Tag: Women Who Submit

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Intersect: On Being Lost and Found

A review of Elsa Valmidiano’s essay collection The Beginning of Leaving 

By Juanita E. Mantz

Being a voracious reader, I’ve noticed that some books touch me deep inside, and change me, leaving an imprint, almost a like birthmark, that only I can see. For me, an example is Elsa Valmidiano’s most recent book, the beautifully crafted hybrid essay collection The Beginning of Leaving. It begins with a poem, quite fittingly titled “What We Were Meant To” and with the lines, “Are we born feet first/to hit the ground running/our hearts already exposed/slashed open to bleed?”

From there, Valmidiano begins a discovery and excavation of the self along with a deep questioning of family and a search for home. Part memoir, part travelogue, with an interspersing of her lyrically stunning poetry, Valmidiano lifted me up, taking me on a literary trip that I won’t soon forget. Falling into the book was like diving into a crystal blue pool of water; I was immersed and transported and at times, even held my breath until I could remember to exhale. Then I would breathe, and read and read some more, savoring it and admiring Valmidiano’s ability to convey such depth in her words.

In the first essay First Home, Valmidiano eases us into her story, telling of her birth in what she deems “the Motherland”, deftly describing her infant years in Las Piñas in the Philippines. She speaks of her beginning, and then of her leaving at the age of sixteen months. After describing her bloodcurdling screams on the plane, Valmidiano questions, “Could I have been missing Motherland but just couldn’t say in words?” 

This theme of returning home resonated so much with me and as a memoirist who herself writes about leaving home then returning, it struck a deep chord. You see, as a kid with a chaos filled and turbulent home life, I always yearned to be somewhere, anywhere other than my hometown of the Inland Empire (located in Southern California, a region about fifty miles east of Los Angeles). 

But I, much like Valmidiano with her Motherland, eventually realized that the Inland Empire was calling me home and I would return to my community in my thirties when my father got sick and passed away. It is also where I would stay, to this very day.

The Inland Empire is ultimately where I would find my calling as a lawyer (by moving from corporate law to public defense) and even more importantly, I would find my voice as a writer (my memoir is titled “Tales of an Inland Empire Girl”). And ironically enough,I would also recreate these locations in my memoir, thus returning home, like Valmidiano, both literally and figuratively.

Valmidiano’s book is also much about family and on her visit home, she describes where her father grew up, in a barrio once known as Lapog, but now known as San Juan. Reading her lyrical words, it reminded me so much of my own father, who died about seventeen years ago, My dad was not from the Philippines, but instead he was a “white” cowboy from Montana whose parents were so poor that his parents put him and his siblings in an orphanage for a time so the state could feed them. Valmidiano’s words and the images she constructed of her father and his past, reminded me that lack of economic privilege crosses racial lines and is systemic and generational but that I, like Valmidiano (who is a lawyer turned writer like myself) broke the cycle of poverty through education.

As a nonfiction writer and poet, Valmidiano is exquisitely precise in her details, and even tells us how one showers here, in this place, and how one must crouch and “pour cold buckets of water over one’s head”. It is the simplicity and beauty of the language which conveys the most. And we hear her voice and the voice of those who came before in her stunning prose and we see, as Valmidiano says, “Ghosts of our ancestors linger within these walls . . . .”

This book is both about the present and the past and Valmidiano reminded me of how words can encapsulate and recreate time and place. A friend of mine once compared writing memoir to building a time machine and the beauty of Valmidiano’s work lies in how she expertly pilots her figurative paper made time machine through her craft, transporting me to a time and place I recognized well, one that resonated and reverberated in my soul, to a time of childhood, and a time of memories, both experienced and retold. As Valmidiano states, “Maybe your daughter and I both dream of your memories and all those family, friends and detractors who told you theirs.“

Valmidiano has much to say on femininity and the body which is of such crucial importance in these post overturning of Roe v. Wade times. She is able to write about the complexities of being a feminist and struggling with the trauma of terminating a pregnancy. As she writes, “On the outside, I was charming and unstoppable, while inside, I felt like I was dying.” Valmidiano ultimately shows the reader that one can be conflicted and yet pro choice, which she definitely is.

And later, Valmidiano chronicles her own struggles with fertility, which mirror mine, highlighting the effects of a toxic workplace and over demanding work life on fertility. As she writes so eloquently, “In fertility speak, you cannot successfully plant in dry, cracked soil and expect anything to grow. All the fertility drugs in the world could not defy what Mother Nature was trying to tell me.” I found it refreshing to hear the issues written about in such complex and intersectional ways. 

The book is also about family history and a digging into the past. Valmidiano is able to deftly investigate and write about many of her relatives in an honest, yet compassionate, way. This book is about memory, about ghosts, about her ancestors and their history and yet also about the present and the now. As Valmidiano so eloquently writes, “Maybe I eventually live out moments of your life as they first appear in mine.”  Her prose shows that the space time continuum is more than a theory and that in her world, it is her reality.

My takeaway from this hybrid essay collection, one that Valmidiano has wrought so carefully and achingly, is that home is where we say it is. Valmidiano illustrates that home can be a creation in itself and the writing of it is an act of bravery. 

