Yellow Arrow Publishing Blog

Kapua Iao 4/1/25 Kapua Iao 4/1/25

Why I Love Poetry

By Caroline Kunz, written August 2024

In the words of Robert Frost, “Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” A simple, yet meaningful phrase that largely sums up why I love poetry. Writing poetry allows one the space to grapple with and sort out their most complicated emotions and experiences. Reading poetry allows one the ability to find names for the feelings they once found too difficult to identify. In my experience, poetry brings with it the greatest sense of comfort and relief, no matter how one engages with it.

My sentiments toward poetry haven’t always been so fond. Growing up, I couldn’t stand it. English class was always my favorite—I loved sinking my teeth into books that made me think, like The Giver and To Kill a Mockingbird, and I aced every quiz on figurative language and literary terminology. However, something about the yearly poetry unit left me less than enthused. I thought that poetry’s primary purpose was to remain mysterious and inaccessible, hiding some deeper message that only those well-versed in literature could decode. I believed that all poems needed to sound like a nursery rhyme—the more elaborate the rhyme scheme, the better. Squinting at the board in the front of the room, I tried to piece together what Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven meant when it squawked, “Nevermore,” wondering what was so important about the repetitive word, anyway. I took a stab at analyzing “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Caroll but felt as though I was reading another language. Were “brillig” and “slithy” even real words?

It wasn’t until I studied poetry in my junior year of high school that my opinions started to shift. It’s true that one teacher can completely change a mindset, proving all preconceived notions about a subject to be false. On the first day of the unit, my English teacher had our class open our American Literature Anthologies to a piece called “Desert Places” by Robert Frost. My only experience with Frost at that point had been reading “Nothing Gold Can Stay” in S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders. All I remembered was how confused the short poem had made me feel. I didn’t expect to enjoy this next one, either. Nonetheless, we read.

“What do the images in this poem have in common?” My teacher asked. Everything is desolate and blank, I thought. “Beyond nature and the outdoors, what do these images make you think of?” Loneliness, isolation, melancholy. Maybe it was the step-by-step analysis that my teacher walked us through. Or maybe, it was the fact that at that point in my life, I’d learned the stresses of balancing school with a part-time job and extracurriculars, friendship drama, keeping a strong GPA, and applying to colleges. I’d experienced the nostalgia of growing older (perhaps, Frost was right, after all, when he concluded that “nothing gold can stay”), the sadness of losing a grandparent and an aunt, the uncomfortable presence of change. Maybe it was because I’d shared in these human experiences that I was able to put aside the rhyme scheme and see the poem for what it was: a testimony to the feelings of loneliness and uncertainty that all of us have experienced. An ode to the notion that, at times, we’ve all felt as though we’re wandering a barren path, isolated and alone in our fears that we’ll never find our way through the uncharted territory. It was beautiful. I felt a strange sense of comfort in reading these words—I didn’t know that poetry could be emotional and relatable, allowing readers to see their feelings represented and validated in such short stanzas. I copied the poem down into my notebook so I wouldn’t forget it.

From that point on, I became eager to find poems like “Desert Places”—poems that I could read and digest and apply so easily to my own life. I inhaled the works of Emily Dickinson and Wendy Cope, Oscar Wilde and Ralph Waldo Emerson. I was fascinated by the fact that older poems such as these could still hold so much weight, still resonate so deeply with readers of any age. Before I knew it, my bookshelf was overtaken by a collection of little poetry books.

It’s no surprise that once the poetry bug bit, I decided to study English and writing at college. At present, I’ve completed three years, and I can say with confidence that the poetry classes I take are my favorite. I love the poems that my professor brings for us to read each week—Elizabeth Bishop, Louise Glück, Robert Lowell. I love getting to explore new genres, forms, styles, and narrative voices. I love getting to know my classmates and their opinions so well as we bounce ideas across our classroom’s round conference table. I love our in-class workshops; before every Thursday, we each write a poem to be brought in and edited, questioned, admired, and reworked by our professor at the front of the room.

“No, you can’t use that cliche.”

“I admire the risks you took with this one.”

“Why don’t we just get rid of the first three stanzas?”

“The heart of the poem is really here, in the last two.”

I love the conversation that I have with her red pen as I make my edits the day after a workshop. It’s fascinating to create my own work, seeing which topics I gravitate toward and which I shy away from. While the essays and analyses that I’m assigned in my English classes often prove to be stressors, these poems that I have due each Thursday act as a release, both creatively and emotionally. And, in turn, I’ve found that crafting so many poems has helped to strengthen my writing in every other academic area—it’s helped me to find a sense of conciseness, a greater awareness of pace and phrasing.

