Tag: Women writers

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Intersect: Building on the Legacy of Black Writers in Europe and The Sisterhood

by  Joy Notoma

After I attended a virtual event hosted by Barnard College called Creation Is Everything You Do: Shange, The Sisterhood & Black Collectivity about the history of The Sisterhood, a community of Black women writers who met in the 70s founded by Alice Walker and June Jordan in New York City, Denmark-based Women Who Submit chapter member, Jeannetta Craigwell-Graham, who also attended, texted me: “We need that here. The sisterhood.” From there, we began imagining a workshop and retreat for other Black women writers who live in Europe. 

In the photo of members of The Sisterhood that circulates around the internet, they are gathered in front of a photo of Bessie Smith, a spot they chose for the photo because they wanted to honor her unapologetic creative spirit. According to scholar Courtney Thorsson, The Sisterhood was a place for Black women writers to reject the notion that there could only be one successful Black woman writer per generation. They recognized the need to support and uplift one another rather than falling into the traps of competitiveness and division. They met monthly, collected dues, and kept minutes. Further, they were more interested in creating a platform where they celebrated each other’s work than they were with trying to be accepted by white readers — they were each other’s most valuable audience. They edited and published one another and taught each other’s work in their courses. They also provided emotional and psychological  support when  members faced public backlash, like when Ntozake Shange’s chorepoem, “for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf” was derided by audiences  who weren’t ready to see Black women’s vulnerability and power performed so unapologetically on Broadway.   

Black women writers in Europe live at an important intersection. Writing takes immense courage. No one should do it alone and living abroad sometimes means you have little to no community. When expats gather, it’s usually under the umbrella of meet ups that include transplants from numerous backgrounds, where the focus isn’t on the shared connections of  Black women who happen to be scattered among the crowd. While some luxury writing retreats for Black women exist, there are no workshop spaces specifically for Black women writers who live in Europe, as far as I can tell. With this undertaking, Jeannetta and I hope to offer a long weekend where writers can focus on their craft, have their pieces workshopped, and enjoy time together, strengthening the community, at an affordable cost. 

When I started the Europe chapter of Women Who Submit, I had a similar notion of a community of women writers coming together to support each other’s writing journeys. Even though I avoid assuming that I’ll make friends with other people who live abroad just on the basis of the shared experience of living in a foreign country (even if they are writers), I was inspired enough by the mission of Women Who Submit to believe that gathering writers from across Europe and the UK to start a virtual chapter of Women Who Submit would be an endeavour which aligned with my ideals. Now that I am nearly two years into leading the first international chapter of Women Who Submit with members in Romania, Germany, Portugal, The UK, The Netherlands, Denmark, France, Spain, and Austria, I can confidently say that supporting other women writers who have made lives in foreign lands and who understand the complicated emotional tangle of making a home and creating art far away from the familiar was indeed a good idea. The members were already accomplished and on their way to meeting their writing goals, but our Women Who Submit chapter provides encouragement to continue meeting those goals, and a container of accountability, a place where we can ask questions, celebrate acceptances and rejections, articulate our monthly goals, all of which helps the writing process in innumerable ways. I hope The Black Women Writers in Europe workshop-retreat will be similarly valuable. It’s a space we desperately need. 

