Yellow Arrow Publishing Blog
Best Places to Write and Read in the Baltimore Area
By Gabby Granillo, written March 2025
Baltimore, as I have come to know it, is nothing short of lively, eclectic, and cozy. Reading and writing are two of my favorite things to do and when I have the time, these are my favorite local cafés and small businesses I like to support. Having a safe space to read comfortably, write your next novel, or plan some prose for your next reading is important!
Good Neighbor
Right off the bat, the name is quite fitting. Good Neighbor is a hole in the wall that is bright with large bay windows and found in Hampden, Baltimore. It is typically not loud in noise level, aside from your expected chatter between barista and customer. The seats are very comfy, but everything is first come, first serve. This location is good for both reading and writing, however if you are an individual who needs silence to focus, this is not the place for you. Desperate to try it out anyway? Invest in noise canceling headphones and you’ll be set for hours. If you are not looking to get takeout or order a coffee on the go, I recommend getting there shortly after opening and parking yourself in a chair to read and write. Make a day out of it!
When the weather obliges, Good Neighbor has outdoor seating to accommodate more guests, however, the patio is closed late fall to early spring. Another incentive to visit Good Neighbor is their newly established shoppable hotel, called guesthouse, designed for staycations, rejuvenations, and creative writing retreats. They offer weekday discounts, free daily coffee for specific bookings, and gift cards!
Hours of Operation:
Monday–Wednesday | 7:00 a.m.–5:00 p.m.
Thursday–Friday | 7:00 a.m.–6:00 p.m.
Saturday–Sunday | 8:00 a.m.–6:00 p.m.
Location: 3827 Falls Road, Baltimore, Maryland 21211
Artifact Coffee
A unique artifact indeed! This is one of Baltimore’s best hidden gems. Free Wi-Fi, seasonal menus, handcrafted beverages, and plenty of seating: this has to be your next stop! The rustic and warm environment inside makes this a perfect place for writing inspiration, while the outdoor seating is great for catching rays with your favorite book. The noise level varies depending on the time of day and whether it’s a weekend. Many locals visit Artifact to grab a coffee and stay for the ambiance.
While Artifact is popular, you will never feel out of place in this coffee shop; friendly staff, intimate lighting, and comfortable seating make this an unparalleled experience. Its sister restaurant, Woodberry Kitchen, would also be a perfect place to host a poetry reading or book launch: they have extensive seating, a large cocktail and refreshment menu, with devoted staff and chefs to make your experience unforgettable.
Hours of Operation:
Monday–Friday | 8:00 a.m.–3:00 p.m.
Saturday–Sunday | 8:00 a.m.–4:00 p.m.
Location: 1500 Union Avenue, Baltimore, Maryland 21211
Bird in Hand
Bird in Hand is one of Yellow Arrow’s favorite partners to work with; the absolute best place to host a poetry reading, journal about your day, catch up with a fellow author, or write poetry independently. Located on the outskirts of Johns Hopkins University, it is a hub for writers, coffee lovers, and busy students. Bird in Hand doubles as a bookstore with walls lined with novels, ensuring visitors feel immersed and cozy. They have ample seating both inside and outdoors on their elevated patio.
The menu at Bird in Hand is what draws in many visitors as well! Between serving locally crafted coffee, a tea bar, and specialty spirits, they have everything. They offer breakfast meals, sandwiches, salads, and a snack for everyone. The noise level is not excessive, but far from silent. Being a busy spot, I would recommend cozying up in the corner to read or write alone but sitting at any table when working on group projects or meeting a friend.
Hours of Operation:
Sunday–Tuesday | 8:00 a.m.–4:00 p.m.
Wednesday–Saturday | 8:00 a.m.–8:00 p.m.
Location: 11 E 33rd Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21218
Pitango Bakery & Cafe Fells Point
A favorite of mine is Pitango Bakery & Cafe in Fells Point. Situated right on the water with lots of sunlight and extensive indoor and outdoor seating make this café paramount. This place is fitting for individuals who like to write and read at all hours of the day. With long hours every day of the week, a central location to shops, restaurants, and good views, Pitango is perfect.
Their menu caters to focusing on honest ingredients, inspired by authentic Italian cuisine, paralleling their attention to detail at Pitango Gelato, their sister shop.
Pitango Bakery’s vibe is light, fresh, and comfortable. You will not have trouble finding a seat with ample room, as Pitango caters to all kinds of customers: families, locals, and tourists, and it’s the perfect date location!
Hours of Operation:
Sunday–Tuesday | 7:00 a.m.–8:00 p.m.
Wednesday–Saturday | 7:00 a.m.–10:00 p.m.
Location: 903 S Ann Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21231
pitangogelato.com/location/pitango-bakery-cafe
Enoch Pratt Library
A must for any Baltimore resident, Enoch Pratt Library is a free, intellectually stimulating, and comfortable environment to write your next novel or poetry composition. The silence this spot has to offer is important and one of its best features as a reading and writing spot. They offer an online catalogue to conduct research, spark your imagination, and access audiobooks!
With long hours and hundreds of seats, make sure to take advantage of this wonderful resource: free Wi-Fi, job and career assistance, photocopier and printing services, computers for public use, and ADA/handicap accessible.
Hours of Operation:
Monday–Thursday | 10:00 a.m.–8:00 p.m.
Friday–Saturday | 10:00 a.m.–5:00 p.m.
Location: Central Library 400 Cathedral Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21201
prattlibrary.org/locations/central
The Bun Shop
The Bun Shop is a must-visit café in Mount Vernon, with late-night hours and an extensive selection of snacking buns. This is one of Baltimore’s most unique spots, praised by customers as cozy, inclusive, and friendly. The Bun Shop is great for reading and writing, with an ambiance that will most definitely inspire your latest works. With jazz playing on the overhead speakers, and plenty of outlets, this café creates community and inspires creativity. They have free Wi-Fi, vegan food options, and plentiful seating.
Catch up with friends, grab a bite to eat, or camp out at a table finishing your writing drafts! With seating indoors and a patio outside, take advantage of this adorable Baltimore café.
Hours of Operation:
Sunday–Saturday | 8:00 a.m.–3:00 a.m.
Location: 239 W Read Street, Baltimore, Maryland 212101
If you’re looking for more places to check out, check out Siobhan McKenna’s blog from a few years ago: https://www.yellowarrowpublishing.com/news/inspiring-locations-to-write-baltimore-mckenna. Where do you choose to write in Baltimore?
Gabrielle Granillo is studying English and writing at Loyola University Maryland, minoring in environmental science and art. Raised in Arizona, with much of her family still on the west coast, she now lives in central Massachusetts, her home for the past 12 years. She aims to live in northern Europe after graduation and receive a master’s degree in photojournalism. Gabby spends her days reading Irish novels, practicing street photography, and trying out new recipes. Her three favorite things are hot tea, antiquing, and road trips. She looks forward to making valuable contributions to the Yellow Arrow team, as a woman-identifying writer herself, looking to explore further editorial practices and enhance her voice using inspiration of her fellow staff members.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram 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.
You published a book… What’s next?
By Ashley Elizabeth, written January 2025
You’ve done it.
From drafting your manuscript to editing, to editing again, to putting it away, then editing again, through submissions and rejections, then finally: that acceptance email comes. You’ve gone through the secrecy stage (or at least I did) until the press announces its next selections. Then you’re thrust back into editing. At least this time the next thing to do is cover design, interior layout, exterior layout, asking for blurbs, etc.—but you get it. The list goes on and on as to all the work required for your book to exist in your readers’ hands.
So, what do you do when the book is actually out?
The truth is what comes next is a personal decision, but one that should align with what you want of the manuscript. This is much easier than it sounds.
By the end of 2023, I knew that I would have two collections coming out in 2024: my debut full-length collection, A Family Thing, and my third chapbook, CHARM(ed). That said, I already knew I had a daunting task ahead of me since these two collections were vastly different thematically, and I felt like there was no connecting thread to market them together. I also wanted better for these two collections than what my first two collections garnered, so I knew I had to get to planning early, but what did “wanting better” mean?
It took a while for me to answer that specific question, but in the end, I came up with three wants: more visibility, more celebrations, and more spaces to share my work. I applied for various places to assist in widening my reach outside of Twitter/X, but to no avail, so I got even busier reaching out to venues I had read at previously and even being brave and contacting new ones to book readings or see how I could get involved. While some places said they had no openings for the year, they put me on their list for 2025, and I was grateful.
Alone, this one act combined more visibility and more spaces to share. While yes, this was a want of mine, it also was frightening for someone with social anxiety, but let’s consider this a challenge in the right direction.
Being a poet with these incredibly high expectations of myself, adding that to being a middle school educator comes with its own set of goals, challenges, and expectations. While managing the balance between edits of two different manuscripts in addition to my full-time job and other life events like one of my students stealing my car, I was continuing to submit work outside of these manuscripts and then the unthinkable happened: another chapbook of mine, red line, was accepted for publication—also in 2024.
A Family Thing was due to come out in August, and CHARM(ed) in November, so for red line to be slated for October rose internal panic because it meant that much more work had to be done. It also meant when I book events in the city talking about my experiences as an educator, I have to watch how I approach what I say, which is not so fun (red line covers part of my life as an educator after losing two of my students, my lens as a Black educator in a formerly white-led school, our lockdown situation, and my unconventional ways in the classroom).
But I don’t shy away from challenges: I embrace them.
For people with day jobs, writing by itself can feel like something you don’t have enough time for, let alone all these other moving parts. I would have loved to go coast to coast spreading my voice, but my reality isn’t set up that way as someone with such a demanding career and family life.
There have been times along my publishing journey this year that have veered me into the lane of giving up one, the other, or both, but that wouldn’t have been fair to my readers or my students, those who I continue to work for every day. It also wouldn’t have been fair to me. Since I was younger, I dreamt of becoming an author. Writing, especially writing my subject matter, is good work. Messy work at times, but good, important work.
So, after the collections came out and I spoke at all the planned readings and other engagements I had except for one due to illness, what was there to do?
I didn’t have to wait long to find my answer: After A Family Thing released, school was quickly starting and my car got stolen again, so I had life issues to worry about. After red line released, I picked up a terrible illness from school and was sick for several weeks where I was mainly focused on my health, which then also ran into the release of CHARM(ed) where I was starting to feel better but then ran into issues at school.
I haven’t touched much on the celebrations behind these publications because I consider each time I get to read from them to be a celebration of sorts, especially when I consider the themes within each manuscript. I made it through everything A Family Thing talks about, which is a celebration. Putting a good word into the atmosphere about Baltimore in CHARM(ed) is a celebration when people do nothing but try to destroy it (though I did treat myself to a chicken box and half-and-half both when I got the acceptance and when it was released). Uplifting my deceased scholars that I discuss in red line will also always be an honor and celebration as to know them, to say their names is a privilege.
Now if you asked me, “What do I recommend doing after publishing a book?” I could say take yourself on a solo date, eat a piece or two or five of your favorite cake, rest, dance in your underwear, call your sister and yap for two hours about everything and nothing, order your favorite takeout, marathon your favorite shows that you’ve seen maybe one too many times.
What I’m going to say is: Give yourself credit. You have created something no one in this world has. You have used your voice to speak up and out about something you believe in and that is probably the greatest, bravest thing you could ever do.
In short, what comes next is up to you. There is no right or wrong to your next steps, or any mandated steps for that matter, but whatever you decide to do, enjoy the journey. You’ve earned it, however “it” looks for you.
Ashley Elizabeth (she/her) is a winner of the 2024 Garden Party Collective Chapbook Contest. She is a Pushcart-nominated writer and teacher whose work has appeared in SWWIM, Voicemail Poems, Rigorous, and Sage Cigarettes, among others. Ashley is the author of A Family Thing (Redacted Books/ELJ Editions, 2024) and chapbooks red line (Garden Party Collective, 2024), CHARM(ed) (fifth wheel press, 2024), black has every right to be angry (Alternating Current, 2023), and you were supposed to be a friend (Nightingale & Sparrow, 2020). When she isn't teaching, reading, or writing, Ashley works as chapbook editor at Sundress Publications. She lives on the original land of the Piscataway (Baltimore, Maryland) with her partner and their cats.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Poetry as it is, as I love it
By Elizabeth Ottenritter, written November 2024
“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me,
I know that is poetry.”
– Emily Dickinson
They say poetry is the only form of literary art that is for no one but the poet themself. This undeniable notion is what had drawn me to poetry in late high school. At first, I thought that poetry always had to rhyme, skipping stanzas to accomplish a consistent sound above all else. I would open my notes app and type something candid, and vaguely lyrical. My first poem was written on March 8, 2020, ironically titled “Thanksgiving.” I won’t expose my young self just yet, but the content was centered around my first love, who I never dated. The repetitiveness of this in my mind was surprisingly easy to put into words. Then, I was slowly able to move into free-verse after discovering poetry doesn’t owe a rhyme—it doesn’t owe anything at all.
I didn’t tell anyone about my sudden interest in the genre nor did I show anyone what I had been writing in fear it would go misunderstood. At the time, I had been trudging through a brutal senior year of high school that had been entirely online due to COVID. I often felt lonely, confused, and undeserving, which reflected in the subjects I’d write about as a subconscious form of consolation. In no way does poetry always come from such circumstances. Some of my favorite poems are about very pleasant things. I found comfort in writing my feelings, which allowed me to better understand myself in return.