Last spring, during the final week of my “Poetic Influence” class, my professor could see the weariness in our eyes. Our once lively class discussions had turned sullen and sparse. We begged for extensions and handed in late assignments left and right, which she usually had no tolerance for. With mere days before final exams began, we were giving her all that we had. “I thought today I’d bring in one of my favorites by Ellen Bass called, ‘The Thing Is,’” she said. “You all could clearly use it.”

In that moment, these words were exactly what I needed to hear. The stress and anxiety brought on by the upcoming exams, the 12-page paper I had due that night, my yearly end-of-semester mystery illness, the bittersweetness of saying goodbye to my friends for the summer, the fact that I hadn’t even begun to pack up my apartment for move-out . . . all seemed to melt away. Bass reminded me that pain, fear, and grief are all inevitable. Suddenly, my problems seemed to become a lot smaller, and I knew that, while I didn’t love life in this particular moment, I would soon “hold it like a face” and appreciate it once again.

So, if you ask me why I love poetry, the answer is simple. Poetry allows us to feel less alone. Poems are like companions. Little reminders that we can stick in our back pocket, taking them out and consulting their advice when we need it most. Poetry grows up with us; “Desert Places” is still with me, in that old notebook from junior year, and in the Frost books that I keep on my shelf. Poetry is more than mere pretty words strung together to sound like an ode or a fairy tale. Poetry is complex, emotive, withstanding. Poetry is universal.

Caroline Kunz (she/her) is a rising senior at Loyola University Maryland, where she studies English and writing on a pre-MAT track. She enjoys traveling, scouting out new coffee shops, and of course, reading and writing. As an aspiring educator, she hopes to share her love of the written word with future generations of students. Her current favorite authors include Taylor Jenkins Reid and Celeste Ng.

*****

Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we BLAZE a path for women-identifying creatives this year by purchasing one of our publications or a workshop from the Yellow Arrow bookstore, for yourself or as a gift, joining our newsletter, following us on Facebook or Instagram, or subscribing to our YouTube channel. Donations are appreciated via PayPal (staff@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@yellowarrowpublishing), or US mail (PO Box 65185, Baltimore, Maryland 21209). More than anything, messages of support through any one of our channels are greatly appreciated.

Kapua Iao 3/25/25 Kapua Iao 3/25/25

Where We Are: A Conversation with Ann marie Houghtailing

I will let your heart beat like an ancient drum
and let you feel the suffering place
that can feel like an ocean with no horizon

You may want to run
but I invite you to stay

“The Suffering Place”

The transcendent nature of the written word allows us to see and be seen beyond the boundaries of time. Storytelling allows us to share and shoulder the joys and burdens of humanity, and writers like Ann marie Houghtailing embolden us to embrace this philosophy in our daily lives.

Ann marie Houghtailing is a multigenre writer, visual artist, and cofounder of the firm Story Imprinting. Her debut chapbook, Little by Little, will be published by Yellow Arrow Publishing in April 2025. Today, we are excited to introduce Ann marie along with the exquisite cover of Little by Little. Reserve your copy at yellowarrowpublishing.com/store/little-by-little-paperback and make sure to leave some love for Ann marie here or on social media. This collection reflects on layers of loss universally experienced and offers communal suffering as a means of embracing wild resilience. It is a celebration of domestic storytelling that calls us to truly see ourselves, each other, and a world in which we are free to shamelessly grieve all the sorrows of this life—however slight—together.

Melissa Nunez, Yellow Arrow interviewer, and Ann marie engaged in conversation over Zoom where they discussed acceptance and compassion in the creative process and the world.

Who are some of your favorite women-identified writers?

This is an interesting question to answer, because for me, writing and language do not come from my formal education alone, but from the storytelling tradition of the women that I grew up with. I dragged around a complete collection of Emily Dickinson when I was a teenager and studied all the women writers you would expect in college. But the truth is I was surrounded by storytelling my entire life. I grew up among women who “talk story,” a phrase that comes from my mother’s Hawaiian upbringing. They shared their lives through this medium as a way to make sense of their struggles and connect. This might be an unsatisfactory answer, but it is an accurate one. My writing is rooted in the gifts I was bestowed by women in my family and my culture. My sister was a teenager when I was born. She learned words just so she could teach them to me. She wasn’t really engaged in school for herself, but she wanted something better for me. No writer has done more for me than those women who were not formally educated, who no one will ever know, who embraced storytelling as a means of survival. My mother, my sister, my aunties, and my extended family are the people who made me revere storytelling.