Another reason that I’m passionate about gathering women writers who live abroad is because, as a Black American woman writer living in Europe, I am treading on the history of African Americans making waves in the literary landscape in this part of the world. James Baldwin lived and died in St. Paul-de-Vences, a small town which is just five hours from where I live in France. Audre Lorde first came to Germany in 1984 as a visiting scholar at the Free University of Berlin. She regularly visited Germany until 1992 and mentored Black women feminist writers in Berlin, which inspired the creation of ADEFRA in 1986 (which stands for Afro-German Women in German), a grassroots activist group of black feminist writers and artists that was the first of its kind and still exists today. There was also Jessie Fauset, novelist and co-editor with WEB DuBois of The Crisis, who was also the first editor to publish Langston Hughes. Fauset traveled in France and Algeria, taught French, and wrote fiction that interrogated colorism among African Americans. Richard Wright also spent significant time in Paris. These are only some of the most recognizable names. Besides writers, Black painters like Beauford Delaney and entertainers like Josephine Baker and Eartha Kitt made impressions on the cultural landscape of Europe which still exists today. Even for Black artists who never actually lived in Europe, the influence of their work and of Black American culture in the European consciousness is undeniable. It is impossible for me to not sense that history as I live and write here. I believe that the creative process is a spiritual communion with ancestors and all of the writer’s notions of the Divine. My ancestors include members of my family and artists whose work guides my life (spiritual ancestors), like Toni Morrison, Octavia Butler, Lucille Clifton, Audre Lorde, June Jordan, and Ntozake Shange, most of whom were members of The Sisterhood. I look at this undertaking as an honoring of the legacy of African American artists in Europe and the  legacy of our literary foremothers who gathered together in the name of art and sisterhood. Learn more about our upcoming inaugural gathering here.

Joy Notoma’s writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Epiphany, The Woodward Review, Longreads, and Ploughshares. She is a fellow of Roots.Wounds.Words  and Kimbilio, and an alum of Tin House and Hurston/Wright. She hosts Emerging Writers Community Podcast, a live podcast focused on the work of BIPOC emerging writers. She is writing a novel.

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Intersect: Even the Gods are Bastards: A Review of Yvette Lisa Ndlovu’s Drinking from Graveyard Wells

 by Erica Frederick 

Originally published March 10, 2023 in Salt Hill Journal

University Press of Kentucky New Poetry & Prose Series

Yvette Lisa Ndlovu’s debut short story collection, Drinking from Graveyard Wells, glimpses into the lives of African women, be they goddesses or ghosts, broke college student or town gossip. This is a collection of blood-boiling big ideas, asking: what if life and death are simply unfair? What if the white boy gets to become a millionaire by building a rideshare app based on Zimbabwean customs? What if the patriarchy persists, even in the afterlife? Ndlovu, a real-life sarungano, writes to make us rage right alongside the women in these stories while still insisting that the lessons we learn from storytelling are remedies, but not in the way we might expect. 

A real triumph and delight of Drinking from Graveyard Wells lies in its fearless condemnation of the powers that be—even the gods themselves. “When Death Comes to Find You” envisions a capitalist hellscape: a world where debt in life transcends to debt in death and diamond miners must participate in an immortal toil. The story asserts that “even the afterlife is made for the rich.” In “The Soul Would Have No Rainbow,” a granddaughter receives a letter from her late grandmother revealing that “in the heavens all the gods were arrogant bastards.” Ndlovu forces us to reckon with the possibility of cosmic inequity, that omnipotent power still corrupts.

Despite the seemingly hopeless conception of an unjust afterlife, Ndlovu does seem to offer up the antidote. “The Carnivore’s Lollipop” introduces us to ngano, fables and fairytales from the Shona tradition that, in this collection, often work as warnings of divine justice.

Ngano about reparations are interspersed throughout this story as the narrator is duped into a multi-level marketing scheme, buying and breeding boxes of ants to sell back to a drug company. When the company gets dissolved by the CEO, we realize what reparations look like when people who are in possession of ants (raised on a carnivore diet) decide to show up to the protest. So often, marginalized people are asked to turn the other cheek in the face of injustice. But, in these stories, Ndlovu offers an alternate solution: revenge. In “Red Cloth, White Giraffe,” a woman must remain on earth until her former husband pays off the rest of her bride price to the men in her family. The threat on the other side of this is that the woman might become a ngozi, an avenging spirit, capable of levying a visceral justice.

In “Plumtree: True Stories,” we receive a series of vignettes, many of which introduce new iterations of ngano and Black spirituality. The title reads as a radical act, casting Black spirit as true, as fact, and as essential, placing Ndlovu firmly in the midst of Black writers like Akwaeke Emezi and others whose work gives credence to the divine.

