Yellow Arrow Publishing Blog
Foundations in Seeking: The significance of ‘Yellow Arrow’
By Gwen Van Velsor
In the summer of 2014, I started to walk The Way. Life had completely crumbled back home in Hawai’i, and I’d hit bottom. So here I was, rising with the sun each morning to guzzle instant coffee and walk, one day at a time, one step at a time, 500 miles across northern Spain on the Camino de Santiago.
For the first time in my life, one day at a time meant something tangible. I would walk from one village to the next, find a place to get food, wash the only set of clothes I had, take shelter in a crowded dorm, and most importantly, follow the bright yellow arrows emblazoned along the path.
Life became very simple. A little bread, cheese, and sunshine brought much happiness. Making tea by the side of the trail with foraged herbs and a little camp stove became ritual. The crunching sound of feet on stone a rhythmic prayer. Every day I left something behind to lighten the load: a shirt, a pair of sandals, a festering resentment, mistrust of my own body.
I walked the Camino del Norte (there are various routes pilgrims can take) along the northern coast through Basque country, Rioja, Asturias, and Galicia. In the city of Oviedo, I joined the Camino Primitivo through the mountains known for being rugged. I wanted it to be physically demanding, even punishing maybe, some version of penitence. For weeks I just walked all day into the sun, flopping down on a bunk each night. Along the way there were friendships, encounters with God, angels, love, cats, and lots and lots of yellow arrows. The arrows appeared on regulation cement markers, tree trunks, telephone poles, boulders, sidewalks, houses. After the first few days of anxiously looking for each one, I began to trust they would be there, I began to realize that all I had to do on this journey, the only task at hand, was to follow the arrows.
Everything else in life, my failures and anxieties, my plan for the future, my past hurts and pain, fell away as I walked, and walked some more. I gave all of these over to a higher power and trusted that one step at a time, I would get where I was going.
The ancient Way is worn smooth by the feet of millions of pilgrims. I thought, many times, of the seekers who came before me and those that would come after. I took my place as one of many.
I returned to the U.S. from this trip without a plan. Without the trail and yellow arrows in front of me, I had to lean on intuition, stepping toward the next right thing, one day at a time. I was eventually led to the mountains of Colorado later that year. I took a chance on a serendipitous opportunity and opened a coffee shop in the basement of a library. I named it Yellow Arrow Coffee. Oh my, what adventures were had and what amount of caffeine was made and consumed. I found deep grace and purpose in that basement, and met people, so briefly, who changed me forever. That journey, however, also came to an end and I found myself in Baltimore, Maryland by the end of 2015.
In 2016 I had just given birth to my baby girl and my first book (called Follow That Arrow, no less). Something was lingering in my heart and creative ambitions. I wanted to give back, to give voice to more creatives. Sam Anthony and Leila Warshaw helped turn this seed of an idea to start publishing others’ work into a full-blown, life-consuming passion. Kapua Iao came along, put wheels on it, and made the thing move. Ariele Sieling believed in me and this idea long before I ever believed it would grow the way it has. And you, all of you, saw something in our work and said, yes. I am tempted here to include a long section on gratitude for the multitude of women who have collaborated on what is now Yellow Arrow Publishing. But that is a story that stands on its own. For now, my love letter to all of you, as you stand on the smooth stones of women writers and artists, taking your place among all those who have come before and will come after, is to follow the arrows wherever you are and wherever you go.
As my own arrows take me away from this work, please know that it is one of the great joys of my life to see how Yellow Arrow Publishing is unfolding in your beautiful hands.
Gwen Van Velsor writes creative nonfiction and pseudo-inspirational prose. She started Yellow Arrow, a project that publishes and supports writers who identify as women, in 2016. Raised in Portland, Oregon, Gwen has moved many times, from sea to shining sea, now calling Bosnia her home. Her major accomplishments include walking the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in Spain, raising a toddler, and being OK with life exactly as it is. She is the author of the memoirs Follow That Arrow (2016) and Freedom Warrior (2020), both published by Yellow Arrow (but sold out in our bookstore!) and available on Amazon.
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Thank you, Gwen, for all that you started and for showing us the way. We at Yellow Arrow are still just following the arrows, supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling. Show your support of such a great mission by purchasing one of our incredible publications or donating to Yellow Arrow today. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
A Delicate Art Form: CNF Interviews
By Siobhan McKenna, written July 2021
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
In the artistic realm, structure often surprisingly enables creativity. Within poetry many iconic poems follow specific meters, famous painters learned the basics before venturing into abstract styles. And conducting an interview for a creative nonfiction piece is no different. The interview is a delicate balance between applying a clear form to your conversation while also allowing yourself, as the interviewer, to flow with remarkable or unforeseen information. Below, we dive into a few guidelines to conduct a successful and thoughtful interview.
1. Research
For an interview to go smoothly, a writer sets up the conversation for success through their preparation. Before the interview, a writer must be familiar with the background of their subject and understand the basic context surrounding the interview by conducting research on their subject. Within the Yellow Arrow community, research often looks like reading brief bios or the material of an upcoming chapbook to be published by one of our writers or poets.
2. Prepare Questions
When researching, it is helpful to take note of significant themes or intriguing sections and then form questions that you think would lead to an interesting conversation. Preparing questions ahead of the conversation is vital because they help outline how you would like your conversation to go. Still, if a conversation moves in a surprising way, it is beneficial to comment and ask follow-up questions rather than remaining attached to your script. In other words, be genuinely curious.
3. Be Human
Curiosity, as well as empathy, can transform a rigid Q&A session into an earnest and illuminating conversation. As the interviewer, responding with an emotional response—if moved—can shift the conversation to a more intimate place that may give rise to meaningful or surprising answers. While originally known for his outlandish questions and crude comments, Howard Stern evolved his interviewing style over the years to incorporate more empathy and to draw on personal experience. In a 2015 interview with Stephen Colbert, Stern asked Colbert about whether part of the reason that he became a comedian is that he felt compelled to “cheer up” his mother after his father and two brothers died in a plane crash (2). While hesitant at first, Colbert eventually comments, “There’s no doubt that I do what I do because I wanted to make [my mother] happy—no doubt” and follows up with a question for Stern:
COLBERT: How [did] you know to ask that question?”
STERN: Because I spent many years cheering up your mother, as well. I didn’t want to tell you this.
(LAUGHTER)
STERN: No, no. What happened—my mother lost her mother when she was nine. And my mother became very depressed when her sister died, and I spent a lot of years trying to cheer up my mother. And I became quite proficient at making her laugh and doing impressions and doing impressions of all the people in her neighborhood.
In the conversation that follows, Stern and Colbert discuss how their experiences with trying to make their mothers happy shaped their relationship with women and their careers. If not for vulnerability on both sides of the conversation, this insightful glance into how some people may process and transform tragedy as young children and their relationship to their parents could have been glossed over.
4. Build Rapport
Nevertheless, deeper conversations like the one between Colbert and Stern depend on the rapport that you have built with the interviewee. According to Terri Gross, “Tell me about yourself” are the only four words that you need to know in order to conduct an interview (1). Gross, the host of NPR’s Fresh Air, has been conducting interviews on the segment since the 1980s and insists that opening with a broad introduction allows the subject to begin telling their story without the interviewer posing any assumptions. Being broad can allow the interviewee to define how they view themselves and their work and lead to creating a safe space where they will feel not feel judged by their answers, but rather better understood.
5. Transcribe
Once finished, there are several ways to transcribe your discussion into a creative nonfiction piece. One method can be to write a brief introduction of your subject and conversation followed by a direct transcript, which alone can be very poignant. Another common method is to paraphrase your conversation and use direct quotes to emphasize certain points in conjunction with your own observations when conducting the interview. Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah’s interview of Missy Elliot does an excellent job of showcasing how to include biographical information, her questions, and her reflections of her subject as she sat on set for one of Missy’s photoshoots (4):
Across the street from the photo studio, the Chelsea Piers are turning themselves over to the night. And Missy’s publicist and team are in a hurry to make sure I’m not taking up too much of her time, but Missy herself doesn’t seem rushed to go anywhere yet. If anything, she seems deliberate. She sips through a straw from a cup of fresh-squeezed juice, and then she holds the cup with both hands. Her baseball cap is cocked to the side, and her two-inch nails are painted iridescent blue. Her legs are open but locked at the ankle. She looks in command—even more so because she is smiling.
I want to know more about her absences from the spotlight. What is it like to reenter a world where Twitter can determine who becomes president, where music can feel like it was created to last for exactly for one minute and then disappear into the ether?
Yeah, it is a brave new world, she agrees. But she isn’t despondent. Not at all.
“One thing I won’t do is compromise.” She takes another sip of juice and thinks for a moment. “I will never do something based on what everybody else is telling me to do. . . . I’ve been through so many stumbling blocks to build a legacy, so I wouldn’t want to do something just to fit in. Because I never fit in. So. . . .”
I wait for her to finish her sentence, but she doesn’t. Her smile just grows into a laugh, a shy one, and then she shrugs. As if to say, take it or leave it, love me or leave me.
6. Final Notes
At Yellow Arrow, we love that as a style of creative nonfiction, the interview allows the writer to create a unique piece that not only tells us about the subject but can delve into deeper truths about our society through the conversation. We often use the interview when promoting new books to help illuminate the book’s themes and to gain a glimpse into the thoughts of the writer before releasing their work. Take a glance back at an interview with Patti Ross from February 2021, whose chapbook, St. Paul Street Provocations, was just published by Yellow Arrow. And make sure to read next week’s blog from an interview I did with Ute Carson (find her bio here!), whose chapbook, Listen, will be published by Yellow Arrow Publishing in October 2021. Presale begins next week!