I was admitted to Loyola University Maryland that spring and chose to major in writing. While the writing major is an uncommon track at most universities, I felt a sudden surge of confidence during my first semester of college. Writing had been the only thing I never minded looking at or putting time into. In December of that year, I saw that our literary art magazine at Loyola, Corridors, was accepting submissions for their spring issue. I nervously submitted two poems, thinking neither would be taken to publication, but I had nothing to lose anyway. That March, I received an email that changed my life, reading Congratulations! and We would like to accept “Dear Sun” and “No Nutrition.” I waited until I got to hold the publication in my hands and saw my printed work. I even read my poem “Dear Sun” at the release party, my shyness slowly dissipating for good. I was finally in the right place.
Three years later, I am still in love with poetry and language. I am enamored with those who have the talent to create, what I like to call “portrait poems” with words that depict how something appears visually. A good example of this would come from poet Jane Hirschfield and her book The October Palace. Hirschfield’s language is transparent as though you were looking at the hidden wonders of the world through clear glass. Her poetry is a homage to what is around her; there is a physicality to everything she writes. I enjoy Hirschfield’s poem “Page” for how particular and hard-hitting the lines are:
It waits for the old
to grow young, fed and unfearful,
for freighters to carry their hold-held oil
back into unfractured ground,
for fires to return
their shoeboxes of photos and risen homes
Poems such as these are easy to be inspired by and difficult to write. I admire U.S. poet laureate Ada Limón for this reason. Her ability to bend structure to her will is compelling, as is her way of redefining what poetry may look like within her forms. Limón’s poems “Calling Things What They Are” and “The Hurting Kind” are especially reflective of this.
Often, the poetry and art that I respond to is more self-centered. I am drawn to confessional, personal anecdotes that aim to say something larger than the work itself. I like poems about specific experiences—but ones that speak to universal experiences simultaneously.
The first poem I ever loved was “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe. I remember sitting in my middle school English class, holding back tears over the final line: “In her tomb by the sounding sea.” I didn’t understand why the words had upset me so viscerally. It might have been the building repetition of “Annabel Lee,” the closeness you feel to her through the eyes of Poe, how you never get to know her outside of him, her sudden untimely death and the terrifying notion that love lasts forever. All these concepts, new to me at the time, were the foundation for my interest in writing the human experience. While not everyone has buried a lover in a sepulchre by the sea, most can relate to losing someone they love. A poem has this remarkable ability, one that allows you to see what is already there, as well as the invisible strings that bind us together.
A song has a similar effect. Poetry and music are intertwined for me—much of my poetry has been inspired by music. I am not musically inclined, and I am aware that songwriting has a different intention than poetry, as it is written to accompany music for wide audiences. Even still, many of my favorite recording artists are beautiful writers who are also gifted with the talent for music. For some of my most listened-to songs, I could read the lyrics as a poem itself. Take, for instance, the song “Chelsea” by Phoebe Bridgers.
You are somebody’s baby
Some mother held you near
No, it’s not important
They’re just pretty words, my dear
There is no distraction
That can make me disappear
No, there’s nothin’ that won’t remind you
I will always be right here
When it comes to discovering new and old poetry, I am a big fan of the classic Poetry Foundation website. They post a poem of the day, often coinciding with holidays, historical events, and poets’ anniversaries. Often, I will get distracted on my laptop and find myself lost in a collection of poems on various subjects, like autumn or love. The New Yorker has an excellent fiction and poetry collection as well, which is always changing to highlight a wide range of voices.
As much as poetry is for the writer, it is meant to be shared. I have found both clarity and inspiration while workshopping my own poetry, as well as the poems of others. Art has always been a source of bonding. When something is close to your heart, there is a tendency to hide it within yourself. A poem, piece of prose, or even a song can challenge this notion, as our words live well beyond us. My grandmother passed away this summer, and while we remember her for so many things, she had signs hanging in her house that were so her. One read, “I was so far behind I thought I was first.” We smile when we remember those words and how they have touched us, and that is poetry to me.
Elizabeth Ottenritter (she/her) is a senior at Loyola University Maryland, where she studies writing. She is passionate about reading, crafting poetry, contributing to Loyola’s literary art magazine, Corridors, and traveling worldwide. Upon graduation, Elizabeth hopes to continue her love of learning and language in a graduate program.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
The Power of Being Heard: A Voice for Women with Traumatic Pasts
By Julie Alden Cullinane, written November 2024
The ability to have one’s voice heard is more than just a privilege; it is an act of defiance, survival, and healing, especially for women who have endured trauma. As the author of Ghosts Only I Can See (2024), I have found that sharing my story not only liberates me but also empowers others. My mission is to be a voice for women with traumatic pasts, especially those who have survived childhood trauma. Through writing and witnessing, I aim to dismantle the silence that often surrounds these experiences, challenging the gaslighting and denial that frequently accompany them. Amplifying voices is not just a personal endeavor—it is a collective call for change and validation.
The Healing Power of Storytelling
Trauma silences. It isolates and convinces survivors that their experiences are invalid or insignificant. Growing up with unresolved pain, many women internalize the belief that their voices do not matter. Sharing my story in Ghosts Only I Can See was not simply about revisiting the past; it was about reclaiming my narrative and affirming my worth. Writing creates space for healing—it allows us to process, understand, and contextualize our pain.
For women with traumatic childhoods, storytelling offers the opportunity to name what was once unnameable. When we write our stories, we confront the ghosts that haunt us, giving them shape and, ultimately, taking away their power to control us. Writing is both catharsis and resistance—a way of saying, “I was here, and my experience matters.”
Combating Gaslighting and Denial
A pervasive challenge for trauma survivors is the denial or minimization of their experiences, often perpetuated by those closest to them or society at large. Gaslighting, the deliberate manipulation to make someone doubt their reality, is particularly harmful. It leaves survivors questioning their memories, their feelings, and even their sanity. For women, whose voices are historically undervalued, this form of invalidation is especially insidious.
By amplifying my voice and encouraging others to do the same, I aim to dismantle this dynamic. When women share their stories, they assert their reality in the face of doubt. They become witnesses—not only to their pain but also to their strength. Writing, in this sense, is an act of validation and defiance. It is a declaration that our stories are not only real but also worth hearing.
Being a Witness for Others
Beyond sharing my own story, I feel a profound responsibility to be a witness for other women. Trauma often leaves survivors feeling invisible. By acknowledging and amplifying their voices, we create a space where they feel seen and heard. This role is both humbling and transformative. To witness another’s pain is to affirm their humanity, to stand in solidarity with their struggles, and to remind them they are not alone.
Women with traumatic pasts often carry immense guilt, shame, and isolation. When we share and bear witness, we disrupt these cycles. We create communities of understanding and support, where vulnerability is met with compassion rather than judgment. I want to be the voice that says, “I believe you,” and to inspire others to say the same.
Empowering Women to Write Their Stories
Writing is an accessible and transformative tool for self-expression and advocacy. Encouraging women to write their stories is central to my mission. Each story, no matter how small or large it may seem, holds the potential to inspire, educate, and heal. When women write, they reclaim their agency. They transform from passive victims of circumstance to active narrators of their lives.
Writing also ensures that our stories endure. It creates a record, a testament to our resilience. In a world where women’s experiences are often dismissed or erased, writing is an act of preservation and legacy. I want every woman to know that her voice matters, that her story is worth telling, and that she has the power to change the narrative—not just for herself but for others who follow.
Amplifying Voices for Systemic Change
While individual healing is essential, the amplification of women’s voices has broader implications. Systemic change begins with awareness, and awareness grows when diverse, authentic voices are heard. By sharing our stories, we challenge societal norms that perpetuate silence and stigma around trauma. We shift the cultural conversation from one of shame and secrecy to one of empowerment and understanding.
For women who have endured traumatic childhoods, this shift is especially vital. Childhood trauma shapes the way we view ourselves and the world. By addressing these issues publicly, we advocate for better resources, policies, and support systems for survivors. Amplifying our voices is not just about personal validation—it is about creating a world where future generations are better equipped to confront and overcome trauma.
The Ripple Effect of Sharing
When one woman shares her story, it creates a ripple effect. Her courage inspires others to speak out, creating a chain reaction of honesty and empowerment. As the author of Ghosts Only I Can See, I have witnessed this phenomenon firsthand. Readers have reached out to share how my words resonated with their own experiences, how my story gave them the courage to confront their past or to begin writing their own.
This ripple effect is why amplification matters. It is not about a single voice but about a collective chorus. Each story adds depth and nuance to the larger narrative of women’s resilience and strength. Together, our voices become impossible to ignore.
Moving Forward: A Call to Action
The work of amplifying voices is never finished. It requires continual effort, vulnerability, and courage. For me, this means continuing to write, to speak, and to advocate. It means creating spaces where women feel safe to share their truths and ensuring those spaces are inclusive and supportive.
I call on other women to join me in this mission. Whether through writing, speaking, or simply listening, we all have a role to play in amplifying voices. Together, we can challenge the silence that surrounds trauma, confront the forces that perpetuate it, and build a world where every woman feels seen, heard, and valued.
Having my voice heard and amplified is not just important to me—it is essential. It is a way to heal, to resist, and to inspire. As the author of Ghosts Only I Can See, I am committed to being a voice for women who have endured trauma, particularly those with painful childhoods. I want to be a witness, to combat gaslighting and denial, and to empower women to write their stories. Amplifying our voices is how we reclaim our power, transform our pain into purpose, and create a more just and compassionate world. Together, we can ensure that no woman ever feels silenced or invisible again.
Julie Alden Cullinane is a Boston-based writer. She holds both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in English, and her writing credits include poetry and short stories published in numerous literary magazines. Her common themes include womanhood, motherhood, and wonders of being human. In addition to her writing, Julie works as the vice president of human resources for a large behavioral health hospital, a role that offers her a rich perspective on the human experience, which she incorporates into her writing. She enjoys reading and writing in her free time and has a dedicated following on social media, X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, Facebook, BlueSky, Threads, and Instagram. She also maintains an author’s website at julie.wildinkpages.com/poetry to engage with her readers.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Why I Love Poetry
By Caroline Kunz, written August 2024
In the words of Robert Frost, “Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” A simple, yet meaningful phrase that largely sums up why I love poetry. Writing poetry allows one the space to grapple with and sort out their most complicated emotions and experiences. Reading poetry allows one the ability to find names for the feelings they once found too difficult to identify. In my experience, poetry brings with it the greatest sense of comfort and relief, no matter how one engages with it.
My sentiments toward poetry haven’t always been so fond. Growing up, I couldn’t stand it. English class was always my favorite—I loved sinking my teeth into books that made me think, like The Giver and To Kill a Mockingbird, and I aced every quiz on figurative language and literary terminology. However, something about the yearly poetry unit left me less than enthused. I thought that poetry’s primary purpose was to remain mysterious and inaccessible, hiding some deeper message that only those well-versed in literature could decode. I believed that all poems needed to sound like a nursery rhyme—the more elaborate the rhyme scheme, the better. Squinting at the board in the front of the room, I tried to piece together what Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven meant when it squawked, “Nevermore,” wondering what was so important about the repetitive word, anyway. I took a stab at analyzing “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Caroll but felt as though I was reading another language. Were “brillig” and “slithy” even real words?
It wasn’t until I studied poetry in my junior year of high school that my opinions started to shift. It’s true that one teacher can completely change a mindset, proving all preconceived notions about a subject to be false. On the first day of the unit, my English teacher had our class open our American Literature Anthologies to a piece called “Desert Places” by Robert Frost. My only experience with Frost at that point had been reading “Nothing Gold Can Stay” in S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders. All I remembered was how confused the short poem had made me feel. I didn’t expect to enjoy this next one, either. Nonetheless, we read.
“What do the images in this poem have in common?” My teacher asked. Everything is desolate and blank, I thought. “Beyond nature and the outdoors, what do these images make you think of?” Loneliness, isolation, melancholy. Maybe it was the step-by-step analysis that my teacher walked us through. Or maybe, it was the fact that at that point in my life, I’d learned the stresses of balancing school with a part-time job and extracurriculars, friendship drama, keeping a strong GPA, and applying to colleges. I’d experienced the nostalgia of growing older (perhaps, Frost was right, after all, when he concluded that “nothing gold can stay”), the sadness of losing a grandparent and an aunt, the uncomfortable presence of change. Maybe it was because I’d shared in these human experiences that I was able to put aside the rhyme scheme and see the poem for what it was: a testimony to the feelings of loneliness and uncertainty that all of us have experienced. An ode to the notion that, at times, we’ve all felt as though we’re wandering a barren path, isolated and alone in our fears that we’ll never find our way through the uncharted territory. It was beautiful. I felt a strange sense of comfort in reading these words—I didn’t know that poetry could be emotional and relatable, allowing readers to see their feelings represented and validated in such short stanzas. I copied the poem down into my notebook so I wouldn’t forget it.
From that point on, I became eager to find poems like “Desert Places”—poems that I could read and digest and apply so easily to my own life. I inhaled the works of Emily Dickinson and Wendy Cope, Oscar Wilde and Ralph Waldo Emerson. I was fascinated by the fact that older poems such as these could still hold so much weight, still resonate so deeply with readers of any age. Before I knew it, my bookshelf was overtaken by a collection of little poetry books.