Drinking from Graveyard Wells explores what it means to grapple with those in power by allowing us to imagine the gods as absolute bastards. The collection insists, too, that storytelling and oral histories serve as reminders that justice isn’t freely given, it’s taken. Kicking and screaming, Ndlovu’s debut collection demands to be seen.

Erica Frederick is a queer, Haitian American writer and MFA candidate in fiction at Syracuse University. She currently serves as the fiction coordinator for The Best of the Net Anthology. Her work has appeared in Split Lip Magazine and was selected for Best Microfiction 2023. You can find her work at ericafrederick.com.

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Intersect: How the Crestline Blizzard Taught Me Forgiveness

by Gina Duran

“For me, forgiveness and compassion are always linked: how do we hold people accountable for wrongdoing and yet at the same time remain in touch with their humanity enough to believe in their capacity to be transformed?” –bell hooks

I found myself sinking heart deep in spongy popping popcorn ball snow flaking hail. I had already dug my car out the day before giving me a false sense of security and freedom. But in just 1.5 hours the sudden downfall of the blizzard completely smothered my story of escape, like whiteout. 

Gina Duran digging out her vehicle – photo by Gina Duran

I came to the conclusion that moving to the mountains would help mend the folds and tears of my fragile onion skinned heart of the past 10 years, and that writing environmental poetry would help me do it. I wanted to let go of unrequited love and putting my hands in soil helped, being amongst the trees brought the blizzard inside me to a sullen whisper, and the acappella of birds delivered a soulful melody. I had finally found home. 

The only other time I felt like home was in my presence was when I swore I felt true love for the first time. I called this woman Mon Cœur. I know this time it’s that I finally feel connected to the earth. Trees and plants release volatile gasses and phytoncides to prevent rot, which are beneficial to humans. Just looking at trees helps calm the nervous system. In a May 16, 2016, article of Psychology Today, Richard E. Cytowic M.D. explained, “New studies suggest that viewing even an image of a tree or a forest canopy bolsters the parasympathetic division of the central nervous system that naturally induces calm.”

The fact that I ended up owning 300 plus potted plants was because of the theory that soil contains fungi, which helps decrease depression when released into the air when dug up. So, rest assured you could find me barefoot in the rain making mud pies next to my serrano and habanero plants. (Hey, a good mud tea party with a canine companion can do wonders.) So, when the blizzard first rushed through our small San Bernardino mountain town, I wasn’t devastated or smacked with fear. I decided I would cool my sympathetic nervous system in the snow, easing my anxious nerves. Living on my own was rather soothing—until I was trapped inside. The plan was to hike, take photos of the garbage left by callous tourists, and take notes—not write about a natural disaster. But global warming had its own plans. 

The week before, I was diving backwards into four feet of snow, making a snow angel in front of my downstairs neighbor’s door. “You are definitely a California girl,” she laughed , directing her comment towards my pink shorts and wet hair. Yes, I am. Typical warm blooded Southern California Latine, diving into the snow like a 10-year-old girl in my shorts. As if I had never seen snow. 

But today I got news that our only grocery store, Goodwin’s roof caved in. Just after our only hardware store’s roof caved in. The women in the parking lot next to ours were now waiting anxiously for a snowplow. (I wanted to escape with them.) They were digging and planning. They said I could join them, pets, and all. Then they told me that one of the houses caught fire. The fire department thought it might be electrical. Apparently, a tree took out several peoples’ electricity too. The women were rushing. They didn’t even know if the highway was open yet. 

Grocery store parking lot – photo by Gina Duran

No grocery store, no food, no hardware store, no shovels, closed roads, caved in roofs, fires, electrical outages…all signs of a state of emergency. Chances of death increased greatly.