Delve into Some Other Interview Styles:
Profile: Rachael Kaadzi Ghansah: Her Eyes Were Watching the Stars: How Missy Elliot Became an Icon, https://www.elle.com/culture/celebrities/a44891/missy-elliott-june-2017-elle-cover-story/
Radio Show Transcript: Terri Gross. ‘Fresh Air’ Favorites: Howard Stern, https://www.npr.org/2019/12/31/790859106/fresh-air-favorites-howard-stern
Traditional Q&A: Jordan Kisner. tUnE-yArDs Made a Pop Album About White Guilt—And It’s Fun as Hell, https://www.gq.com/story/tune-yards-made-a-pop-album-about-white-guilt-and-its-fun-as-hell
(1) Kerr, Jolie. “How to Talk to People, According to Terry Gross.” The New York Times. 17 Nov. 2018. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/11/17/style/self-care/terry-gross-conversation-advice.html
(2) Gross, Terri. “‘Fresh Air’ Favorites: Howard Stern.” NPR. 31 Dec. 2019. https://www.npr.org/2019/12/31/790859106/fresh-air-favorites-howard-stern
(3) Friedman, Ann. “The Art of the Interview.” Columbia Journalism Review. 30 May 2013. https://archives.cjr.org/realtalk/the_art_of_the_interview.php
(4) Kaadzi Ghansah, Rachael. “Her Eyes Were Watching the Stars: How Missy Elliot Became an Icon” Elle. 15 May 2017. https://www.elle.com/culture/celebrities/a44891/missy-elliott-june-2017-elle-cover-story/
Siobhan McKenna was born and raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia. She stumbled upon Yellow Arrow while living in Baltimore and has loved every minute of working as an editorial associate. Siobhan is currently working as a travel ICU nurse in Seattle and is loving biking and hiking throughout the Pacific Northwest. She holds a bachelor’s degree in writing and biology from Loyola University Maryland and an MSN from Johns Hopkins University. You can follow her on Instagram @sio_han.
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Thank you to everyone who followed along with our creative nonfiction summer 2021 series. Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Getting Personal with Personal Narratives
By Katherine Chung, written July 2021
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
We often forget how important events and celebrations can be. Sometimes we forget to write things down or take a photo of an event. Oftentimes, we do not realize how important something, or someone, is until we lose them. While this last sentence describes my life perfectly, it also sounds like something that we may hear from our parents or mentors.
Personal narratives are like short chapters of an individual’s complete memoir. This specific style of writing allows people to recall a memory and share a personal experience through writing. Such short stories can be about a specific experience and can be intense and hard to comprehend. And wonderful.
Typically, authors write in the first person when they are describing personal experiences. And by writing from their unique point of view, authors can use their five senses to vividly describe a scenario to their audience. This descriptive language also allows the audience to step into the authors’ shoes. Authors are able to set a rich setting so that the audience knows when and where (and why) the personal narrative took place. Some authors like to add quotes and photos to their narratives to make their stories feel more personal. And sometimes some authors use their photos as cover images while others may put a collage of photos at the end of the story. Each author who writes a personal narrative can be as specific or general as wanted to tell a story.
Most personal narratives are written in prose and are 1–5 pages long. They do not need to be exceptionally long since most events written about occur in a quick instance, such as a few hours.
The most common technique used for personal narrative writing is storytelling, which allows authors to retell a story that has made them who they are today or allowed them to overcome a life obstacle. It may even be difficult for an author to recall a memory from the past to write about, but the storytelling element allows an author to add a fictional aspect to a personal story. For example, some authors choose to change a person’s name for the sake of privacy. In another example, an event could be boring so fictional additions might spice things up.
By reading more personal narratives, readers can discover more about others, whether different or alike. Grow as readers and learn about new topics and events that they never knew about before. And as we know, it can sometimes be easier to read an excerpt or a chapter rather than an entire biography about an individual. No one’s life is ever happy and easy. Oftentimes, it is easier to read a person’s story in small, narrative doses.
As a writer, I believe that it is important to write personal narratives, even though they may not be for everyone. I have been through a lot in my short lifetime and believe that it is important to share the darkest (along with the brightest) moments so that others do not have to feel alone. I find it is difficult to write about the saddest and most tragic moments that have happened to me. It is also hard to read about those moments.
But writing personal narratives helps me gain a better mindset about how I want to share my story. And knowing that some people relate to my stories while others may learn something entirely new about themselves is incredible. That is the power of sharing memories and narratives, whether through a short vignette or a longer memoir.
Even the most famous writers struggle to write their own narratives. Here are a few of my favorite personal narratives and memoirs if you are interested:
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner (from The New York, 2018)
Disability Visibility: First Person Stories From the 21st Century edited By Alice Wong
Peach: an Exceptional Teen’s Journey for Universal Acceptance by Jenevieve Woods
Katherine Chung is a Senior at Towson University studying English and Creative Writing. She will graduate in December 2021. Katherine currently lives in Gaithersburg, Maryland with her parents. During her free time, she loves to write short stories and memoirs, read young adult books, and update her blog. To read her blog, visit katchung13.wixsite.com/website.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
The Mesmerizing Power of Literary Journalism
By Siobhan McKenna, written June 2021
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
“Frank Sinatra, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other, stood in a dark corner of the bar between two attractive but fading blondes who sat waiting for him to say something. But he said nothing; he had been silent during much of the evening, except now in his private club in Beverley Hills he seemed even more distant. . . . Sinatra had been working in a film that he now disliked, could not wait to finish; he was tired of all the publicity attached to dating the twenty-year-old Mia Farrow, who was not in sight tonight. . . . Sinatra was ill. He was the victim of an ailment so common that most people would consider it trivial. But when it gets to Sinatra it can plunge him into a state of anguish, deep depression, panic, even rage. Frank Sinatra had a cold.”
~ Gay Talese, Esquire, 1966 (1)
I remember listening to the rich tone of Gay Talese’s voice as I walked between campus buildings during college. Through my earphones, This American Life played an entire podcast episode dedicated to Sinatra and had included Talese’s piece, “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold.” As I listened, I puzzled over how a writer could incorporate so many intimate details about the subject into his piece. How did he know what the “fading blondes” or even Sinatra were thinking? After all, the piece came about because Sinatra wouldn’t grant Talese an interview because his agency kept claiming Sinatra had a cold, therefore Talese interviewed anyone he could find who knew Sinatra (1). Amused and fascinated, I loved being immersed in the world of Sinatra through Talese’s vivid descriptions; I thought, is this what writing can sound like? Later, in a creative nonfiction class, I would come to study the same piece and discover that Talese’s “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” is heralded as one of the most iconic examples of literary journalism.
Literary journalism is known by a variety of names including new journalism, narrative journalism, and literary nonfiction—to name only a few (2). Over the years, the exact boundaries of literary journalism have been subject to debate but broadly are described as nonfiction essays that employ fiction techniques to develop the reporting (3). Different techniques that literary journalists use include dialogue, first-person narration, and scene-setting for the piece to read like a novel (2).
Although literary journalism has been around for a long time with some scholars citing Mark Twain as an early example, the genre became more defined after Tom Wolfe and E.W. Johnson released The New Journalism in 1973 (2). The New Journalism was a collection of essays that included a piece the anthology was named for, by Wolfe, as well as 21 other works that fit Wolfe’s definition of literary journalism, by writers such as Talese, Truman Capote, Norman Mailer, and Joan Didion.
One of my favorite contemporary writers within this genre is Jordan Kisner. I love Kisner’s essays because of her ability to glide effortlessly between reporting and self-reflection—one of the gems that make literary journalism separate from traditional “unbiased” journalism. In her essay, “Las Marthas,” Kisner describes a Martha Washington pageant in the Texas border town of Laredo all the while inserting bits about her struggle with racial identity in order to make the piece fit into a larger context of what it means to be White, to be Hispanic, to be American in our country today (4). Other essays of hers find the seemingly incongruent connections between subjects: the opioid crisis in an Ohioan county and her mortality, the history of tattoos, and the quest to encapsulate that which is indefinable (5).
Kisner’s writing runs on the notion that “subjectivity [can] foster credibility,” something that Joan Didion helped pave the way for as she reported on such events like the Manson Murders and the chaos of 1960s Los Angeles with a front seat view from her own couch and neighbors’ living rooms in the Hollywood Hills (6). Didion capitalized on the concept that not all journalism must be written without feeling. Literary journalism takes you to the scene of the crime and candidly inserts emotions because humans fail time after time to be dispassionate creatures. Literary journalism’s brilliance lies in the spaces where the writing can transport the reader as we all try to make sense of our own place in the nooks and crannies of the world. And perhaps Didion defines literary journalism best of all when she begins her essay, “The White Album,” with the words:
We tell ourselves stories in order to live. . . . We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience. (7)
Dive into some literary journalism:
Gay Talese: “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold”
Jordan Kisner: “Las Marthas”
Joan Didion: “Holy Water”
Rachel Kadzi Ghansah: “A Most American Terrorist: The Making of Dylann Roof”
(1) Talese, Gay. “Frank Sinatra has a Cold.” Esquire. April 1966. www.esquire.com/features/ESQ1003-OCT_SINATRA_rev_
(2) Masterclass Staff. How to Recognize and Write Literary Journalism. 8 Nov. 2020. https://www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-recognize-and-write-literary-journalism
(3) Keeble, Richard Lance. “Literary Journalism.” Oxford Research Encyclopedias. 30 July 2018. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228613.013.836
(4) Kisner, Jordan. “Las Marthas.” The Believer. 1 Oct. 2019. https://believermag.com/las-marthas/
(5) Kisner, Jordan. Thin Places: Essays from the In Between. Macmillian, 2020.
