A WWS Publication Roundup for June

A laptop computer with an article titled "Submissions Made Simple" on the screen and a stack of literary journals sits on top of the laptop base, titles facing out

What an amazingly long list of publications! Congratulations to all the Women Who Submit published in June.

Congratulations to Elline Lipkin, who published two poems, “Fingernail Moon” and “Pleine Lune” at Apricity Press! From “Fingernail Moon“:

This moon is a thin cusp that cups the vast black,
a silver rim thimbling stars into strewn seams.

From “What I Learned When I Visited Adelanto” by Lisa Cheby at Writers Resist:

the high desert stretches     hours west of airbnbs and selfie backdrops    here Joshua Trees weep

Congratulations to Cherisse Yanit Nadal who had two poems, “It hurts less when I case us in history” and “Benevolent Assimilation,” published at Marías at Sampaguitas. From “It hurts less when I cast us in history“:

1898
You are America; She: Paris;
All of my white boyfriends: Spain.
The difference, you said, Was liberty,
Was protection, Was solidarity,
A common enemy. A common bed.

Congratulations to Mia Nakaji Monnier, who had three pieces published in the Washington Post‘s local guide columns about Los Angeles, Atwater Village and Little Tokyo. From “A Local’s Guide to Los Angeles“:

Ask any Angeleno to describe the city to you and they’ll do it in a different way. There’s beach city L.A., literary L.A., the L.A. of ethnic enclaves and public art and serious sports fans and amateur foodies.

From Karin Aurino‘s “Daisy” at 50-Word Stories:

She loves me… She loves me not.
I visited her at the cemetery, laid daisies at the base of her headstone.

From “Pleated Skirt (Tante Fela)” by Helena Lipstadt at Visitant:

I am not as tall as I was
when I looked like Polly Bergen
and strolled down the shady
Warsaw sidewalk, a leather bag
in the crook of my arm.

From “Amsterdam Long Window” by Donna Sprujit-Metz at The Los Angeles Review:

What does it mean
to owe someone? A cocoon
a small blue egg, a chrysalis?

From “Chicana in New York: Gloria Anzaldúa on Spirituality and the City” by Li Yun Alvarado in MELUS:

Born on 26 September 1942, Anzaldúa became a leading Chicana feminist poet, writer, and theorist before her death in 2004. Raised near the Texas-US Southwest / Mexico border, Anzaldúa features the region prominently throughout her groundbreaking mixed-genre book Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza(1987). In the preface to Borderlands, she notes, “The actual physical borderland that I’m dealing with in this book is the Texas-U.S. Southwest/Mexican border.” 

From “Andy’s Alliance” by Noriko Nakada at *82 Review:

The absence of the Japanese Americans from Emerson Junior High leaves a massive void. Once the winter ends and the weather grows warm again, nearly a third of their classmates are gone. That is when Andy forms the alliance, to stand guard over friendships and memories until their Japanese classmates return. 

From Tammy Delatorre‘s “I Am Coming for You” at Winning Writers:

I am coming for you. My mother might have said those words the night she went after him—the bearded man, the one she took to her room all those nights. He would come over after I’d gone to bed. She carried me from her room—the only place I could fall asleep—to the room across the hall. In the sticky Hawaiian heat, I’d wake to their loud moans and groans in the middle of the night and sit straight up in bed. At six years old, the only thing I knew of sex was a glimpse I got on TV: two bodies moving under a white sheet.

Congratulations to Flint whose poem, “This Is (Not) A Love Letter: A Poem for Two Voices & M/any Ears,” was published in Our Poetica: An Anthology of Ars Poetica by Cathexis Northwest Press!

Congratulations to Tanya Ko Hong (고현혜) who published her Mini-E-Book, 유월의 눈 June Snow, this month!

Tsuru for Solidarity

multi-colored folded origami crane on a flat, black surface.

By Noriko Nakada

Read and bear witness. Retweet the tweets. Repost the images. Fold a crane. Fold another. And another.

Remember Sadako, the first story I heard, or read, about folding cranes. A girl who loved to run and play, an innocent victim of nuclear war who got leukemia years after the bombs were dropped. She folded cranes. One thousand and you get your wish. She didn’t make it to a thousand. The cranes she folded didn’t save her.

