch Barbie, during which I not only relished in the bubblegum pink setting and Ryan Gosling’s outrageous portrayal of Ken, but also the strong themes of female solidarity and the power of sisterhood, I decided to compile a list of 10 books that I think exist in harmony with and expand on the ever-important ideas explored in the movie.

Queenie (2019) by Candice Carty-Williams (Simon & Schuster, get your copy here)

I adored the first few pages of this novel, expecting a snappy, witty comedy about a dysfunctional 20-something going through a breakup. I was surprised, as I continued reading, to find so much more. Feeling lost after getting dumped by her boyfriend, Queenie Jenkins throws herself into an array of failed sexual encounters with racist, sexist, fatphobic men. Also struggling at work and with her friendships, Queenie only burrows deeper into her toxic relationships, subsequently unraveling her life and the lives of those around her. At once hilarious and heart wrenching, Queenie is the ultimate celebration of self-love, independence, and embracing female joy in a male-dominated world.

The Second Sex (1949) by Simone De Beauvoir (Penguin Random House, get your copy here)

Published in 1949, this groundbreaking work by French philosopher Simone De Beauvoir explores the treatment of women both in her current moment, as well as throughout history. Beauvoir identifies the positionality of women as that of an “other,” and recognizes that women seem to exist only in relation to men, as opposed to the strong and independent group they actually are. For anyone looking to deepen their understanding of feminist history while at the same time reading something dazzlingly engaging, I’d urge you to give this one a try.

We Should All Be Feminists (2014) by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Penguin Random House, get your copy here)

For those left wishing that Barbie focused a bit more on issues of racial justice and the intersectionality between gender and race, this one’s for you. In this deeply personal and moving essay, Nigerian-born Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (who also writes stellar fiction) offers us a 21st century definition of feminism that is deeply rooted not only in her own experiences but also in practices of inclusion and awareness. In this book, Adichie sets out to explore what exactly it means to be a woman now, and why we should all (yes, that includes you, Ken) be feminists.

Know my name (2019) by Chanel Miller (Penguin Random House, get your copy here)

In this universally acclaimed memoir, Chanel Miller writes candidly about her experience being sexually assaulted in 2015, as well as the court case that followed, in which she was identified anonymously as “Emily Doe.” In this brave and heart-wrenching account, Miller writes about the culture of misogyny and slut shaming (both in the world and in court), her personal experience of dealing with trauma, and—most importantly—Miller tells the world her name.

Nightbitch (2021) by Rachel Yoder (Penguin Random House, get your copy here)

In this absurd novel, we follow an unnamed narrator—a stay-at-home mom—as she becomes convinced she’s turning into a dog. Having pushed aside her dreams of working in the art world to care for a young child, Nightbitch (as our narrator eventually christens herself) slowly breaks free from the confines of domesticity and gives in to a myriad of wild impulses (raw meat is involved). Nightbitch, grotesque and unsettling at times, ultimately celebrates femininity gone wild, all while exploring ideas of art, motherhood, and friendship.

Lifecycle of a Beautiful Woman (2023) by Ann Weil (Yellow Arrow Publishing, get your copy here)

In her poetry chapbook Lifecycle of a Beautiful Woman, former professor and special education teacher Ann Weil beautifully captures the quiet power of women and the simultaneous beauty and rage that come with existing as a woman. In a short collection, Weil is able to illustrate both the quotidian and the grand, and explores themes of aging, family, love, lust, and what it means to be an artist. Bonus points for the very Barbie-fied pink stilettos on the cover.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (2001) by Ann Brashares (Delacourt, get your copy here)

In this widely popular and endlessly fun novel, four teenage girls form an unbreakable bond after buying a pair of jeans that magically fit all their (very different) bodies perfectly. The girls split up for the summer, but stay connected through the pants, which they ship to each other along with updates on their lives, budding romances, and family struggles. This book, while lighthearted and fun, takes time to unpack life’s serious moments, too, and it is, ultimately, a roaring celebration of girlhood. (Plus, this book is perfect if seeing America Ferrera in Barbie triggered memories of the 2005 film adaptation of the novel.)

Barbie and Ruth: The Story of the World's Most Famous Doll and the Woman Who Created Her (2010) by Robin Gerber (Harper Collins, get your copy here)

For those interested in the story of Ruth Handler, the child of Polish Jewish immigrants who went on to invent only the most iconic 11-inch plastic doll in 1959, this book is for you. Gerber, in addition to telling Ruth’s story, documents the ways in which Barbie sparked a (still) ongoing debate about women’s roles, body image, and more.

The Male Gazed: On Hunks, Heartthrobs, and What Pop Culture Taught Me About (Desiring) Men (2023) by Manuel Betancourt (Catapult, get your copy here)

For all my Kens reading this—don’t worry, we included one for you, too. In The Male Gazed, queer Colombian-born writer and film critic Manuel Betancourt explores masculinity in all its staggering complexity. Half-memoir, half-cultural criticism, Betancourt explores thirst traps, drag queens, and telenovelas (just to name a few) to expose the ways in which our culture shapes perceptions of masculinity, and the toxicity, frailty, and anxieties that ensue. Bonus points for the cover art giving major Kenergy.

Convenience Store Woman (2019) by Sayaka Murata (Grove Atlantic, get your copy here)

Keiko Furukura, at 36 years old, has been working at the same convenience store for 18 years. Unmarried and without kids, Keiko faces endless pressure from her family, friends, and society to settle down and start her life, or at least switch to a “proper” career. In this short but powerful novel, translated from Japanese, Keiko embarks on a journey of self-discovery in which she ultimately realizes that, although her life and career don’t fit into society’s expectations of success, doesn’t mean her choices are wrong. Diving into the intricacies of the role of women in Japanese culture and the true meaning of happiness, Convenience Store Woman reminds readers that it’s okay to break the mold and choose whatever lifestyle brings the most joy.

We’d love to hear any Barbie-esque books you read! Let us know in the Comments.

Cecelia Caldwell is a rising junior at Middlebury College studying English on the creative writing track. She is minoring in Anthropology and Spanish. An avid reader and lover of words, Cecelia is passionate about publishing, editing, storytelling, literacy, and the diversification of all of these fields. In her free time, Cecelia enjoys writing satire, working out, cooking, and tending to her garden. She lives in western Massachusetts with her mom and two dogs, Ollie and Ernie.

*****

Kapua Iao

August 15, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

Where to Submit: Fall Edition

Kapua Iao

August 15, 2023

Yellow Arrow musings

Part of our mission in supporting and uplifting women writers is to promote those around the Yellow Arrow community with like-minded missions. We’d like to show our support by highlighting submissions open by sister presses throughout the year. This blog will list fall submissions from September to December, 2023, for:

journals/anthologies
chapbooks/zines
full-length manuscripts
online publications

We searched for submissions that have similar beliefs about inclusivity and diversity; they don’t necessarily only publish women but advocate for women-identifying authors in their own way. All listed include submissions for poetry, creative nonfiction, and/or hybrid work.

We hope you find the list useful and good luck!

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling. If you know of a publication or publisher that we missed, please send an email to editor@yellowarrowpublishing.com. This is the first time we put this list together so we’re sure we missed a few!