Valmidiano’s book further showed me that home is a treasure chest of memories and experiences that we are writers and creatives can use as fodder for our creative endeavors. There is a reason that the first books of writers, from James Joyce (whose book Dubliners, captures the city he self-exiled himself from) to Sandra Cisneros (whose book The House on Mango Street, details parts of her hometown of Chicago) to Isabel Quintero (who writes in Gabi a Girl in Pieces of a fictional town in the Inland Empire that looks much like Corona, California), focus on their hometowns. I think that is because “home” is a magical place filled with nostalgia and brimming with memories, both sweet and bittersweet and even at times, traumatic. 

This book is ultimately more than just a collection of pieces, it is also a naming and a reframing of home and culture. The Beginning of Leaving is simply a celebration of everything one has loved, lost and left. Much like the life I have lived, Valmidiano has lost and persevered and found a way to make it all worthwhile via her creativity and art. In the end, I realized that Valmidiano was not only taking me home, she was taking me on a journey and I was willing to follow her wherever she is willing to take me. As Valmidiano tells at the end of her beautiful book, “And when It comes to leaving, we have to start somewhere.” 

In The Beginning of Leaving, Valmidiano captivates and mesmerizes and as a reader, I never wanted it to end. Some say home is where the heart is and ultimately, this book is all heart and reminded me to listen carefully to the ever beating heart of my own home.

Juanita E. Mantz (“JEM”) is a USC Law educated lawyer, writer, performer, and podcaster. She has 2 books, a memoir titled “Tales of an Inland Empire Girl” and an award winning chapbook titled “Portrait of a Deputy Public Defender, or how I became a punk rock lawyer“. She was awarded a 2023 Individual Artist Fellowship from the California Arts Council. Find everything on her author website: https://juanitaemantz.com and find her Life of JEM podcast on Apple Podcasts. 

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Intersect: How My Summer Vacation Became My Somatic Awakening

“As long as you keep secrets and suppress information,

you are fundamentally at war with yourself…

The critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know.

That takes an enormous amount of courage.”

~Bessel van der Kolk, M.D

My body began spasming and shaking. Sweat beading up everywhere. Panic, panic, panic attack attacking me. Breathe. Aimee Takaya (my friend, yoga instructor, and Hanna Somatic Educator) kept her hands on my shoulders, letting me know I was safe. I was not being attacked. I was being held. A terrifying feeling after running away from love for 8.5 years. The only person who had held me during that time was a friend who also pushed me away. It left me in a state of unrest—terrified of being loved. Hypervigilant. (Or maybe I just needed someone to be the one to push me.) Possibly searched for the one. (Maybe I found exactly who I wanted.) Now I wasn’t just trying to escape pain and loss, I was ready to leave my skin behind.

But let’s rewind a bit. I moved to the mountains to heal. My friend Aimee and I met at a local coffee shop for hot cocoa and avocado brownies, to discuss future somatic plans. Then a blizzard hit. I spent weeks shoveling for extra cash and plotting my escape to the Valley—to teach and read at the Association of Writers & Writing Program event, in Washington. After the blizzard, I picked up extra sub jobs and drove five to six hours through Pearblossom and Angeles Forest highways—three days a week—to teach art. I was determined to work myself out of financial stress, due to what the mountain folks proclaimed a Snowmageddon. Sometimes on my way home, I stopped to take photos and went on a few hikes in Devil’s Punchbowl and the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve. I made stops in desert shops and got crafted candies and soda. It wasn’t all apocalyptical. It was heaven too. I watched the sunrise and set—on my drives to and from home. I chased rainbows. I stopped to play in the rivers. I didn’t watch my tears tumble on the rocks. I made wishes and set intentions. As the school term ended and summer warmed the mountain, I tottered into bed—barely able to pull the covers over my body. 

Aside from the occasional hobble to the toilet to throw up—I could barely walk. Hives pushed their way to the surface of my skin, covering my face. I thought all the shoveling from the Crestline blizzard and four hours of driving a day caught up to me, but it was all of my trauma screaming at me through flashbacks. It was psychosomatic. My body felt like it was eating itself—like I was being devoured by fear. My ribs clung to my lungs, pressing down on my heart. My muscles squeezed and shivered as my legs kicked furiously—not nervously. I wasn’t sure if I had had a seizure or not.

My therapist said that Eye Movement Desensitization (EMDR) has caused seizures, in rare cases, but I had been doing EMDR on and off for three years now. Plus, my therapist uses the hand held mechanism that uses vibrations instead of the eye movements. She also felt that since the seizures stopped that she would trust that I was okay. (This was only a concern because I had a skull fracture with a concussion at the age of one, which may have resulted in a Traumatic Brain Injury. And experienced fainting from dissociation, since I was 13. I also had seizures due to psychotropic treatments in the past.) I realized that my trauma was causing my symptoms and had done years of research on plant medicines, which brought me to the conclusion that now was the time to use all of my resources. I did guided plant medicine and the daily vomiting and convulsions stopped. My cat, Mama Berry, did her best to heal me with her mighty purrs, and I finally had a couple of hours of somewhat restful sleep. And even though Mama Berry has powerful purrs, I finally called Aimee and told her I was ready to start my somatic education.