Suddenly, hail began to smother the black asphalt. Clinging to my black hair like sticky styrofoam balls. I needed to grab food. I kept losing cell reception, but I looked and saw my phone was working, so I called to send my love to my friends and my son. In that moment, I didn’t know if I would ever get off the mountain. My plan was to have food and a shovel and connect with the community to devise a plan for escape. My parents would say something about “piss poor planning” and the importance of having multiple plans, but as I walked to the store I had to relieve myself of my doubts and fears so they wouldn’t muddle my plans for survival. I told the one I used to call Mon Cœur that in case I died…she interrupted me. You’re not going to die. She didn’t want to hear how proud I was of her or that she was a good friend… She wasn’t ready for that call. I could hear it in the silence—between her words. Like the trees, she says a lot without words. I told her I would do whatever I needed to do to survive now. I told her all I needed was my shovel. I told her I would not ride with the women . Though they would most likely make it down the mountain without me, they seemed unsure about my animals and asked if they would pee in the car. I wouldn’t leave without my fur babies. I also didn’t know how long they planned on waiting in the blizzard for the road to open. 

When I returned home, my car was almost completely inundated by 6-foot walls of snow. I called my son as I ran up the mounds and began stomping and compressing the snow to make a platform to reach my snow-covered roof. I began crying and telling him how proud he made me and to never give up. I wanted him to know I would never give up. I sliced snow from the roof of my car with my arm. He told me I was going to be okay, and I didn’t need to tell him these things because the storm would be over soon. I told him I loved him and that I knew it wasn’t over for me, but it was still important to let him know, because life is uncertain. Then we hung up. I wasn’t going to let me or my car get swallowed up.

I fell chest deep into the snow and I became enraged. “F this.” I growled. If I fell in deeper the snow would devour me, so I started slamming my arms down to compact the snow and pulled myself up. Then I began stomping my feet, creating a platform from the inside of the mound. I dragged my body out and pushed snow from the hood of my car into the holes—compacting it like it was the enemy. 

I began punching and cursing at the snow. I couldn’t help but envision Lieutenant Dan, in Forrest Gump, raging against the storm. For once I stopped caring if anyone was watching. 

When will my storm ever clear? I thought. I wanted to shred the snow with my bare hands. I cried and flailed my arms, thinking of everything that I had to release in my life. Suddenly, the roof was cleared, so I slid down the heap of snow and ran hip deep to the shovel resting against the building. I didn’t know if I would ever run out of rage. Rage for the way I am treated as a queer person. Rage for the way I was treated for being an Indigenous Latine. Rage for being gossiped about. Rage for being abused. Rage for being homeless. Rage for finally finding a home but meeting the wrath of God on the side of a mountain. 

I dug myself out of my snow rift of sorrow. The hail turned into snowflakes. I puffed like a bull and trudged my way back upstairs. I would change my wet clothes, eat, and come back to shovel more later. And when I did, the snow stopped. I looked up directly at the sun and saw its rays beaming brightly on my car—bouncing off snow—burning my face. The storm was calm now. 

I managed to move snow that gathered around my car and freed the street under my tires in 80 minutes. Tomorrow will be easier, I said to myself. And it was. People in the complex came out and started to help clear icicles and the trash can, while I cleared space for a walkway and an escape. 

The National Guard flew overhead but never stopped to aid people in Crestline. That was infuriating. I found out later that they gave aid to Mammoth. It turns out everyone was feeling the complexity of emotions I had been. Afterwards, I dug a path for some of the elders in the community, while my neighbor watched, smoked a cigarette, and flirted with me. I was not interested. Anger from his laziness fueled me more. My parents would have told me to rest later because you must always give 110 percent. Then I would snapback, that is 100 percent. I told myself that anger wasn’t for my neighbor; it was for the extra 10 percent I could never give. My mother taught me to never depend on a man, so I was prepared to dig on my own. I looked at him and said It’s okay, I’m fine on my own. I went numb and dug. One of the women paid me in gratitude, so I no longer cared about the guy. Meanwhile, Goodwin’s did a food drop off to feed the community—including those who could traverse the snow from neighboring cities. People stood in a long line of the Goodwin’s parking lot—with the collapsed roof dancing in the store windows as a backdrop. I decided to wait till Friday for my food pickup.   