Fold cranes and attempt to make clean creases, to give energy and thoughts and wishes to children. Innocent victims again. This time they are in cages. This time they are separated from their families. Treated like animals. Criminals.

My sister-in-law folded 1000 cranes for her wedding. I contributed 200 to the cause. She had all 1000 of those gold folded origami cranes and assembled in a beautiful framed tsuri in the shape of the Nakada Kanji. In the rice field.

I once folded cranes at a table at the Deschutes County Fair in Oregon. I think we were protesting death squads in El Salvador, or the murder of a priest in Nicaragua, or the disappeared in Guatemala. Maybe it was later, and we were protesting nuclear weapons testing, or the first Iraq war, or acknowledging the anniversaries of Hiroshima or Nagasaki. I taught nice white folks in Central Oregon who had never met anyone Japanese, who couldn’t believe my dad had been incarcerated as a child during World War II. “Well, that sure doesn’t sound very ‘Merican.”

It was. It is. America is all the truths we hold to be self-evident: the good and the bad. The ugly. We are a country built by people taken by force, built by people brought by force and forced to build this nation. This history is in the bones of the body of our nation.

We are a country who takes Native children from their families. We exclude immigrants from certain countries and embrace immigrants from another. We incarcerate whole families during times of war and turn refugees away and sentence them to death. We drop nuclear weapons on entire cities, take sides in civil wars, go to battle in the name of democracy, fight against communism, ensure our people have access to oil and resources and markets all for America and the pursuit of happiness.

We elect men who enslave, who father enslaved children, who rape, who murder, who who who.

So, today I fold. I teach friends to fold. I teach my daughter to fold and while we fold we think about the ways we can push back against all that is wrong. Push, y’all, and keep pushing. 

Check out Tsuru for Solidarity on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram to find ways you can help push back. 


Noriko Nakada HeadshotNoriko Nakada is a public school teacher and the editor of the Breathe and Push column. She writes, blogs, tweets, and parents in Los Angeles. She is committed to writing thought-provoking creative non-fiction, fiction, and poetry.

Working Through Writer’s Block

A pen and a stone sitting on a opened page of a hardcover book along with a journal and a small alter of candles.

By Thea Pueschel

The screen is blank, your fingers perch on the keyboard, the cursor is blinking at you, and your deadline is looming. Every writer experiences writer’s block at some point in their career. Perhaps, the blinking cursor and the blank screen even pervade your sleeping hours. When you are in a writing rut, and it feels as if there isn’t an exit it’s time to break free and find the flow again.

Body journal and breathe

You’re experiencing writer’s block with that comes a specific sensation or feeling. It’s time to step away from the computer. Take out a pen and paper and begin to write down the sensations you are feeling in your body. Give yourself 5-10 minutes for this exercise. Is your jaw tight? Can you associate the feeling with something else? Write it down. Are your shoulders shrugged up to your ears? When has that happened before? Write it down.

Go through as much of your body as you can in this time frame, write down the feelings and sensations as well as when you have experienced them before. Once, you’ve journaled, inhale deeply and exhale until your lungs feel empty. Take three breaths like this, stand up and stretch. You are ready to conquer the blank screen.

Stichomancy or bibliomancy

You’re stuck. Your thought pattern is circling and not going anywhere near what you need to write.  The muse has wandered away. Perhaps, relying on a 3,000-year-old divination technique would invite the muse back in. Stichomancy or bibliomancy is a divination technique where a random line or passage from a book or the bible is selected to help guide a person in life. This technique works well to get outside of your head, and change perspective.

Take a small stone or a coin; open the book of your choice. With your eyes closed drop the object on the open page. Look where it landed, take 5 minutes to write about the selected line or rewrite the text, or write about the topic from a different point of view. Once your creative channels are clear, it’s time to get back to your work.

When you write, it’s easy to get trapped in your perspective especially when you are feeling blocked. Using stichomancy requires you to write from a place that is outside your norm bringing a fresh approach to your creativity.  The body journal and breathe technique helps you reconnect to your body, explore your sensations and give them a voice which helps clear the mind and the body of blockages.

These techniques are a great way to break up the monotony of self-judgment and get your writing to flow again. Sometimes, the muse just needs to be taken for a walk through different techniques to open the channels of communication.

Thea Pueschel is a hypnotherapist, yoga/meditation teacher. She writes, creates visual art, and teaches yoga teachers and doulas how to deliver and write meditations in and around L.A. and Orange County. She is committed to submitting, only in a literary capacity with light-hearted yet dark creative non-fiction, fiction, and poetry.

A WWS Publication Roundup for May

A laptop computer with an article titled "Submissions Made Simple" on the screen and a stack of literary journals sits on top of the laptop base, titles facing out

April showers bring May flowers…and WWS publications! Congratulations to all the Women Who Submit who had work published in May.

From Anita Gill‘s review of Debra Gwartney’s I’m a Stranger Here Myself at Brevity:

Gwartney’s second book veers from the traditional structure of memoir, using a lesser-known historical event as a springboard for her own personal narrative. In I Am a Stranger Here Myself, Gwartney juxtaposes her memories with the story of Narcissa Whitman, one of the first white women settlers to journey westward. This genre-bending manuscript won the 2018 River Teeth Nonfiction Prize and publication this past March.

From “Marvels of Representation” by Ryane Nicole Granados at LA Parent:

While they are 5 1/2 years apart in age and are opposites in many ways, one thing my sons have in common is that they have struggled to find toys – in particular, superheroes – that look like them.

From “The Quiet on the Other Side” by Hazel Kight Witham at Mutha Magazine:

The quiet stops when they call my name from the waiting room at Labor and Delivery. I open my eyes, balance my six-month baby belly in my arms as I shift to standing. I need a quick check in, a blood pressure reading, some reassurance. I am not here to labor or deliver.

From Mia Nakaji Monnier‘s “Kokoro Yasume” at Longreads:

I inherited the porcelain ghosts from my neighbor Amy, whose parents’ house was filled to capacity with everything from shrimp figurines to polished-wood Noh masks. After her mother died and before the estate sale crew swept through the house, I walked the rooms with Amy, cataloging the contents of cabinets, sorting documents from recyclables. “If something like that catches your eye, take it,” she said about the ghost dolls. “I don’t want to see them becoming someone’s Oriental tchotchkes.”

From Carla Sameth‘s “Mother’s Day Triptych” at Mutha Magazine:

The picture is of my son, Raphael, as a newborn. The bright royal blue color of the onesie complements his looks. Like now, his look is racially and culturally ambiguous, similar to the rest of our family. His eyes dark-dark almost black, his hair barely curly, brownish, which will get darker and thicker and curlier as he grows. At birth, there is a bit of blond. Like me. For a second. Family lore has it that my mom called out when I was born, “Oh my God, the Milkman, a blond” in a family of dark haired olive skinned people.

From Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo‘s “Invisible No More: How ‘Fade Into You’ Reflects the L.A. Chicanx Experience” at Los Angeles Review of Books:

In an interview with the popular feminist podcast Call Your Girlfriend, Darling said she named her character Nikki because “being in the interiority of a teenage girl is not something readers are always familiar with.” InFade Into You, Darling gives us more than an intimate view of a teenage girl; she gives us an intimate view of a young, mixed-race Chicana living in the suburbs of Los Angeles, the kind of portrait that is nearly nonexistent in L.A. letters.

Also from Xochitl, “Kenji Liu Is Using Frankenstein as a Metaphor for Toxic Masculinity” at bitch:

Much of the work in Monsters I Have Been is what Liu calls “Frankenpo,” a style of his own creation that chops and mixes multiple texts into one body. The poem “Stomach me, delicious world” is a Frankenpo, and according to Liu’s notes at the back of the book, combines “the screenplay of Wong Kar-Wai’s Happy Together (1997) + screenplay of Alice Wu’s Saving Face (2004) + article ‘Confucius on Gay Marriage’ in the Diplomat + New York Times article ‘Court in Hong Kong Invalidates Antisodomy Law from British Era.’”

From Désirée Zamorano‘s “Much More to Investigate” at Los Angeles Review of Books:

From the opening pages of Miracle Creek, Angie Kim creates an intense atmosphere of foreboding and suspense, building swiftly to the event that triggers the rest of her debut novel, unraveling so many lives and lies.