Although somatic bodywork and therapies are just now becoming a new craze, the practice has been around since the 1970s. The Novato Institute for Somatic Research and Training, which was founded in 1975 by Thomas Hanna and Eleanor Criswell Hanna, Ed.D., describes their commitment to providing somatic theory, research, and practice to aid others in “reawakening the mind’s control of movement, flexibility, and health” online through their Somatics Educational Resources page, where you can find books, magazines, and CDs. I had first heard about somatics in massage school in 2003, from my massage teacher, Marlene Schwartz. Marlene even had a business called Soma Therapy—I worked there for a little over a year. This form of somatic therapy fascinated me. But, my medical plan didn’t cover it. I wondered how I could find this practice or even afford treatment. Now, over  20 years later, I still couldn’t afford treatment. Aimee and I came up with a plan, and I got a loan from school. I made a huge leap and committed myself to 10 weeks of somatic bodywork, while doing 10 weeks of EMDR, a form of somatic psychotherapy that has been around since the 1980s and is now covered by many medical plans. I mapped out a plan with all of my healing tools. I had my Native American flute, cello, art, poetry, my yoga and massage education, and 11 weeks off of work and plant medicine.

As a person who has spent 24 years in therapy and wrote research on traumatic responses, I knew I would need a team to help me assimilate all the information my body was trying to process. Francine Shapiro, PhD, describes EMDR in Getting Past Your Past: Take Control of Your Life with Self-Help Techniques from EMDR Therapy as a way of “targeting the unprocessed memories that contain the negative emotions, sensations and beliefs. By activating the brain’s information processing system.” She explains that “old memories can then be “digested.” Meaning what is useful is learned, what’s useless is discarded, and the memory is now stored in a way that is no longer damaging.” I was still processing stories that my family members casually told me about what they had done to me—as if they were cute, funny, and even endearing. How does a person process trauma when abusers try to normalize their abuse? All I could say is that’s not normal. Everything in my body told me it wasn’t okay, but I didn’t understand how to process what they said or what I remembered—until my body forced me to. 

Crawling and dragging my way towards healing has been a long journey. I have made choices in romantic partners that led to furthering my physical, emotional, and mental abuse, and I have learned from them. As Francine Shapiro explains, “The past affects the present even without our being aware of it.” I will not be ashamed by my decisions (conscious or unconscious) but acknowledge that those choices were made because of childhood conditioning and my desire to be loved by adult figures who could only love me in the way they knew how. Somatic bodywork didn’t feel like it would be enough to heal me from the past I was raised in and the paths I had chosen—I needed a team.

I teach youth empathy, introspection, and community building for trauma recovery. My ultimate goal is suicide prevention. I do this because I have been through enough and had years of education and self-discovery to share, but the journey doesn’t just end. I know I’m not just going to sprout wings and fly just because I want to. But as I recently told students I mentor in juvenile hall, we have to start with a dream.   

My dreams started with wishes to heal others, but my memories were gaslit and my nightmares were flashbacks. My body was ready to let go of things I wasn’t willing to admit to myself were real. My biggest struggle was believing my own memories because of gaslighting and brainwashing since I was a small child. I wet the bed and had night terrors until I left my parents’ house—pregnant and married—at 19. I entered an unhealthy marriage. Then separated by 26. I came out of the closet after a suicide attempt at 27. I wrote my past self letters, burnt them, and turned them into mulch. I told my massage clients that we don’t let go until we’re ready, but I didn’t know how much truth there was to that statement until I began to let go. My body was ready since the first time I passed out in the science lab, at 13. I was diagnosed with neuro-cardiogenic syncope by 22, which is now seen as a symptom of trauma. Only as a teen, doctors thought these fainting episodes were panic attacks. Recently, I have been told they are symptoms of my head trauma and dissociation. Now, I could barely rise up by noon. Aimee told me, “You look like you’re holding yourself up. And your body is leaning forward like you’re going into battle.”

She was right. I was in battle. And I was holding myself up—like a marionette. It was hard to lift my feet. I kept tripping on myself. Instead of my brain and body acting as one–my body was my avatar. My mind wouldn’t allow me to let go, because I had to come to terms with the truth. Every time Aimee held a limb to aid me in movement—I spasmed—forced to face the truth. What was worse is that I really needed to be held, but I was repelled by touch and hypervigilant. We did breath work every time fear stopped me from moving forward. We moved to points just before pain shocked me, and often that meant tiny micro movements until I let go.

My friend Aimee held me with patience, understanding, and knowledge. She held me without judgment and allowed me to be present for myself without scrutiny. She is the first person I have ever known who was capable of holding space like that. To feel safe enough to show my ugliest parts. She created a sacred space in my living room and in a studio with her ability to witness. I am positive that location had less to do with my healing than the space within us both. I had finally found the inner space I had been searching for.

Suddenly, I could pick up a cup again. Suddenly, I could sleep. Suddenly, I could sit. Suddenly, she could hold a limb without me jumping and shivering and sweating and crying. So I went to therapy and did EMDR and suddenly, I started to remember. Suddenly, I started writing poetry. Suddenly, I started to smile. Suddenly, my eyes followed. Suddenly, my face stopped scowling. Suddenly, I could walk again. Suddenly, I was me. Suddenly, I was a version of myself I had never got to know. I was awake for the first time.

I still have to keep up with my somatics and sometimes I regress a little, but only to wake up to more realizations about myself. It isn’t as hard to overcome mental, emotional, and physical hurdles as it once was. I think the biggest lesson was in learning that most of my pain was psychosomatic. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. Just the opposite. My injuries were very real, both physical and psychological trauma caused them. Trauma from physical and psychological abuse that caused rashes, hair loss, sprains, tendon damage, a skull fracture, endometriosis, depression, panic disorder, suicidal ideations, seizures, dissociation, etc. It was and is all real. I let go and once I was ready to believe—I never thought I would say this–it was easy.