That Saturday a plow came through and my friends in the neighborhood and I dug through the berm with determination as a team—stabbing through the ice sealed road with our shovels—we freed our cars. Then I grabbed all of my animals like I was escaping a fire and I freed them and myself from the mountain. 

I didn’t die on the mountain, I freed myself. I freed myself of the rage and insecurities of what people thought of me. I forgave my parents for pushing me to survive. Instead, I’m grateful for the knowledge they passed onto me. 

As I drove down the mountain, I saw the gleam of the glowing sun reflecting along the melting ice of black road and flickering amongst the green sprigs of foliage shading the face of the mountain, and I was grateful for its sublime poetry.  

Gina Duran founded IE Hope Collective, which provides workshops for marginalized youth. She was Editor of Boundless 2022: VIPF, and hosts The Collective on KQBH. Her book “…and so, the Wind was Born,” with FlowerSong Press is a part of the Her Story Mixed Tape collection, at the Autry Museum. 

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March 2023 Publication Roundup

The end of a wet and wild March is upon us, which means it’s time to celebrate the hardworking Women Who Submit members who have published their work.

The WWS members included in this post published their work during the month of March. 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 March!

Continue reading “March 2023 Publication Roundup”
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Intersect: Creating a Marketing Plan in Three Easy Steps for the Beginner Writer

By Cecilia Caballero

Dear Beginner Writer,

It’s never too early to think about creating a marketing plan, but how to begin? Although learning about marketing can initially feel overwhelming, this blog will empower you to set your literary career up for success by creating a simple marketing plan in three easy steps using no and low-cost strategies and tools. In light of the historical and ongoing racial and gender disparities in publishing, it is more important than ever to create your own system of success.

  1. Identify your writer goals and values.

What are your short and long-term writer goals? Which genre(s) do you write? Which literary venues do you want to publish your work in? Are you planning on writing a book or multiple books? Do you want to self-publish or go with an indie or traditional press? What are your dream fellowships, grants, and residencies? Also, consider how your values (such as community-building, social justice, feminism, anti-racism, etc) inform your writer goals.

Identifying your writer goals and values is an empowering process because you will gain clarity on how YOU define success for yourself versus basing your worth as a writer solely on external forms of validation. And, knowing your writer goals and values will also determine your specific marketing strategy.

  1. Create SMART marketing goals and track your progress.

    SMART goals are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time bound. If this is your first time creating SMART marketing goals, I recommend setting very small goals. In fact, the smaller, the better!

An example of a SMART marketing goal can be posting about your writing twice per week on social media. Additional examples of SMART marketing goals can include creating or updating your author website by a certain deadline or aiming to do writer podcasts/interviews once per month.

Tracking your progress also helps you to determine whether or not you are achieving your goals. And if you find that you’re not meeting your goals, there is no need to shame or criticize yourself. Instead, you can give yourself credit for learning a new skill. ANd then, whenever you are ready, you can take action by modifying your SMART goals. For example, instead of posting about your writing twice per week, perhaps posting once a week works better for you.

  1. Start an author newsletter.

    I encourage every writer to start an author newsletter. Although social media can be a wonderful tool to build relationships in the literary community, we do not own our social media accounts. This means that social media accounts can suddenly be deactivated without notice.

Alternatively, an author newsletter gives you 100% ownership of your email list and it is the most direct way to communicate with your supporters outside of social media. There are both free and paid newsletter providers to choose from, such as Mailchimp, Substack, ConvertKit, and more. And, with consistent action over time, more and more folks will naturally join your newsletter.

Beginner writer, remember, it’s courageous to show yourself and your art to the world. Take risks, don’t be afraid to fail, and try again. I strongly believe that writers should be celebrated for their art, and marketing is just another tool that can help us achieve that goal. I’m rooting for you!