It’s no surprise that once the poetry bug bit, I decided to study English and writing at college. At present, I’ve completed three years, and I can say with confidence that the poetry classes I take are my favorite. I love the poems that my professor brings for us to read each week—Elizabeth Bishop, Louise Glück, Robert Lowell. I love getting to explore new genres, forms, styles, and narrative voices. I love getting to know my classmates and their opinions so well as we bounce ideas across our classroom’s round conference table. I love our in-class workshops; before every Thursday, we each write a poem to be brought in and edited, questioned, admired, and reworked by our professor at the front of the room.
“No, you can’t use that cliche.”
“I admire the risks you took with this one.”
“Why don’t we just get rid of the first three stanzas?”
“The heart of the poem is really here, in the last two.”
I love the conversation that I have with her red pen as I make my edits the day after a workshop. It’s fascinating to create my own work, seeing which topics I gravitate toward and which I shy away from. While the essays and analyses that I’m assigned in my English classes often prove to be stressors, these poems that I have due each Thursday act as a release, both creatively and emotionally. And, in turn, I’ve found that crafting so many poems has helped to strengthen my writing in every other academic area—it’s helped me to find a sense of conciseness, a greater awareness of pace and phrasing.
Last spring, during the final week of my “Poetic Influence” class, my professor could see the weariness in our eyes. Our once lively class discussions had turned sullen and sparse. We begged for extensions and handed in late assignments left and right, which she usually had no tolerance for. With mere days before final exams began, we were giving her all that we had. “I thought today I’d bring in one of my favorites by Ellen Bass called, ‘The Thing Is,’” she said. “You all could clearly use it.”
In that moment, these words were exactly what I needed to hear. The stress and anxiety brought on by the upcoming exams, the 12-page paper I had due that night, my yearly end-of-semester mystery illness, the bittersweetness of saying goodbye to my friends for the summer, the fact that I hadn’t even begun to pack up my apartment for move-out . . . all seemed to melt away. Bass reminded me that pain, fear, and grief are all inevitable. Suddenly, my problems seemed to become a lot smaller, and I knew that, while I didn’t love life in this particular moment, I would soon “hold it like a face” and appreciate it once again.
So, if you ask me why I love poetry, the answer is simple. Poetry allows us to feel less alone. Poems are like companions. Little reminders that we can stick in our back pocket, taking them out and consulting their advice when we need it most. Poetry grows up with us; “Desert Places” is still with me, in that old notebook from junior year, and in the Frost books that I keep on my shelf. Poetry is more than mere pretty words strung together to sound like an ode or a fairy tale. Poetry is complex, emotive, withstanding. Poetry is universal.
Caroline Kunz (she/her) is a rising senior at Loyola University Maryland, where she studies English and writing on a pre-MAT track. She enjoys traveling, scouting out new coffee shops, and of course, reading and writing. As an aspiring educator, she hopes to share her love of the written word with future generations of students. Her current favorite authors include Taylor Jenkins Reid and Celeste Ng.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Reaching New Orbits with Feminist Speculative Writing by Angela Acosta
By Angela Acosta, written September 2024
The worlds of feminist speculative fiction and poetry are vast. They are filled with spacefaring humans creating homes on new planets, Earth dwellers seeking respite from the sun, ferocious river-born monsters, and high fantasy cities full of spells and runes. You may have read stories by Ursula K. Le Guin, Octavia Butler, or CJ Cherryh that made you rethink what you thought you knew about science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Works by these writers offer alternate histories, examine human nature alongside aliens, and ask their readers tough questions. Feminist speculative fiction decenters whiteness and dismantles colonialism. It walks away from the Omelas to envision more just queer, trans, crip, Black, Indigenous, Latine, and Asian futures.
When I joined the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA) in early 2022, I was in awe of the ecosystem of speculative poets, journals, and presses that awaited me. Since then, I have published my work in over 30 speculative literary magazines and worked with small presses to publish two Elgin nominated collections, Summoning Space Travelers (Hiraeth Publishing, 2022) and A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness (Red Ogre Review, 2023). Before then, I had only published a handful of nongenre poems and often got lost in the maze of poetry contests, vanity publishers, and beautiful literary magazines for which my work was simply not a good fit. I had read plenty of science fiction novels, YA dystopias, and literary classics, but I had yet to experience SciFaiku, experimental work, and narrative speculative poems.
I got my start as a speculative poet publishing “The Optics of Space Travel” in Eye to the Telescope. This piece, like much of my speculative writing, grapples with questions of cultural erasure, multilingualism, and family legacies:
My eyes are the bridge between worlds and generations,
when languages and cultures have been assimilated out of me.
I can still see the road ahead, of stories yet to be told,
onward towards Mars and the deceleration of the universe.
Feminist speculative literature is multilingual and multicultural, held steady with the promise that the cultures and languages of Earth will be spoken and celebrated in the future. As a child, I yearned to speak Spanish and to know the recipes and cultural traditions of my Mexican ancestors. Though I didn’t learn Spanish from my family, the language in all its linguistic diversity has become a part of who I am. I have grown from this cosmovisión, a worldview amplified by the many cultures where Spanish and indigenous languages of the Américas are spoken. The literature of Abya Yala, a Kuna word for the misnomer that is Latin America, is full of myths like El Dorado and La Malinche, fantastic journeys and lost homelands, and the recuperation of indigenous cultures and voices. For those who speak Spanish, I recommend Rodrigo Bastidas Pérez’s anthology El tercer mundo después del sol, a collection of stories from across Abya Yala that bring together techno futurism, folklore, horror, and many other speculative subgenres.
My science fiction poetry seeks to envision Latine characters thriving in worlds beyond Earth. I write in English and Spanish about a city built over the Chicxulub crater in “Paradise of the Abyss,” cook tamales with Martian cheese in “Tamales on Mars,” find a new home for the delightfully resilient axolotl in “Rewilding the Axolotl” (Star*Line vol. 47, no. 2), and celebrate a quinceañera (15th birthday celebration) en route to a new galaxy in “Andromeda’s First Quinceañera” (Space and Time issue 142). My bilingual collection A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness contains poems that envision the dailiness of human emotions and experiences in settings beyond Earth, from parties onboard a spaceship to creatures gathered around a campfire listening to filk music (sci-fi folk music). I wrote the collection to capture the wonder and possibility of Latine futures, even when our names and histories cannot be found on star charts.
Recent fiction by Valerie Valdes and Becky Chambers has shown me that space can be for every human and alien species. Their books depict a future where people of all backgrounds and abilities can make their way to crowded space stations and settle on exoplanets without destroying the local flora and fauna. Theirs is a future of accessibility and acceptance of ourselves and our pasts, a place full of found families, multispecies communities, and heartfelt laughter.
For those entering the world of speculative fiction, there are many journals accepting feminist work. The Sprawl Mag, edited by Mahaila Smith and Libby Graham, is a feminist speculative journal “focused on publishing perspectives that have historically been left out of canonical sci-fi and fantasy.” Radon Journal publishes antifascist and anarchist poetry and prose, including science fiction, transhumanism, and dystopia. Most importantly, these journals offer excellent feedback and support their contributors. Other venues for speculative work that I enjoy reading and writing for are Solarpunk Magazine, Heartlines Spec, If There’s Anyone Left, Utopia Science Fiction, and Shoreline of Infinity. Speculative writers of color should consider submitting to FIYAH (Black writers of the African diaspora) and Anathema (on hiatus, planning to return in 2025). For those with poetry manuscripts ready for submission, Interstellar Flight Press is a mainstay of the genre, Aqueduct Press publishes feminist science fiction, Prismatica is for LGBTQ+ writers, and I have personally enjoyed working with the editorial team at Red Ogre Review.
When I first watched the Diné science fiction short film “Sixth World,” written and directed by Nanobah Becker, I was excited to see Diné astronauts tackling the challenges of a mission to Mars. These feminist, anticolonial futures are not without the conflicts of present-day society but offer new perspectives on age-old challenges. Feminist speculative futures are not necessarily utopian, nor do they portray an amalgamation of existing human cultures. They are as specific to the cultures and peoples they depict as they are vast, always venturing for the journey through space and time to be inclusive and accessible.
Angela Acosta, PhD (she/her), is a bilingual Mexican American poet and Assistant Professor of Spanish at the University of South Carolina. She is a 2022 Dream Foundry Contest for Emerging Writers finalist, 2022 Somos en Escrito Extra-Fiction Contest honorable mention, and Utopia Award nominee. Her Rhysling nominated poetry has appeared in Heartlines Spec, Shoreline of Infinity, Apparition Lit, Radon Journal, and Space & Time. She is author of the Elgin nominated poetry collections Summoning Space Travelers (Hiraeth Publishing, 2022) and A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness (Red Ogre Review, 2023).
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Ecopoetry: The Web That Connects
By Laurel Maxwell, written December 2024
As humans we are part of an interconnected web just like the mycelium that snake underneath the soil. As writers we have found ways to write about this connection we feel to the earth, what makes us pause in delight. We know how to select the right words to write about a bee tumbling inside the lip of a poppy. Writing about nature has gone by different names over the course of history. Today we know it as ecopoetry, or ecopoetics. This form of poetry focuses on how humans interact with the world around them, the observations they make, and the natural world itself. It runs deeper than personifying a tree, it is seeing that tree surrounded by forest and wondering what the forest will look like in 10 or 20 years. Ecopoetry works as a way to understand and untangle our thoughts on how humans can harm something beautiful while simultaneously striving to protect it. It can also serve as a call to action to protect all that is already disappearing.
One of the first poems I fell in love with was Mary Oliver’s Spring Day. The iconic line “what will you do with your one wild and precious life” set something free in my soul. Since reading those words I have slowly gravitated toward poets who use nature to make sense of the world. Over time I found myself writing in the same vein. It wasn’t an intentional change, there was suddenly more to write about as climate catastrophe became front and center in my personal life. Months of extreme smoke kept me indoors during summer, and flooding disrupted daily life in the winter. But ecopoetry can also be a love poem. Writing about the way a hummingbird dips into a flower or a honeysuckle vine tangles in a chain-link fence. How nature is resilient in the face of its own destruction in the way humans are not. Years after a massive fire swept through a state park I returned to visit with my mom and husband. Yes, tree bark was blackened, but there were also tufts of green sprouting above our heads.
Ecopoetry isn’t a new form of poetry, think of those early contemporaries Henry David Thoreau and Walden. It does seem ecopoetry has taken on a sudden sense of urgency as the world tips and spins with an increase in natural disasters. It has heightened our awareness of being on this marble in the universe. In my quest to learn more I searched in the scraps of time before dinner, in a few silent morning moments for poets who were writing now. Isabella Zapatas’ Una Ballena es Un Pais (A Whale is a Country) showed me it was possible to write about ecological concerns in a way free of scientific jargon. I loved the creativity she used to discuss animals in their habitats and her perspective on the way humans interact with them. Wound Is the Origin of Wonder by Maya C. Popa was the second book that shook me awake to what writing to the natural world could look like. What made her work different was that she wrote from the lens of loss, to an environment that is all too quickly disappearing. Mary Oliver is the queen of writing toward what is outside our window from geese to grasshoppers. Maria Popava writes at the intersection of science, the environment and wonder. Rebecca Elson used her background in astronomy to write clearly crafted scientific prose while boldly coming to terms with her diagnosis of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in Responsibility to Awe. Newer publications that give a nod toward women writers and the environment are Poetry in the Natural World edited by Ada Limon and Leaning Towards the Light, an anthology of poems geared toward gardeners. All these writers are playful and serious while grasping the fragility of humanity.
I didn’t see the turn in my own work toward ecopoetry until I submitted a series of poems for critique. The reader pointed out how often I returned to interweaving actions between humans and the environment. Within this larger theme I was also seeking to gather a sense of self. He gratefully pointed me toward writers who “document human interaction with the landscape.” I began to become aware of the poems I was drawn toward and found they all touched on nature with a hint of science to provide a sense of grounding. “Write about your obsessions,” Ellen Bass said in a workshop. I’m obsessed with this earth, its changing, and my place in it, the harm humans have caused. How destruction brings about beauty. And this is the root of ecopoetry: work that focuses on the natural world and how humans interact with the spaces they inhibit.
As writers we are often keen observers of the world. We don’t have the luxury of being Walden and spending years at a pond, but we can look outside the front door, at the spider web stranded between two porch beams, a flower sprouting in an unexpected location. This sense of observation lends itself to ecopoetry which places nature at the center rather than humanity. This written word helps to weave our existence within that of the natural world. How many times have I written about the waves in some sense? Their meditative fall and retreat? Or that waves always return to where they started. Smoothing eons of mountains to sand. One of the things I love about ecopoetry is that it can bring our world into focus with something as small as an ant; does the ant know the size of the leaf it carries across the foundation of the world? Or as large as the cosmos.
If you are interested in submitting, there are a variety of publications that are looking for pieces which focus on the natural world. These include Fly Away Literary Journal, Kelp, Tiny Seed, Canary, and Ecotone, among others. The website Poets for Science explores the connection between science and poetry. This well-curated site has ways to advocate for the environment as well as opportunities to share your own work.
In this world of uncertainty I know that I can write what I see as I walk to the store, as I move between classes where I teach. I have my favorite tree whose leaves alert me to the season’s changing well before the air cools. For me, when I write about the environment it helps to keep me rooted. It also helps me pay attention, which in turn provides me with more to sift through as I put words on the page. I hope that you, too, can find joy in the small moments of the natural world to keep yourself moving forever forward.
“What Needs Care”
By Laurel Maxwell
This warming cracked, catastrophically changed planet.
Even though it may be too late to reverse course.
