The Fact of Living in a Place: I (want to) love you, Baltimore publication release
Yellow Arrow Publishing announces the release of our latest publication, I (want to) love you, Baltimore, by the Yellow Arrow 2022 Writers-in-Residence: Arao Ameny, Amy L. Bernstein, Catrice Greer, and Matilda Young. Since its establishment in 2016, Yellow Arrow has devoted its efforts to advocate for all women writers through inclusion in the biannual Yellow Arrow Journal as well as single- and multi-author publications, and by providing strong author support, writing workshops, and volunteering opportunities. We at Yellow Arrow are excited to continue our mission by supporting the residents in all their writing and publishing endeavors.
I (want to) love you, Baltimore is now available from the Yellow Arrow bookstore as a paperback and a PDF. A heartfelt thanks to Arao, Amy, Catrice, and Matilda for going on this journey with us. Visit yellowarrowpublishing.com/writerinresidence-program to learn more about the 2022 writers-in-residence.
Below, Yellow Arrow Executive Director Annie Marhefka, who accompanied the residents on their journey, dives deeper into what it means to be a Yellow Arrow resident and what it means to create and compile a publication as a group.
By Annie Marhefka
As writers, we like to seek out opportunities to explore our craft in a way that grounds us in place. Writing retreats are places you escape to in order to write, writing fellowships award you funds to write wherever you want, and writing residencies offer you a place to go to dedicate time to the pursuit of writing. A residency by definition is “the fact of living in a place.” Residency programs are meant to foster community among its participants. This year at Yellow Arrow Publishing, we decided to have a virtual writing residency for Baltimore residents, a thing that is at odds with itself, a thing that should not even exist.
Founder Gwen Van Velsor initially designed yellow Arrow’s residency program to accommodate emerging writers who could not spend weeks or months in a location far removed from where their obligations resided. The original residency was flexible—a place, the Yellow Arrow House, you could go to at hours of your own choosing, a space to call your own, for the sole purpose of writing. But in 2020 as we all know, our shared physical spaces became places where disease could spread rather than places where we could find community. In fact, my introduction to Yellow Arrow was through its residency program during this time; mine began in March of 2020. As a new mother who had quickly found it impossible to write, even with childcare, in my own noisy home, I was ecstatic to have been awarded a residency with Yellow Arrow. I hired a nanny to watch my child a few afternoons each week and headed off to my new writing space in Highlandtown.
The writing space was intimate—a small wooden desk in a corner by two windows that looked out over the intersection of South Conkling and Bank streets. Despite its plainness, it was apparent that someone [Gwen] had taken care to make the space feel cozy, safe, inspiring. One window was adorned with a large paper cutout of a woman writing. The silhouette cast a feminine shadow across the room when the sun peeked over the brick building across the street. An empty notebook whose cover was decorated with a picture of the Baltimore skyline laid upon the desk, along with a basket of pens, a vase of yellow flowers, and a yellow coffee mug.
While I had sought out the writing residency to escape others, to find solace in a place where I was isolated, it struck me once I arrived that the thing about the space that made it conducive to writing was the presence of other writers in the room. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a classic green chalkboard easel. On it, Gwen had drawn a swirly yellow arrow and written this quote by Emily Kamminga, a contributor to Yellow Arrow Journal, COURAGE (Vol. III):
On that first day, I wrote 3,000 words—almost an entire chapter for my work-in-progress, a memoir about my relationship with my late mother. I was elated. Then, several days later, I penned an article about the world shutting down for I Heart Highlandtown’s website. It is stunning to read that back to myself now—how I thought of it as temporary, how I thought of the pandemic story having an ending. Fast forward to 2021, when I took on the role of executive director of Yellow Arrow and had to re-envision how we would (how we could) host programs, like the writing residency, without a physical space. When our mission was centered around building community space for emerging writers and creatives, how could I create a community virtual space that was as sacred and nurturing to the soul as the space Gwen had created for me?
I knew immediately that the residency program could not be done in isolation in this way. We were all already isolating, physically; I could not then expect writers to pursue their creative endeavors alone in their rooms. They needed a safe zone. They needed a sanctuary. They needed a place—even if it was not a real, tangible location. We decided to create a virtual cohort of writers and the writers had to be in Baltimore. Even though they may never meet in person, they needed to have place in common. Places can amplify our differences and our commonalities; they can separate us, unite us, bond us. And Baltimore is where Yellow Arrow’s roots are, and where my roots are, so Charm City would be a requirement.
The four writers we selected, Arao, Amy, Catrice, and Matilda, submitted stunning portfolios of work, and would represent different facets of Baltimore—different neighborhoods, different experiences, different perspectives. My intention was to meet monthly with the four writers and check on their progress, as I did not want to overburden them in an already over-burdensome online landscape with more Zoom calls, but I also intended to let the writers guide me in how I facilitated the program. In our first meeting, they all agreed they preferred to meet weekly, and so that became the new plan. For several months, we met on Zoom and most days, we started our conversations with how everyone was doing personally. Sometimes, we let those check-ins drive our entire meeting space. Sometimes they needed to. We talked about our losses, our writing inspirations, and sometimes our inability to feel inspired at that moment.
But mostly, the writers shared their words. Arao, Amy, Catrice, and Matilda put their full selves forward throughout their residency program. The irony of having a virtual residency grounded in Baltimore was that it was not grounded in any place at all. For each Zoom call, we clicked on a web link, adjusted our lighting, and muted ourselves when we weren’t talking. Some of us even had faux backgrounds that blurred when we shifted too quickly to the left, and here we were talking about the city that surrounded us, and our relationship to it without really being in it together.
The only rule I had given them was that the writing had to incorporate Baltimore in some way—as setting, as background, as character. They drafted poems and read them aloud with a vulnerability that only a writer with a half-finished first draft fully understands. We sent clapping emojis and typed out lines that stood out to us in the chat with exclamation marks to convey how much the words impacted us, and we went off mute to cheer and cry and say, “Thank you for sharing that with us.”
Most importantly, we created a beautiful publication out of the residency program, now available from the Yellow Arrow bookstore as a paperback and a PDF. You can also search for I (want to) love you, Baltimore wherever you purchase your books including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. To learn more about the residents, check out our residents’ blog posts here.
I know that you, as a reader, will feel rooted in the place that inspired these beautiful poems: our Baltimore. And I know that you, as a reader, will be as thankful as I am that these writers shared their stories with us. They created for each other what I had only hoped to replicate from that tiny little writing studio in Highlandtown: the fact of living in a place, together.
Annie Marhefka is a writer and publishing professional in Baltimore. Her creative nonfiction and poetry have been published by Hobart, Literary Mama, Pithead Chapel, Anti-Heroin Chic, Sledgehammer, and others. Annie is the Executive Director at Yellow Arrow Publishing and is working on a memoir about mother/daughter relationships. Annie spent the majority of her career as an executive in human resources in the ed-tech industry before switching paths to focus on motherhood and creative writing. When she’s not writing or wrangling her children, she likes to spend her time on the Chesapeake Bay and other bodies of water. You can find Annie’s writing on Instagram @anniemarhefka, Twitter @charmcityannie, and at anniemarhefka.com.
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