(6) Whitefield, Jack. “New Journalism: What Can the Media Learn?” The Indiependent. 9 Feb. 2021. https://www.indiependent.co.uk/new-journalism-what-can-the-media-learn/
(7) Didion, Joan. “The White Album.” The White Album. Simon & Schuster, 1979. eBookCollection. (HooplaDigital).
Siobhan McKenna was born and raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia. She stumbled upon Yellow Arrow while living in Baltimore and has loved every minute of working as an editorial associate. Siobhan recently began working as a travel nurse in Seattle. As she moves to a different city every three months to work as an ICU nurse, Siobhan looks forward to writing about all that this crazy, broken, and beautiful country holds. She holds a bachelor’s degree in writing and biology from Loyola University Maryland and an MSN from Johns Hopkins University. You can follow her on Instagram @sio_han.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Creative Nonfiction: Nature Writing
By Melissa Nunez, written June 2021
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
Nature writing is fertile ground for a writer, especially a female writer, to examine through vivid imagery and powerful metaphor the beauty, vulnerability, and strength within and without us.
Mother Earth. Mother Nature. Motherland. Across cultures and time, the connection between the female body and nature is an enduring thread.
I consider myself an amateur naturalist, but I wasn’t always this drawn to my natural environment. In my desire to instill in my children respect for our planet, for all its inhabitants, I found renewed wonder, fresh eyes with which to observe plants and creatures. After so much time as an observer, it felt very natural to make the leap from memoir and narrative nonfiction writing to nature writing, to take my words about myself (my body) and apply them to the natural world around me (earth body). I task myself with taking things that seem quite ordinary—an everyday blackbird perched on a car hood, the common daisy sprouting from the base of a stop sign—and approaching them from new angles, forming unexpected correlations. The surprise of discovering and sharing new information, a contrasting perspective.
Nature writing is also a medium in which to discuss oppression, exploitation, and inequality, considering how much habitat has been destroyed, how many creatures are endangered, have been erased. The importance of these losses is more evident in some areas of the globe than others, is considered more relevant for some people than others. Prejudices continue to inhabit our seemingly modern life, in both subversive and overt forms, adopted as norms inherent to the structure of day-to-day living. Many injustices are no longer so secret but are still susceptible to all manner of rug sweeping. Through ecological writing, we can explore how the actions we take, the choices we make, impact the world around us. Each decision has the rippling potential of exponential impact on the microcosms and ecosystems surrounding us. Poisons used to control populations of one creature marked pest (ants, rodents, coyotes) can damage countless others (raptors, reptiles, people). Trees mowed down to make room for cars and buildings displace countless animals who once dwelled there. Walls constructed to inhibit the migration of unwanted people inhibit the migratory movement of dwindling creatures—pollinators and wildcats.
We don’t always like looking too closely in the mirror, at times afraid of what we might see. This is where I find nature writing can function much like fantasy or science fiction, taking you to another world and showing you imbalances that seem so clear when presented with varying degrees of separation. You can take slices of your life and your environment and work through existing imbalances—those of sexism, racism, classism—connecting what is yours, what is mine to a more universal feminine (human) experience. Connecting what is happening with disappearing creatures to disappearing cultures, trampled bodies, and silenced voices.
With nature writing comes the potential to prompt reflection on and examination of our perspectives, our interactions with those around us—living things of human, plant, and animal kind. Our world isn’t perfect, people aren’t perfect, but we can be better. Taking a general reverence and respect for the natural world and making it a more personal experience can ignite a desire to do better. Nature-inspired writing can give a new voice to many who are fighting to be heard. It offers the opportunity for us to try, for even just a moment, to see the world from a different point of view.
The following works showcase the wide spectrum of the genre of nature writing, each author inspiring in their individual approach, style, and voice.
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard
Smith Blue by Camille T. Dungy
Vesper Flights by Helen Macdonald
World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments by Aimee Nezhukumatathil (see also Yellow Arrow staff member Siobhan McKenna’s review from Yellow Arrow Journal (Re)Formation)
You can find Melissa’s beautiful, nature-based essay “What is Mine” in Yellow Arrow Journal, Vol. VI, No. 1, RENASCENCE. Get your copy today.
Melissa Nunez is an avid reader, writer, and homeschooling mother of three living in the Rio Grande Valley region of South Texas—a predominantly Latin@ community. Her essays have appeared in Yellow Arrow Journal, The Accents Review, and Folio, among others. Follow her on Twitter @MelissaKNunez.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
The Significance of Memoirs
By Brenna Ebner, written January 2021
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
Did you know that Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines a memoir as a narrative composed from personal experience? While this certainly describes the genre, Joan Didion, a well-known memoirist herself, summarizes the intricacies behind memoirs better when she explains, “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” When we read a memoir we indulge in an unreliable narrator. Just as in fiction, where we have to sustain belief, we have to do the same to a memoir, trusting the narrator/author to tell their truth and believing it because it is theirs. But our memories are not always reliable and we can’t help our biases. Maybe what happened to someone didn’t play out the exact way they remember or certain details become lost to time. So a memoir may have more fiction than nonfiction, more embellishments than truths. But as it is what the author believes, does that make it false? This is where the controversy around the genre is found.
Opinions, feelings, and memories all change and that is something memoirists must keep in mind if and when they choose to recount their life or certain parts of it. But it is also why one could place the memoir under nonfiction. I think what keeps memoirs in the creative nonfiction category is how each is written by real people recounting real experiences and showing us how such experiences shaped them. We can’t necessarily tell them they are wrong because each piece of writing is their truth. Because of that, readers are drawn to them. Reading a memoir is an opportunity to:
Relate to one another and gain validation when we’ve experienced our own version of the same tragedy or celebration
See a new point of view and gain other experiences and live other lives when we are stuck living our own
Be humbled by realizing the complexity of life and how so many individual worlds are out there, besides your own, that are filled with great ups and downs
Watch authors grapple with the same large themes in life we must and try to make black and white of such themes in such a gray world.
Not only does this draw me to memoirs, specifically, but it also makes me grateful for those who write them. It can be difficult to relive moments in our lives and recount them for the sake of others and ourselves. It can be difficult to be vulnerable and open and invite judgment and criticisms.
I also think it’s significant that people are offering themselves to us so vulnerably because it sparks compassion, sympathy, and empathy. Although not always! Sometimes a memoir is good because it makes you upset. Not every life lived and decision made will be welcomed by readers. We are complicated, complex, and unique individuals, each of us. Regardless, I think even such controversial memoirs still remain important as they ignite discussion and exploration within ourselves and within our societies.
I’d like to argue that what makes a memoir good is its ability to do just that. When I can finish a memoir and leave with a new perspective and understanding, of either myself or the world around me (even just one aspect of it, because the world is very big after all), then I know it was a successful read. It may not happen with each and every memoir I read; both myself as a reader and the memoirist must be open to exploring outside ourselves and our limited aspects of the world. This process of reflection is refreshing to experience. With this in mind, it is very rare for a memoir to be a simple read, and for that reason, I recommend them as a genre to indulge in.
For those interested in reading some memoirs, my recommendations include:
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
Tonight I’m Someone Else by Chelsea Hodson
Mother Winter by Sophia Shalmiyev
Heart Berries by Terese Marie Mailhot
Mean by Myriam Gurba
In The Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado
The Glass Eye by Jeannie Vanasco (see also here)
Abandon Me by Melissa Febos
Brenna Ebner is the CNF Managing Editor at Yellow Arrow Publishing and has enjoyed growing as a publisher and editor since graduating from Towson University in May of 2020. In between this time, she has interned with Mason Jar Press and Yellow Arrow and continues to pursue her editing career with freelance work.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Coming Together Across the Table (or on Zoom)
by Sandra Kacher, from March 2021
It takes courage to write, courage to reveal, and courage to hear what people have to say about your words. Brené Brown says, “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.”
A poetry writing group is the perfect place to practice this courage.
When I was in my 40s, I promised myself I would write a mystery novel by the time I was 50. I did, but it didn’t go anywhere because the first time I heard the faintest criticism I shut down. Extreme, I know, but some of us are timid and way too vulnerable to other people’s opinions. When I picked up a pen again it was to write poetry, and I knew I had to toughen up if I was going to create anything worthwhile.
I’ve heard people say, in response to change suggestions, “Well, I just write for myself.” I don’t understand why a person would write (or paint, or cook, or garden, etc.) just for themselves. I see creativity as a gift meant to be shared, and creations benefit from honest and compassionate responses from our peers.
Thus, the poetry writing group. Such a group is comprised of a small number (3–8?) of poets who come together regularly to read their work to each other and listen to the responses elicited by that work. My first rule for finding a group is “pick carefully.” I’ve been in competitive poetry groups where the feedback is harsh in the name of “just being honest.” I’ve also been in groups where the level of commitment and experience is less than mine. It has been important for me to find groups with the right level of skill (so I can trust their insight) and also with the right level of love. Love for poetry, love for the process, love for daring to believe we (I) have something to say in poetic form. I don’t have to be best friends with everyone, but I do need to trust that their intention is to be genuinely helpful.