With love,

Cecilia

Based in LA, Cecilia Caballero, PhD, is a poet, creative nonfiction writer, teaching artist, and co-editor of The Chicana Motherwork Anthology. She is an alum of Tin House, Macondo, and Roots. Wounds. Words. Cecilia is a 2023 Aspen Words Emerging Writer Fellow and she is finishing a memoir. Twitter: @la_sangre_llama.

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February 2023 Publication Roundup

This year, February flew by so quickly that I only just realized it ended. Our amazing Women Who Submit members, however, have been working hard, as always, and their efforts have paid off with more amazing publications.

The WWS members included in this post published their work during the month of February. 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 February!

Continue reading “February 2023 Publication Roundup”
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Intersect: 5 Common Questions and Answers at WWS Submission Parties

By Rebecca Gomez Farrell

At the end of 2022, I stepped down from leading the long-running Bay Area chapter of Women Who Submit (WWS). Over the five years that I organized the chapter, I noticed that the same questions came up time and time again. Our answers to those questions illustrate what makes WWS submission parties so encouraging and productive. The positive reinforcement they provide turns the drudgery of the submission process into inspiration.

When we meet, our members ring a call bell whenever they hit “send” on a submission and everyone bursts into cheers. Doing so fulfills an important purpose by providing an easy way to inject excitement into the room. You might even call it Pavlovian: endorphins surge once the bell rings, bringing affirmation with them and a smile on all the faces as we celebrate the person who submitted a manuscript or query, or fellowship application. Everyone else is energized to earn their turn to ring the bell by submitting again. It’s so simple, yet such a beautiful way to support each other.

Like ringing the bell, WWS members encourage each other through useful and uplifting answers to those common questions that crop up at each submission party. Through reframing the submission process as part of a writer’s work, rather than something to dread, each click of a “submit” button becomes something that validates, rather than dulls, our creative dreams.

Here are the common questions and answers I’ve encountered at Bay Area chapter submission parties over the years.

1. My short story doesn’t quite fit this magazine’s guidelines. I shouldn’t send it, right?

Yes, you should! It’s one thing to submit a novel-length work to a submission call for 5,000 words (don’t do that), but if a market lists a flash fiction limit of 1,500 words and you’re at 1,610? Send that manuscript. Or maybe an anthology’s theme is surrealism, and your piece feels closer to abstract and you’re not sure it qualifies. The worst an editor can do is reject it, and the best? Well, you may just make it into one of your top markets! All because you had a slightly different understanding of those styles than the editor did. It’s their job to decide what submissions fit their call, and it’s your job to give them your piece to consider.  

2. Does anyone know what markets might take a funny novella about cello-playing vampires?

Many of our Bay Area chapter members are seasoned writers and quite willing to share their experiences with newer ones. They also dabble in multiple forms, from speculative fiction to personal essays to haiku memoirs. Part of the value of our submission parties is learning that we are each other’s greatest resources! Nearly every time this question is asked, another writer in attendance will have a suggestion. And it’s almost assured that another member will then also submit something to that market they just learned about. Everybody benefits from asking questions and taking the leap.

3. I can’t take another rejection. How do you deal?

By celebrating them! Or at least contextualizing them. Inspired by another member’s suggestion, I offered fifty-rejections stamp cards to our members, redeemable for a free beverage on me once those cards were filled. That’s a fun, tangible motivation, but the real one is this: rolling with rejection is part of a writer’s work, or at least the work of a writer who wants to be published.

Creative pursuits are emotional minefields, for sure, but if you’ve decided you want your masterpiece to appear in the pages of an esteemed publication? You have to keep sending it out. Making the publication happen is a numbers game. If the piece hasn’t been accepted yet, then you haven’t pulled the right number yet. What’s that number? The right editor reads your piece for the right publication on the right day when they are in the right mood. All that has to come together for an acceptance to come in, and none of it is controllable. So control what you can: the quality of your writing and placing it in that editor’s hands in the first place by submitting a rejected manuscript out yet again.