Gina Duran is an artist, poet, and educator with a focus on marginalized youth. She is a Theatre Of Hearts/Youth First Artist-In-Residence, and founder of the IE Hope Collective; an outreach for marginalized youth. Her debut collection of poetry “…and so, the Wind was Born,” was published by FlowerSong Press. 

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Intersect: How to Fill Canoe-Sized Shoes

By Angela M. Franklin

Have you ever asked yourself if you’ve lost your mind after accepting a challenge or saying yes to new duties–knowing your plate of responsibilities is already overflowing? Can I get an amen out there from the faithfully over-committed? Some of y’all know exactly what I mean.

In August, I stepped up to fill the canoe-sized shoes that Alix Pham left. She is our former tireless Westside Chapter leader, who left to pursue personal projects. Like many of us, I was content to watch her superwoman work ethic from the sidelines, marveling at how she didn’t seem to break a sweat. I mean, that woman did some of everything, and truth be told, even watching her work was tiring.  

I thank and commend Alix for the four years she devoted to our chapter and to WWS overall. Under her leadership, I was inspired to participate more in public readings, submit to various residences and conferences for poets. The best part of her goading challenged me to explore poetry forms like writing sestinas.  

Adding the Chapter Lead hat to my other writerly commitments demands excellence. With the new hat, I bring a wide range of professional and artistic writing experiences. I received the Eloise Klein Healy scholarship to attend Antioch University Los Angeles (AULA). After graduating in 2020, I continued learning. I am an alumna of the Community of Writers Summer Poetry Program, Cave Canem, Voices of Our Nation, Hurston/Wright Summer Writing Program, and others. Success in these writing programs was spawned and nurtured by a professional career, which lay the foundation for setting and reaching goals. Retiring after nearly 30 years of service from the City of Los Angeles, as a public information officer for LAX, the Bureaus of Engineering, and Sanitation, and as a budget analyst for the Department of Water and Power, I began in earnest writing a memoir and two books of poetry– sharing much of my experience as a woman living long enough to overcome racism, sexism, and now ageism. This seasoned citizen is silent no more!

Now that I’ve grabbed Alix’s baton, I plan to Flo Jo my way to publishing victory. I’m carrying on her tradition of informing and equipping members. For the first meeting in my new role, I invited Alexis Rhone Fancher, editor, poet, and photographer extraordinaire, who shared tips and frank talk on submitting one’s work. 

The plucky poet did not disappoint with a delivery that eclipsed the usual submission spiel. Regaling members on what it takes to grab editors’ attention, Alexis delved into what does and does not work in the publishing arena. Attitude is everything. “If you think you’re not good enough, you’re probably right,” she offered.  

If you are suffering from rejection blues, Alexis offered consolation saying, “Each no is one step closer to a yes.” As a former editor, she had little patience for weak writing. She challenged, “Where’s your blood on the page? What risks are you taking?   Her take-no-prisoner approach admonished, “Nobody wants to read your held back”—(your embarrassed-looking-bad-on the page, stuff we tend to hide). Prior to Alexis’s stern advice, I have never heard the slam-dunk statement of “looking good in your poems is the kiss of death.”

Who knew? 

Alexis has an open invitation to return for a second visit to share more with us, from her belt-notched experiences of 200 published poems, 29 Push Cart nominations, 10 books of poetry, and 12 years of literary editing. 

I hope you’ll join me as we blaze new trails on our collective literary journeys!  

Onward!

Angela M. Franklin’s latest work Stay in My Corner will be published in Transformation: A Women Who Submit Anthology, December 2023; essay The Wrath of Conk, was published in June 2023, in the anthology These Black Bodies Are…published by Inlandia Institute. She holds an MFA from AULA. Her poems and essays are published in several anthologies and online publications.

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Intersect: The Community of Submit 1

by Kate Maruyama

I’ve been a fan of Submit 1 since its first year when I hosted hour one and talked about strategies for submitting and dealing with rejections. As I spoke on Instagram Live, people chimed in with questions and announced when they had made a submission and we cheered as a group! It was early and I was just getting my coffee. I was thrilled by how I had just woken up and I was already in a virtual room full of supportive writers.  The Women Who Submit Community were at work that morning and throughout the day and I dipped in as other hosts shared their experiences, tips, and claps and cheers. The feeling that we were all working together toward a common goal made it a singular space.

Women Who Submit has been a huge part of my life. In the ten years since I joined, it has been a resource support, a place to keep me on task in submitting my work, and a place to ask any questions about writing, publishing, and even job opportunities. A lot of things that I’ve had published are because of attending submission parties and being cheered on as I pressed SEND. 

Last year Toni Ann Ann Johnson asked me to join the hour of Submit 1 she was hosting, along with our friend and colleague Nicole D. Sconiers. I’m always happy to learn more from Toni Ann, who leads really good discussions and is always a fabulous host. 

Flyer from the Submit 1, hour with Toni Ann Johnson, Kate Maruyama, and Nicole D. Sconiers.