That said, of course there are many women writers who have inspired me. Someone who is not a poet, but who I love dearly is Cheryl Strayed for the rawness of her work. I think she’s wildly undervalued. I also adore Maya Angelou, Mary Oliver, Sylvia Plath, and Elizabeth Bishop. But I think that so often these kinds of dialogues miss the domestic storytelling that all my poetry is very much about. This particular group of poems (Little by Little) grapples with the nature of loss and was birthed after losing four members of my family in just over a year.

Can you share more about how these pieces came together as a complete chapbook?

All the poetry was written in response to this year of loss that I mentioned. My nephew died at 44 years of age. He was my sister’s only son. Then, my brother died when I was in Portugal, three months later. Our mom died surrounded by my family in my home nine months or so after that, and then my sister’s husband died a few months later. My sister, in the course of a year or so, lost her husband, her only son, her brother, and her mother. Imagine that. My brother-in-law was somebody I knew my entire life. These weren’t distant relatives; I lost my family. This all happened during the pandemic. No one could come and be with me in my grief. People had to love me from afar.

I was using writing and painting to try to survive and not lose my mind. I don’t think I was considering this as a collection. I was just waking up with poetry in my mouth, writing it down, walking the dog, and then writing again.

When I later looked back, I saw that there were themes about different kinds of loss. I also wrote a poem about a little girl and the loss of feeling perfect when you’re young. You have all this power because you think you can be anything. You can wear all the glitter and a crown while carrying a sword and walk through the world feeling wildly powerful, and then life chips away at you. That’s another kind of grief and loss. Learning to be with loss is a constant thread in life and this collection. It’s broken up into moments, some about death, but others about being a woman and feeling crushed or silenced by restricting expectations. People are grieving all the time: children leave the nest, beloved dogs die, relationships end, and people lose their jobs. I was wrestling with these ideas about loss and what it means to sit inside of grief. There are a million ways in which we grieve, and I think that as a society we’re incredibly uncomfortable with talking about loss and death. We’re typically ill-equipped to be open about grief. Recently, I’ve talked to numerous people who shared stories about friends who cut them off without explanation. That, too, is a kind of grief that is such a common experience that people have so much shame around. Death and loss in all its forms is everywhere.

What drew you to Yellow Arrow Publishing?

A friend of mine, Candace Walsh, published a collection (Iridescent Pigeons) with Yellow Arrow. She posted about it on social media, and it caught my attention. I just thought, “I have all these poems that are sitting around. I’m just going to send them off.” I had read her collection—she’s extraordinary—and started looking through all the material from Yellow Arrow available to read online. It just encouraged me to put my work out there.

Can you talk about the process of creating your cover art?

I’m using my own art, and I sent it to Alexa Laharty (creative director) for consideration. In consort with writing, I produced a series of paintings called the See Jane Project. I did one small painting every single day that I posted and sold. They were small 8-by-10 pieces addressing visibility and invisibility. The name Jane is laden with cultural references. We call an unidentified, murdered woman, Jane Doe. Plain Jane is a phrase used to describe a woman that doesn’t meet cultural beauty standards. There are all these ways in which Jane, as a name, has cultural power that’s largely negative. I wanted to challenge that idea.

All these paintings came with little bios and backstories. None of the bios referenced the relationships in their life. It was all about who they were and their little quirks. If you go to a bookstore there are so many book titles that reference women in relationship to someone else. For example, the Pilot’s Wife, The Bone Setter’s Daughter, and on and on and on. It’s so interesting the way women are valued or defined in terms of their role in a relationship. The cover art is a collage piece of a woman with a typewriter on her head. It came from the same period as the poems, so it felt very right to pair these together.

I will rock in the cradle of sorrow with you
I will stand in the darkness until morning with you
I will go back and back and back to a place I’ve never been with you

“I Will”

Your poems on suffering are truly insightful. I appreciated the different spin on how this concept is usually presented or perceived. What would it look like to sit in someone’s suffering? And what would the world look like if we did more of this for each other?

This is really important to me. I just lost a dear friend. I was with her when she took her last breath. Sitting in suffering is allowing someone to be in pain without judgment or interference. It’s the ability to bear witness. I think most of us want to run away from it because we want people to be okay. It’s hard to witness suffering. To honor the suffering of another is transformational. We’re all guilty of saying that we’re fine when we’re not because we don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable. After experiencing so much loss I would say, “I’m terrible, but I’m sure it will get better.” I could tell that people didn’t know what to do with that. We don’t know how to be okay with people who are not okay.

I remember years ago I was going through a really hard time. I was with a friend of mine in a Target parking lot, and my seatbelt got stuck in the car. I just got so pissed off and was yelling. And she did the most generous thing anybody could have done. She put her hand on mine, and said, “I know you’re super angry right now, and you have every single right to be. Things have been so hard. This isn’t who you are, it’s just where you are, and I’m going to be here with you.” It was the most radical thing somebody could do because people want to shut down or turn away from somebody who is filled with pain or rage or sorrow. We want to tell them they’re fine or it will all be okay. I don’t know that we always need to be cheered up. I think we need to be where we are without shame or apology. There are some things you cannot fix. People will get sick or die, the worst things will happen. People lose their children; their loved one will be drug-addicted or mentally ill. It is agonizing. But being with somebody, just being in it, is not nothing. It’s everything, but most people can’t do it.

It always shocks people, but after all this loss I experienced I did a year of volunteering with hospice. People would say, “Oh, my God! How could you do that? Why would you do that? After all this?” For me it was affirming and made me useful. Being with someone at the end of life is a singular experience. It’s the most vulnerable anybody is ever going to be. It’s honest, pure, and sacred. It’s the most precious place you can occupy. I can think of no greater privilege than sitting with the dying.

I also loved the concept of poetry as food in your collection. From your perspective, how is poetry important for our world?

Everyone who reads poetry knows that it’s the most nutrient rich language. Everything’s packed in there; you’re getting the most out of the language. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the right story or the right poem at the right moment can save you. It’s like medicine for your soul. Poetry is a portal to go deeper and examine what it means to be human. It’s a way to connect with other people who may not even be living anymore. You realize you are part of this greater human experience. You are a person who has a broken heart, as millions and millions of people before you. It makes you feel less alone.

The modern version of this is why people are obsessed with memes, right? There’s something that strikes some little chord in them that vibrates when they hear the right thing. They think, “That’s me. You’re talking to me.” That’s what poetry does. It speaks to us. For me, who is not a spiritual person at all, the closest I can get to spirituality is through poetry.

We did not need bread
nor butter
We feasted only on words
fat with truth
dripping with the warmth of breath

“Feasting on Truth”

Can you share more about your visual art process and how that might speak to you or interconnect with your poetry?
I didn’t know anything about neuroaesthetics until after I’d gone through the grieving process. Then I read about it and understood why I was painting and writing. It was keeping me present. It was definitely the tactile aspect of it for me. I distinctly remember being in my studio and having moments where I couldn’t even use a brush because I didn’t want that distance between myself and the canvas. I wanted to get paint on my hands and under my nails and in my hair. It was a way to hold on to life. All my work is filled with color, which is very much rooted in my mom’s background from Hawai’i. If you look at the room I’m in right now, it’s like an explosion of color. Color is joyful. It’s life affirming. The cross-section of painting and writing were the ways in which this intersection of life and death were coming together for me. Pain coexists inside of life. All my suffering had something to do and somewhere to go. I spent lots of really late nights in my studio making bad art, and okay art, and kind of good art, and none of it mattered. It was process focused. I could feel it making me a little bit better every day, just a little, tiny bit better every day.

Would you like to share about your work with Story Imprinting?

Story Imprinting is the business that I run with my business partner, Holly Amaya. We work with large corporate clients and teach them the neuroscience, application, and structure of storytelling for leadership. They learn how to use storytelling in business development, recruiting, and management. Storytelling is something that humanizes the corporate world, and it helps connect people more deeply than just data, statistics, or fact patterns. Whether you’re talking about how to give somebody feedback or how to deliver a keynote or a presentation, storytelling is the most powerful tool at your disposal. This is not just my opinion. It’s backed by neuroscience and extensive scholarship. We train large corporate clients all over the country, largely in big tech, big law, and big accounting. Those are primarily the verticals we operate in.

Do you have any words of wisdom for the women-identified writers in our audience?