I’m now in several writing groups and I’ve asked my writing buddies to share why they keep coming and keep working so hard.
Here is a summary of their responses:
Accountability: “Having to bring a poem on a predictable and regular basis heightens my commitment. It helps me keep going through the dry times.”
Quality Enhancement: “The others in a workshop often notice things (both positive and negative) in the poem that I have not and offer solid ideas to improve the poem.”
Networking, Identity, and Belonging: “I enjoy being with my tribe . . . others who share my interest in poetry . . . and often other important values. Others offer ideas [regarding] prompts, craft, readings, workshops, teachers, books, submission calls that enrich my writing life.”
Fun: “In addition to everything else, a sweet relationship with smart, perceptive, funny, beautiful women; one that deepens every encounter.”
How do we create such communities? I started with going to poetry meet-ups in my community (after procrastinating for several months. It does take courage!) and met several poets with whom I am now in groups. One group started with two of us who shared a love of San Miguel de Allende and Spanish, along with writing. We each invited others to join us. That group now has five wonderful women (a deliberate choice) who have been meeting and improving for several years. One of my groups grew out of a shared class—a common way to find compatible members. Two of us also tuned into Billy Collins’ podcasts and responded to a group of male poets who were looking for women to balance things out.
We began with ground rules for listening and responding. We found that starting with sharing “the gold” we hear and finishing with a round of “rust” creates a balanced atmosphere and allows for building trust to hear critiques. In that same group we begin with a SPIRE check-in—how am I Spiritually, Physically, Intellectually, Relationally, and Emotionally? We aren’t rigid but we do cover those areas, and through this kind of check-in, we’ve come to admire, understand, and love each other. Another group I’m in is purely reading and critiquing, equally useful for improving our work but less warm and personal (however, I’ve found sharing poetry can’t help but lead to personal connection). The degree of personal sharing depends on the desires of members. It seems to me it takes at least six months, more like a year, to get into a really good groove together.
I am a better poet than I was three years ago, and I thank my group members for that. I encourage anyone who wants to be a better writer to find a tribe of writers and plunge in!
Sandra Kacher comes to writing poetry after years of hearing about the inner lives of hundreds of therapy clients. She brings the same compassion and sense of irony to her poetry as she brought to listening to hundreds of therapy clients. Touched by Mary Oliver and heartened by Billy Collins, she brings a heart for beauty and an ear for music to her writing. She hopes poetry shares the ways she is moved by nature, human life, and all the flotsam that catches her eye. As an older poet, she is shaped daily by intimations of mortality, and most of her work is touched by loss—past or to come. Poetry keeps her open, fights off cynicism in a world that leaves her listless these days.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Telling the Truth Beautifully
By Kerry Graham, written March 2021
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
Your life is a collection of stories.
Powerful. Painful. Profound.
And it’s not just the milestones or the unbelievable tales you can tell again and again. Your life, even in its mundane moments, is a series of stories.
Many of us are raised to understand stories as fiction: made from imagination. Or if someone tells us a “true story,” it’s outrageous in some regard. Hard to believe.
But those aren’t our only options for storytelling. There’s a magnificent in-between, stories that are engaging, original, relatable.
And honest.
Creative nonfiction is telling the truth beautifully, even—especially?—when the truth is anything but. It’s crafting a story from the reality of your lived experience. It’s reflecting on what you’ve endured, accomplished, and explored, and finding narrative structure within that. When you write creative nonfiction, you chisel away the entirety of your days to the pieces you’d find in a plot: beginning, middle, end. You create characters out of the people you’ve shared conversations, meals, office space, children, bus stops, public parks with. You write the words shouted, whispered, thought. Your readers weren’t with you, but through your words, you make us feel like we were. For a few paragraphs, or pages, or maybe even the course of a memoir, you invite us into the world as only you know it.
As a writer, I’ve attempted numerous genres. My favorite, by far, is creative nonfiction. When I put the truth to paper, I not only get to do what I love—create art out of language—I get to remember, reflect, understand my own life. The opportunity to make meaning of any given moment reminds me that each instant is a blessing. When we write creative nonfiction, we “taste life twice,” as Anaïs Nin, a French-Cuban-American writer, famously said.
Although creative nonfiction can be about anything we know to be true, I write almost exclusively about one thing: my lovelies. This is my 10th year teaching high school English in Baltimore City public schools, and since my earliest days in the classroom, I’ve called my students “my lovelies.” I write about how they inspire, worry, nurture, frustrate me. I write because my lovelies make each of my days meaningful—so meaningful that, often, it takes the painstaking process of delicately arranging our interactions on a page for me to fully grasp them. I also write because of what it gives my readers, most of whom have never been to Baltimore, Maryland, let alone inside our public schools: a chance to learn. Empathize. Reexamine. Wonder.
The impact creative nonfiction has on its readers is another reason I revere this genre. Reading someone else’s true stories grants readers a chance to connect—to people, places, experiences—they might have never before considered.
Anaïs Nin said, “We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely.” As a writer, I wholeheartedly agree, though I’d argue that’s also why we read, especially creative nonfiction.
Kerry Graham lives, teaches, writes, and kayaks in Baltimore. Her vignettes have appeared in The Citron Review, Crack the Spine, and Gravel, among others. Her personal essays have most recently appeared in HuffPost. Connect with her on social media @mskerrygraham.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
The Power of Vulnerability
By Michelle Lin, written May 2021
Can vulnerability really be viewed as a weakness? Black lesbian mother warrior poet, Audre Lorde, argued that vulnerability is a source of strength that can be used to comment on societal issues and prevent a feeling of isolation (1). This is seen in how Lorde opened up about her experiences with the lack of inclusion she faced from White feminists while participating in a feminist panel, her struggle with acceptance within the Black feminist community due to her sexuality, and her ability to discuss her experiences as a cancer survivor.
As a Black lesbian feminist, Lorde demanded equality for both Black feminists and lesbians on several feminist panels, where Lorde spoke out about the divisions seen within the feminist community regarding race and sexuality. This is mentioned by Emily Bernard when she explored Lorde’s essay, “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House” (1), which called out White feminists for their lack of inclusion:
“And yet, I stand here as a Black lesbian feminist, having been invited to comment within the only panel at this conference where the input of Black feminists and lesbians is represented. What this says about the vision of this conference is sad, in a country where racism, sexism, and homophobia are inseparable. To read this program is to assume that lesbian and Black women have nothing to say about existentialism, the erotic, women’s culture and silence, developing feminist theory, or heterosexuality and power.”
Despite their efforts to stand up for equality, Lorde showed that White feminists only created one panel for both Black feminists and lesbians, thus portraying the lack of inclusion at the Second Sex Conference in New York in 1979 (1). By capturing this lack of inclusion, Lorde demonstrated that there were still divisions within the feminist community when addressing race and sexuality. Lorde pointed out that Black feminists and lesbians have just as much to say on the topics that White feminists addressed at their panels. To exclude women of different races and sexualities centers the focus of women’s rights issues on one particular group, thus leading to the inability to address issues that women of all different backgrounds and sexual orientations experience on a daily basis.
Lorde furthered her point that White feminists should recognize the inequality that they have imposed on people of color in her poem, “Who Said It Was Simple,” where Lorde called out White feminists for their oppression of people of color (2):
Sitting in Nedicks
the women rally before they march
discussing the problematic girls
they hire to make them free.
An almost white counterman passes
a waiter brother to serve them first
and the ladies neither notice nor reject
the slighter pleasure of their slavery.
In this stanza of the poem, Lorde pushed White feminists to recognize those who work for them, and that their ability to attend the marches is connected to those who help them—people of color. When White feminists fail to recognize those who aid them, they are unable to see that they, too, play a role in the oppression of people of color. Lorde vocalized that the inequalities that people of color face are still present even during a women’s movement.
As a writer, Lorde also discussed the issues she experienced as a Black lesbian feminist who often received criticism from the Black feminist community for her sexuality: “. . . now walking into rooms full of / black faces / that would destroy me for any / difference / where shall my eyes look?” (1). The act of emphasizing her difference in the excerpt demonstrates that Lorde was unable to find any form of reassurance coming from the Black feminist community because she identified as a lesbian. By mentioning this point, Lorde amplified the fractures seen in the Black feminist community that prevents Black feminists and lesbians from unifying to fight against the inequalities that they collectively experience as women.
Along with sharing her experiences as a Black lesbian feminist, Lorde’s ability to be vulnerable with her audience is seen when discussing her experiences battling breast cancer in 1978, liver cancer in 1984, and later, ovarian cancer in 1987 (1). By addressing cancer in her writing, Lorde opened up the opportunity for others to connect with her to discuss the effects of cancer: “She knew that speaking out about her own experiences with cancer had the potential to liberate other women to talk about the effects of the disease on their own lives” (1). When cancer survivors, like Lorde, share their own stories, it allows others to feel less isolated in their struggles when dealing with the disease, and it also invites others to explore a topic that isn’t largely discussed (1).
The lack of representation of individuals addressing the topic of sickness is captured in Margaret Kissam Morris’ article “Audre Lorde.” Morris mentions that disease isn’t covered in society due to the prioritization of youth and healthiness (3):
“In mainstream American society, an obsession with youth has rendered the subject of aging, disease, and dying undesirable topics for public discourse outside of the medical, psychological, and religious contexts.”