What followed was a conversation about all the ways in which Toni Ann, Nicole, and I are intertwined with our work, mutual support, friendship, and careers. All three of us told stories about times we were so frustrated, we gave up. We were there for each other, coaxing each other back to work, to the submitting, to the myriad jobs that go into being a writer. It felt like it was the most “Women Who Submit moment ever” as we talked, comments rolled in from members who were submitting all over the country and we cheered them on. 

 Toni Ann and Nicole are both my first readers. We have been exchanging work for years. We met each other in different ways. Toni Ann and Nicole shared Alma Luz Villanueva as a mentor. Nicole and I met as students in our MFA workshop where I was so excited by her speculative fiction story “Here Come the Janes” that I basically started hounding her for more stories. Later, she hired me to edit her first collection: Escape from Beckyville, Tales of Race Hair and Rage. I kept on her to write and submit after that because at that time, her speculative fiction, which she described as “A Black Woman’s Twilight Zone” was rare and needed. This was 2009 and predated Black Mirror as well as Get Out. 

Toni Ann’s fingerprints are all over my three novels that came after Harrowgate. She is not only my first reader, she’s the reason my upcoming book Alterations happened at all. She inspired the idea by asking why I didn’t write about old movies since I loved them so much,  and she provided thorough notes on two drafts of the book. When my agent had given up on that book, Toni Ann didn’t and prodded me to believe in my characters and my story and to submit the book independently to small presses. There’s a “you can definitely do this” stalwart belief Toni Ann has in all of her suggestions. Even at my weakest, darkest moments, she encourages me to find that belief again. When the book, after ten years of support from Toni Ann, finally sold, she was the person I called first. 

You can read more about our mutual support in a conversation we had for The Coachella Review “You Can’t Do This Shit Alone.” Toni Ann and I have both found similar support in WWS where there is this idea that a rising tide raises all boats and we share resources, encourage each other, and think of ways that each writer in the group can improve, submit, and promote their own work. 

In an email exchange, Nicole said, “Toni Ann is not only supportive of my fiction writing but my screenwriting as well. She encouraged me to submit to the ScreenCraft script competition. I submitted my sci-fi thriller Spectacle to the 2022 ScreenCraft Sci-Fi & Fantasy competition and was named a finalist out of more than 3,000 submissions! She also provided coverage for my script Bless the Mic and shared the screenplay with a director who hired me for a writing project.”

Nicole has been a go-to for my genre short stories and for my literary novels. I know she won’t hold any punches and will be open and honest about anything I’m writing. She gave me notes on my new novella Safer (paired with Family Solstice in my new book Bleak Houses out now from Raw Dog Screaming Press) and is the queen of details. 

During our Submit 1 conversation Toni Ann had this to say, “Nicole helped me refine details and elements of (fact-checked) some of my fiction, which led me to clarify or emphasize the veracity of my details. She also made helpful (and humbling!) corrections to spelling/grammar/punctuation. We have also exchanged some of our screenwriting. I’ve read at least two of Nicole’s screenplays (which I loved!) and she’s read at least one of mine. Over the years, I’ve recommended Nicole as a writer and as a manuscript consultant to multiple friends and colleagues.” 

This was such a beautiful thing to recount for WWS members in our hour of Submit 1 with Toni Ann and, as we told these stories, more writers helped by this circle of friends tuned in, in the comments. We realized these stories tell the far reach of the WWS community. Some folks submitted their work while we were talking: it was peak Submit 1. 

During this magical hour on IG Live, I realized that without Toni Ann and Nicole, half of the wonderful things that have come my way wouldn’t have happened at all. 

All writers are out there alone, getting up our nerve to submit, but it is this kind of community, helping each other out with drafts, encouraging each other when we lose hope, and bolstering each other through tough times that makes WWS a profound group to belong to.

Toni Ann put it best when she wrote, “As you both know, this writing journey is not easy, there are good times, but when the hard times hit hard, they can be unspeakably dismal–at least for me–and I’ve been lifted in low times by each of you.”

Together we can do so much. Our upcoming Submit 1 slogan is “One community, one day, one submission at a time.” You can join our community virtually by tuning into Instagram Live on September 9 (@womenwhosubmit) or check in with this website to learn how to participate in person!   

Kate Maruyama is the author of Harrowgate (47North), Halloween Beyond: A Gentleman’s Suit (Crystal Lake Publishing), and Bleak Houses (RDS Press) and upcoming novels The Collective (Running Wild) and Alterations (Writ Large). Her short work appears in numerous journals and anthologies. She writes, teaches, cooks, and eats in Los Angeles.
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SUBMIT 1: 10th Annual Submission Drive

SUBMIT 1 is the one day out of the year WWS encourages woman-identifying and non-binary writers across the globe to send one of their most beloved pieces of writing to tier-one journals as one community. This is an act of solidarity, not only with our writers, but with editors and publishers as well. SUBMIT 1 dares to connect the literary publishing community as a whole.

Promotions flyer for 2023 SUBMIT 1. Big green #1 foam hand in the middle surrounded by the tag line: one community, one day, one submission at a time.

September 2014 was the first time we called on our WWS community to submit to tier-one literary journals en masse. Inspired by the 2009 VIDA Count from VIDA, Women in Literary Arts, which published quantitative evidence of the dearth of women’s voices in top tier publications, this submission drive became our annual call to action for equity and wider representation in publishing. In 2014, a group of writers gathered at Hermosillo Bar in Highland Park, CA for a day of beers, cheers, and literary submissions. Since then, we’ve hosted an annual submission drive at public places across Los Angeles, but when the pandemic hit in 2020, we pushed to think of a creative solution to gathering, and the @WomenWhoSubmit Instagram Live programming was born.

