Asking “What If” – A Love Letter to Fellow Emerging Writers

In 2021, I was admitted to workshops and received fellowships with Tin House, Macondo, VONA, and the Authentic Voices program via the National Women’s Book Association, my poems and essays were accepted for publication in various venues, and I completed the first full draft of my creative nonfiction manuscript. I somehow did this while surviving a pandemic, working from home with no childcare, and being a single parent/teacher/everything to a fifth grader who was distance learning. And as we shift to a “new normal” this fall, I am still exhausted. There is still so much that is unsaid and unfelt. And yet, I remain hopeful that many of us will retain our virtual communities of care, including our writing communities. That is the way that I survived.

When the world panicked in March 2020, I had nowhere to go but online. I joined Women Who Submit and began attending the weekly Saturday meetings. At first, I doubted whether I truly belonged there because I had internalized the belief that I had to “prove” myself as a writer with external accomplishments, such as publications or awards. But I slowly learned to challenge my mindset. At WWS, rejection letters became “motivation letters” and we applauded each other for writing and for not writing, for trying and for not trying, for hitting “submit” or for not hitting submit. And then we did it all over again. I learned that everything matters, no matter how small, and it opened up something new in me. I had something to say. I filled multiple journals. I started scribbling poems on the backs of receipts again. I began to remember my childhood dream of being a published author. What if?

Asking “what if” led me to have a relationship with my writing, which is to say that I began to have more of a relationship with myself. The page is where I found the fullness of myself. And I claimed myself as a writer while the world was on fire. It felt both marvelous and terrifying. Did I really have the luxury or the audacity or the confidence to be a writer? Yes and yes and yes. I am a writer simply because I say I am.

And yet, no one ever does anything alone. Not even writers. Especially writers. When I drafted my first statements for fellowship applications, the words felt clunky and odd. I didn’t know what I was doing. I feared that I would never be selected for the fellowship. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. But I asked for help anyway because support will always move us closer to our goals. And once I finally crafted one fellowship application that seemed strong, it was easier to tailor it and apply to more workshops and fellowships. At the same time, life happens, and I didn’t worry much if a deadline for a certain opportunity passed. I did what I could at the time and I am okay with it because there will always be more chances.

The first fellowship that I completed was the Authentic Voices program with the National Women’s Book Association (NWBA). Directed by the NWBA President, Natalie Obando, my cohort and I met over the course of four months with her and other guests, including a six-weel writing workshop with the wonderful writer Mireya Vela. As someone without an MFA, I am still learning about so much, and the fellowship taught me about the business of publishing, the art of writing and revising, querying, and other concrete tools that will help me as an emerging writer. It also felt almost surreal to be in a BIPOC-only space where we could understand each other without explaining or censoring ourselves or our writing. And while institutional racism and other forms of inequities remain embedded in traditional publishing, programs like Authentic Voices make me hopeful that more change is coming.

The next workshop was the Tin House summer workshop. At the final happy hour meeting, a fellow participant said that it felt like an entire semester compressed into one week, and I wholeheartedly agree. I was pleasantly surprised that most of the Tin House faculty were BIPOC and they were privileged in the programming for the talks and lectures. However, I did not anticipate how grueling the schedule would be. Each day had over 12 hours of live programming. While all the talks and lectures were recorded, I made arrangements with my job to attend Tin House and so I wanted to use all the time that I could that week. I had meetings with a literary agent and editor, both women of color, who were honest about institutional racism in the publishing industry but encouraging. For the workshop portion, I was both inspired and a bit intimidated to work with the incredible Jaquira Diaz. My cohort and I talked with her about ghosts, speculative nonfiction, and what it means to write into the complexities of our lives. More than anything, Jaquira taught me that anything is possible, including our dreams.

My final workshop was the Macondo writers workshop. While the Macondo schedule was not as time-intensive as Tin House, it also felt rigorous. I was delighted to work with Daisy Hernandez who challenged us to consider space and place in our writing. My cohort and I wrote about mothering, beds, science, childhood homes, hopefulness, and helplessness. I also read a short excerpt of a personal essay during the Macondo open mic which felt like an accomplishment to me because I have not participated in many readings. And yet, at Macondo, the new Macondistas were welcomed with open arms and I felt a sense of belonging. Of all my fellowships so far, Macondo feels the most sentimental to me because I worked with the Chicana feminist writer and Macondista, Carla Trujillo, as an undergraduate. And Macondo’s founder, Chicana writer Sandra Cisneros, was the first book that I ever read that was written by a Chicana. With Macondo, I felt more certain than ever that I am not simply a fan of writers, but I am a writer too.

Even a year ago, I never would have dreamed of having any of these experiences, but here I am. For my fellow emerging writers, don’t give up and remember these phrases.

  1. No means next. I learned this phrase from my friend, Yvette Martinez-Vu, who uses this phrase to help motivate her students. When I submitted to a Tin House workshop for the first time, my application was declined. But when the next round opened up, I applied again and was accepted. No means next, not never. If a venue says no, apply again or somewhere else. Don’t stop.
  2. Your pace is the right pace. What if you did not write today, this week, this month, this year? Or perhaps even many years? It is okay. Whether or not you put pen to paper, you are still a writer, no matter what. Release the guilt and stress. The page will always welcome you back when it’s the right time for you and only you. Your pace is yours.
  3. Ask for help. This one still feels difficult for me even today because asking for help can sometimes mean exposing your vulnerabilities and insecurities. And yet, building relationships with others in the writing community means that there are always friendly folks who are willing to help you with feedback, support, or advice. It is okay to ask for help. In fact, it is necessary. And then the best part is that we can pay it forward by helping the ones coming up after us.
  4. Don’t compare and despair. It is normal to feel jealous, doubtful, or insecure when we compare ourselves to other writers who seem to have all the dream publications, awards, fellowships, book deals, etc. Feel those feelings and then let them go. There’s more than enough for us all and what’s meant for you will not pass you up. And remember, no one else’s success will ever diminish the inherent value of your work.
  5. Lay a brick a day. I saw this phrase in a meme and I immediately loved it. The little things do add up. Even if you write just one sentence a day, it matters. 
  6. The magic is in the mess. Marvel in the mess and then marvel some more because that’s where the magic happens. Stay with the discomfort and the doubts. The right words will come, I promise.

Remember, your writing is worthy. But, even more important than that, you yourself are worthy.

With love,

Cecilia Caballero

Cecilia Caballero is an Afro-Chicana single mother, poet, creative nonfiction writer, teaching artist, speaker, and educator based in Los Angeles. Cecilia is a founding member of the Chicana M(other)work collective and she is co-editor of the book The Chicana Motherwork Anthology: Porque Sin Madres No Hay Revolución (University of Arizona Press 2019). As a teaching artist, Cecilia designs and facilitates poetry workshops for BIPOC folks to cultivate more spaces of healing and social justice. She has been invited to give workshops and talks at numerous institutions and organizations such as UCLA, UC Berkeley, San Diego State University, East Los Angeles College, the University of Arizona, Parenting for Liberation, and more. Cecilia’s prose and poetry is published or forthcoming in Dryland Magazine, Star*Line Magazine, The Nasiona, Raising Mothers, The Acentos Review, Chicana/Latina Studies, Gathering: A Women Who Submit Anthology, and more. Find her on Twitter @la_sangre_llama

Building Up to Emerging: Tips for Applying to Fellowships, Residencies and Workshops

Two writers over looking a view of a New Mexico mesa.

Dear writers,

I’ve been busy finishing the next draft of my manuscript and haven’t had a chance to write a start of the year piece for you all. My apologies, but I hope you understand as I work towards taking my novel to the next stage of its life in 2020. In the meantime, here’s an oldie but goodie first published June 29, 2016. I wrote this after being awarded a 2016-2017 Steinbeck Fellowship from CSU San Jose. I know many of you are currently considering applying to upcoming workshops and residencies, so I hope you find this helpful.

And enjoy these words of encouragement from Danez Smith.

Tweet from Black, non-binary poet, Danez Smith encouraging people to submit.

To you reaching the next stage in your journey!

Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

BUILDING UP TO EMERGING

The first time I applied for a fellowship was in spring 2009. I was about to finish grad school, and I sent out a slew of applications like I was applying for a PhD. I figured it was the next logical step as I readied myself to move beyond my MFA program, and I had the mentors close by to help. I gathered transcripts and letters of recommendation, curated samples of work and wrote project proposals. I remember one mentor agreed to write a letter with what I perceived as little enthusiasm. When all the rejections came in that summer, I read the bios of those who won and took notice of all their previous awards and accolades. I thought back to that mentor and considered her lackluster support the response of someone who understood the literary world better than I did at that time.

See what I learned from this experience was that “emerging” doesn’t mean new like I thought it did, but more as the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines, “becoming widely known or established.” After my first attempt at a writing fellowship, I realized that to win an “emerging” literary award a writer must already be on the way to becoming established. In other words, to win a big award, you usually have to have won an award. After this discovery, I didn’t put too much energy into fellowships the following years because they are expensive, time consuming and I had little chance to win one anyway. I don’t mean I stopped applying all together. Since the start of this process my mantra has always been, you can’t win if you don’t apply, but instead of applying to six like I did that first year, I applied to one or two that I could either see myself doing (Tickner Writing Fellowship) or ones I dreamed of doing (Stegner Fellowship), and then submitted to a group of workshops and residencies.

In the spring of 2011, I applied to Macondo Writing WorkshopWisconsin Institute for Creative Writing Fellowship, and University of Arizona’s Poetry Center Summer Residency. For the latter application, I wrote a project proposal that included volunteering with the direct desert aid humanitarian organization, No More Deaths. I proposed that I would use my two weeks at the Poetry Center to write about my volunteering experience once I returned from the desert (the application no longer requires a proposal). I was rejected from all three, but that summer I decided to make my project happen anyway with or without the University of Arizona. I applied to be a volunteer and was accepted. Then in July of that year, I spent nine days in the Tucson-sector of the border camping, hiking, replenishing water supplies, and being a witness to the horrific realities of border policies and border patrol practices. When I was done, I set up my own little seven-day residency in Tucson at the Roadrunner Hostel & Inn, but I didn’t do much writing. Those nine days in the desert were difficult on my body, mind and spirit, and processing the experience wasn’t as easy as I originally thought it would be. In fact, I spent most of my “residency” streaming bad movies and TV. It wasn’t until six months later that I started writing poems about the border. I had written about 10 by the following summer and when the Poets & Writers California Exchange prize opened up that August. I submitted my new border poems, and shockingly I won.

In the fall of 2011, I applied to Hedgebrook for the first time and Las Dos Brujas Writers’ Workshop. For the Hedgebrook project proposal I wrote out a novel idea that had been tossing in my mind for a couple of years about a feminist retelling of Of Mice and Men. I taught the novel to 9th graders and every year I would be angered by Steinbeck’s treatment of the nameless, one-dimensional character, “Curley’s wife.” Writing the proposal was the first time I took that idea from my mind and wrote it on paper. It was the first time I allowed myself to believe the idea could turn into something real. I ended up making it into the top 100 applicants. I wasn’t accepted, but in the summer of 2012 I did attend Las Dos Brujas, which was my first week-long writing workshop. I had the opportunity to work with Juan Felipe Herrera (now the Poet Laureate of the United States) and a beautiful community of writers of color in a magical location among mesas and red rocks in New Mexico. That summer I wrote more poems, completed a poetry manuscript and started sending it out to first book contests.

Over the last few years I’ve applied to Canto Mundo twice, Macondo three times, Hedgebrook three times, UofA’s Poetry Center Summer Residency three times, the Stegner fellowship twice, Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing three times, Bread Loaf three times, Bucknell University’s Stadler fellowship twice and a few others. This year, I was finally accepted to Hedgebrook and Macondo (after moving up from “alternate”) but when I was rejected for the second time from Macondo in 2014, my good friend Ashaki Jackson asked why we didn’t make our own residency, and that summer we spent four days writing in a little cottage we found on AirBNB that sat in an avocado grove in Carpinteria. When I got back, I reworked my poetry manuscript for the fourth time and resubmitted to first book contests.

In 2015, I received my first residency acceptance from the Ragdale Foundation in North Shore Chicago. While I was there, having 25 days to myself to do nothing but write, I finally found time to return to the proposal I wrote for Hedgebrook three years prior. I wrote a first draft of an epistolary novel telling the story of Nora aka “Curley’s wife,” a 16 year-old Mexican-American migrant worker who marries a gabacho landowner from Salinas County when her family is deported to Mexico during a Depression Era INS sweep.

Then in the winter, I found a submission call for the Steinbeck Fellowship from the Martha Heasley Cox Center for Steinbeck Studies at San Jose State University and thought I might have a chance of winning the award since my project was Steinbeck inspired. I submitted the opening section of the book, which I was able to workshop and revise thanks to a weekly workshop I had with two friends, Tisha Reichle and Lauren Barry Fairchild, and asked a seasoned novelist I met at Ragdale to write a letter of recommendation on my behalf. He has six novels, tenure at a prestigious east coast writing program, and a Hollywood movie under his belt, so when he said my novel-in-progress had serious potential I was blown away. Thankfully, he said he would write it, and I think the combination of having a Steinbeck inspired project, workshopped pages, and the recommendation are what helped me win a 2016-2017 Steinbeck fellowship.

Now that I’ve reached my goal of becoming a fellow, I guess I can be considered an “emerging” writer, but growing to this point was a seven-year process (more if you count grad school and the road to grad school), and I’ve found that building a career is possible, but it is building something brick by brick. It’s slow and hard, and made of moments when you choose to push forward even when you aren’t getting recognition (I never did win a coveted first book award).

Here is what I have learned over the last seven years of submitting and resubmitting to these opportunities:

1. Always submit work (when you can afford to) whether you feel you can win or not because you will never get an acceptance if you don’t.

2. Resubmit. It took me three tries to get into Hedgebrook. The first time I applied, my application made it into the second round, but the next didn’t make it past the first, so you never know what can happen. First readers often change from year to year and so do judges, so resubmit.

3. Listen to recommendations. I would have never applied to Ragdale if it wasn’t for poet Veronica Reyes telling me to give it a try. I would have never known about Las Dos Brujas if Ashaki Jackson hadn’t sent me email reminders, and that was the best workshop I’ve experienced to date. We can’t possibly know all the opportunities out there, so listen to the writers around you.

4. Use the application process as a way to visualize a project. Even if your project is rejected, it can still end up being the start of a book, and don’t be afraid to move forward without the award or support. Of course, awards are nice, but don’t let the pursuit of such things stop you. You might find when you push forward new opportunities arise.

5. Don’t wait for a writing workshop to accept you when you can make your own. Besides the Carpinteria avocado ranch, this summer Lauren, Tisha, and I will be meeting outside of Denver at Lauren’s family’s cabin to finish workshopping our respective novels-in-progress—a process we sadly had to halt when Lauren moved out of California. Tisha calls it the Three Muses Workshop. It doesn’t have to cost a lot of money. Ask someone who has a cabin, find a cheap rental, go in on a place with friends, but make it happen and write.

6. Look for workshops and communities that are going to feed your writing or awards that link to your writing or your writing philosophy. There is a wide range of workshops, residencies and fellowships to apply to and each application costs money. Like applying to colleges think about what region of the country you want to write in, what mentors you want to work with, what organizations you want to back your project. Be strategic.

7. And finally, when applying to residencies in particular try these tips:

a. Send your BEST work. I have heard this from a few writers. Do not send a sample of new writing that you wish to work on while in residency, but send writing that’s been perfected and even published. If what you submit is not what you want to work on, and you get accepted, that’s ok. No one will be checking.

b. If an application asks why you want to attend, come up with a more specific answer than needing a place to write. This advice came from a Hedgebrook alumna. Again, think of the application like a college essay. Hedgebrook receives close to 1000 applications. The first round is read by alumna, which select about 10% to go into round two, so you want to say something that makes you stand out.

c. When writing a project proposal, name your research sources. I got this advice from my eldest brother who is currently working on a PhD in Communications from University of Maryland. Back in 2007, when I was working on my Antioch University MFA application, I asked him to read my essay of intent. In it I mentioned my interest in social justice writing and poetry of witness but didn’t give specifics. His advice was to go back and name the research I had done, the books I had been reading, the writers I was studying as proof. Basically, let your application show the work you’ve already done and name names.

In the end, if an emerging writer fellowship is a goal of yours, know that you will most likely need to have other accolades first. That sucks, but the good news is working your way up is possible by submitting to the wide range of opportunities available to writers, many of which go beyond publication. Workshops, retreats, and residencies await you, and you’ll find that many offer scholarships and some are even free (after the application fee). I urge you to research and submit to a couple–and then resubmit. Over time you will meet and work with great writers, create friendships, generate and perfect your work, and discover new opportunities as they emerge.

Latinx woman with curly black hair and red lipstick smiles at the camera in front of a bookcase

Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo is the daughter of Mexican immigrants and the author of Posada: Offerings of Witness and Refuge (Sundress Publications 2016). A former Steinbeck Fellow, Poets & Writers California Writers Exchange winner, and Barbara Deming Memorial Fund grantee, she’s received residencies from Hedgebrook, Ragdale, National Parks Arts Foundation and Poetry Foundation. A Macondo Writers’ Workshop member, she has work published in Acentos Review, CALYX, crazyhorse, and American Poetry Review among others. A dramatization of her poem “Our Lady of the Water Gallons,” directed by Jesús Salvador Treviño, can be viewed at latinopia.com. She is a cofounder of Women Who Submit.

Hedgebrook and Other Residency Resources

Black and white photo of six women sitting around a rectangular table

by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

This article was first published in July 2017. The current deadline for Hedgebrook 2019 residencies is Tuesday, July 24th. 

Hedgebrook’s 2018 Writer in Residence is now open. The deadline for applying is July 25th. Though there is a $30 application fee, rumor is you can request a fee waiver based on need, and if you are accepted, the stay–which includes room and board–is free of any cost aside from travel costs to Whidbey Island an hour outside of Seattle, Washington.

Hedgebrook is an all-female and female-identifying writing retreat. Writers stay in their own little cabin in the woods equipped with a desk and fisherman’s fireplace, and are given three meals-a-day, which includes a community dinner each night. No more than seven writers are on the premises at one time. One aspect that makes this residency highly sought out is Hedgbrook’s belief in radical hospitality. Some highlights of this include: menus catered to each writer’s specific food needs (and even the occasional favorite comfort food), fresh baked cookies daily, a well-loved garden writers are encouraged to pick flowers from for their desks, and absolutely no pressure to write. As someone who has experienced Hedgebrook, you and your writing will rarely feel so nurtured. Continue reading “Hedgebrook and Other Residency Resources”

An Interview with Lisa Cheby, Owner of the Desert Lotus House for Writers

by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

The Desert Lotus House for Writers is a new writing retreat in Joshua Tree, California, and is the passion project of WWS original member, Lisa Eve Cheby. Applications opened on 11/11/17 with residencies beginning in January 2018.

Women Who Submit: On the Desert Lotus House for Writers website, you mention time you spent at a residency in Knoxville, TN. Why did you want to start a writing retreat, and how did your residency experience help you create your own?

Lisa Eve Cheby: The residency at Firefly Farms and SAFTA was amazing. I had never been on a residency and doubted myself and what I would do with that gift of space and time. There was something about the process of applying and being accepted. It is not a fully-funded residency, but it was affordable and in a new place. The house was welcoming and comfortable. The landscape was new and beautiful. It was the first time in my adult life where I did not have an agenda. I was able to write and read poetry all day. I opted to not have a car that week, so I was really isolated to the farm and to walks on the property and neighborhood. All I had to do was feed the animal and write. I also loved having another poet in the house with me, in this case, Karen Craigo, and the writer in the “coop” who shared kitchen and bath with us, Sara Martin. We each retreated to our rooms or various places in the house to write, but cooking in the kitchen seemed to indicate we were open for conversation.

For about a year, I had been wanting to create a writing retreat for myself in Joshua Tree. The right place at the right price never really came along, and I am limited in what I can fund on my own. I was reluctant to Airbnb as I didn’t want to be a burden to the community. When I was in Knoxville it occurred to me that I could do this with a house in Joshua Tree. I realized it did not need to be a house like the many bought and renovated by professional investors who get homesteader cabins and renovate them to be hipster places for desert getaways. It just had to be a comfortable house where writers could go at an affordable rate to write. A month after I returned from Firefly Farms, I found the house and decided to go for it. Continue reading “An Interview with Lisa Cheby, Owner of the Desert Lotus House for Writers”

Hedgebrook and Other Residency Resources

Black and white photo of six women sitting around a rectangular table

by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

Hedgebrook’s 2018 Writer in Residence is now open. The deadline for applying is July 25th. Though there is a $30 application fee, rumor is you can request a fee waiver based on need, and if you are accepted, the stay–which includes room and board–is free of any cost aside from travel costs to Whidbey Island an hour outside of Seattle, Washington.

Hedgebrook is an all-female and female-identifying writing retreat. Writers stay in their own little cabin in the woods equipped with a desk and fisherman’s fireplace, and are given three meals-a-day, which includes a community dinner each night. No more than seven writers are on the premises at one time. One aspect that makes this residency highly sought out is Hedgbrook’s belief in radical hospitality. Some highlights of this include: menus catered to each writer’s specific food needs (and even the occasional favorite comfort food), fresh baked cookies daily, a well-loved garden writers are encouraged to pick flowers from for their desks, and absolutely no pressure to write. As someone who has experienced Hedgebrook, you and your writing will rarely feel so nurtured. Continue reading “Hedgebrook and Other Residency Resources”

June WWS Orientation & Two Book Releases

Writer Desiree Zamorano presents a workshop to seven women seated at folding tables, facing her

by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

Saturday, June 10th from 11am-3pm, Women Who Submit will host a public orientation and submission party at Art Share LA in the Arts District with free parking for attendees. Every other month, WWS hosts a public orientation and submission party for women and nonbinary writers in order to welcome new members to join our organization and learn about our mission and submission strategies in a comfortable, supportive and open environment. We will also have a round table discussion on strategies for applying to residencies and workshops.

Continue reading “June WWS Orientation & Two Book Releases”

Building Up to Emerging: Tips for Applying to Fellowships, Residencies and Workshops

by Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo

The first time I applied for a fellowship was in spring 2009. I was about to finish grad school, and I sent out a slew of applications like I was applying for a PhD. I figured it was the next logical step as I readied myself to move beyond my MFA program, and I had the mentors close by to help. I gathered transcripts and letters of recommendation, curated samples of work and wrote project proposals. I remember one mentor agreed to write a letter with what I perceived as little enthusiasm. When all the rejections came in that summer, I read the bios of those who won and took notice of all their previous awards and accolades. I thought back to that mentor and considered her lackluster support the response of someone who understood the literary world better than I did at that time.

See what I learned from this experience was that “emerging” doesn’t mean new like I thought it did, Continue reading “Building Up to Emerging: Tips for Applying to Fellowships, Residencies and Workshops”