Morris argues that the failure of representing those struggling with diseases in everyday discussion would naturally lead to a negative association to sickness. When an individual, like Lorde, discusses her experiences in a piece of writing within The Cancer Journals, that person demonstrates that fostering a conversation around the topic not only prevents the feeling of isolation that a patient may be experiencing but also opens up an opportunity for the public to recognize that sickness is a part of the human experience, thus reducing the stigma that was once associated with the topic.
Throughout the process of battling cancer, Lorde took a stance, sharing her experiences by refusing to wear prosthetics despite being told that her decision would result in her being viewed as unprofessional in a workplace environment: “Her objection to prosthetics was a rejection of another kind of silence and erasure and a defiant refusal to conform to the expectations of others when it came to the way she chose to move in the world” (1). By refusing to conform to the norm, Lorde commented on the cultural issues of how women should be presented in the workplace, making a statement to the medical community and women in general on how women shouldn’t have to conform to a norm in order to be viewed as professional. Through sharing her personal experiences with cancer, Lorde demonstrated that vulnerability can prevent the feeling of isolation as well as raise awareness on the ongoing issues related to women’s rights in both the medical and feminist communities.
By discussing these three issues in her writing—inequality within the feminist community in terms of representation of lesbians and Black women, fractures within the Black feminist community when discussing the topic of sexuality, and her experiences with cancer—Lorde communicated that the first step to developing understanding with and compassion to one another, is through writing and sharing the stories that weren’t previously told. Through reading about these experiences, Lorde’s audience will then be able to recognize and demand change.
As a writer, Lorde spoke to me because of her ability to tap into vulnerability as an opportunity to raise awareness of the issues experienced in her everyday life. Throughout my experience with coming out, I found myself actively searching for stories written by women who are LGBTQ+. One thing that I have noticed is that the stories and experiences that I came across, whether through videos I stumbled across on the Internet or in the novels and poetry books that I read, these stories were predominantly written by or told through the perspective of White women. In doing so, I found myself struggling to see myself within the stories that I was watching and reading. When a writer, like Lorde, speaks up about her own experiences, she not only opens up an opportunity for LGBTQ+ women of color to relate to the pieces she has written but also invites them to become a part of diversifying the narratives being told in the LGBTQ+ community.
(1) Bernard, Emily. “Warrior Poet.” New Republic 252, no. 4 (April 2021): 58–61.
(2) Lorde, Audre. “Who Said It Was Simple.” Poetry Foundation. Orig. from 1973. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42587/who-said-it-was-simple.
(3) Morris, Margaret Kissam. “Audre Lorde.” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 23, no. 1 (March 2002): 168.
Michelle Lin was a senior at Towson University who graduated in Spring 2021. She had previously worked as the Online Poetry Editor for volume 69 of Towson University’s Literary Magazine Grub Street. Michelle currently lives in Lutherville – Timonium, Maryland. During her free time, she enjoys reading and writing poetry, and playing guitar. To read her writing follow her on her Instagram @m.l_writes.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Creative Nonfiction: Representations and Truths
By Brenna Ebner
from the creative nonfiction summer 2021 series
Creative nonfiction is a perplexing genre and while many first think of it as rigid and boring retellings of historical events, that isn’t quite accurate. This specific genre of writing is focused on retelling but in an imaginative way with an emphasis on prose. That is what makes creative nonfiction different from other nonfiction styles of writing. In fact, its focus on prose and writing skills is often shared with fiction and poetry. And that is where the creative part of the genre comes in. The author must find a way to recall and explore in a captivating, realistic, and most of all trustful way since the genre is centered around the concepts of truth and reality.
This can be difficult since we each are biased in our points of views. Plotting and research, however, can ensure a thoughtful attention to detail and (as much as possible) accurate representation. Considering this, readers of the genre get an opportunity to explore many topics, themes, ethics, morals, etc., as we compare lives and opinions and learn from them.
Moreover, a creative nonfiction author tries to stick to what really happened. And while this seems very straightforward, one’s personal truths, experiences, and perceptions may not match another’s reality of a situation as it is solely based on one person’s memory as much as the accompanying research. This subjective take on the objective shows the reader how the world around us may be understood in many different ways and that the truth can take various forms depending on each person’s perspective.
We get questions all the time about what qualifies as creative nonfiction and wanted to jot down our thoughts about this. So what do we think falls into this category? Well, practically anything. Some specific and popular types of creative nonfiction writing include:
Memoirs – narrative writing with the focus on connected personal experiences or a point of view all connected to a theme (e.g., Mean by Myriam Gurba)
Personal narratives – narrative writing focused on one singular event, big or small, that connects back to your personal outlook and opinions (e.g., Queer Brown Voices: Personal Narratives of Latina/o and LGBT Activism by Uriel Quesada, Letitia Gomez, and Salvador Vidal-Ortiz)
Biographies – chronological events in the life of a specific person (not the author) with no focus on a particular experience (e.g., Lady Romeo: The Radical and Revolutionary Life of Charlotte Cushman, America's First Celebrity by Tana Wojczuk)
Autobiographies – chronological events in the life of the author with no focus on a particular experience (e.g., My Autobiography of Carson McCullers by Jenn Shapland)
Literary journalism – factual reporting mixed with narrative writing, often includes research and is similar to journalism but with the prose style of fiction so it doesn’t sound as rigid (e.g., Invisible No More: Police Violence Against Black Women and Women of Color by Andrea Ritchie)
Even writing such as interviews, nature writing, and sports writing can be included in creative nonfiction. It can take any form such as diaries and journals (check out The Folded Clock: A Diary by Heidi Julavits), lyrics (described as mixing poetry with essay; check out Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine), and graphics (graphic narratives and novels; check out Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel). The sky’s the limit!
Overall, creative nonfiction is a broad and welcoming genre that can encompass so much with so few rules: retell your experience, be it big or small, and do so in an original and expressive way. And with this, we then are able to read about millions of other aspects, opinions, histories, realities, and more. We can find deep and personal reflection taking place, gray areas being explored, and marginalized groups finally having a voice.
We can learn and grow in ways that are enthralling and fascinating as readers, writers, and editors of creative nonfiction, on both a personal and global level. And that is where my own personal interest in creative nonfiction comes from. It’s a powerful way to become more enlightened about not just the world around myself but the individuals who inhabit it and make it what it is. There is so much I have discovered that I was blind to previously and I’m so grateful to be able to learn directly from others such as in our most recent Yellow Arrow Journal RENASCENCE where I got to discover a whole new side to our world and its history that includes numerous cultures, experiences, beliefs, opinions, and ways of being. In any way you experience creative nonfiction, you get to grow yourself and grow with others as writers emerge from the margins of our society and readers and editors become more aware from their powerful works.
And why we at Yellow Arrow focus on creative nonfiction along with poetry. Check out some of our blog posts (every Tuesday!) throughout the summer as we take a closer look at this genre and why people love this writing style.
Brenna Ebner is the CNF Managing Editor at Yellow Arrow Publishing and has enjoyed growing as a publisher and editor since graduating from Towson University in May of 2020. In between this time, she has interned with Mason Jar Press and Yellow Arrow and continues to pursue her editing career with freelance work.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts.
When Writing Holds Weight
Board and staff at Yellow Arrow Publishing would like to thank Michelle Lin, our marketing intern, for all of her hard work over the past few months. As an essential part of our marketing team, Michelle created marketing campaigns and promotional images, supported past and upcoming publications, and provided extra help wherever it was needed. You can see her words and her images on Yellow Arrow’s Facebook and Instagram. We are thrilled that Michelle will continue to put her spin and her charm on Yellow Arrow promotions after her internship ends.
From Jennifer N. Shannon, our Marketing Director: Michelle has been an invaluable part of the marketing team for Yellow Arrow Publishing essentially since I began. To be honest, without her, much of the success and growth within our social media presence and our newsletters would not have happened. Michelle’s work ethic and energy around Yellow Arrow’s mission, along with her desire to learn, is infectious and I don’t know what I’d do without her! I am so happy she wants to stay on after her internship is over. Thank you, Michelle, you are awesome!
Michelle graduates this spring 2021 from Towson University. She had previously worked as the Online Poetry Editor for volume 69 of Towson University’s Literary Magazine Grub Street. Michelle currently lives in Lutherville – Timonium, Maryland. During her free time, she enjoys reading and writing poetry, and playing guitar. To read her writing, follow her on Instagram @m.l_writes.
We would love for Michelle to explain why poetry means so much to her.
by Michelle Lin, from March 2021
I first started writing poetry consistently at the age of 16. Over the years, writing quickly became a coping mechanism as well as a hobby for me. It has influenced the way that I approach writing both academically and leisurely, where most of my pieces would often be written at really odd hours of the night while listening to music. Depending on the type of content that I was working on, the writing process, which includes prewriting and editing, could take up to three or more days. However, one thing that I did not entirely anticipate that would come out of my experience of writing poetry was how it would teach me to have confidence in who I am as an individual and how it can serve as a tool to help others feel seen and understood.
I’ve always looked at poetry as the language of the heart. It’s vulnerable, unfiltered, unpredictable, and yet incredibly powerful in how it helps a writer stay in tune with their headspace. When a writer chooses to share a piece with others it invites the reader to connect with them emotionally. This state of vulnerability was one that I once feared at first as a writer because I defined as a lesbian.
When I was growing up the topic of being LGBTQ+ wasn’t discussed that often within my household. Of course, there was the conversation of “What if we brought home a person of the same gender?” that would be brought up every once in a while, but the topic of being gay was never something that was spoken about in-depth. Even with the content that my siblings and I consumed as kids, whether this came in the form of literature, music, movies, or TV shows, LGBTQ+ representation was never really seen in the media we were exposed to. This ultimately led to this feeling of not belonging and isolation that haunted me throughout my coming out process, especially living within a community where there was an indirect implication that there is only one way to love, and that way was considered the “right” or “acceptable” way of loving. To deviate from the norm would put us in a position where the way we loved was viewed as “unnatural” or “weird.” I now see that part of the issue was the lack of narrative of seeing LGBTQ+ representation in my daily life growing up that kept me in the mindset that I didn’t quite fit in with others within my community.
I remember, the thought of sharing poetry related to the topic of being gay, in a poetry class in the beginning, was really terrifying to me. I was worried that people wouldn’t be able to connect with my poems if they knew how I identified. At the time, I had avoided using she/her pronouns in my writing if I could and I would often edit them out of my poems. When I realized what I was doing, I was sitting on my bed in my dorm room as a Freshman at Towson University. A few questions raced through my mind at the time and continued to circle around my head throughout the first half of my Sophomore year as well: When did I become so scared of being myself? If poetry is my go-to coping mechanism and my hobby, why did I feel the need to filter myself during the editing process?
Maybe it was the desire of wanting to belong that put me in that position. That I didn’t want to be different, even though our differences and experiences are what shape us to be the individuals that we are today. To overcome this hurdle, I started sharing my poems that covered being a lesbian on Instagram first, which taught me how to be more comfortable with who I am as a writer. Slowly the practice of writing openly LGBTQ+ poetry did carry over to the poems I would share in my poetry classes as well. As a writer, one of the reasons that I continue to write is not only to strengthen my voice as a poet but to also help the reader feel less alone if they are going through a similar situation. To see an LGBTQ+ writer being themselves in their creations not only acknowledges the existence of us as a community but it also opens up the opportunity for readers to recognize themselves in the pieces we create.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Can I Become an Author at My Age?
by Diane Vogel Ferri, from February 2020
“The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave it neither time nor power.” Mary Oliver
You have always wanted to write a book. You thought that would be a great accomplishment in life, but you had children, a job, obligations. Suddenly the kids grew up but then maybe you were caring for your elderly parents, and now—now you have some time. Is that desire still there? Do you have something to say?
It is my belief that older people are not revered in American society. We have valued youth and beauty too much. It is only in the 21st century that Hollywood has decided that older women can have roles in movies! But we have had life experiences, we have done the hard work, we have figured so much of it out. We have strong opinions based on those life experiences.
Countries such as Japan have longer life expectancies and less dementia. This is often attributed to their respect and positive treatment of the elderly. Korea celebrates the 60th and 70th birthdays with large feasts. China has an “elderly rights law” mandating that children attend to their parents in old age. Native Americans look to their aging for wisdom. In India, the elderly are considered the head of the family.
On the wall of my writing room—a room of my own being something I earned in later years as well—is an essay I wrote when I was 10 years old. My mother saved it for me. It is about my desire to write a book someday. I remember my mom telling me that I hadn’t lived long enough to have something to write about. Well, I do now. In my 30s my life took a dramatic and chaotic turn. I began filling notebooks with poetry although I had never read or studied poetry and it was like a savior to me. Now I have two poetry books and many poems published in journals.
Walking through the world as an older woman I often feel invisible, as if I am nothing to look at, with nothing important to share. But women who have fulfilled their caregiving duties have the most understanding of life. Every woman has experiences that are unique to being female. In these later years I have been a part of many poetry readings. It is so fulfilling to stand in front of a microphone and read my poems. I have people’s attention. I am heard and seen, and I have so much to say. I watched my own mother blossom into a prolific artist in her 50s then continue to create into her 80s. Her example leads me, and I constantly remind my own daughter that a woman reinvents herself throughout her life. There is nothing that cannot be accomplished in the future, even if it is not possible now.
Creativity is an important piece of our identities. We may not need to make money from it or become famous, but we need it to stay vital, to maintain who we are in this world. I have been retired for six years but I still get a thrill out of waking up in the morning and knowing I have nothing I need to do that day but walk back to my writing space and write my heart out. Stephen King once said, “If God gives you something to do, why in God’s name wouldn’t you do it?” Yes.
There are many wonderful online and print publications like Yellow Arrow Journal that are looking for your wisdom, although the submission process can sometimes be arduous and discouraging. The best advice I heard at a craft talk was to aim for 100 rejections a year. That sounds awful, but it means you are submitting a great deal of work. Obviously, the odds of getting something published are much better the more you submit. I’ve had about a dozen essays published in recent years.
I am now 65 and my third novel has just been published by a local company. The first book not to be self-published! I was recently interviewed and a substantial article about my book was published online and in the local newspaper. An unexpected gift. So, it’s never too late.
Diane Vogel Ferri is a teacher, poet, and writer living in Solon, Ohio. Her essays have been published in Scene Magazine, Cleveland Stories, Yellow Arrow Journal, and Good Works Review, among others. Her poems can be found in numerous journals such as Plainsongs, Rubbertop Review, and Poet Lore. Her previous publications are Liquid Rubies (poetry), The Volume of Our Incongruity (poetry), The Desire Path (novel), and her newest novel, No Life But This: A Novel of Emily Warren Roebling.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. To learn more about publishing, volunteering, or donating, visityellowarrowpublishing.com.
Glancing Back in Order to Move Forward: Where Women Stand in the Publishing World
By Siobhan McKenna, written February 2021
Throughout most of history, publishing was known as a gentlemen’s career where women served as secretaries, published under a pseudonym, or whose skills were doubted when they succeeded at holding high-ranking positions. Elizabeth Timothy has come to be known as one of the first woman publishers in America when in 1738 she inherited the South Carolina Gazette after her husband died. She continued to publish the Charleston-based newspaper under her 13-year-old son’s name as publishing as a woman was far from accepted in the pre-Revolutionary war era (1).
In addition to Timothy, Cornelia Walter was an early female publisher who became the editor of the Boston Transcript. Walter is most notably recognized for her reporting on a Philadelphia race riot that left many black citizens injured and homeless on August 3, 1842. When Walter left the newspaper in 1847 (because she was getting married), the newspaper’s owners printed that “the experiment of placing a lady as the responsible editor of a paper was a new and doubtful one . . . and her victory the more brilliant” (1).
By 1870, white women in publishing recognized growing gender discrimination against them and organized their own trade union in order to fight for better wages, as they were paid a third of a man’s salary (1). Nevertheless, while white women banded together, African American women were left out of the union but contributed to their own segregated journals. Ida B. Wells, an African American editor and journalist, wrote fiercely among a cohort of male colleagues. Throughout the late 1800s, Wells was the editor of several prominent newspapers with much of her work focusing on antilynching activism. In 1893, she coauthored an antilynching pamphlet with Frederick Douglass (2).
Today Timothy, Walter, and Wells would be surprised to learn that the world of publishing has become a female-dominated field albeit still white. A 2019 study conducted by Lee & Low Books reported that the industry is 74% cis-women and 76% white (3). This past summer two giants in the industry made strides to diversify their workforce by naming a woman of color as their senior vice president and publisher: Dana Canedy for Simon & Shuster and Lisa Lucas for Pantheon and Schocken Books, respectively.
The announcements of Canedy’s and Lucas’ positions came after a heavy few weeks, with the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor among other innocent Black lives as well as a resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement. And yet, it is appalling that in interviews regarding her new position Canedy had to resolutely defend that her qualifications go beyond being Black. In talking about the events leading up to her appointment, Canedy said that Jonathan Karp, the chief executive of Simon & Schuster “should get credit for the fact that in an era of racial reckoning, when suddenly everybody is looking for people of color and women to add to their boards and to bring in to their companies—he started talking to me two years ago. . . . I wouldn’t be taking this job if I thought he just wanted a Black publisher” (4).
Yet, in order for more women of color to be represented in the publishing industry, diversifying the workforce cannot only occur at the executive level. Publishing houses will have to forgo the traditional ways of hiring from within and recruit BIPOC staff from outside current staff members because only when many, smaller-scale presses begin to evaluate their own companies can systemic change occur. It is the job of independent publishers—like our own Yellow Arrow Publishing—to take the initiative to include BIPOC voices within our company and its publications.
Over the summer, Yellow Arrow recommitted itself to examining how to include female-identifying voices of color and to promoting already established literary spaces such as Zora’s Den, which promotes Black women writers in the Baltimore area. Yellow Arrow, as a fierce woman-identifying platform, has the power to elevate the voices of color that have for far too long been underrepresented in society and in the publishing community. As a publishing company with a long-standing mission to listen to the beating heart behind every woman’s story, we can only move forward after internalizing the words of the writer and civil rights activist, Audre Lorde, who stated, “I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own. And I am not free as long as one person of Color remains chained. Nor is anyone of you” (5).
Siobhan McKenna is a middle child and a lover of bikepacking and practicing yoga. She enjoys writing essays, poetry, and long-winded letters to friends. For the past nine years Siobhan has lived in the charming city of Baltimore but beginning in the spring (now!) she will start work as an ICU travel nurse—moving to a different city every three months to work, write, and explore all that this crazy, broken, and beautiful country holds. You can follow her on Instagram @sio_han.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. To learn more about publishing, volunteering, or donating, visit yellowarrowpublishing.com.