Eight women with laptops sit on either side of a long table, smiling at the camera
1st Annual Submission Drive – September, 2014

WWS is excited to announce that our 10th annual SUBMIT 1 will be hybrid! Join us on Instagram Live @WomenWhoSubmit for special one-hour hosts from 9am-9pm or in-person at Pocha LA in Highland Park from 2pm-5pm. You can find us on the back patio with live hosts Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera and Ryane Nicole Granados. We thank Pocha LA for hosting us!

How to Participate:

1. Before September 9th, study THIS LIST of “Top Ranked Journals of 2023” with current open calls to find a good fit for your work. Links to guidelines are included. BE SURE TO READ AND FOLLOW THE GUIDELINES. 

2. On September 9th, submit one of your most beloved pieces of writing to at least one tier one magazine from wherever you are in the world at any time of day.

3. Notify us on Twitter or IG. Be sure to tag us @womenwhosubmit, so we can celebrate you with lots of claps, cheers, and funny gifs.

4. Hang with us on IG Live at @WomenWhoSubmit from 9am to 9pm PACIFIC for a full day special guests, support, and resources. Here is where you can ask WWS members for tips on submitting, get encouragement, or receive LIVE claps for when you hit send.

SUBMIT 1 IG Live Schedule (all times are PACIFIC):

9am-10am: Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo (@xochitljulisa), WWS Director 

10am-11am: Joy Notoma (@joywriteshermedicine), WWS-Europe Chapter Lead 

11am-12pm: Carrie Finch, WWS-Bay Area Chapter Lead 

12pm-1pm: Lunch break!

1pm-2pm: Luivette Resto (@lulubell.96), Board Member, LIVE from Tia Chucha’s Centro Cultura (@tiachuchas)

2pm-3pm: Melissa Chadburn (@mchadburn), WWS Board Member

3pm-4pm: Kate Maruyama (@katemaruyama), Board Member interviewing WritLarge Projects (@writlargeprojects)

4pm-5pm: Cocktail hour with live check-ins from Pocha LA (@pocha_losangeles)

5pm-6pm: Dinner break!

6pm-7pm: Jane Muschenenetz & Karla Cordero (@karlaflaka13), WWS-San Diego Chapter Leads 

7pm-8pm: Lucy Rodriguez-Hanley (@lucyrodriguezhanley), WWS-Long Beach Chapter Lead & WWS Chapter Liaison

8pm-9pm: Traci Kato-Kiriyama (@traciakemi1) LIVE from Little Tokyo

5. After submitting, fill out THIS FORM to help us track how many submissions were sent out, which will help us in our continued mission towards gender parity and wider representation of marginalized voices in literary publishing.

How to Support:

If you don’t plan to submit with us, but would like to support our efforts, please consider making a donation at our Paypal account in the name of your favorite WWS member or underrepresented writer.

DONATE HERE!

SUBMIT 1 Budget:

Submit 1 Coordinator – $500

IG Coordinator – $500

IG Guest Speakers – $1,350 (9 people x $150)

La Pocha Live Hosts – $500 (2 people x $250)

Refreshments – $350

Stickers, signs, and materials – $300

Total – $3,500

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Intersect: Exploring the Longing

Book Review By Lisbeth Coiman

As a writer, I grapple with the immigrant dilemma of allowing contradicting parts of me to find their way in my work or isolate them and write from a specific perspective. In nature felt but never apprehended, Angela Peñaredondo navigates the intersecting paths of immigration and gender politics: A Filipino immigrant struggling to find a home while holding a permanent longing, breaks down their family’s history in search of DNA clues for gender identity.

Earth scientists, botanists, and nature aficionados all learn to read the environment for clues. A rock can tell how old a mountain is and animal behavior can warn the explorer of environmental dangers ahead. Peñaredondo’s collection nature felt but never apprehended is a field trip in search of ancestral cues in the Philipine’s mountainous landscape. Peñaredondo approaches their themes from a naturalist perspective, naming and interpreting their environment to create the paradigm defining diasporic Filipino queer identity. 

This four-part collection begins by offering a life raft “I set your weight on a raft” in a ritual for the ancestors the poet is about to dissect, “steel pointed like hawk bone at your bare collar.” First, the poet confronts the lineage of colonized bodies “excavating the bedrock” of the mountain range during the Battle for Manila in 1945 and placing two male lovers at its center under the heavy weight of Catholic dogma.

The imagery in these first poems does not exoticize the tropics nor the male participants of the story. Rather it presents the Philippines in all its complex glory: magnificent nature, Catholic culture, battleground during World War II, “feminization of wage labor,” all occurring “before [the poet’s] birth, who, like a geographer, must go beyond the “excavated map” to understand their legacy. This is the “survivor’s topography.”

However, it’s in the geological analysis that the poet focuses on the women in their ancestry and where her craft shines. Here the poet sees past the exoticization of the tropical female  “adorn[ed] in teknite,” “at the Tsubaki nighclub,” “bar girl in a fish tank,” to state “you are much more than others realize.” The last four poems of this first part dissect the patriarchy “lithification/”fossilization and what it means to look beyond the fetish, “love us in our deviancy.” 