If you think of rejection as part of a writer’s work, it becomes routine, just another task to be managed. Another rejection? Another opportunity to send that manuscript out into the world. Then…Ding! Ding! Ding! Ring that bell! You’re doing the work of a writer. And you totally deserve that extra scoop of double-chip mint, too.

4. Is it okay if I don’t submit anything and just work on this poem?

Absolutely. Yes, WWS submission parties run on peer pressure to submit our pieces. When eyes light up, applause breaks out, and another member gets their deserved praise, it’s infectious! But sometimes, you don’t have the emotional reserves to keep hitting those “send” buttons. Sometimes, you need to refill your well first, and allowing yourself to do that is also the work of a writer. Sometimes you just want to bask in the presence of other women taking those leaps and use it as motivation to get that poem into shape. Even if you’re not taking part in the submission process right now, you’re taking part in the creation of that supportive atmosphere at the party. Maybe next time will be the one when you hit the send button and finally ring that bell.

5. Yes, you did it! You submitted! Now, where will I read that essay once your acceptance comes in?

I admit it, I’m the one asking this question whenever someone rings the bell. Sure, we need to harden our exteriors to deal with all the noes that writers accrue. But it’s okay to let ourselves dream of yesses, too. Ringing that bell generates happy feelings, and so does allowing ourselves that glimmer of possibility, welcoming the potential that this time this piece is going to win the numbers game. I’ve seen it happen for so many chapter members over the years, with a lengthy list of credits to their names. I’ve had at least twenty publications of pieces I’ve sent out during a submission party. If we control what we can—the quality of our writing and our willingness to risk acceptance—sometimes the magic comes together in just the right way and our number is pulled.

Making the choice to step down from the Bay Area WWS chapter was hard. But I’ve been neglecting a different part of the work of a writer in recent years: the writing itself. With the pandemic and a new day job, and the life changes that came with both, I stopped prioritizing writing new fiction. So I need to reclaim that writing time first before I’ll have submissions to send out again.

I know that when those new pieces are ready, my local chapter of Women Who Submit will be too, ready to welcome me back and cheer me on as I ring that bell.

Rebecca Gomez Farrell’s Wings Rising epic fantasy duology, Wings Unseen and Wings Unfurled, is published by Meerkat Press. Her short works have appeared over 30 times in magazines, websites, and anthologies such as Beneath Ceaseless Skies, It Calls From the Sky, PULP Literature, and A Quiet Afternoon 1 & 2. Website: RebeccaGomezFarrell.com. Social Media: @theGourmez. 

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Intersect: Meet Me Where We Intersect

“Who’s got next?” Noriko Nakada asked in her last post as the blog managing editor. The week after I read it, I ran into her at a party. With a glimmer in her eye, she asked me, “You thinking about applying?”

“Kind of,” I said with my shoulders up to my ears telegraphing doubt.

” You should.”

I have written several times for the WWS blog series. Each experience was gentle, kind, and nurturing. The idea of holding space for other writers’ work, accepting submissions, soliciting voices I admire, and running a series close to my heart were too tempting to forgo.

So I applied. And…

I got next, but to be honest, I am more of an artist than a jock, but I will gladly take the court from the talented and compassionate Noriko Nakada and turn it into a found object sculpture of a new series called Intersect. Let’s see where we meet.

Perhaps we have already met, online through the WWS Open Mic (I hosted from April 2020-February 2023), or other areas I stepped in to support or take part in WWS programming, or you may not know me at all. If that is the case, I’m Thea. Like many members, I was financially and emotionally impacted by the pandemic. The WWS weekly online meetings in 2020 assisted me in becoming more resilient and adventurous in writing, submitting, and putting myself out there.

WWS also provided me with community and a culture of support. Something I desperately needed when the shutdown impacted me professionally, and I had to adapt and change. The business I spent over a decade building was not sustainable. Since I joined WWS in 2019, I saw my writing practice flourish and my publication numbers increase exponentially. With my newly found confidence in writing, I applied and accepted a contract to write ESL readers (the first time I was paid for my fiction). After writing 20, I realized the company, and I were not a good fit. I then went back to technical writing to supplement my lost income from my business and, of course, continued my literary writing to feed my soul.

Thanks to the WWS community, I have been able to access resources and knowledge bases that I never knew existed. Including scholarships, financial support, and other opportunities. As someone who wrote solitary for most of their adult life, I felt blocked from many opportunities. Primarily, because of lack of access, connections, and information. I didn’t have resources for letters of recommendation for residencies or fellowships. I wasn’t familiar with how to apply for personal grants. The list goes on. In my short time with WWS I learned much, and I am excited and honored to be named the WWS Blog Managing Editor for a paying market and help provide further information, context, and experience through your words to our members and the literary community at large.

The Road to Joy and Advocacy

February 8th, 2023 I found myself in one of the many places that WWS, and the literary and arts communities intersect. Cody Sisco invited me to read in person along with WWS board member Luivette Resto, WWS members Lisbeth Coiman, Hazel Knight Wittman, Carla Sameth, Flint, Traci Kato-Kiriyama and eleven other writers and poets at the WeHo Reads: Mindful Journeys Toward Better Futures event. It was held at the West Hollywood Public Library and included a tour of a photo exhibition led by West Hollywood Arts Coordinator Mike Che. WeHo Reads is a literary series presented by the City of West Hollywood, produced by Bookswell and supported by UCLA Extension Writers’ Program with media partnerships with Bookshop.org, Book Soup and Los Angeles Review of Books. Find out more about WeHo Reads here and how it intersects to resilience, justice, legacy, motherhood and more.

Photo by Noriko Nakada

The Beginning

Women Who Submit was born through the lens of intersectionality in the literary landscape with a vision to bring parity to women and nonbinary writers in publishing who experienced rejection, limited access to opportunities, limited representation, bias, and barriers due to gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or disability. The goal of the organization is to submit as much as much possible as a community to gain parity and visibility. Find out more about the beginnings of WWS here.

The Intersection

Let’s sculpt something beautiful together in my year as blog managing editor. In this series, I invite you to submit work regarding where we intersect. I’m looking for articles/essays about (but I am open to other topics as well):

  • Where identity or community overlap in the literary landscape
  • The merger of creative communities
  • Barriers or removal of them regarding access and opportunity
  • Difficulties or adaptations of being a creative in the sandwich generation
  • Experiences and/or applying for residencies, retreats, grants, or scholarships
  • Rejecting the scarcity model in publishing
  • Experience in shared leadership and mentorship
  • What inclusion and accessibility look like to you
  • Resilience as a human with lived experience
  • Your role as a literary citizen or community activist and how it intersects

On top of personal essays and articles, I am also looking for book reviews of marginalized and underrepresented voices.

The Facts
I look forward to reading your words and serving as a resource to this amazing community. Intersect will publish bi-monthly on the first and third Monday of the month. Familiarize yourself with the WWS Core Values prior to submitting, only work that adheres to them will be accepted.

Thea Pueschel is a nonbinary, neurodivergent, emerging writer and artist, the managing blog editor for Women Who Submit, a facilitator for Shut Up & Write, a California Arts Council Panelist 2022, and a Dorland Arts Colony Resident. Thea’s first solo mixed media exhibition “44: not dead, just invisible” ran at The Center of Orange from September 2021-December 2021.  Thea has been published in Short Edítion, and Perhappened, among others.

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December Publication Roundup

The WWS members included in this post published their work in amazing places during the month of December. 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 December!

Continue reading “December Publication Roundup”
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November 2022 Publication Roundup

The WWS members included in this post published their work in amazing places during the month of November. 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 November!

Continue reading “November 2022 Publication Roundup”