Sources:
(1) “Women in Publishing.” History of American Women. https://www.womenhistoryblog.com/2013/05/women-in-publishing.html
(2) McMurry, Linda. “Wells-Barnett, Ida Bell.” American National Biography, Feb 2000. https://www.anb.org/view/10.1093/anb/9780198606697.001.0001/anb-9780198606697-e-1500924
(3) “Where is the Diversity in Publishing? The 2019 Diversity Baseline Survey Results.” Lee & Low Books, 28 Jan 2020. https://blog.leeandlow.com/2020/01/28/2019diversitybaselinesurvey/
(4) Harris, Elizabeth. “Simon & Schuster Names Dana Canedy New Publisher.” The New York Times, 17 Nov 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/06/books/dana-canedy-named-simon-schuster-publisher.html
(5) “(1981) Audre Lorde, ‘The Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism.’” BlackPast.org. 12 Aug 2012. https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/1981-audre-lorde-uses-anger-women-responding-racism/
Submitting Poetry: Better the Second Time Around
From January 2021
By Sara Palmer
As a childhood and teenage poet, I dreamed of becoming a “real” writer. But as a young adult, I was not a risk-taker. Writing as a hobby was safe; writing as a profession, terrifying. I wanted a secure career, not one where I would have to struggle to make ends meet. So, in college, I majored in psychology and went on to get my PhD. As a researcher and psychotherapist, I was able to explore from another angle what I loved most in literature—the complexities of human character. And I did plenty of writing, albeit mostly professional articles and books.
I continued writing poetry on the side, inspired by my clients’ lives, my own experiences, and my love of nature. While taking an adult education poetry class, I had my first how-to lesson in submitting to journals. This was back in the pre-Internet age. There were fewer journals, and the competition was fierce. Submissions had to be typed and mailed with a formal cover letter and a stamped, self-addressed envelope (SSAE), for the return of poems not chosen for publication. Serious submitters kept stacks of envelopes addressed to multiple journals, with the cover letters and SSAEs already tucked inside; as each freshly rejected submission was returned, they would slip the poems into the next envelope in the stack and send it off again.
I lasted about a year at this game before buckling under the deluge of rejections. The silence of editors pushed my anxiety through the roof—there was no way to tell if my poems were simply not a good fit for a particular journal, or if they were total trash. With no external input, my mind raced around a groove of self-doubt and self-criticism, quashing my creativity. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I put away my envelopes and called it quits.
I didn’t take another poetry class for many years, but I never stopped writing. I charmed my friends and family with personalized rhyming poems, which were read aloud at parties to oohs and ahs and treasured by their recipients. And I wrote “serious” poems about love, loss, nature, family, and illness, which were read aloud once to my husband or a close friend, then shoved into a file cabinet, never to be seen again.
But in recent years, after retiring from my psychology career, I’ve reinvested myself in my poetry. I’ve discovered some forgotten gems in my neglected file cabinet, dusted them off and polished them up. And I’ve written many new ones. I’ve taken poetry classes, joined a writers’ group, and participated in a poetry reading. Through these experiences I’ve learned that my poems can stimulate memories, elicit emotions, and offer novel viewpoints—they are effective and worthy. Am I Emily Dickinson? No way. Sylvia Plath? Not hardly. But that’s OK, because as a 60-something, still-emerging poet, I no longer want to let perfection stand in the way of goodness—my goodness. And so, many years after quitting the submissions game, I’ve picked up my virtual envelopes and started over.
In my youth, I measured success by the kudos I received from experts and authority figures. Acceptance by an editor was as—or maybe more—important to me than whether ordinary readers would read and enjoy my work. Self-publishing was not an option—though I knew of remarkable self-published chapbooks, deep down in my approval-seeking soul, I saw this as a last resort for losers. Looking back, I’m ashamed of my addiction to external approval. I’m ashamed of my cowardice, letting fears of rejection keep me from submitting my work. Thankfully, I’ve matured now, and grown a tougher hide. I don’t worry about the judgment of editors. I don’t agonize over whether my poetry meets an elusive standard of artistic worth. My goals are simply to hone my craft, try my best, and get my poems out into the world for people to hear and read. And that’s incredibly liberating.
So, how do I do it? Well, electronic submission has simplified the process these days, but the number of journals is overwhelming. Since my primary goal is to get my poems out to readers, I’ve devised a simple starter strategy: find journals with an issue theme (I use Duotrope’s calendar for this), find poems in my collection (or write new ones) that fit the theme, edit or rework as needed, and hit submit! Then sit back, relax, and wait for the rejections to roll in!
Over the past year, I’ve submitted 19 poems to 11 journals and poetry contests. I’ve had 12 rejections and one publication—and six poems are still out for review. The joy of seeing one of my poems printed in a journal was indescribable. As for the rejections—let’s call them nonacceptances—I felt no pain. I’ve adjusted my expectations and changed my labels. I know that at most journals, most of the time, it’s most likely that the editors will not accept my poems. But this is not the same as rejecting them. And it’s certainly not the same as rejecting me.
Now I imagine the editor like the judge in a baking contest. She tastes hundreds of treats; each is unique, all are sweet. She can only give a prize to the one most pleasing to her palate. I submit poems of many flavors and trust that a few will be so delicious to the taster that she’ll grant them a place on her table. My inbox will no doubt remain filled with rejected confections. But I will be filled with the sweetness of (self-)acceptance, with the joy of sharing my work, and with pride in myself for sticking with it the second time around.
Sara Palmer wrote her first poem in second grade, and since then, poetry has been her vehicle for self-expression, healing, and enjoyment. During her career as a psychologist, Sara specialized in emotional and social aspects of disability, chronic illness, and caregiving. She published articles and chapters for professionals and several books for patients and families, most recently Living with HHT: Understanding and Managing Your Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia (2017). Now retired from psychology, she devotes more time to creative writing and volunteer work. Sara is on the Boards of Cure HHT and Yellow Arrow Publishing. She lives in Baltimore with her husband and dog and enjoys close ties with her adult children, two young grandchildren, and numerous friends.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
Allow Women to Be Strong
By Linda M. Crate
I happen to deeply love the Avatar series. I started by watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra. What I’ve noticed, however, is that some of those in the fandom are really sexist. They call Korra weak and they point out all of her flaws while giving male characters the benefit of the doubt, excusing their bad behavior.
Korra is a girl who is powerful and faces not only tough battles against tough adversaries but she has to fight against PTSD, depression, and other traumas. Yet she does so. She thinks it is weak to ask for help (which is honestly a trait of hers that I relate to) despite having friends that are willing and able to help her. She learns, in the end, to lean on her friends for strength, and becomes even stronger for it.
It is rather disheartening to me that women, strong women, are often seen as weak or hated simply because they are not men. People act as if we’re not all flawed, imperfect beings trying to live our best lives. They will try to pick away at our strength and our power because the fact that we can still go on despite all the situations in life that try to break us is terrifying to them.
I’ve experienced this as a woman writer—I sometimes am not taken seriously because of the subject matter I write about. When I do write about serious or heavy topics in some poems and about love in other ones, the love poems are sometimes the ones that are picked up.
I once wrote about the man who attempted to assault me, only to have a male editor tell me that it made him feel nothing. I cannot tell you how angry that made me—like the suffering of another person doesn’t make you feel anything? The editor then proceeded to tell me to send him more writing when I could write well. If that’s not insult to injury, I don’t know what it is.
Women aren’t all whimsical and romantic creatures that can only write about sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes talking about the dark things that have happened to me actually helps heal me, and strong people need places where they can be vulnerable. In society, I think this is a huge problem. Emotions are seen as weaknesses. They are not. Women should be able to express themselves, men should be able to express themselves; we should all be respected for the things that we feel. I feel like people let men publish things that are just mediocre or don’t make me feel anything, but a woman sometimes is expected to be completely flawless and exquisite to even get noticed as a writer.
Women should be able to write about the things that they want to write about and still be respected.
I want to write about things other than love because love isn’t the only thing I’ve experienced in life.
We deserve to be seen as something other than lovers. Women deserve to be seen for our strength, our fight, our ferocity, and our ability to stand tall despite everything that tried to break us.
Women are strong, they are powerful, and our voices deserve to be heard no matter what we’re talking about. We need to stop discriminating against people based on their gender. We all have talents and abilities that can be strengthened and become better with time, and we all deserve that chance.
I am not weak because I am a woman, but you might be weak if you believe someone is weak for being a woman.
Linda M. Crate is a Pennsylvanian born in Pittsburgh but raised in Conneautville. Her work has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies, both online and in print. She is the author of six poetry chapbooks, the latest two which are the samurai (October 2020) and More Than Bone Music (March 2019). She also is the author of the novel Phoenix Tears (June 2018) and two micropoetry collections. Recently, she has published two full-length poetry collections, Vampire Daughter (February 2020) and The Sweetest Blood (February 2020). Follow her on Facebook, Instagram @authorlindamcrate, or Twitter @thysilverdoe.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts.
Rejection\Acceptance
By Courtney Essary Messenbaugh
Originally written November 2020
This is not a story about 2020 and its discontents; at least not in the way we’re all so accustomed at this point. However, it does start in January of 2020, when I wrote down the following goal: I would submit at least three poems a month to literary publications. Small, but achievable, exactly how I like my goals.