The poet names body parts, symptoms, and diseases to stress how internalized oppression is in the female body. As it is shown in “exigencies of layers i & ii” where the poet questions the women have assisted pathologies in the perpetuation of these patterns.

Cuticle

Upper epidermis

Epidermal hair

Substomatal chamber

Palisade mesophyll

Xylem

Air channel

Guard cell

Stoma

Phloem

Chloroplasts 

Lower epidermis

Thus, Peñaredondo creates a true paradigm of what it means to see past the oppression and go beyond a painful transformation. But the poet refuses to stay in survival and ends the first part presenting the rest of the collection as a resistance story.

In the second part, the transformation takes place with blunt imagery. It’s all about the coming out Queer. The poems become longer, the spaces widen, and the overall structure shifts, patterns emerge. From scattered lines across the page, to brief prose passages, the verses compel us to read in silence, masticate every blunt image, pause, reflect. These poems turn the previously described violence against women into love. 

“My fist

…

i can make love with it”

Columns and double columns appear as if grabbing the reader by the shoulders and facing them with a harsh reality.

Hunger : rain :: fever : black stone

Lexicon without apparent connection rains on the page as if words and dates fall off the poem as gender affirmations surface and become the focal point. Then, brief poetic prose passages erupt like the volcanic imagery across the entire collection to reveal the magma within:

“she’ll gulp oysters and mussels down with no desire for the palm wine, she’ll read books, floating on their side, spectral algae trickling their brain and wanted curvy fat. in that unreachable sky some human might describe as precious or turquoise, she knows paradise lives elsewhere.” 

In the third part, the poet exposes the immigrant conundrum as the desire for a home while holding a permanent longing. Then exquisite poetry arises, one where imagery and reflection intertwine to create delicate passages holding powerful truths.

“how must one proceed toward potential when splintered enough, boiled down to transparent bits rendered invisible, seen as conformity.”

“exile is a river at the end … ”

“suspension & assimilation with a distant border in view

or lack– . . .”

“to classify as anything but singular is an intervention, a bridge between migration and when

trauma exposes the hybridity of the self, it exposes the multiple, often

incompatible . . .”

The fourth part “holds the contradictions” with a letter to self that gives the poet permission to be all the parts of themselves in harmony. An interesting poem written in couplets in a rhythmic composition marked with abundant spaces naming the identity “queer” “gay immigrant child raised in the 90’s” “kweens”, the origin “Bisayan princess” and their art “haranistas.” It also presents those who refuse “to awaken on the part of the subject,” the lineage that killed “femme supremacy.” Poetry forms shift again, to include lists, “Induction to Self-loyalty,” and an interesting poem written in columns, “studies in becoming prayer” which works as a contrapunto between three different voices. The collection ends with an intriguing bilingual poem titled “albularya”–the name for a witch doctor in Philippines. “albularya” suggests the poet had been subject to this ritualistic cure/cleanse to cure the child of a serious ailment. The reader can only wonder if their family tried to pray the gay away or if the child’s life had been in danger. 

“for my famished body lipstick to remind me that death

although marked in shade is never monochrome.” 

We are in the presence of a poet who is not afraid to explore their past in an intelligent and thorough analysis. nature felt but never apprehended stays with me for it focuses on nature to interpret the colonization of the Filipino diaspora uncovers fossilized patriarchy encrusted at different levels of the poet’s ancestry, “those before us.”

By naming body parts, diseases, and symptoms, the poet stresses how internalized patriarchy and oppression are in the bodies. New patterns indicate the bravery of breaking off tradition to allow for gender identification.

At times a geographer “excavating maps,” at times, a botanist naming plants, mostly a geologist analyzing fossils, the poet uses the lexicon of sciences to name a reality amalgamated in colonized ancestry to reveal the DNA clues that pointed at queerness for generations in a family of Filipino immigrants. 

In their nature felt but never apprehended, Angela Peñaredondo embraces their gender identification while holding a longing for the homeland and all the contradictions within. This collection is a gift for those who understand longing and struggle to decipher their own past. 

Lisbeth Coiman is a bilingual author who has wandered the immigration path from her native Venezuela to Canada and last to the US where she now resides. Her debut book, I Asked the Blue Heron: A Memoir (2017) explores the intersection between immigration and mental health. Her bilingual poetry collection, Uprising / Alzamiento (Finishing Line Press, 2021) portrays the faces of Venezuela’s complex economic and political unrest.

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July 2023 Publication Roundup

The WWS members included in this post published their work in amazing places during July 2023. I’ve included an excerpt from published pieces (if available) or a blurb (if available) if the publication is a book, along with a link (if available) to where the pieces can be purchased and/or read in their entirety.

Please join me in celebrating our members who published in July 2023!

Continue reading “July 2023 Publication Roundup”
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Intersect: Honing Your Craft with Online Workshops

by F. Gülşen Buecher

Online learning has exploded over the last decade, and with the Covid-19 pandemic came the widespread use of online learning platforms from Zoom to Google classroom. In 2021, as a 50th birthday gift to myself, I decided it was time to dive into poetry in whatever capacity I could. This is something I had always wanted to do, but didn’t have the time, money, or logistical ability. I earned an undergraduate degree in English, but stopped there many years ago.

By 2021, opportunities for workshops and lectures had become ubiquitous within the creative writing sphere. Higher learning in creative writing, such as certificate and MFA programs, are certainly no exception to this. The options open to me were plentiful, albeit with a little digging and research.