Except right now there is a squirrel with a yellow nut in its jaws skimmering across the patio.
Buttercup blooms on the yarrow plant daring the sun to emerge.
On Thursday I swam out in the ocean.
Investigated a log surfing the currents.
Head in the murky wet I didn’t notice the seal patrolling close to shore.
Today Ruth brought a bounty of pears from her garden.
We handled them like treasures.
The once burned landscape is beginning to care for itself.
Regrowth slow, but there all the same.
The birds which are inhabiting the charred branches, hip high weeds marking the trail.
People tentatively stepping into a brighter landscape than the one they knew.
Who will care for the coral bleached of their colors?
The rising tide battering roads.
Floods that disappear whole towns.
Seeds whose DNA have been so altered whole plant species are disappearing.
What needs care are these bodies we forget
as we hurtle through time.
Their age insignificant as space dust on this
billion-year-old planet.
If interested in learning more about ecopoetry or writing your own, check out Writing Ecopoetry with Joanne Durham, which starts on March 5. In this workshop, participants will read and discuss poetry that spans a wide range of relationships between people and the rest of the natural world from anthologies such as Poet Laureate Ada Limon’s 2024 You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World, Camille Dungy’s Black Nature, and Bradfield, Furhman & Sheffield’s Cascadia Field Guide. Learn more about the class at yellowarrowpublishing.com/workshop-sign-up/p/writingecopoetry2025.
Laurel Maxwell is a poet from Santa Cruz, California, whose work is inspired by life’s mundane and the natural world. Her work has appeared at baseballballard.com, coffecontrails, phren-z, Verse-Virtual, Tulip Tree Review, and Yellow Arrow Vignette SPARK. Her creative fiction was a finalist for Women on Writing Flash Fiction Contest. Her piece “A Still Life” was nominated for Best of the Net by Yellow Arrow Publishing. She has a chapbook forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in 2025. When not writing, Laurel enjoys putting her feet in the sand, reading, traveling, and trying not to make too much of a mess baking in a too small kitchen. She works in education. You can find her at lgtanza.wixsite.com/writer or on social media @lomaxwell22.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Writing Process Notes: How Not to Dread Revision
By Isabel Cristina Legarda, written October 2024
I often get a little flutter in my belly when I turn on my laptop to open a work in progress. Revision can be exciting, but also dreadful. I totally get the well-known quip (often attributed, probably erroneously, to Dorothy Parker), “I hate writing. I love having written.” It’s a joke, of course. I love writing. What I actually dislike is feeling unable to translate what’s in my mind faithfully onto the page. The many stops and starts of finding the right words, the right structure, or the right direction fill me with anxiety. I’ve put my forehead on a desk surface many times and whined, “C’mon, you can do it. Keep going.”
Shirley Jackson claimed she wrote her masterpiece “The Lottery” in one sitting. Her essay about the process, “Biography of a Story,” used to fill me with envy. It describes what I (and I suspect many others as well) fantasize about when envisioning the ideal writing process: sitting in front of a blank page, a lone figure is struck by a compelling idea which then gives rise to streams of just the right words, all written in one great, almost unstoppable torrent, bringing the mental vision to perfect fruition. Inspiration with a captial “I” makes the words flow as if beckoned by some unseen power, and the author sits there writing or typing furiously, barely able to keep up. Jackson’s first version of “The Lottery” may have flowed out with the kind of unusual ease writers dream of experiencing, but in reality, writing it still involved drafts, feedback, and revision, as the process does for most writers.
Though this much-desired writing flow does happen once in a while, I think it’s rare—certainly for me. I might be an especially slow writer. I dread what I’ll euphemistically call the shoddy first draft; I wince at how inadequate it looks and sounds, how embarrassing it is in the ways it misses the mark. I procrastinate to avoid reopening it and seeing all its blotches, blemishes, and giant pores.
The truth, however, is that revision is the heart of the writing process. It’s the space in which the chiseling and shaping of a block of words can set free the hidden, essential work (to borrow from Michelangelo). Craft takes good writing and turns it into art. Although the creative process can be mysterious and elusive, craft is technical enough to lend itself to a methodical approach.
When I’m revising a piece, any piece, I comb through it line by line and ask myself the same six questions:
1. Do I encounter glitches reading it out loud? (e.g., stumbling, awkward pauses, unpleasant sounds, and bad rhythm)
2. Do I need this word (or phrase)? (I’ll question articles and weak verbs like “to be,” adverbs, adjectives, and redundancies.)
3. Can I replace groups of words with fewer words or one word?
4. Is each word the best word?
5. Is the piece “saying” what I want it to? (What do I want it to say?) Can I apply Flannery O’Connor’s well-known quote about stories to it, i.e. is it “a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the [piece] to say what the meaning is?”
6. Does the piece contain a DYBI moment? (DYBI = draw-your-breath-in. Often in the form of a fresh image, insight, use of language, or surprising way of seeing something. Examples from the poetry world include “How to Prepare Your Husband for Dinner” by Rachelle Cruz, “Cult of the Deer Goddess” by Caylin Capra-Thomas, and “Epithalamion for the Long Dead” by Danielle Sellers.)
I take heart that even the greatest writers of the past have wrestled, Jacob-like, with the Angel of Revision, like Victor Hugo and Emily Dickinson, whose home in Amherst contains a large interactive display of lines from “A Chilly Peace infests the Grass” for which she trialed different words to see if they would work.
Interactive display at the Emily Dickinson Museum, Amherst, Massachusetts; photo by author
Facsimile of a page from Volume III, Book 1 of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, displayed at an exhibit of his drawings, Maison Hugo, Paris; photo by author
I enjoy catching glimpses of a writer’s process. Images of manuscript pages, with the authors’ crossings-out and scribblings, and literary journals like The Account, where writers explain the backstories of their works, and Underbelly, in which first and final drafts of each work are printed side by side, inspire me and fill me with curiosity and wonder. There’s a kind of flow evidenced in these too—the unfolding of increasing clarity as writers draw ever-closer to the voice and words they want. When I look at the opening lines of my own poem “Boondocks,” published in Beyond the Galleons (2024), in their very first and last iterations, I am startled by how different the two are, yet pleased that the soul of the poem inhabits both:
“Boondocks” ~ opening lines as published
I.
We hear the word and think
uncouth, naive, unsophisticated,
ramshackle huts off the grid,
prints of bare feet pressed
to dirt roads, scattered
corn husks, the smell
of burning wood, skin
prickling against the elements –
where a bad fall can mean
the end of life.
“Boondocks” ~ first draft of opening lines
If you’re from the boondocks
you might be stereotyped as uncouth,
naïve, unsophisticated, a fish
out of water in the civilized world.
We joke about the boonies –
how remote they are, how nothing
of any use can be found for miles,
just corn husks and the smell of wood
burning, ramshackle huts off the grid
along dirt roads carrying the prints
of the bare feet of unwashed, unschooled
children and the men who sired them,
who gather and cut firewood by hand.
Having crafted a piece for hours, days, or weeks, set it aside, revisited it, agonized, had the occasional break-through, and done as much as we think we can do, how do we know when a piece is “finished?” I don’t think we can ever be totally sure. Even the best writing samples could probably be tweaked or rewritten in a hundred more ways. I’ve had the experience of multiple voices offering feedback that led me to rework a piece many times, only to realize after some time away from the piece that my gut was still telling me the original “said it best” and later to have that very original accepted for publication. I’ve often wondered what would happen if I took a lesser-known work by a literary giant like John Donne or Virginia Woolf and distributed the piece without identification to a group of writers to workshop. I have no doubt there would be lots of eager critiquing. Someone always has a suggestion for even the greatest pieces of writing. At the same time, truly helpful feedback, from readers who understand and support the author’s vision, can elevate a work from good to great.
Flannery O’Connor wrote in The Habit of Being, “I am amenable to criticism but only within the sphere of what I am trying to do; I will not be persuaded to do otherwise.” I admire her strong faith in her own voice and work and strive to trust my own intention and vision for each piece that I write. In the end there’s nothing like applying a revision to a poem or short story, reading it to yourself, and exclaiming, “Yes!” in your heart. That feeling might even surpass the pleasure of writing that flows effortlessly onto the page by some “miracle” of Inspiration. With this in mind, I try to embrace revision. It is, after all, what makes us true writers, aspiring masters of our craft.
Isabel Cristina Legarda was born in the Philippines and spent her early childhood there before moving to Bethesda, Maryland. She holds degrees in literature and bioethics and is currently a practicing physician in Boston, Massachusetts. She enjoys writing about women’s lived experience, cultural issues, and finding grace in a challenging world. Her work has appeared in America Magazine, Cleaver, The Dewdrop, The Lowestoft Chronicle, Ruminate, Sky Island Review, Smartish Pace, Qu, West Trestle Review, and others. Find Isabel on Instagram and Twitter @poetintheOR.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Down to Every Word: A Conversation Across Genres with Jennifer Martinelli Eyre
For Jennifer Martinelli Eyre, life comes with many hats. She is a wife, a mother, an employee, a daughter, a sister, a niece, and a writer, residing in Harford County, Maryland. At the end of a long day, you might find her tucked away in a home office, scribbling her next work on a vibrant pink chair. Jennifer’s poem, “If Barbie Were My Daughter,” was featured in Yellow Arrow Journal ELEVATE (Vol. IX, No. 1). You can also find her poem, “Better” in Yellow Arrow Vignette AMPLIFY.
Elizabeth Ottenritter, Yellow Arrow Publishing’s fall 2024 publications intern, and Jennifer engaged in a conversation through email where they discussed the craft of free-verse poetry and writing realities across genres.
You have resided in Maryland your entire life—do you have any early memories rooted in Baltimore that may have influenced your interest in writing?
I have been a fan of musical theater since early childhood. I was, and continue to be, drawn to the power of lyrics and the stories they tell. Seeing as though I cannot sing or dance, my admiration for the performing arts often took place in the seat of many Baltimore theaters such as the Morris A. Mechanic Theatre, Lyric Baltimore, and Hippodrome Theatre. I have countless memories of sitting on the velvet edge of my seat, mesmerized by the words being sung from the stage. Having access to these performances fueled my love for words and played a large role in my obsession with storytelling.
How would you describe the writing scene in Baltimore? Have you found a network of fellow artists?
I am just beginning to dip my toe into the Baltimore writing scene. Through social media, I have discovered local treasures such as the Ivy Bookstore, and I’ve long admired the city’s devotion to independent booksellers. I recently attended my first Baltimore Book Festival and was overwhelmingly inspired by the city’s love and support of the literary arts. The amount of joy and inspiration in the air was infectious, and I honestly didn’t want the day to end.
Prior to Covid, I joined the local Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) chapter where I connected with fellow Maryland writers all in various points of their writing careers. The resources and comradery were unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m proud to say I’ve made some lifelong friends through the SCBWI. I highly recommend seeking out the SCBWI if you write (or illustrate) for children and young adults.
I would love to hear about your MFA experience and how writing for children/young adults has influenced your approach to writing.
Writing for children and young adults has taught me the importance of unique character perspective. For example, an adult character walking down dark, basement stairs may view their surroundings differently than a child walking down the same set of steps. An adult may view the darkness as nothing more than an annoyance because their spouse failed to change a lightbulb. A child on the other hand, may feel like they are venturing down a dark tunnel to a deadly dungeon. A story can go in multiple directions when you take the time to analyze a character’s perspective. It’s so easy to write from the perspective of where we are in life (adults) but to step into the shoes of a child truly changes everything. This is just one of hundreds of lessons I took with me from the program.
When you write a free verse poem, where do you begin? What tends to come to you first?
My approach to free-verse poetry is rather unstructured. I view free-verse poems as internal thoughts. For example, we don’t think in complete sentences. We don’t process information internally with proper grammar or rhyme schemes. Thoughts come to us as an immediate reaction to a given event, and it’s those unfiltered moments that typically spark my entry point into a free-verse poem. From that point on, I work to fine tune the message or theme while striving to keep the vulnerability and honesty of the poem’s message.
Give me Better Homes and Gardens
without the strands of pearls.
Show me the woman bundled in a blanket, her golden strands now gone.
A warrior on a hospital bed throne, pulling the weeds of cancer from her garden
with grace, poison, and prayer.
“Better” from Yellow Arrow Vignette AMPLIFY
Your poem “Better” is unique in its framing and repetition. Do you feel that the poems you write reflect a certain headspace you were in at the time? Or a physical place?
I have had moments in my life that I was only able to process through writing. I find that these poems tend to be more for me than for sharing. It’s a way for me to face the truth of what I’m experiencing which is not always easy.
Poems such as “Better” come from a space held a little more at arm’s length. The line, “Show me the woman bundled in a blanket, her golden strands now gone,” wasn’t written from a specific personal experience, but more from a collection of experiences watching people I love battle cancer at various points in my life. However, pulling bits and pieces from my past for a poem doesn’t always feel intentional. Sometimes the truth I weave into my poems is so quiet that I don’t even realize I’m pulling from experiences until the words settle on the page.
You mentioned weaving pieces of yourself alongside vulnerabilities in “If Barbie Were My Daughter.” How do you move past fear of exposure while crafting a candid piece such as this?
Poems such as “If Barbie Were My Daughter” do expose a part of myself that isn’t always easy to see. I’d be lying if I said that I’ve never been afraid to share personal experiences and vulnerabilities in my poems. The fear and discomfort typically boil over in the drafting/revising phase. Having your truth stare back at you from a page can be disarming, and it’s in those moments that I allow myself to experience the fear.
However, when the piece is complete and ready to share, I no longer view the work as something private I’m revealing about myself. Rather, I take a few steps back from the piece and create space for others to connect to the work in their own way. My poems are bigger than me, and it would be selfish to think I’m the only one on the planet who’s felt a particular way. My hope is that by sharing my vulnerabilities, I can inspire others to come to the table with their experiences. Fear feeds of off loneliness and wilts in a crowd.
How do you approach revising your own poetry?
I approach my revisions by first determining what it is that I want a poem to convey. I then look for areas where I said too much or said too little. It’s important to me that my words not only share a thought or experience (whether fiction or reality) but that they also leave room for the reader to find their own connection and interpretation. I will rework a poem endlessly until I feel that I’ve created a space for both on the page.
What types of art do you feel you respond to the most? How do they manifest in your own work?
I enjoy contemporary prose fiction, and my nightstand is currently stacked with such books. In free-verse poetry, there is an overwhelming call for brevity that doesn’t exist on the same level in prose. Every word in a poem must serve a precise purpose. That’s not to say that prose allows for needless detail, but it does add a layer of storytelling that inspires me. For example, I will get lost in a chapter that talks about nothing but the smell of a fresh cut grass from the perspective of a man who’s just been freed from prison. I want to know every detail of what that grass smells like to this character because it’s significant to who this person is and what they’ve been through.
After I finish a story written in prose, I will always take a moment and ask myself if that same story could have survived in a free-verse format. Sometimes the answer is yes and sometimes it is no. Regardless of the answer, it’s the process of asking myself these questions that helps me become a stronger, more intentional storyteller.
At the Baltimore Book festival, you told me to write what I wanted and to not let anyone tell me what I should write. I think this is such a powerful notion. Do you have any more advice for young women writers who are new to the publishing/literary world?
Women continue to be challenged by those too afraid to hear what we have to say. We are told to be quiet, comply, and to not talk about the hard things because it makes others uncomfortable. In my experience, being silenced and censored has only strengthened my literary voice.
My advice to women new to the publishing world is to go with your gut when it comes to your writing. Only you know what drove you to pick up that pen and place those words on paper; it’s crucial that you hold onto this. It can be quite easy to let the opinions of others dim the spark that started the whole project, but don’t let it. You have something to say, and the world needs to hear it.
Jennifer Martinelli Eyre graduated with her MFA in writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts in January 2023, where she spent her time studying writing for children and young adults. Jennifer enjoys exploring various literary styles of writing, particularly free verse poetry. When she is not writing, Jennifer can be found behind a desk at her full-time job or reading one of the many books piled on her nightstand. Jennifer has resided in Maryland her entire life and currently lives in Harford County with her husband, daughter, and ornery cat. You can find her on Instagram and Thread at @jmeyrewriter.
Elizabeth Ottenritter (she/her) is a senior at Loyola University Maryland, where she studies writing. She is passionate about reading, crafting poetry, contributing to Loyola’s literary art magazine, Corridors, and traveling worldwide. Upon graduation, Elizabeth hopes to continue her love of learning and language in a graduate program.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Tips on Submitting Your Work to Literary Publications
By Leticia Priebe Rocha
During the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself (like many people) contemplating where my life was going after any semblance of a plan went out the proverbial window. I had an epiphany that I refer to as my Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally confession moment: “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” Except for me, instead of a stunning Meg Ryan as Sally, my beloved is poetry. I felt a great sense of urgency to share my work with others. I was also acutely aware of my inexperience—I’d been writing since high school, but I had virtually no exposure to the literary world and had no idea how any of it worked.
I vaguely remembered advice from a creative writing professor in college—typically people start their writing careers by submitting their work to literary magazines. I Googled around and eventually found some open submission opportunities. My head filled with questions. What on earth is a Submittable? How do I write a cover letter? Which poems should I even send in? Needless to say, it was quite the learning curve.
Five years and hundreds of submissions later, I’d like to share the knowledge that I picked up along the way. Over the last two years, I have also had the pleasure of working with Yellow Arrow Publishing as guest editor of the EMBLAZON issue of Yellow Arrow Journal, later joining their editorial staff. Seeing the other side of the submission process was incredibly illuminating, so I will share tips from the perspective of both a writer and an editor. Submissions to the next issue of Yellow Arrow Journal, UNFURL on the process people go through when finding and transforming into their authentic selves, are open until February 28. Learn more about the submissions process and how to submit at https://www.yellowarrowpublishing.com/submissions.
Submit with Care: Choosing Where to Submit
You’ve written some pieces, wrestled with revision, and you’re ready to share them with the world. Where do you start? There are thousands of literary publications out there and it can quickly get overwhelming.
I have three sources that I use to find submission opportunities. Many publications have a social media presence and post about their reading periods. I especially like being able to see the online community that surrounds a publication. I also use ChillSubs, which is an online database of literary publications. It’s a great tool because you can filter your search to find what works best for you. There are other databases, too, like Duotrope. I also look at the acknowledgments page of poetry collections that I read and research any publications listed that I haven’t heard about.
Aside from finding submission opportunities, I urge you to find publications that align with your values and will take care of your work. When I started sending out submissions, I was so excited by the prospect of someone liking my work enough to publish it that I was not especially concerned with who was publishing it. With more experience, I started thinking more about how where I choose to publish could be seen as a reflection of my own values. Since then, I’ve been more intentional about where I submit, evaluating each publication’s website to determine whether we are in alignment. Reviewing the “about” section for every publication, observing whether they’re transparent about their editorial team (often called “the masthead”), and checking their social media presence are a few ways that I vet a journal.
Once I feel comfortable with a publication’s credibility, there are a few other layers I’ve learned to consider. How you approach them is dependent on your preferences and writing goals:
Publications can be in print, digital, or both. I personally don’t prioritize where I submit with this in mind, though it is really exciting to see my work in print!
Many publications charge reading fees, typically ranging from $2.00 to $5.00. This is fairly standard in the literary world, though there are plenty of magazines that are free to submit to. Personally, I tend to submit to free publications.
While a lot of publications don’t have the funds to pay their contributors, there are many who do. How much they pay varies widely. Typically, more established and “prestigious” publications can pay more than others.
Reading is Fundamental: Submission Best Practices
Now you’ve found literary publications that you want to send your work to who are open for submissions. Yay! The most important advice I can give you on the logistics of submitting is to read and follow the guidelines on the submission call.
Each publication has its own rules about how many pieces you can send, formatting, and other important details to keep in mind when submitting, like a theme. Considering the number of submissions most places receive, failing to follow guidelines can be an automatic disqualifier. Reading the guidelines also helps me get a feel for the publication and whether it is somewhere I want to see my work in.
One aspect of the submission process that initially baffled me was the cover letter. Once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty simple, and you should not spend a lot of time writing it. I created a template for myself and adjust it as necessary to save time when submitting. Starting off with a simple “Dear editors” will suffice, unless an editor’s name is listed in the guidelines or easily found on their website. In the body of the letter, I list how many poems I am submitting, their titles, and any content warnings. Most publications ask that you include an author bio in the cover letter, which gives them a glimpse of your previous publications, background, and anything you want to include to give a glimpse of your personality. Additionally, if you have a personal connection with the publication, have published there before, or received an encouraging rejection in the past, these are all details you can include in the cover letter. Otherwise, keep it simple.
Before serving as an editor, I sometimes had a hard time remembering that there are other people on the end of the “submit” button who will actually engage with my work. While editors can feel intimidating, they are humans with their own busy lives. For many publications, editorial staff are volunteers. Be gracious and make the process easier by following guidelines.
The Waiting Game: Keeping Track of Your Submissions
You’ve read and followed all the guidelines, drafted a beautiful cover letter, then clicked submit or sent off that submission email. Now what?
The waiting game begins! Everything is out of your hands and all you can do is wait for a decision. Many literary magazines and journals list how long they take to reply. Transparency around waiting times is another factor that makes me more likely to submit to a publication. From my experience, most places take at least three months to send decisions, though six months is common. Usually, more “high-profile” publications will take at least eight months to respond, but don’t be surprised if over a year goes by due to the volume of submissions they receive. If you are eager for a piece to be out in the world, many journals offer “fast response” options and these typically cost more than standard submissions. I encourage writers to submit the same piece(s) to multiple publications (called “simultaneous submissions”) unless a publication explicitly indicates against it in their guidelines. If a piece gets accepted, be sure to notify any other publications and withdraw it from consideration.
Aside from waiting, you can also keep track of your submissions. When I first started submitting, I did it pretty sparingly and did not see a need to track them. I eventually decided to get more sophisticated with my system and created a spreadsheet, especially to avoid any snafus with simultaneous submissions. My spreadsheet is organized into the following columns: Title, Publication Name, Submission Date, Response Timeline, and Submission Status. I also have a column that notes whether this is a simultaneous submission. I’m a big fan of color coding, so whenever I receive a response, I turn each row (which corresponds to an individual poem) green for accepted, red for rejected, or yellow if I need to withdraw any poems from consideration.
While tracking your submissions is not essential, it has been a useful practice for me because it helps me stay organized. I’m in this for the long haul, and I appreciate having this kind of data to look at over the years. Do what works for you! It should feel useful, not like so much work that it discourages you from submitting.
Give Yourself Grace: Swat the Rejections Like Flies
One aspect of living as a writer that I was not initially prepared for was the magnitude of rejections sent my way. I had a difficult time not taking each rejection personally at first. My stubborn nature served me well in those early moments, because I refused to give up when the desire to create and share was so strong within me. Over time, I also built up a community of writers through social media and attending literary events. Being in community with other writers helped me understand that rejection is a universal writerly experience.
Now that I’ve been on the other side of the process as an editor, I also better understand how incredibly subjective these decisions are. Editors are just people, and they approach your work with all their lived experiences and personal tastes. Another layer of this is the sheer volume of submissions that most publications receive. Even relatively “small” journals receive hundreds of submissions per reading period. Resonant work inevitably gets turned away for reasons that have nothing to do with its quality. One thing to keep an eye out for is that some publications send out “tiered” rejections with feedback and encouragement to send more work their way. Even if you get a rejection from a publication, you should absolutely try again if it is somewhere you truly see your work in alignment with.
When I receive a rejection, I still feel a little sting, but I can brush it off easily now. I try to reframe every rejection as an opportunity. Perhaps the poem could use some revision. Sometimes revisions are obvious right away, sometimes it takes years to see a new direction. What matters most is how you feel about the piece. If you still believe in it without revising, keep submitting. If you have doubts or are less excited about it, try to revise or take a break from submitting that specific piece until your excitement returns. I also strongly believe that each piece has the home it’s meant to be in, so a rejection only means that specific publication was not its home. I recently received an acceptance for a poem I wrote nearly eight years ago that I revised very little. It simply had to make its way to this specific publication, even if that took time. I’ve also realized that a lot of getting published is a numbers game—the more you send out work, the more acceptances you will get.
While I’ve laid out the submission process in a linear way, I want to recognize that submitting your work is no easy feat. It can be time-consuming, tedious, and tiring, especially when rejections start piling up. Sharing your work with anyone is a vulnerable act, and sending your work to editors requires tremendous courage. With all of this in mind, it is essential that you give yourself grace. Don’t let rejections define your worth as a writer. Take a break from submitting when you need to (my longest break was almost a year) and come back when you’re reenergized. Don’t self-reject from publications by not sending your work out, even to the most “prestigious” places. What do you have to lose? Listen to your intuition. I wish you all the best on your submission journey—here’s to many acceptances coming your way!
Leticia Priebe Rocha is a poet, visual artist, and editor. She is the author of the chapbook In Lieu of Heartbreak, This is Like (Bottlecap Press, 2024). Leticia earned her bachelor’s from Tufts University, where she was awarded the 2020 Academy of American Poets University & College Poetry Prize. Born in São Paulo, Brazil, she immigrated to Miami, Florida, at the age of nine and currently resides in the Greater Boston area. Her work has been published in Salamander, Rattle, Pigeon Pages, and elsewhere. Leticia is an editorial associate for Yellow Arrow Publishing and served as guest editor for their EMBLAZON issue. You can find her on Instagram @letiprieberochapoems or her website, leticiaprieberocha.com.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
Writing About the Cure
By Charlie Langfur, written October 2024
I have written all my life and learned to trust important events in my life as apt subjects for my writing. One such event that impacted me in a big way was when I was asked to leave high school to be cured of being gay in 1964. The school was Northfield School, an old and distinguished prep school in the sweet rolling hills of northern Massachusetts. I was there on a scholarship from my mother’s boss even though I came from a family always struggling financially.
In 1964, you ask? Back then, being a lesbian was considered to be a disease with the American Medical Association (AMA) and the American Psychological Association (APA), but no one told me about it until I was forced to return home to Hasbrouck Heights, New Jersey, to see a psychiatrist every week to be cured. In 1974, the medical establishment altered the diagnostic code for gay people (homosexuals at the time) so that the disorder was no longer considered pathological. The APA made the change first. The fact that there was no such disease (and therefore, no cure) in the 1960s emboldened me and gave me the courage to try and talk my way out of things without talking about being gay at all. The Harvard therapist from Northfield School told me what I said to him was private (between us), but then he and the headmaster sent me home anyway without any warning. “I did not say I was gay, the Northfield doctor did,” I told my New Jersey therapist, but he told me I had to say more to be cured, even though I had no idea what more was any more than he did.
A couple of years after all this, I wrote a short story about what happened called “Curing Sarah,” and in it I tried to make sense of what happened and also to memorialize it for me in some authentic way because it impacted my life in every way possible for many years. Writing about it saved me and helped me understand what happened in a way I could absorb. After I wrote “Curing Sarah,” I began to send it out for publication, even more so after the APA declared gayness was no longer a disease in the 1970s, but the story was always rejected (some with and some without comments). Some years ago, the editor of Zoetrope wrote me, “God, I think this is a funny piece, but I couldn’t possibly publish it.”
But finally in 2012, the University of Southern Kentucky accepted it for Ninepatch: A Creative Journal for Women and Gender Studies. The story is still online and last month my neighbor told me she read and loved it. I’ve reread it and feel it still holds up. The tone matches how it was back then, and it shows how it led me to my life today. I am still writing and sending out my work for publication and recently my poem, “The Way Back,” was nominated for the Best of the Net 2025 by Yellow Arrow Publishing, and I was asked to write a poem for Poetry East’s special issue on Monet (a plumb piece for an organic gardener like me).
Over the years I have learned with writing to never give up on what I have to say. Writing has helped me through good times and bad, reflecting my life as an LGBTQ and green writer, in times when what I had to say was okay and when it was not. Recently Paul Iarobbino, an editor for Bold Voices, who is putting together an anthology of defiant moments in gay lives asked me about putting a reprint of “Curing Sarah” in his publication. He said it had “historical value” but wanted his editors to rework it in a first-person narrative. I politely declined because even though a reprint is a good idea, I know the text is right the way it is now—at least for me it is as a writer and a person. The tone works and so does the style.
Writing helps me pave a way through the difficult, and I try to write my way out of difficulty every chance I get. Nowadays, aging presents many experiences for me to do this, and I finally wrote my first short essay about what an elder is. So, I keep writing and changing and learning anew, and as always I write on.
You can read “Curing Sarah” for yourself at encompass.eku.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1027&context=ninepatch.
Charlene Langfur is an LGBTQ and green writer, an organic gardener, a Syracuse University Graduate Writing Fellow in Poetry in 1970 and she has hundred of publications in poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction. She lives in the southern California desert in the Palm Springs oasis.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for 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 or Instagram, 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.
From Baltimore to Rochester: Where I Enjoy Writing in my Neighborhood
By Caroline Kunz, written July 2024
Just like having a brilliant idea and a fully charged laptop, finding the ideal spot to work in is an essential part of the writing process. As a writer and student who always finds herself on the go–from class, to work, to late-night study sessions, to home for break in Upstate New York and back to Baltimore once again–stopping to find locations that facilitate focus, creativity, and inspiration is ever-important.
I believe that any place can be turned into a prime writing location if one possesses the right mindset (and a good classical music playlist or mug of hot tea). However, there are a few locations beyond my desk at home that have proven especially trustworthy. From one writer to another, I hope that my list will resonate with those who enjoy similar spots of their own and inspire those looking for a change of scenery.
Baltimore, Maryland
As a student at Loyola University Maryland, I am lucky to call the beautiful Evergreen campus my second home. Throughout the busyness of my semesters as an English and writing student in the vibrant city of Baltimore, I’ve learned the importance of finding small nooks and crannies to retreat to for writing. In the first few weeks of my freshman year, I picked a little bay window seat in the corner of the English department to call my own. The seat overlooks a courtyard filled with trees, flowers, and students bustling past. I write in this spot year-round, whether the trees outside are yellow and orange in autumn or covered with pink cherry blossoms in the spring. I enjoy the cozy feeling of being tucked away inside Loyola’s expansive Humanities building, stretching my legs out across the length of the cushioned bench and propping a laptop or notebook on my lap. The peace and quiet of a secluded space allow me to be incredibly productive, no matter the type of piece that I’m working on. I’ve written countless essays, literary analyses, creative nonfiction pieces, and poems (often inspired by the views outside) here over the past three years, and I look forward to returning in August for my last.
Just about a 10-minute walk from campus lies Sherwood Gardens. The park features open green spaces, shady trees, and lush flowers. The vibrant array of tulips that blooms in early May is particularly striking. When looking for a change of scene, my friends and I will grab our backpacks and a picnic blanket and take a walk to Sherwood. Oftentimes, my professors will hold their classes here when the tulips are in peak bloom. Sitting there beneath the shade of a towering tree is like a breath of fresh air, the garden bringing with it a sense of inspiration and focus that contrasts that of the standard classroom. I find that this is my favorite place to complete assignments relating to the outdoors, whether it be a spring-inspired poem or an analysis of the nature imagery in William Shakespeare’s As You like It. When my scenery matches the tone of my work, I feel a deeper sense of connection to my writing.
Rochester, New York
When returning home to Rochester for semester breaks, I look forward to the city’s impeccable coffee shop scene. Coffee shops are some of my favorite places to write—the din of chatter, the smell of fresh espresso, the eclectic music and decor. When writing essays and analyses, I tend to need a quieter space to work. However, for poetry, journaling, and creative pieces, I crave the bustling, communal atmosphere of a coffee shop. I gravitate toward those on Park Avenue, a Rochester street known for its historic homes, eclectic art scene, and unique restaurants and shops. Café Sasso is my go-to shop on the winding street, featuring walls covered ceiling to floor with paintings by local artists and plenty of tables and window seats for writing. I usually pick a small table in the corner, order an iced “Gatsby” (a latte with lavender and white chocolate), and get to work. I become inspired by the art, the view of Park Avenue outside, and of course, the people watching. In fact, during a previous semester, I was assigned by a poetry professor over spring break to take a line that I’d overheard from someone else’s conversation and use it in my next poem. I couldn’t think of a more ideal environment than a coffee shop to complete this assignment. The results from this experiment were exciting and refreshing compared to the poems I’d written previously. Since then, I’ve continuously found ideas for poems and short stories among the coffee shop patrons that sit beside me.
Another favorite street in my hometown is Rochester’s Neighborhood of the Arts. Located within the neighborhood is Writers and Books, a literary arts nonprofit and hidden gem of a place. Writers and Books fosters the perfect environment for inspired writing, from the giant wooden pencil outside the front of the building, to the inviting, bookshelf-lined rooms within. The nonprofit aims to promote reading and writing as lifelong passions by offering workshops, community writing groups, open writing spaces, and guest lectures to locals of all ages. I was lucky enough to spend nearly every day of my summer at Writers and Books last year while I served as a SummerWrite intern, helping to coordinate the nonprofit’s summer writing classes for young students in the area. These students found such joy in getting to write alongside those with a mutual passion for the literary arts. Watching their excitement grow throughout the summer reminded me of the benefits of writing in concentrated spaces like this. For those looking to strengthen their writing skills with a workshop or write in a community-oriented setting, I can’t recommend literary arts nonprofits and writing centers enough.
Final Thoughts: Where do You Write?
As I stated previously, the most important thing is that no matter where we write—from coffee shops to airport gates to local parks—we possess the right mindset. With grit, determination, and great zeal for what we do, we writers have the potential to turn even the most unlikely of places into a successful writing location. Whenever I begin writing in a new place, or I find that I’m struggling to focus, I remember author Isabel Allende’s quote, “Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too.” In other words, no matter where you choose to write, keep showing up. Keep at it, even when the poem, chapter, or essay you’re working on seems an impossible task. Keep an open mind, and inspiration may come to you in the places you least expected.
Caroline Kunz (she/her) is a rising senior at Loyola University Maryland, where she studies English and writing on a pre-MAT track. She enjoys traveling, scouting out new coffee shops, and of course, reading and writing. As an aspiring educator, she hopes to share her love of the written word with future generations of students. Her current favorite authors include Taylor Jenkins Reid and Celeste Ng.
*****
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.
The Evolution of My Writing
By Amaya Lambert, written April 2024
Well, writing evolves throughout time.
I believe that your writing changes forms as you grow into it. When I started out writing, my stories took a more comedic turn; sparkled with humor and jests alongside wacky situations that made me burst out laughing as a child.
I read middle grade books. The Percy Jackson series. The Kane Chronicles. The Monster High series. All targeted to young children with big imaginations and short attention spans. One of my favorite books of all time was the Web of Magic series where the power of friendship triumphs over.
I emulated that in my writing.
Then came high school, where young adult books grew popular. I grabbed fantasy books from my sister’s shelves. I begged my parents to let me read Game of Thrones. I devoured the Court of Thorns and Roses and An Ember in the Ashes.
I played more mature games with violence and sexuality. My prose grew, my vocabulary expanded.
I emulated that in my writing.
It wasn’t until my junior year of college that I seriously considered the form of my writing, what my style should be and how it will dictate my career for years to come.
I fell in love with lyrical and poetic prose. I realized my knack for emotionally charged stories and complex characters. I discovered my fascination with the profound and the psychanalysis of humanity. I grabbed books that challenged my mind and made me think about the world differently. I learned about my place in this world and how I can either meet or exceed its expectations.
My writing takes on the form of song, almost lyrical and melodious in its prose. I think carefully about how the words fit together and what type of picture it paints. I take inspiration from song lyrics, poems, quotes, and movie soundtracks. I think about the mood of my story, what atmosphere I’m creating, what tone the words speak.
I meticulously go over my pieces, creatively constructing a symphony of prose.
Some of my favorite lines were that of:
“She wants to run, but her feet remain on the ground. It’s like her mind says one thing but her heart says another.”
“There’s something rotten in the air, congealing.”
The construction of sentences and piecing of words takes form in my writing. I can see the emotions conveyed in the words. I can see what type of messages they evoke.
The evolution of writing is an integral process for any creative. Our writing grows as we grow. Many authors have certain types of branding to stick onto their shifting forms. It is one of the reasons as to why many of my favorite authors have a certain niche woven into their words. To make up for the change of writing, they make sure the reader can recognize their style.
I’ve been reading Chinese light novels translated by passionate fans. Though the author’s style dramatically changed from her first novel, The Scum Villian’s Self-Saving System, to her latest work, Heaven Official’s Blessing; I can see traces of her signature style in both novels. Her multifaceted characters. A focus on the internal arc of the main characters. The love and attention to the side characters. The slow burn of the romance relationship. Even if she changed her writing form, I’d still find her within the novel’s pages.
There’s a reason why fans will have authors on their immediate purchase list because they fell in love with their signature style. They say as you begin to write, you grow more comfortable in words. There’s a shift in language, a change in prose, and your writing form evolves with time and effort.
I hope in time when my writing twists and turns and is still able to retain its original concept, as a song.
Amaya Lambert is a senior at Towson University, studying English and creative writing. She loves a good book, slow music, and tasty food. When she isn’t reading, she’s writing, lost in her inner world. Amaya tutored for her high school’s writing center and the elementary school across from it. One of her proudest accomplishments is winning second place in a writing competition in the seventh grade.
*****
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.
Why is Creative Nonfiction Important?
By Mel Silberger, written March 2024
Creative nonfiction is my favorite genre to write! I love the opportunity to write about moments in my life with a creative lens, allowing me to combine my outward experiences with my inward thought processes and feelings. At times, creative nonfiction serves as an outlet to discuss the topics I am most passionate about and the interactions they have brought me, whereas in others, I can write about the vulnerable and life-changing moments I have undergone.
Difference Between Fiction and Creative Nonfiction
First, it is important to establish the differences between fiction and creative nonfiction. Fiction can be described as a story about (possibly) pretend characters in a (possibly) pretend setting with a (possibly) pretend plot; there can be elements of truth, such as the setting being a real place or characters being real people, but it overall does not fully reflect experiences as they factually happened.
Creative nonfiction, on the other hand, is about real people in a real setting with a plot that really happened. When writing creative nonfiction, the author has the creative freedom to combine events that have happened with their thought processes and emotions in those moments, but they must adhere to the accurate retelling of events as truthfully as possible.
Purpose of Creative Nonfiction
The purpose of creative nonfiction is to convey a story’s facts and information in a fiction-like manner, entertaining the reader and allowing them to understand their author’s perspective. In other words, creative nonfiction lets the reader get a firsthand account of what the author was thinking throughout the experience or moment they are writing about. The author becomes a character themselves and takes their reader through the events that unfold.
When writing creative nonfiction, the author has the obligation to tell the events as accurately as they happened, but the creative freedom to retell them with attention to specific details or thought processes. Through their description of these events, the author’s voice is able to shine through for the reader to understand.
Creative nonfiction encapsulates countless forms of writing, such as journalism, memoirs, personal essays, and biographies.
Importance of Creative Nonfiction
On a personal level, creative nonfiction is important because it allows an author to write about themselves and the experiences they have gone through; for some, it could be a way to write about a simple day in the life, whereas for others, it can be an outlet to tell a greater, life-changing story and the effects it had. Writing creative nonfiction can also serve to reflect; it can be as easy as a brief journal entry detailing the events of the day, or as complicated as retelling ongoing moments or events experienced or observed.
Creative nonfiction is also incredibly important on a community level, as writers are able to use their lived experiences and perspectives to impact larger communities and groups worldwide. By combining true events with creative language, these authors can elevate one seemingly small moment about a certain topic into a story with a larger purpose and potential for advocacy or change. They can write vulnerable stories grounded in facts to convey how others worldwide may be going through something similar and express this in an engaging way.
Additionally, creative nonfiction allows the audience to be educated about a topic, idea, or concept they might otherwise know little about. Many creative nonfiction authors combine true, personal events with facts, giving them the power to share knowledge about a specific subject matter with their readers. For example, if an author is passionate about science, they can write a firsthand account of a moment in a laboratory or class and partner it with facts about their field.
Current Creative Nonfiction Reads
My favorite creative nonfiction read (so far) of 2024 is T Kira Madden’s Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls: A Memoir (2019), a coming-of-age story centered around identity and sexuality, specifically displayed through emotional experiences with family and fellow classmates. I also thoroughly enjoyed reading World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments (2020) by Aimee Nezhukumatathil, a series of essays combining inspirational features of the natural world with personal experiences.
There is so much creative nonfiction I am eager to read throughout the remainder of this year! Recent recommendations I’ve received include Here After (2024), a memoir by Amy Lin describing love after loss and the processes of grief and memory, and Everything I Know About Love (2018), a memoir by Dolly Alderton about the stages of early adulthood, such as finding a job and falling in love.
I don’t think there’s ever been a creative nonfiction piece I disliked, and because of this, I would not say I have an all-time favorite creative nonfiction story; the more I read, the more I enjoy and appreciate each individual work I come across. My favorite piece recently is “Anatomy of a Lumpia Girl,” a beautiful, vulnerable, and uplifting story by Angelica Terso, which can be found in Yellow Arrow Journal’s ELEVATE issue (Vol. IX, No. 1) (you should totally go check it out!).
Closing Thoughts
Overall, creative nonfiction gives an author the outlet to tell their story, no matter how big/small, by discussing true events in a creative, authentic, and engaging way. These stories have the potential to impact both the author and a greater community by showing that a moment one person experiences can be felt and understood by many.
This is my favorite genre to write in because I love how I can retell certain moments in my life and connect them to other experiences, facts, and/or ideas. For example, I wrote a piece a few weeks ago about rock climbing (one of my biggest passions) and combined a moment of me physically on the rock wall with factual information about the activity and safety systems.
So, my question to you is what topic do you enjoy writing about? What are you passionate about? Are there specific experiences that center around some of your greatest passions, and/or explore meaningful, impactful moments in your life?
Amelia (Mel) Silberger is a recent graduate of Loyola University Maryland who received her degree in psychology and writing with a minor in political science. She is an aspiring creative nonfiction writer and editor who is originally from Long Island, New York. 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.
*****
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.
Finding a Writing Community
By Sarah Josephine Pennington, written April 2024
I’d never given much thought to finding a community of writers when I was younger. In middle and high school, I always had friends who wrote. We’d share work back and forth, emailing or instant messaging poems and stories while conversation flowed over MSN Messenger, or we’d pass handwritten work folded into tight rectangles during class. When I left home for college, I lucked into a vibrant university writing community, falling into easy camaraderie with students in the workshops I took, sharing work freely at open mics and in the campus literary magazine. Everywhere I looked, other folks were just as in love with words as I was, and writing as a community was a given.
After I left those workshops, though, that sense of community was slowly lost. All those beautiful writers still wrote or wanted to write. Some of those friends went on to publish (and what wonderful things they published!), while others wrote for their own enjoyment. When I’d see members of those former writing communities, we’d talk about projects we were dreaming up, but somewhere along the way that life of words became harder and harder for me to maintain. Once my course work was done, I worked two jobs while still plugging away at graduate school and in the few hours I had left, I couldn’t make myself pick up my pen to create. Instead of enjoying the creative ideas I’d once turned into poems, I felt plagued by them during those times when my hours were so confined, and eventually writing became more of an idle thought, something I wanted to do but something that I always put on the back burner.
Eventually, the pace of my life slowed, and I was able to start writing again. I recommitted to writing, spending hours in my favorite coffee shop polishing old work and crafting new worlds. My writing expanded, and I moved from only writing poetry to moonlighting as someone who wrote fiction and memoir. I felt a pull and tug in my soul between genres and tried my best to spend time with them all, watching my poems grow and swell, sometimes into prose forms and sometimes blazing paths into new shapes. I conjured characters, giving them names, and watching their paths across the page, holding my breath to see what they do next.
As much as I loved being back in the world of writing, though, something felt off. Writing needs community. It’s a common enough refrain, repeated in every workshop, but without the structure of a degree program, I felt adrift.
How do you find a writing community outside of academia?
Louisville is blessed with a thriving public library system, and one branch hosts a rotating cast of artists-in-residence. About the time I was getting my writing feet wet again, the library was offering a free series of workshops from a local author. I convinced a friend to accompany me, and we set off, not realizing those meetings would be the start of a new community. Inspired and armed with generous resources, I began sending out work for the first time in nearly a decade. I soon had my first acceptance, an enthusiastic response from a journal I’d long loved. In true writing fashion, that first acceptance was followed by innumerable rejections, all of which made the publications I managed even more sweet. Even with that success, I was still left with a desire to find more community—I wanted folks just as committed to writing with whom I could share my wins and losses, and bond over theirs.
While there are some open writing groups in my city, either the topics felt off or their meeting times didn’t work. I was also afraid. Even though I was sending some work out, I was petrified of showing my work to anyone. I felt rusty and dusty, and while I thought I was doing good work, I wasn’t yet ready to share it in person. Getting a rejection sent to my email felt safer than listening to supportive comments in person. I just wasn’t ready.
Unable to find a purely generative space, I met with a nonprofit in my neighborhood that runs a local used bookstore and pitched the idea of a monthly generative meeting that would be open to writers of all levels and genres. I’d been volunteering off and on since they opened, and I was thrilled when they agreed to help with my group. Together we came up with a rough structure—a queer affirming space, open to all, and catered to those in our neighborhood. I would host the group, creating monthly prompts and providing time for socializing so that the members could meet other local writers without the pressure of sharing work with strangers. The nonprofit would share meetings on their social media accounts, and their volunteer manager kindly agreed to make fliers. The first Writer’s Gathering drew more than a dozen attendees, all hungry for community. A year later, the group is still strong with a core group of dedicated community members. In fact, the group has solidified enough that we’re expanding to have a separate workshopping circle in the coming months for folks interested in sharing work.
Since that first meeting, I’ve also been lucky to find community with an assortment of other folks, including people I’ve met through in-person and online workshops, some of whom have served as generous readers. Earlier this year, I signed up for The Stafford Challenge, a year-long commitment to write a poem a day, named after the prolific writer William Stafford, who maintained a daily practice of writing and journaling. While I’ve failed at writing a daily poem, having other writers to share work with has kept me writing more than I otherwise would have—and my randomly assigned small group includes some of the most enthusiastic writers I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Our biweekly zoom sessions keep me accountable, ensuring I have dedicated time to write and pushes me to share. I’ve also found community in online workshops and social media groups. While my writing life looks different than it did in college, the communities are no less rich, providing wonderful support, encouragement, and camaraderie.
Tips on finding writing communities:
Check with your local library. Many libraries host dedicated times for writers to gather, and if yours does not, staff may be open to starting one.
Go to pen mic nights. Many coffee shops and other small businesses host occasional or regular nights to share work, and these are wonderful ways to find other writers! Even if you’re nervous about sharing, showing up and meeting others costs nothing. You might luck into someone who has a group open for membership or find someone you can write with.
Seek out local, open book clubs. Many libraries, bookstores, and community organizations host book clubs with open (anyone can join) memberships. Any place literature is loved is a potential space to connect to other writers.
Attend online workshops. Many small presses like Yellow Arrow Publishing host online programming, like workshops and virtual retreats, and these can be great places to meet other writers with similar interests.
Join The Stafford Challenge in January. Having a commitment to write can be so helpful. Programming for 2024 has included social media groups, voluntary small writing and workshop groups, and monthly presentations by prominent poets.
Start your own community! If you have a large circle that includes a lot of writers, it’s possible to find other people with your shared passions. If you don’t know enough folks personally to form a consistent group, reach out to places in your community where people gather and with good social media presences. Many coffee shops, bookstores, libraries, and community groups allow the community to schedule events, and some will even do the advertising for you.
Remember:
Be brave and vulnerable. It’s hard to face possible rejection, but there’s everything to gain by staying in contact with folks you’ve met in other writing spaces. Ask friendly folks you meet for their social media handles or email addresses. The only way to find a writing community is by being brave enough to seek one out. Not everyone you meet will be part of your writing journey, but you won’t know until you take those first steps.
Don’t take things personally if your favorite writing community goes quiet. Everyone has busy lives, and sometimes folks with the best of intentions fail to stay in contact. It’s natural for communication to wax and wane. Having multiple outlets for writing in the community can be helpful.
Sarah Josephine Pennington (she/her) is a queer writer and artist from Louisville, Kentucky, by way of Appalachia. Her writing has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Still: The Journal, The Anthology of Appalachian Writers, and riddlebird, and has been supported through a residency from the Kentucky Foundation for Women. Her art can be found on Instagram @SarahJosephineCreates.
*****
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.
When to choose a small press to publish your writing
By Adhithi Anjali, written November 2023
You completed a manuscript in one step, but now you have to decide where to publish it. With consistent news about small-to-medium presses getting subsumed by another huge player and navigating through imprints and subsidiaries of the same giant press, it may appear like the world of publishing has become permanently smaller. But before you try to find an agent and try to break into the notorious “Big Five,” try researching a variety of smaller, local presses that are still determined to provide alternate publishing paths.
Why would you consider a small press over a large one? First, consider your own manuscript and its needs. Large presses often focus on publishing what is consistent with current readership trends. Remember when every dystopian novel suddenly got published right after The Hunger Games? As an author, you need to prove you and your work are marketable before the editing even starts. The first person you need to convince is an agent who can get you through the door, and they are also looking for something that can secure a payday.
But small presses can manage and publish more esoteric and nontraditional work. In fact, that is often the basis for their whole business model! Small presses want to find a niche and seek out the audience for it. These types of presses often begin as passion projects for their founder: they see something missing from current publishing trends and want to provide the resources for artists making what they want to read. Here at Yellow Arrow Publishing, we want to read work by women-identifying authors, so we made a space for them.
To get in the door at a small press does not require an agent and sometimes does not require a submission fee. It is up to you as the author to determine if your manuscript is too nontraditional for large publishers and if you want to handle your own submission queries. The underhand of not relying on agents does mean that small presses often have narrow submission windows during the year in which you can send us your manuscript, but once your manuscript gets picked up, most can start working immediately.
If you choose a small press, also consider how much you want to be involved in the process. You will receive edits back to review, be involved in marketing the book through local events and live readings, and you may have to handle much of the social media promotion yourself, as well. Small presses can upload interviews you have with them, but you won’t secure big papers like you would with a big publisher—if they put a lot of resources into your manuscript, which is not a guarantee, even at such large presses.
But you as an author have to do a lot of research if you go down this route. Small presses know their audience and their niche, and you will need to learn which press will get your manuscript out to the right readers. Also, you will need to consider the form of your manuscript. Here at Yellow Arrow, we publish a journal, an online vignette, and chapbooks, not full-length manuscripts . . . yet.
A small press may not have a myriad of resources, but they do try to put all that they do have into what they decide to publish. As an author, you will be a huge part of the process—before, during, and after. Overall, you should consider a small press if you want to write and publish something nontraditional in form and content, as well as if you want to avoid the bureaucracy and limits of agents and the submissions process.
Adhithi Anjali was the business development intern for Yellow Arrow Publishing for fall 2023. She is a third-year student at the University of California, Davis, majoring in English and comparative literature. She is inspired by nearly everything she reads to channel her own creativity through the pen. In the future, she hopes to continue working with literature and other writers to help them bring their creativity to light.
*****
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.
Weathering Rejection
By K.S. Palakovic, written March 2024
Rejection is a bit like rain.
Sometimes you expect it, and sometimes it comes out of nowhere and ruins your bright and beautiful plans. Some days you can light a candle that smells like Vanilla Serenity Me Time and hygge your way out of it. And other days, you get that one unfortunately we have decided to pass on this that you really, really wanted to be a yes, please your work is beautiful and so are you, and it feels like stepping in a puddle and discovering just then that your old rubber rain boots are not quite as waterproof as they once were, and now you’ll be stuck running four hours of errands in wet socks, and of course that car is coming up just a little too close to the sidewalk and a little too fast to hop away from in your now-squishy boots, and hello, you and your belongings have been baptized with half a street’s worth of gutter water.
Hallelujah.
I’m not a big rain fan. Much like the publishing slog or trying to find a writerly social media experience that doesn’t make me want to eat my own head, rainy days feel anywhere from dreary to genuinely depressing. Plus, I think my joints heard Steinbeck say, “one can find so many pains when the rain is falling,” and took it as a personal challenge.
But to paraphrase a wise anonymous person: if you don’t find joy in the rain, you will have less joy in your life but still the same amount of rain. If you want to write, and you want other people to see that writing, it means facing the rain of rejection: the steady, soul-eroding drip of no and this wasn’t really for me and sorry I didn’t finish it and thank you for submitting but we have chosen not to accept/represent/fund your work.
This isn’t just a problem for the echelon of novelists hoping to get a Big Five publication, or essayists chasing fame and fortune online. It’s for students in overly competitive MFA workshops. It’s for earnest new creators who’d be content with just some friendly community interaction, but whose posts meet a void of silence. It’s for writers who only share what they write with their moms (hi, Mom), because if you’re even slightly interested in growing or learning or trying new things, eventually you’re gonna make something that even your biggest fan—try as she may—just doesn’t love.
Rejection is an inescapable part of trying to connect with others through words. You just can’t hit the emotional bullseye every single time. And even if you know this on a logical level—no matter where you sit on the spectrum of writing optimism, from “getting published is essentially winning the lottery” to “it only takes one yes!”—having your dear words rejected doesn’t feel great. It can bring on confusion, frustration, shame, loneliness, and the kind of moping fits of creative insecurity only we artists are capable of. That rain, she’s gonna fall.
And while some rejections can feel kind, or helpful, or simply neutral—like just another kind of weather—it’s maddeningly unclear how to predict the depth of literary ennui one might sink to upon hearing no. For many writers, delivery makes a difference, even in the wording of a form letter: “thank you for taking the time to submit this piece; we will be passing on it, but we hope you find a place for it elsewhere” can be easier to swallow than “your piece was not accepted, goodbye.” To my brain, a no is a no whether it comes as warm wishes for future success, or a single automated notification, or as a blank silence that stretches on until I forget I’d sent anything in (track your submissions!). It’s all just water when I’d hoped for clear skies.
But how that intellectual no lands in the soft writer’s heart, well, that’s where things get curious.
Sure, I was devastated when my dream agent passed on representing my lumpy firstborn novel without a word of feedback. I’d been bursting with nervous excitement for the possibilities of fulfilling my oldest and dearest childhood ambition: I had written a book! I was going to get it published! I hadn’t learned yet that it truly wasn’t ready. Or that you do not re-query agents who’ve declined your manuscript, even if you revise the bejesus out of it, and even if, months of searching and learning later, you still think she would be the bestest, most perfect agent for your work. So, when that no arrived, it came with the realization that I had blown my one chance, in a way I could have prevented.
Be ye warned! Do not query too early.
But there’s actually another rejection that stings even more than that day-ruining, doused-in-grimy-city-water loss. Years of nos and yeses later, a small queer lit mag about plants very gently declined all six poems I sent them—including the one I’d written, with loving attention, just for that submission call. I’d assumed at least one piece would make it in. I’m queer! I love plants! I’m bisexual leaning against a trailing pothos vine right now.
Still, to this day, I don’t quite know why it hurt so much. I’ve put more of myself into other poems; I’ve felt surer elsewhere about my chances of acceptance and been wrong; I’ve spent far more time and effort and money on other submissions. But that’s how it goes, sometimes: can’t control the weather or your instinctive emotional reactions.
When you submit different things to different audiences at different times—literary magazines, contests, grants, agents, publishers, performances, applying for a mentor, applying to be a mentor—of course no two rejections will feel exactly alike. Even the same piece of your own writing, without a single revision, will change and grow in your reading of it as you do too. Over time, your goals and motivations may evolve. Your relationship to your audience may shift. Your relationship to rejection itself may change, too.
Fortunately, not every rejection will make you want to go hide under the covers. These days, for me, many of them feel like nothing at all: I see the notification, say a mental “oh well,” and in a few seconds it’s forgotten.
Some rejections can even be unexpectedly refreshing. The first writing grant I ever applied for, to fund a poetry manuscript, took many hours hunched over a laptop trying to describe my work like a “Real Poet” while the janky nerve in my right arm grew increasingly and unpoetically numb. I was proud of the effort, the learning experience, and the step forward in my writing career—tingly arm notwithstanding. A few weeks later, I decided to go in a different direction with the project and started bracing myself for the possibility of having to send the grantor an awkward “actually, thanks but no thanks.” So, when I learned I wouldn’t be awarded the grant, it came as a relief.
Meanwhile, a writing friend of mine talks with joy about an agent who declined her historical fiction novel after requesting the full manuscript. This agent read her novel closely and thoughtfully, understood what it was trying to say, and genuinely liked it. She had no idea her feedback would be the first time my friend received creative validation from a stranger. Because peers and coaches and family members have reasons to spare your tender writer feelings, but not an agent you’ve asked to read tens of thousands of your unpublished words, for free, when they’ve got a perfectly adequate form rejection saved and ready to go.
When my friend tells other people about how happy that rejection made her, they don’t get it. And you absolutely do not need to try and find a silver lining in a thundercloud of disappointment. Because the thing is, all of this, all these feelings and reactions that might not even make rational sense to the one feeling them? That’s ok. You can dance in the rain, or you can light that candle that smells like cupcakes and self-pity, or you can just sit and wait for it to pass. Feeling isn’t failing; you’re still a writer if rejections hurt.
Agent Naomi Davis has talked about how writers have to walk a tightrope of being thick-skinned enough to withstand rejection and criticism and indifference—but also vulnerable enough to be open to the human experience, to emotionally connect with readers. We can’t lock ourselves away from the world’s realities, including our own internal realities, and expect to have material anyone wants to read.
I don’t believe writing is precious, or particularly noble: it’s marks on a page that we hear as sounds in our head. But writing can be hard and it’s okay to say so. Having your creative baby turned away is tough, and pretending otherwise doesn’t make it any easier.
What does? For many of us, time and exposure help. I find that regular submissions, and the subsequent regular rejections, build a kind of tolerance against the emotional drop of hearing no. And casting your net widely, instead of pinning all your hopes on one opportunity, spreads out the disappointment and gives you a more realistic chance of success. Getting the odd acceptance once in a while helps, too.
Set goals that are important to you, even if they’re not what people around you are aiming for. Play a long game. Find reasons to write other than external recognition. When it’s rough, commiserate with other writers who get it.
And do some rejecting yourself: weed out the shoulds and musts that don’t work for you. I’ve got a fussy brain and a hoard of diagnoses that keep things interesting, so finding sustainable ways to keep writing means a lot of experimenting and adapting and politely ignoring anyone who claims to know the “One Weird Trick” to writing success. When you have a disability, or other big demands on your body, mind, or time, typical writing advice may not work for you—including how to handle hearing no. That’s okay. Find what you do need and defend it to no one but yourself.
Because sometimes rejections will just suck, and it’s comforting to recognize this, and to know you have a choice. Maybe at some point you’ll get tired of the deluge of nos and want to do away entirely with other people’s opinions of your writing. Sequester your work away from even your loving mother’s eyes. Move to Los Cabos, never deal with rain or disappointment again.
That’s always an option, for a while or forever. Allison K. Williams puts it frankly: “you have to be the kind of person who can hear a hundred nos before you get to yes, and . . . if you are not that kind of person, selling your art may not be for you.”
But she goes on to say: “It is not a cruel world full of no. It is a beautiful world in which the one (or many) persons to whom your work—your particular, personal work—speaks are waiting for you. Waiting for you to grow, to revise, to polish, to publicize, to sell, to share. Waiting for you to make art they love and will pay for.”
This is one piece of advice that I and my “Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria” come back to, however begrudgingly: don’t self-reject. Assuming someone won’t read or accept or pay for your work is a self-fulfilling prophecy. And, anyway, you’re not getting paid to reject your own work—so why not let someone else have that delightful responsibility?
For me, it’s always worth the risk of getting a little rain on my writing parade, because I’ll always have that itch to connect. What would I even be doing if I wasn’t trying to reach out across the foggy expanse of humanity to see and be seen? Algebra?
Writing’s easier. So, I’ll put on my peeling red rubber boots and keep at it. I hope you do, too, puddles and all.
Katherine Sarah (K.S.) Palakovic (she/her) is an editor for money and a writer, singer, model, and rock climber for fun. For no money and questionable fun, she is also a disabled queer lady. Her words have found homes in The Berlin Review, Renaissance Press, Yellow Arrow Journal, and Exposed Bone, and if the writer could, she would crawl into their pages and live there, too. Until then, she lives in Toronto, Canada. You can learn more about K.S. at kspalakovic.com or on Twitter @kitkatkelly. Join her Substack Writing Through at writingthroughitall.substack.com.
*****
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.
A Song and Dream: My Writing Process by Amaya Lambert
By Amaya Lambert, written February 2024
It begins with a song and then a dream.
I choose a song that stirs something within me, something that rattles my bones and plucks the strings of my heart. And when a song is chosen, a dream occurs, and a singular image appears to me that embodies the entire story I want to tell.
There’s nothing more that I love than sinking my teeth into a new idea, meticulously uncovering the secrets of a story, and putting it onto paper. My writing process is complicated, and I don’t fully understand it, only that my brain, while sleeping, seems to be dreamier and more vivid, grasping concrete ideas and breaking them down into themes and messages.
If I were told that I had to explain it in simpler terms, then perhaps I would say that I am an emotional writer, a writer that focuses on the inner aspect of stories that entwines the concept of their writing with a particular theme and identity.
I call what I write introspective fantasy. I love to write fantasy and add contemplative elements throughout the story.
My writing process involves deep meditation, a solitude mindscape that I only have access to. Yes, it typically starts with a song, a song that is elevating and emboldening, a song that unravels on its own and becomes a story. It comes out as fragments for me, pieces of a puzzle not yet complete, that I will put together into a finished story.
My writing process comes in five steps.
Step One: Choose Songs/Music
This is the structure of my writing process. This is where I begin to write.
I already explained the song selection. So, I won’t go into too much detail, but I can tell you the type of songs that are usually chosen for my stories. I go for calmer, emotional, and swelling songs. If they are upbeat and/or the lyrics run deep, I consider them perfect for both introspective and lyricism.
Some of my favorite songs to write to are:
“First Love” by Hikaru Utada
“Above the Chinese Restaurant” by Laufey
“Anna,” from the When Marnie Was There soundtrack by Yomirui Nippon Symphony Orchestra
“Merry-Go-Round of Life,” from the Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack by Joe Hisaishi
“Enchanted Life” by Samantha James
“Dreamer” by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
Music is integral to my process. I can’t write without it.
Step Two: Dream
Then, my dreams will pair off with the music. I close my eyes and imagine my characters interacting with the world based on the intensity and lyrics of the song. When I open my eyes, I grab my phone and write down my dreams.
Usually, I write only a couple of sentences, nothing too big as it is meant for expansion.
“Dreamer” by TOMORROW X TOGETHER invokes this image of tiny stars floating about and the ripples of the milky night sky.
“Anna” from the When Marnie Was There soundtrack invokes the spring, clear ponds, long grass, and a young girl staring out into the distance. Longing. Yearning.
Step Three: Look for Aesthetics
Next, I look for aesthetics.
I am the daughter of artists and there’s nothing that makes my dream come to life more than looking up photos, quotes, concepts, and direction. I have a Pinterest account filled to the brim with secret writing/topic boards. I typically name them after a certain concept I want the story to convey. For example, one of my Pinterest boards is titled ‘divine,’ where I can explore spirituality and religion, especially when it comes to women.
My Pinterest boards show various concepts I’m playing with, for example, photos meant to represent certain themes, certain characters. I browse through the app, spending a lot of time sorting together a moodboard for my story. Once I’m satisfied with the board, I’ll leave it alone for a bit, though the board will likely go through several changes as the idea for my story comes into fruition. My current board destiny has three different names: kiss me goodbye, wishes, and oracle.
My mind is constantly moving, the gears turning for hours, I can’t go to sleep without being able to think about something.
Step Four: Finalize the Themes
Once I finish my board, I go deeper into the story. See, I like reading novels and dissecting themes. It is fascinating how many layers of complexity an author can write into their story. Concepts stacked upon concepts, intertwining messages. This is one of my favorite parts of my writing process.
I look up a list of literary themes and correlate them with the story I want to tell. My head buzzes with excitement as I read down, eyes scanning for the perfect piece.
For one of my works in progress, I have down identity, womanhood, religion, the role of man and woman, corruption, and love.
And once it is complete, I go to my final step.
Step Five: Add My Identity
Writers tend to put a piece of themselves in every story they create. It is almost alchemic, like pricking your finger and using the blood as the last final ingredient.
I am integral to my story; my identity is integral to the process as whatever stage of development I am in usually influences my writing. For both of my work in progress, I am currently developing the theme of identity and finding your place in the world, as this is something I am thinking about for myself.
As a young Black woman, I believe my perspective of the world is quite unique, and my view of certain themes and concepts differs from the norm. I tried to write like others, write like the authors I grew up reading; imitate their styles and viewpoints, but my writing dulled. The tip of the pencil was flat, barely making any marks, as I carefully tried to trace the words of others.
I grew stagnant, colorless, until I realized the missing component: me.
I remember a conversation with my father who pushed me to write stories about people who looked like me. I was hesitant, but eventually, I came around, and now my mind is full of possibilities for potential stories. I want to write stories for my people, for young Black girls who dream too big.
Our stories are shadowed, pushed to the sidelines. I wish to bring them to the forefront. I research Greek mythology and notice the similarities of the women in myths to Black women. I notice how I can spin the myths into a fresh, intriguing concept with a Black person on the cover because we aren’t usually centered in those retellings.
And once I put myself into my progress, once I intertwined writing with my identity; only then did it grow.
And this is my writing progress. This is what I do before I sit down and pump out words. It is important to me that these steps are followed, because without them, I wouldn’t know what to do, nor would I know what to write.
Amaya Lambert is a senior at Towson University, studying English and creative writing. She loves a good book, slow music, and tasty food. When she isn’t reading, she’s writing, lost in her inner world. Amaya tutored for her high school’s writing center and the elementary school across from it. One of her proudest accomplishments is winning second place in a writing competition in the seventh grade.
*****
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.
Stitching Stories: A Conversation with Sara Lefsyk, Editor of Ethel Zine & Micro-press
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.
Writing in my Neighborhood
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.
*****
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.