Prior to that moment, I’d spent years jotting down disheveled words in scattered notebooks, hoping they’d someday morph into complete literary pieces that sang. I had taken one formal poetry class and being a writer had long been an aspiration that I dared not even utter because it involved risk and possible, even probable, failure. My life had theretofore been the result of a series of actions based on what I felt was expected of me and what would provide income and consistency. I had gotten a good education and followed a path of sensibility and safety, but had never taken the time to think about what really made me tick or what would truly sustain me.
Adulthood has a knack for kidnapping dreams sometimes and I had let it take off with several of mine. But, as I inched toward middle age, I began to contemplate the value of my time and knew that I needed to make some changes. I had spent much of my adult life with Stockholm syndrome, entranced by the gleam of superficial expectations and status, but never fulfilled, and knew it was time to try to rescue my dreams that still lingered.
Writing was scary because it was new. I was unproven, a total novice. Comfort and perceived expertise were not crutches on which I could rely. It was humbling and incredibly uncomfortable, but I began to reject the notion that failure was not an option. Failure was exactly the option I needed to start breaking free of the captors that had held me hostage for so long. I decided to reject my old way of looking at the world and start writing. In this sense, my writing was born of rejection.
Although the rejection of my own stale worldview felt like a triumphant way to leap into a writing career, the rejection of my actual writing was something altogether different. As I began to submit poems, I became intimately involved with this other sort of rejection. My poetry—those carefully honed pieces of me that I had put onto the page—were being denied left and right. For example, I’ve so far submitted a total of 94 poems this year and received exactly two acceptances. That’s about a 98% rejection rate. If I were in school, I’d have an A+ in Rejection.
Initially, all of this rejection felt personal. It felt like a referendum on the validity of my innermost thoughts and ideas. It even felt like a referendum on who I am as a person. It roused that lifelong voice that’s always casually simmering with “Am I enough? Am I good enough?” and turned it into a loud and consistent chorus. That voice really starts to bellow when I read other poets’ work. There are some poets writing today whose work is miraculous, whose work I will never match.
And that’s OK. The more I read of them, the more I want to create.
As time has gone on this year (and my goodness, time has gone on and on and on!), I have begun to meet my rejections with acceptance. The very thing I want—external acceptance—is the very thing I need to internally embrace. Now, all of these rejected poems later, I remember the buoyancy of the two acceptances and even have held on to several of the more personal and kind rejections. I’m living a duality of rejections: the kind it took for me to start writing and the kind I get about my writing.
As I move into this rejection\acceptance mindset, I have come to rely on two virtues: patience + persistence. Both have turned out to be quite useful in 2020 (for all kinds of reasons, you might relate . . .), and I know I will need them just as much, maybe even more, in 2021. I recently walked away from the safe, income-giving job I had been clinging to for the past 13 years and am going to throw more of myself and my time into writing this new year. I’m terrified. But I’m open. Rejection will be the proof that I’m trying. Persistence will be the way I tell myself to keep writing, keep rewriting, keep reading, keep learning, keep submitting, keep expanding. Persistence will be the muscle memory that every rejection is a tiny step toward possibility.
Not getting rejections, would mean that I’m not trying. And if I’m not trying, then there doesn’t seem to be much point of anything. Trying is enough. I am enough. And some days, I’m even starting to believe that.
Courtney Essary Messenbaugh currently lives in Colorado and delights in the blanket of neon blue sky there. Her work has appeared in the Yellow Arrow Journal and FERAL: A Journal of Poetry and Art. You can find her on Instagram @courtneyessary and Twitter @courtney_essary.
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Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women writers through publication and access to the literary arts. Thank you for supporting independent publishing.
The Light is on its Way: A Thank You to Family and Friends
Dear supporters, authors, readers, and staff,
We began the year with the theme of RESILIENCE for Yellow Arrow Journal. Little did we know at that time how important the quality of resilience would be to all of us this year. The last two issues of Yellow Arrow Journal—HOME and (Re)Formation—were also timely, as well as cathartic, for our staff. And we hope each issue, each piece of writing, provides the same sense of hope to our supporters, authors, and readers, now and in the future. This year has pushed us to accept change and work even harder to ensure that women writers are heard and valued. With change comes growth and with growth comes a new version of the self. As Bailey Drumm points out in her review of Michelle Obama’s Becoming in (Re)Formation, “You must own your story. No one else can for you. Approach the world as it should be, rather than complain about the world as it is. That’s how change is created. We learn from each other, and in learning we transform.”
Despite everything thrown at us this year, we have reformed and reshaped ourselves and are proud of all that we have accomplished over the past 12 months. And it is all thanks to you. We would like to send a huge thank you to everyone who began this journey with us, joined this journey with us, and have yet to find their way to Yellow Arrow. We appreciate all the volunteers, submitters, authors, readers, and donors who have found their way to our (now virtual) doors.
If you haven’t had a chance to watch A Reformative (Re)Formation Reading, please do. Put a face to the words you read. Hear from the authors themselves, about the duality of formation and reformation. Champion our four incredible 2020 Writers-in-Residence, who faced a mountain of obstacles themselves but still managed to create their insightful publication and reading launched earlier this month. Pick up a copy of Smoke the Peace Pipe and the samurai from the Yellow Arrow bookstore today. Learn more about the strengths of these authors and how putting pen to paper can be part of the healing process. And finally, congratulate our 2021 Pushcart nominees who did all the hard work; we are happy to support them, now and in the future.
Look for Ellen Reynard’s upcoming chapbook No Batteries Required to be released in April 2021 and our next journal issue, a special topic issue we are extremely proud of, in May 2021, as well as several other publications slated for release throughout the year. And please keep an eye out for upcoming publication opportunities on the horizon that have yet to be announced. In the short term, workshops continue to be on pause, except for the excellent “A Year in Poetry” with Ann Quinn. Be sure to reserve your spot for the final two sessions on January 2 and February 6. Stay tuned for workshop announcements for 2021.
Yellow Arrow depends on the emotional and financial support of those who value our work; your continued support means everything to us. Donations are appreciated via Paypal (info@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@DonateYAP), or US mail (PO Box 12119, Baltimore, MD 21281). You can further support us by purchasing one of our publications from the Yellow Arrow bookstore (check out our Overstock SALE!), joining our newsletter, following us on Facebook or Instagram, or subscribing to our YouTube channel.
Once again, thank you for supporting independent publishing and women writers.
Sincerely,
Yellow Arrow Publishing
Letter from the Editor
Dear Readers and Writers,Yellow Arrow Publishing inspires, supports, and publishes non-traditional, female identifying writers in the genre of creative nonfiction. We seek to target wonderful, vibrant voices seldom heard in the literary community due to barriers such as academic literacy, disability, access to creative opportunities, or English language proficiency. We do this because for every one woman who manages to get published, there are a hundred more with equally important stories to tell. Yellow Arrow Publishing is focused on knocking these barriers down by allowing women to express themselves however they come to the page. We create a safe space for women to be proud of their work and their lives and their stories, to share without fear of scorn or shame. Women’s voices are underrepresented in literature, and we are here to be part of turning that tide. Sadly, there is a great deal of collective shaming directed toward female writers. A stern “how dare you?” echoes all around. As women, there are a lot of expectations around taking care of people, holding ourselves back so that others can shine, and keeping quiet. So when we have the guts to say, “this is me,” it is often taken as narcissistic, egocentric or arrogant. Providing opportunities for people to muster the courage to express themselves is deeply important work. We see creativity as an act of service, making this project not just about great literature, but about contributing to the collective voice. It’s about saying, yes, we belong here, too. There is no shame in that, just as there is no shame in singing, in sculpting, or in taking pictures. We must share our voices so that our daughters and our nieces can know that her experience is valuable. So that the little neighbor girl up the street will read our stories and say, “me, too.” Expressing who we are and sharing our experience, strength and hope deepens the understanding of the human condition, allowing us all to better empathize with one another. Along with telling stories, one of my gifts in life is the capacity to inspire others to be brave, to dare to be the best version of themselves. The process of writing has brought me so much joy and purpose over the years, especially after finishing my first book. It became clear that drawing creativity out in others would be a way that I could give back and find fulfillment beyond my own creative aspirations.Join us by submitting your story along the theme of "journey," for our first literary magazine, due out in July. See the submissions tab for more information.Cheers,Gwen
What We Do
Art is a shared experience. You express how you experience the world, sometimes abstractly, with your body, in color and in black and white. We share it with words. Creative non-fiction is just another way of shouting it out, of expressing who we are and sharing that experience. There is no shame in that, just as there is no shame in singing, in sculpting, in taking pictures. Sadly, there is a great deal of collective shaming directed towards female artists. A stern “how dare you?” echoes all around. As women, there are a lot of expectations around taking care of others, holding ourselves back so that others can shine, and keeping quiet. So when we have the guts to say, “this is me,” it is often taken as narcissistic, egocentric or arrogant. We find ourselves stuck telling other people’s stories, or carving our own art down to fit a mold. We at Yellow Arrow Publishing are tired of this. We strive to share who we are, to place our names among the poets, the playwrights, and the painters. We must share our voices, we must join this collective, so that our daughters and our nieces and the little neighbor girl up the street can know that her experience is valuable, too. We allow women the space to be proud of their work and their lives and their stories. To share without fear of scorn or shame. There are so many women out there, doing amazing things that are extraordinary and absolutely ordinary, and have rich value all the same. We share these stories and add to that wondrous shared experience called art.