Participating in various forms of workshops in online spaces is a good option for a variety of reasons. For many people, the cost of a traditional MFA program is simply prohibitive with the average tuition in the tens of thousands of dollars, with fully funded programs being extremely competitive. Online learning offers the flexibility to complete a degree or a certificate from home. For those of us who work fulltime, or for someone like me who is a fulltime caregiver to family members, it is simply a logistical impossibility to enroll in a multi-year degree program.

Many traditional colleges and universities have extension schools or continuing education programs where non-matriculated students can enroll in individual online classes or a certificate program in creative writing. This is a great place to start, but traditional colleges and universities are just a small slice of what is out there. In the last few years, independent writers’ workshops, collectives, and publishers have flourished online, offering countless options to choose from.

Some MFA programs are online but require a small duration of in-person attendance called “limited residencies.” These have existed long before online learning, where students could submit work via U.S. mail, also known as “correspondence learning.” The limited residency can be as short as ten days or two weeks, just twice a year. Again, even though this is a more flexible option than a fulltime two-year degree program, it’s still a financial and logistical challenge for those of us with employment and family obligations. 

The types of online workshops vary in format. Let’s explore the “non-live” option first: asynchronous. Asynchronous classes don’t meet live on camera, instead interaction is limited to discussions organized in a forum style. The syllabus will update with new material on fixed dates. In other words, you don’t workshop each other’s pieces in real time. To be honest, you’ll need to be highly self-disciplined with your time to get the most out of asynchronous workshops. While a convenient option, the downside is that discussion can become anemic depending on how interactive the cohort is. The structure of the workshop is critical here. The syllabus should include mandatory participation, but this isn’t always the case. If you’re looking for lots of peer feedback and lively discussion, or if you’re looking to feel the excitement of reading your work aloud, an asynchronous workshop might not be the best option.

In that vein, it’s important to fully commit whenever you sign up for an online workshop, regardless of type. Even if it’s only for an hour. Even if it’s a free event. Be as collaborative as possible and participate to the best of your ability. As with any creative endeavor, you can only improve with collaboration and learning through critique. The journey is an evolution, and to make progress, one must share one’s work but also fully listen to and examine the work of your cohort. Think of your writing as a sculpture and with each pass through workshop, your fellow participants have all helped in their way to smooth the rough edges of your work. It’s in that spirit that we fully lean into the close reading of our peers’ writing.

It can be difficult to decide on which workshops to participate in. My best advice is to do your due diligence to find out how the workshop is structured. Learn as much as possible ahead of time. Get to know who is facilitating and research their writing background. If they’re published, consider buying their book or borrowing it from a library. Reach out to them by email if you have questions. 

Let’s not forget that one of the purposes of workshops is to learn and grow through constructive critique. If at any point the critique process doesn’t stay focused or if it’s not being facilitated in a constructive way, it’s best to re-examine if that workshop is a right fit for you. I was enrolled in a multi-week workshop where the instructor would ask “what would you revise?” with no specific direction or structure. I received some of the worst, most unhelpful critique in this workshop because there were no guidelines given from the instructor. An open-ended “what did you dislike?” does not generate conversation tailored toward that piece of writing. If you find yourself in a workshop like this, do not hesitate to drop out. One of the most important things in writing is to protect your process. Anything that becomes a barrier to your creativity needs to be dealt with in a way that protects your peace of mind.

Of course, the more worthwhile and generative relationships you build in a workshop don’t have to end once it’s over. Keep in touch with your writing peers through email or social media. It’s never a bad idea to offer to swap your work outside of workshop to keep that collaborative energy flowing. You don’t need a set place or a deadline to do any of that, just a bit of extra effort and an openness to fully engage with other people’s writing.

Aside from craft workshops, it’s important to seek opportunities to do close readings of prominent authors. Be on the lookout for the plethora of lecture series available. I completed a multi-week series on W.S. Merwin through the Community of Writers collective, hosted by Victoria Chang and Matthew Zapruder. The course also included an optional break-out into small cohorts. It was a great chance to delve into poetry that is dense and not as easy to access without the benefit of some deep academic analysis and facilitated discussion.

Looking for a quick and easy drop-in class? Search Eventbrite for online creative writing events. Many of them are free and you can register the same day. I’ve had the luck to discover many generative events for poetry using this free event search tool. You don’t have to commit a lot of money or time to get your writing life going and fully energized. Another great free option is using Meetup to search for online group writing sessions. These sessions can include prompts and sharing work, but they don’t always. The atmosphere and structure is usually casual.

Finally, always be mindful of proper online etiquette. Be a good student by following some commonsense guidelines. Get acquainted with whatever platform is being used for live meetings, be it Zoom, Google, etc. Use the app before ever entering a live session. Get fully familiarized with its features, including using the chat and reaction functions. Test your audio and visual setup’s and make sure they’re working properly. While in a live classroom, please stay muted if you are not speaking. Lastly, direct technical issues to the chat. Don’t distract the instructor unless it’s clear they cannot see your chat. In a workshop that’s only 60 minutes long, one distraction can take up precious time.

Stay curious, and stay creative, friends!

F. Gülşen Buecher is an emerging poet who lives in Santa Cruz, California with her husband, kids, and pets. She has participated in online poetry workshops facilitated all over the U.S. as well as the U.K. and Germany, including a UCLA workshop taught by WWS founder, Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo.