Yellow Arrow Publishing Blog

Kapua Iao 2/11/25 Kapua Iao 2/11/25

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.

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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.

Kapua Iao 2/4/25 Kapua Iao 2/4/25

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.

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Kapua Iao 1/28/25 Kapua Iao 1/28/25

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.

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Kapua Iao 11/26/24 Kapua Iao 11/26/24

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.

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

Kapua Iao 10/22/24 Kapua Iao 10/22/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 10/15/24 Kapua Iao 10/15/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 9/24/24 Kapua Iao 9/24/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 8/17/24 Kapua Iao 8/17/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 7/30/24 Kapua Iao 7/30/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 5/28/24 Kapua Iao 5/28/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 4/30/24 Kapua Iao 4/30/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 3/26/24 Kapua Iao 3/26/24

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.

*****

Kapua Iao 3/19/24 Kapua Iao 3/19/24

Taking the Reins Back: Reframing Rejection

By Diann Leo-Omine, written September 2023

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

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

Don’t take it personally.

Importantly, DON’T RUMINATE.

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

To ruminate is to deeply reflect.

Good enough good enough good.

To ruminate is perceived as negative.

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

What if:

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

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

What if:

I sit for a second, to listen?

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

To ruminate can refer to the ruminants.

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

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

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

To ruminate is colloquially “chewing the cud.”

Good is following the rules.

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

Good enough enough good good.

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

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

Horses don’t ruminate.

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

To ruminate is “room.”

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

To ruminate is “innate.”

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

Room, period.

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

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

Innate, period.

I am tired. Of. Being. “Good.”

Room-innate.

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

What if:

the horse is not as anxious as they say.

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

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

What if:

rejection can be an invitation to revisit my work.

Good enough enough good.

What if:

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

This I know:

the horse is paddling its feet, back and forth.

What if:

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

This I know:

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

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

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

The horse will be there.

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

**scarcity mentality definition by Studio ATAO.

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

*****

Kapua Iao 2/27/24 Kapua Iao 2/27/24

Amanda Montell: A favorite emerging author

By Cecelia Caldwell, written June 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Kapua Iao 2/20/24 Kapua Iao 2/20/24

Meditation, Walking, and a Writing Prompt

By Margaret Flaherty, written November 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Transmutations

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Kapua Iao 1/30/24 Kapua Iao 1/30/24

Podcast Spotlight: We Can Do Hard Things

By Samantha Pomerantz, written November 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instagram @alokvmenon; website alokvmenon.com.

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

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

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

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

3. The pitfalls of ‘body positivity.’

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

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

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

Instagram @sonyareneetaylor; website sonyareneetaylor.com/about.

Episode 92. Chanel Miller Promises: We Are Never Stuck

On the podcast: “Chanel Miller discusses—

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

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

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

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

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

Instagram @chanel_miller; website chanel-miller.com.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Kapua Iao 12/12/23 Kapua Iao 12/12/23

Where to Submit: Spring Edition

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

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

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

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

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

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

Journals/Anthologies/Zines

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

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

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

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

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

Chapbooks

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

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

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

Full-length manuscripts

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

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

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

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

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

Online Publication

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

Kapua Iao 10/24/23 Kapua Iao 10/24/23

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

By Cecelia Caldwell, written July 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Kapua Iao 8/29/23 Kapua Iao 8/29/23

The Ultimate Barbie Reading List

By Cecelia Caldwell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Kapua Iao 8/15/23 Kapua Iao 8/15/23

Where to Submit: Fall Edition

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

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

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

We hope you find the list useful and good luck!

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