From Rachael Rifkin‘s “How to Honor a Loved One’s Memory” at nextavenue:

When my mom passed away, having established guidelines for my early grieving process was a relief, giving me concrete steps to take and tasks to do. Several years on, my grief is different — less sharp, but still punctuated with unexpected moments and feelings that catch me off guard. I’ve found myself wishing for more traditions and rituals for this stage, and more opportunities to remember and celebrate her life.

Also from Rachael, “29 Siblings and Counting” at 23andMe:

Shauna tested to learn more about her health history, and found herself instead in the middle of the plot of a movie (The Delivery Man, to be exact). Thoughts about potential susceptibilities to diseases receded as she discovered first one, then eight, and now at least 29 donor siblings.

As someone who grew up as an only child and really owned that identity, receiving an email that began “It looks like we are related” was pretty disorienting.

Congratulations to Minal Hajratwala whose poem, “new world literature, or, we’ll be together in the end,” was published in WSQ: Asian Diasporas! Minal also won residencies at Pond Farm and Clarion West workshops.

Congratulations to Tanya Ko Hong whose poems, “The Cost of Breath,” “Confronting My Father’s Mistress,” and “Journey” were published in Women’s Studies Quarterly! From “The Cost of Breath:”

Talk about the wood
stacked high in the living room
what it costs
to breathe in my home—
raw wood, oak
so long and thick—
a dead elephant stretched wall to wall

Breathe and Push: Threatened Abortion

 I didn’t realize I was pregnant until we were moving out of the duplex and into our new condo. After a long day of hauling boxes, I collapsed on the new hardwood floors and tried to understand my exhaustion. It was a new kind of tired—like I couldn’t get up off the floor—and I tried to remember the last time I had my period. That was when I asked my partner to pick up a test. It was New Year’s Eve.

It was the two of us with our puppy and a + sign that told us there was a baby on the way. The condo was new with white walls and no history. It was the height of the real estate bubble, and we believed we were settling into a fresh new start, and our little family was sprouting new life.

Image of the author lying on the floor next to a brown dog.

So, if you believe a pregnancy is the universe’s way of telling you to stay with someone, to work through things; what exactly is the universe trying to tell you if you miscarry?

It was the beginning of February and the gloom of winter that never usually settles into LA, settled into LA. I was nearing the end of my first trimester. This was confirmed at an appointment with my OBGYN. I was relieved to be happy, to know that I wanted to have kids. I asked the doctor about the drinking I did over Thanksgiving, before I had any idea I was pregnant. Her response: “There’s nothing you can do about it now. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Make sure you’re taking a prenatal vitamin and stop drinking/smoking.”

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the bacchanalia that was that Thanksgiving. It was the year our friend was dating the wine maker and at our Friendsgiving we drank. We Drank. And there was lots of second hand smoke. We ate so much delicious food and we drank some of tastiest wines, but now I couldn’t help but wonder the impact those three days of gluttony might have had on the baby.

So, when I saw spotting toward the end of that first trimester, and then the spotting got worse, I called my friend who was also a doctor, and he told me to go to the emergency room.

Atop the exam room table, the lab tech searched, searched, searched inside me for a heartbeat and he found nothing, nothing, nothing. It was over.

The Urgent Care doctor said I could choose a D & C or allow my body to take care of it on its own. Either way, I already had my next prenatal appointment scheduled; I could decide then. My discharge papers from Urgent Care said “Threatened Abortion.” Abortion. Not miscarriage, abortion. The issue suddenly came into new, sharper focus, because if abortion was murder, I had just killed my baby. The injustice of the loss and this loaded term overwhelmed me. As my partner drove me home, I started to grieve. I had already imagined the timing of this baby, had imagined the future of our family, but I also breathed with relief. Maybe we weren’t ready. Maybe this pregnancy wasn’t meant to be.

When I got home, I looked up threatened abortion: vaginal bleeding when the diagnostic for a spontaneous abortion has not been met. Spontaneous abortion: miscarriage, pregnancy loss. These are all the pregnancies that aren’t meant to be. Despite what anti-abortion activists want this word to mean, pregnancy loss is loss. Abortion is a pregnancy that isn’t meant to be.

That was twelve years ago. I can do the math in my head. I can tell you how old that baby might be, and friends I have who have experienced any of the many types of pregnancy loss hold that math in their bodies.

As abortion access and rights are systematically stripped away from women all over our country, I think of my unplanned pregnancy. I remember my threatened abortion and how sick I was for months after, but when so much was out of my control, I still had a choice. Our country protects that choice, and we will continue to fight for it, for all women.

We are women and non binary creatives. We write our own stories and control every word on the page. We maintain our narratives and we will breathe and push the stories we choose to tell into the world. We choose our words, our bodies, and our lives.

Noriko Nakada, a racially ambiguous writer's headshot

Noriko Nakada is a public school teacher and the editor of the Breathe and Push column. She writes, blogs, tweets, and parents in Los Angeles. She is committed to writing thought-provoking creative non-fiction, fiction, and poetry.



Behind the Editors’ Desk for ACCOLADES: The Women Who Submit Anthology!

Accolades: A WWS Anthology

Accolades: A Women Who Submit Anthology

In 2019, Women Who Submit will celebrate submissions and acceptances in partnership with Jamii Publishing, an Inland Empire independent press. This anthology is made possible by the Investing in Tomorrow Organizational Grant from the Center for Cultural Innovation with support from the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation.

For our inaugural anthology, Women Who Submit welcomes submissions of work published between 2016 and 2018 from all WWS members. Make sure you have permission from the original publication to reprint the piece. Work that features women and non-binary characters prominently in a positive manner are encouraged. Pieces that include multiple identities or marginalized perspectives are also encouraged.

Accolades: A WWS Anthology

Submission Guidelines can be found here.

For this issue of Behind the Editor’s Desk, I’m talking to WWS leaders Tisha Reichle-Aguilera and Rachael Warecki, managing editors of Accolades. All of us in WWS leadership are grateful for Tisha and Rachael’s fantastic and diligent work in creating the Call for Submissions and being the point people on this project.

Continue reading “Behind the Editors’ Desk for ACCOLADES: The Women Who Submit Anthology!”

The WWS Guide to LitFest Pasadena

The 7th Annual LitFest Pasadena is coming Saturday, May 18th and Sunday, May 19th. This two-day event will take over well-known Pasadena literary and arts venues such as Vroman’s Bookstore and the Pasadena Playhouse with over 50 panels, workshops, and readings featuring authors, publishers, editors, and educators from all around Southern California and beyond. This year individuals from our WWS community make a big splash featuring in 10 events. Here is a breakdown of where you can find our celebrated members.

See you in Pasadena!

Languas Revoltosas
Women of Color Disrupting Traditional Literary Zones
May 18, Saturday, 3-4 p.m. at The Stand

“Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity—I am my language,” wrote the legendary poet-scholar Gloria Anzaldúa. Despite rich linguistic/cultural diversity within the United States, the primary passport in mainstream publishing continues to be monolinguistic. This multi-genre reading features writers of color with unruly tongues disrupting English-only literary zones and challenging perceptions of what constitutes Latinx and POC writing and identity. Featuring Angelina Sáenz, Tanya Ko Hong, Veronica Reyes, and Sehba Sarwar. Hosted by Olga Echeverría Garcia.

Writing Our Own Codices
Acts of Resistance to 500 Years of Detentions and Killings
May 18, Saturday, 4:30-5:30 p.m., Vroman’s Bookstore, courtyard

Project 1521 gathers artists, writers, and scholars to generate new visual and literary works as we approach the 500 year anniversary of the conquest of Mexico. The goal is to make sense of current acts of detention and killings and create works as acts of resistance. Participants will read new texts with a reproduction of Sandy Rodriguez’s “Codex Rodriguez-Mondragón” as outdoor installation, and dialogue with the audience. Featuring Adrian Arancibia, Letiticia Hernández, Arminé Iknadossian, Darren J. de Leon, Dr. Diana Magaloni, Linda Ravenswood, Yago S. Cura, Sandy Rodriguez, and Adolfo Guzman-Lopez.

You Might as Well Live
Traversing Pain, Pleasure, and Everything in Between in the Queer Memoir
May 18, Saturday, 7:30-8:30 p.m., Vroman’s Bookstore, upstairs

This lively and thought-provoking panel discussion will feature an eclectic and electric group of LGBTQ authors discussing their recent memoirs, the writing process, inspiration(s), and much more. Featuring Alex Espinoza, Ali Liebegott, Carla Sameth, Jacob Tobia, and Corey Roskin as moderator.

Diving into the Wreck
The Inheritance of Trauma
May 18, Saturday, 7:30-8:30 p.m., Pasadena Playhouse, courtyard

Award-winning poets William Archila, Lory Bedikian, Douglas Manuel, and Michelle Brittan Rosado read from their harrowing collections about family, what we inherit, and trauma that haunts through generations. Their works swim in the wake of Adrienne Rich’s 1973 Diving into the Wreck and seek “the wreck and not the story of the wreck / the thing itself and not the myth” of their own subjective experiences.

Power Treaties
May 19, Sunday, 3-4:30 p.m., Battery Books & Music
26. S. Robles Ave., Pasadena 91101

Enjoy a literary performance of poetry, prose, and music about the topic of power. The artists will stretch and play with the different dimensions of power —how they use it, lose it, abuse it, shape or share it. The performance will at Battery Books and Music will highlight the work of the following poets, essayists, and lyricists: Amy Shimshon-Santo, Adrian Ernesto, Mireya Vela, Brennan DeFrisco, and Avila Santo.

East Pasadena Poets
Celebrating Each Other Through Poetry
May 19, Sunday, 4:30-5:30 p.m., Pasadena Playhouse, courtyard

This six-year-old writers’ group has been gathering to share poetry, help one another improve, and to celebrate and support the art and craft of poetry. Members will read their own and others’ poetry in a round-robin style, focusing on the themes of community and connection. Featuring Beverly Lafontaine, Cathie Sandstrom, Elline Lipkin, Genevieve Kaplan, and Mary Fitzpatrick.

The Citizen Poets Sparking Our Civic Imagination
May 19, Sunday, 4:30-5:30 p.m., El Portal, banquet room

The Pasadena Rose Poets are a group of citizen poets who have been reading poetry during the public comment period of Pasadena City Council meetings since February 2017. “I believe that because of the poetry reading at City Council our meetings are more civil,” says Pasadena Mayor Terry Tornek. Featuring Hazel Clayton Harrison, Gerda Govine Ituarte, Shahé Mankerian, and Toni Mosley.

Queer, Adoptive, and Nontraditional Families
Writing Our Truth
May 19, Sunday, 6-7 p.m., Pasadena Playhouse, library

Whether writing about child-rearing or unrelated topics, parenthood intersects at every level of the professional author experience. Queer parents are often intentional in creating their families and in how they position themselves as writers. This panel features diverse authors who define themselves as something other than a “traditional” mother. Featuring Pat Alderete, Nefertiti Austin, Cheryl Klein, Carroll Sun Yang, and Carla Sameth as moderator.

Is Traditional Masculinity “Toxic”?
May 19, Sunday, 6-7 p.m., El Portal, banquet room

This panel discussion will provide a basic overview of the key guidelines in the recent American Psychological Associations’ Guidelines for Psychological Practice with Boys and Men. This report has generated considerable attention and controversy in the popular press in its description of some traditional tropes of masculinity as problematic and maladaptive, especially within the context of the #MeToo movement and on-going debates regarding “toxic masculinity.” The panelists, which includes one of the leadauthors of the report as well as an expert on adolescent development, will reflect on competing and often contradictory pressures that boys face in this environment, and how data indicate serious challenges in academic and health outcomes. Featuring Ioakim Boutakidis, Matt Englar Carlson, Sehba Sarwar, and Jinghuan Liu Tervalon, moderator.

No Longer the Scream Queen
Women’s Roles in Horror
May 19, Sunday, 6-7 p.m., Vanessa’s Café

Women creators in the horror genre discuss the roles and representation of female characters and archetypes in horror literature and film. Featuring Kate Maruyama, Kate Jonez, Kathryn McGee, Lisa Morton, and Ashley Santana, moderator.

A WWS Publication Roundup for April

A laptop computer with an article titled "Submissions Made Simple" on the screen and a stack of literary journals sits on top of the laptop base, titles facing out

What a great selection of published pieces to celebrate in April. Congratulations to all!

From “Panama” by Donna Sprujit-Metz at SWWIM:

wings, the hummingbirds— 
part of one thousand 
species of birds here—they sip sweet
sap, beaks bright,
the lush forest shows, greens

Further congrats to Donna for publishing her poem, “Tiny Hammers,” in Smartish Pace!

From “Visitation” by Cybele Garcia Kohel at New American Legends:

La Virgen materialized to me- Me!
on a car bumper a medallion of divinity
appeared
where a US Army Seal had been
small
but not impotent

Also from Cybele, “Moon’s Shadow” at New American Legends:

her buxom breadth
her waning flow
true comfort
in this wicked world

From Stephanie Abraham‘s “Telling Stories that Matter for an Increasingly Influential Generation” at My PRSA:

Thanks to the social-media sharing habits of their Gen X and millennial parents, most Gen Zers have had social-media footprints since conception and learned to swipe before taking their first steps. Although the youngest in the age group won’t be eligible to vote until 2030, the oldest have already graduated from college. Starting next year, Gen Z will make up 40 percent of consumers.

Also from Stephanie, “‘Ramy’ Will Get You Laughing — and Thinking,” at Ms.:

The 10 episodes, 22 minutes each, are designed to be binge-watched—which Youssef called the “most 2019” part of the production after a screening in Los Angeles last week. Episodes are not resolved neatly, he added, because “that would be sci-fi.” The plot’s primary tension comes from Ramy’s grappling with believing in God and wanting to be a “good” Muslim, or what he perceives as such, and everyday life in the U.S.—including navigating dating and sex, peer pressure and Islamophobia.

From Romaine Washington‘s “A Thriving Writing Workshop in San Bernadino” at Poets & Writers:

Our workshop participants range in age from mid-twenties to eighties, from college students to retirees. The octogenarian from Germany and the dancer in her twenties who works with at-risk youth have a mutual admiration for each other’s poetry and joie de vivre. The creative process, natural flow in fellowship, and mutual respect makes each meeting memorable.

From “The Button Maker’s House” by Sakae Manning at Carve:

At the center of the front garden, a Deodar Cedar, taller than any tree for blocks around, broad-branched, and regal, planted for shade, a children’s swing, a place for family gatherings. The tree reminded Mari of the flat-topped cedars growing at the edge of her grandfather’s village in Japan. Bending to the ocean’s whims, shaped by monsoons and tsunamis, but never breaking. The four intertwined trunks created a perfect spot for marrying up to the big-nosed man Mari’s mother believed held so much potential. 

Congratulations to Sakae who won a 2019 Summer Fishtrap fellowship!

From “Four Days: A Provocation” by Deirdre Hennings at Litro:

“Papers! Papers!” Shouts of armed soldiers wake me as they tromp through my train in long coats and helmets. So this is East Germany, 1972. We scramble for our passports, watching passengers exit under machine guns aimed at our train from atop nineteenth-century iron catwalks arching above the tracks. One blond, Nordic-looking woman is pulled from her seat in our car at gunpoint, crying and pleading in German, broken English and some other language I cannot understand. She looks to be twenty, the same age as me.

From Rosa Navarette‘s “A Busted Window or My Observation of Luz Moreno, mi Tia Paty” at Label Me Latina/o

Luz Moreno, also known as Paty in our family, was born in 1979. She was the last of the Morenos to emerge, and she stood out like a sore thumb with her lighter complexion and short legs. A small suspicion wandering the halls of my grandmother’s house, that no one in the family was brave enough to confront. Her older sister, Magda, had become a kitchen helper in the family and home business — the indoor garage was turned into a restaurant, that once belonged to the eldest, sixteen years Paty’s senior. The eldest was at the time of Paty’s childhood, crossing the border to be reunited with her husband. Paty only remembered that her sister’s husband used to
bring her toys, but that those presents stopped when he moved away.

Congratulations to Arielle Silver, whose lyrics for “The Calling” won second place in the March/April 2019 Lyric Contest at American Songwriter:

Freight train’s in the distance
Hear that whistle blow
See it slipping like a serpent
Beneath the sunset glow
Further out, the clouds
Are building up a storm,
Throwing bolts of lightning
They say it’s gonna pour

From Flint‘s “The Clubhouse” at Bending Genres:

The golf cart got a flat 20 yards past the eleventh hole, and three-quarters of a mile away from Frank’s now warm vodka Martini waiting for him at the clubhouse bar. They were only supposed to play nine, and Shirley always had his drink out of the shaker and fogging up the glass at 12:15pm on the nose, not a second before or a minute later, not even if she had to stop mid-pour, leaving some luckless bastard’s Black Label

A great month for Flint who also published “A Villanelle by Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet” at Arts & Letters and “Ink” at Unchaste Readers. Congrats!

From Judy Gitterman‘s “Money for Nothing” at The Wild Word:

As I stood in line to reload my Metro card at the station, a man in front of me turned around and stared. It took me several seconds to recognize my old lover. It wasn’t as though he’d aged. He was as gorgeous as ever, a silver-haired Richard Gere look-alike with an irresistible smile. Eyes so dark they resembled bottomless black wells. No, what threw me off was his attire. He wore the most exquisite charcoal grey suit, so sharply tailored he could have been a model for GQ. In the three years we were together, I’d never seen him wear anything other than ripped jeans and faded tee shirts.

Congratulations to Janel Pineda, whose “When the Death Squads Come” was published at Latina Book Review!

Breathe and Push: Attending the AWP You Want to Create

by Noriko Nakada

Ever since I first became aware of the AWP conference, I have avoided attending. Part of my avoidance had to do with my MFA experience. I attended Antioch University LA’s low residency program from 2003-2005 where I worked with amazing mentors and created bonds with talented writers, but like most MFA programs, it had/has a diversity problem. I sought out what diversity did exist in the program, and super-appreciated that Terrence Hayes was our commencement speaker, but I wasn’t brave enough to leave my MFA like Kima Jones did and wrote about in her “Flood Is Water” piece for Poets and Writers.

Throughout the program, I found residencies stressful, and when I glanced through the schedule of lectures and readings, most topics weren’t for me. I realize now, I was suffering from MFA-so-white, so-male, so-straight, so fiction-valuing, so I avoided AWP. I imagined it would be a fun-house mirror of my MFA experience. I also dislike crowds and paying fees for professional organizations/ conferences. I didn’t even go to AWP or its associated events when it was in LA. Yeah. I just never wanted to go.

But 15 years later, a small tweet from Jack Jones Literary Arts asking for volunteers to table for them, and a post from Women Who Submit asking for a roll call of members attending, I got myself there.

In the weeks leading up to the conference, I heard from writers who struggled at AWPs in the past. They gave advice for making the most of the conference, and I listened. And then I cast a spell over myself to be positive (while still critical) within my AWP experience. My first test came in the form of a LONG registration line. A long, white line. But I stayed inside my little spell and quietly observed the AWP happening around me.

The line moved quickly, and I signed in, but they didn’t have my badge. A volunteer there told me the organization who registered me must have printed it. Okay. So instead of lingering inside that chaos, I got to seek out Jack Jones. I pushed my way onto the floor of the book fair and at the end of a brilliant red carpet, there was Kima setting up the JJLA table. She welcomed me with a hug, introduced me to her staff, passed on my badge, and then I created the AWP I wanted to attend. I went to panels with women and writers of color talking about issues I wanted to think about and readings by writers I admired and wanted to hear.

A few weeks have passed, and I don’t know if I’ll ever attend AWP again. I know there were other versions of AWP happening in Portland last month, but my AWP was fierce writer-activists creating the literary world they want and demanding better from the community that exists. We all need and deserve more from the literary community: we have work to do, so for now, I’ll stay writing.

Noriko Nakada, a racially ambiguous writer's headshot

Noriko Nakada is a public school teacher and the editor of the Breathe and Push column. She writes, blogs, tweets, and parents in Los Angeles. She is committed to writing thought-provoking creative non-fiction, fiction, and poetry.

Behind The Editor’s Desk: Christine Maul Rice

A giant H bordered by curly brackets invites the reader into a sleek layout. A revolving banner of arresting visual art looms over the clickable genres before the headline announces, “Hypertext Magazine: 10 years of fiction, essays, poetry, visual art, interviews.” In a time when it’s difficult for journals to stay afloat, the fact alone that Hypertext has been active for a decade is impressive, especially having started right after the recession. But it isn’t just longevity that makes Hypertext a magazine worth your time. Their dual publishing of online and print contains excellent writing, much of which is authored by women.

Continue reading “Behind The Editor’s Desk: Christine Maul Rice”