Writing can be such a tender, fragile thing. There’s an impulse to want to keep it to yourself and not let the world step all over it. The fear of criticism is real. If you want to be true to yourself, you have to turn off that noise. Don’t get me wrong, you need quality feedback. But not all feedback is equal. Writing isn’t for you to stick in a drawer. Writing is for readers. You have to make yourself vulnerable. You cannot be defined by the people who don’t love your work or think your work is garbage. Those aren’t your people. But if you have enough people that support your writing and say that it’s meaningful, that’s all that matters. You don’t need everyone’s approval. You don’t need anyone’s approval to write. You need to write, because that’s who you are. Be brave.

Do you have any future projects that we should keep an eye out for?

I’m currently working on a book proposal. It’s still an infant. It’s also about grief and the creative process. I’m hoping it finds a home. I’ve learned so much from my own experience and will also discuss what some of the research says about how creativity can support the grieving process.

Thank you Ann marie and Melissa for such an engaging conversation. You can find out more about Ann marie Houghtailing and her work at annmariehoughtailing.com and can order your copy of Little by Little at yellowarrowpublishing.com/store/little-by-little-paperback. We appreciate your support.

Little by Little by Ann marie Houghtailing explores the universality of human suffering and how we find our way to meaning and purpose. Houghtailing is a visual artist and cofounder of the firm Story Imprinting. She delivered a TEDx Talk entitled Raising Humans and performed her critically acclaimed one woman show, Renegade Princess, in New York, Chicago, Santa Fe, San Francisco, and San Diego. “Little by little” is the phrase that Houghtailing’s mother used to say when things were hard. Things were almost always hard. Houghtailing grew up in a culture of poverty and witnessed violence, struggle, and wild resilience every day. What she did not realize was that her mother’s phrase would become a life affirming strategy. It was a map that took her back to herself when life took so much from her.

From 2019–2020, four members of Houghtailing’s family died in rapid succession, including her mother. Their deaths were an extension of historic and epigenetic trauma that would require her to sit inside of suffering and paint, write, and garden her way through to transformation. Little by Little delves into how Houghtailing was able to find meaning in the suffering by examining the beauty of life itself. Every day we experience loss. The loss of innocence, youth, relationships, jobs, money, confidence, power, life, and hope are in constant play. Learning to sit inside of deep suffering can be intellectually, emotionally, and physically demanding territory that invites us to examine who we are and what we are made of. Little by Little is a way to see, a way to suffer, and ultimately, a way to live.

Melissa Nunez makes her home in the Rio Grande Valley region of south Texas, where she enjoys exploring and photographing the local wild with her homeschooling family. She writes an anime column at The Daily Drunk Mag and is a prose reader for Moss Puppy Mag. She is also a staff writer for Alebrijes Review and interviewer for Yellow Arrow Publishing. You can find her work at her website melissaknunez.com and follow her on Twitter @MelissaKNunez and Instagram @melissa.king.nunez.

*****

Kapua Iao 3/18/25 Kapua Iao 3/18/25

Reaching New Orbits with Feminist Speculative Writing by Angela Acosta

By Angela Acosta, written September 2024

The worlds of feminist speculative fiction and poetry are vast. They are filled with spacefaring humans creating homes on new planets, Earth dwellers seeking respite from the sun, ferocious river-born monsters, and high fantasy cities full of spells and runes. You may have read stories by Ursula K. Le Guin, Octavia Butler, or CJ Cherryh that made you rethink what you thought you knew about science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Works by these writers offer alternate histories, examine human nature alongside aliens, and ask their readers tough questions. Feminist speculative fiction decenters whiteness and dismantles colonialism. It walks away from the Omelas to envision more just queer, trans, crip, Black, Indigenous, Latine, and Asian futures.

When I joined the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA) in early 2022, I was in awe of the ecosystem of speculative poets, journals, and presses that awaited me. Since then, I have published my work in over 30 speculative literary magazines and worked with small presses to publish two Elgin nominated collections, Summoning Space Travelers (Hiraeth Publishing, 2022) and A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness (Red Ogre Review, 2023). Before then, I had only published a handful of nongenre poems and often got lost in the maze of poetry contests, vanity publishers, and beautiful literary magazines for which my work was simply not a good fit. I had read plenty of science fiction novels, YA dystopias, and literary classics, but I had yet to experience SciFaiku, experimental work, and narrative speculative poems.

I got my start as a speculative poet publishing “The Optics of Space Travel” in Eye to the Telescope. This piece, like much of my speculative writing, grapples with questions of cultural erasure, multilingualism, and family legacies:

My eyes are the bridge between worlds and generations,
when languages and cultures have been assimilated out of me.
I can still see the road ahead, of stories yet to be told,
onward towards Mars and the deceleration of the universe.

Feminist speculative literature is multilingual and multicultural, held steady with the promise that the cultures and languages of Earth will be spoken and celebrated in the future. As a child, I yearned to speak Spanish and to know the recipes and cultural traditions of my Mexican ancestors. Though I didn’t learn Spanish from my family, the language in all its linguistic diversity has become a part of who I am. I have grown from this cosmovisión, a worldview amplified by the many cultures where Spanish and indigenous languages of the Américas are spoken. The literature of Abya Yala, a Kuna word for the misnomer that is Latin America, is full of myths like El Dorado and La Malinche, fantastic journeys and lost homelands, and the recuperation of indigenous cultures and voices. For those who speak Spanish, I recommend Rodrigo Bastidas Pérez’s anthology El tercer mundo después del sol, a collection of stories from across Abya Yala that bring together techno futurism, folklore, horror, and many other speculative subgenres.

My science fiction poetry seeks to envision Latine characters thriving in worlds beyond Earth. I write in English and Spanish about a city built over the Chicxulub crater in “Paradise of the Abyss,” cook tamales with Martian cheese in “Tamales on Mars,” find a new home for the delightfully resilient axolotl in “Rewilding the Axolotl” (Star*Line vol. 47, no. 2), and celebrate a quinceañera (15th birthday celebration) en route to a new galaxy in “Andromeda’s First Quinceañera” (Space and Time issue 142). My bilingual collection A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness contains poems that envision the dailiness of human emotions and experiences in settings beyond Earth, from parties onboard a spaceship to creatures gathered around a campfire listening to filk music (sci-fi folk music). I wrote the collection to capture the wonder and possibility of Latine futures, even when our names and histories cannot be found on star charts.

Recent fiction by Valerie Valdes and Becky Chambers has shown me that space can be for every human and alien species. Their books depict a future where people of all backgrounds and abilities can make their way to crowded space stations and settle on exoplanets without destroying the local flora and fauna. Theirs is a future of accessibility and acceptance of ourselves and our pasts, a place full of found families, multispecies communities, and heartfelt laughter.

For those entering the world of speculative fiction, there are many journals accepting feminist work. The Sprawl Mag, edited by Mahaila Smith and Libby Graham, is a feminist speculative journal “focused on publishing perspectives that have historically been left out of canonical sci-fi and fantasy.” Radon Journal publishes antifascist and anarchist poetry and prose, including science fiction, transhumanism, and dystopia. Most importantly, these journals offer excellent feedback and support their contributors. Other venues for speculative work that I enjoy reading and writing for are Solarpunk Magazine, Heartlines Spec, If There’s Anyone Left, Utopia Science Fiction, and Shoreline of Infinity. Speculative writers of color should consider submitting to FIYAH (Black writers of the African diaspora) and Anathema (on hiatus, planning to return in 2025). For those with poetry manuscripts ready for submission, Interstellar Flight Press is a mainstay of the genre, Aqueduct Press publishes feminist science fiction, Prismatica is for LGBTQ+ writers, and I have personally enjoyed working with the editorial team at Red Ogre Review.

When I first watched the Diné science fiction short film “Sixth World,” written and directed by Nanobah Becker, I was excited to see Diné astronauts tackling the challenges of a mission to Mars. These feminist, anticolonial futures are not without the conflicts of present-day society but offer new perspectives on age-old challenges. Feminist speculative futures are not necessarily utopian, nor do they portray an amalgamation of existing human cultures. They are as specific to the cultures and peoples they depict as they are vast, always venturing for the journey through space and time to be inclusive and accessible.

Angela Acosta, PhD (she/her), is a bilingual Mexican American poet and Assistant Professor of Spanish at the University of South Carolina. She is a 2022 Dream Foundry Contest for Emerging Writers finalist, 2022 Somos en Escrito Extra-Fiction Contest honorable mention, and Utopia Award nominee. Her Rhysling nominated poetry has appeared in Heartlines Spec, Shoreline of Infinity, Apparition Lit, Radon Journal, and Space & Time. She is author of the Elgin nominated poetry collections Summoning Space Travelers (Hiraeth Publishing, 2022) and A Belief in Cosmic Dailiness (Red Ogre Review, 2023).

*****

Kapua Iao 3/11/25 Kapua Iao 3/11/25

Poetry by Proxy: A Conversation with Jennifer Sutherland

“Words smoothly figure an exchange even when the trade is made at gunpoint or by the small print no one reads.”

Jennifer Sutherland is a poet, essayist, and attorney from Baltimore, Maryland. Her writing is elegant, poignant, and marked by her discernment of law and language. You can find out more about Sutherland and her work on her website jenniferasutherland.com.

Sutherland’s book, bullet points, was written after her experience as witness to a courthouse shooting and explores concepts like power and violence, from the personal to the global, from her distinct and intersecting perspectives as lawyer, writer, woman, human. It is a powerful read, especially considering the current political landscape. The unlabeled quotes within this blog are from bullet points.

Melissa Nunez, Yellow Arrow interviewer, and Sutherland engaged in conversation over Zoom where they discussed the evolution of identity and language and the power of poetic voice.

Can you share some women-identified writers who inspire you?

Linda Hull and Louise Gluck are writers I go to again and again. Robin Schiff, Carol Moldaw, Linda Gregerson are also writers I admire. And, of course, I must mention Anne Carson.

Can you talk about the transition from law to writing, to poetry?

I’m not sure I fully transitioned. I still pay the bills practicing law, but not in the same way. I don’t go to court anymore; I'm more of an office person now. I mostly write things for other lawyers, which just works better for me now. I was a writer before I ever thought about going to law school. My parents were both teachers. My dad taught English in Baltimore, so I grew up around his books and around literature. I was drawn to poetry before anything else. I was writing poetry before law school. I went to law school for reasons tied to wanting control over my life after some difficult experiences and because people told me I’d be a good lawyer due to my debating and communication skills. I love the intellectual exercise of the law, but I don’t enjoy the confrontational aspects anymore. I’m more interested in talking about how the law works and why it works a certain way than I am in fighting with somebody over who did what. I stopped writing a lot once I got into law school. I think there’s something that changes in your brain when you start thinking from a lawyer’s perspective. Lawyering is very much about shaving things down into small pieces that you can then do away with, and poetry is much more about expansive thinking and considering what I can bring into a topic or subject. I would write little pieces here and there for years when I was practicing actively, but it was after the [courthouse] shooting that I truly came back to poetry in a devoted kind of way. I think it saved me.

What is the process of writing something like bullet points? What was the process of creating the lyric which reads more linear as compared to a collection of shorter stand-alone pieces?

In 2018, I walked away from practice almost entirely and did an MFA in Roanoke, Virginia, at Hollins University. While there, I kept getting close to writing about the shooting, but I couldn’t find the right words or approach. I wrote a lot of poems about other things, and then the pandemic happened during my last semester of my MFA. I think it was the first pandemic winter, so probably February of 2021. I had read Maggie Nelson’s Bluets recently, which is also an important book to me. There was something about the way that she organized that book. It’s written in these little chunks of text, one to a page, and that container was very appealing to me. I digested that book a little bit, and I woke up one weekend morning and had the first line for bullet points. I grabbed a notebook and started writing and most of the book came out basically over that weekend. I wrote it in one extended session. Then I spent months and months after that working with what I had, taking things out, reshaping things, figuring out what the stanzas were going to look like. But substantively, it came out in one chunk, and I think that’s because I had just been cooking it for so long that once it was ready, once I had the shape for the stanzas, it was there.

“Verse lets me throw my voice in a way that prose does not, and I cannot stand too near or my voice will scream at me.”

You make an interesting statement in this lyric about only being able to write poetry. What is the difference between the truth of a story or essay and the truth of a poem for you?

That line is still very true for me. I would love to be someone who can write fiction. I read a lot of fiction, but my brain just doesn’t seem to work that way. Voice is very important to me in my work. Voice is an important aspect of the work of a lot of the poets that I read. I think that has something to do with how lyric works in general. Lyric poetry is like a voice suspended in space without the passage of time. Something about that position, that suspension, allows me to speak. It feels safer.

You also make interesting use of language (legal language and definitions) and commentary about language in cyberspace. How does this new medium of communication/expression impact language for you?

Thank you for picking up on that. I don’t think a lot of people have picked up on this sort of second body/proxy body idea that is in the book. As a lawyer, I’m used to working with abstract entities that are not necessarily people, whether that’s a corporation, a trust, or intellectual property. When situating this piece in historical context, which I tried to do, it was important to me to think about the ways that human beings have been figured or proxied in history. Oftentimes that’s been done to reduce risks of various kinds in business. People want to be able to make investments without necessarily losing their personal assets, which is a way for them to do things that are otherwise very harmful. If you think about the Middle Passage and the business in the trafficking of human beings, that business was possible because people could effectively work behind these corporate proxy bodies and protect themselves. That was an idea that I wanted to bring into the book, the idea that we are doing some of these same kinds of things in the virtual world of social media and the Internet. We are allowing ourselves to create these personas, these people in a literal sense. People have alt or fake accounts, and they can post anything they want as harmful as it might be, as awful as it might be without fear of personal repercussions. But we also have these personas, even if we’re writing underneath our own names and our own photos, that we are projecting into cyberspace that don’t necessarily represent who we are in reality. What is that allowing us to do? Why are we doing that? For most of us, it’s not necessarily intentional or with bad motives, but for some of us I think it is. In the book, I’m working through some of that. In the immediate aftermath of the shooting, there were people who were coming at me on social media because I had posted about it. A lot of these were accounts that were just the bird accounts or fake photos and stuff like that who were coming and saying the most awful kinds of things to me. Someone logged on and told me that I was fat. We are able to do that because we can cultivate these second bodies where we give in to and display our worst impulses while in disguise. I wanted to consider that in the book.

“This space makes a whole new country, a world, a fleet of ships with fictitious names and faces, and they swarm the shoreline with their eely words.”

I admire your honesty and bravery in the way you process these experiences. How are you doing with the concept of feeling stuck in that moment or being separate people? Is it still impacting your daily life?

It will always affect my daily life in some way. I’ve learned coping mechanisms and changed my life significantly. Pulling back from practicing law was part of that. My first marriage was also volatile and not healthy for me. My life changed a lot, partly before the book. I met a supportive person who helped me through this process. But I think there will always be that person in the stairwell representing that awful moment. It changes you; it doesn’t stop.

What would you want readers to take away from this book?

The takeaway for bullet points for me would be nuance. Be open to the possibility of many ideas, many meanings, many contributing factors. The title, the stanzas, a lot of the components of this book have to do with our tendency to want to focus on tiny things and the necessity of expanding past that.

I love your range, from lyric and prosey poetry to pieces more succinct. Talk to me about numbers, which I believe is alluded to in your lyric. “8bsolute” is such a compelling poem visually and otherwise.

I have a couple of pieces with numbers. There’s a couple of pieces in a manuscript that I’m working on now that’s about a Greek mythological character named Alcestis. I think math is an easy stand in for something that’s objectively truthful (although I don’t know that even math is necessarily objective.) A lot of what I’m doing in my work is figuring my way through objective and subjective, which are ideas that are very important in postmodernism and they’re important in law. I think numbers for me are kind of a stand in for objective truth and the likelihood that even objective truth is subject to interpretation.

“You permit me
2 locate myself in your midst, and you in mine, and 2 complete
7he necessary calculations. Through you 1 acquire —
6ravity. A density 1 can’t aspire to when 1 am more obviously
3yself. No one suspects. They only see what 1 project.”

8bsolute (published in AMP)

Do you have any advice you can share with fellow women writers?

Women and women-identified people are very often the people who are doing the work that keeps homes going. For that reason, they often don’t have access to the time and the spaces that are necessary to write in the way that we have often been told that we should. We have all these very impressive novelists from the 60s and 70s who talk about shutting themselves away in attic rooms and writing for six hours a day and all this stuff and claim that is what writers should do. For many of us that doesn’t work in our daily lives. It didn’t work for me in my daily life. I think that the tiny moments when you write down a line or a thought in a notebook—it may take you two minutes—those count. Those minutes can be productive. You might come back to those moments, to those lines a year or five years from now. It may become something that is valuable to you. MY advice is not to think that because you only have five minutes to write something down or an hour to work on something that you shouldn’t bother. You should.

Do you have any new projects in the works you’d like to share with our readers?

I’m still working on that manuscript about Alcestis, a character in Greek mythology, who was given the choice to die instead of her husband. He found out about it, because this is Greek mythology, and you get to find out about things ahead of time. She chose to die instead of him and went down to Hades and then Hercules showed up at the house and sort of had this wild party and went down to hell and brought her back. It’s a very odd story, which I think is what interested me. It’s not completely a tragedy, it’s not a comedy. It’s a weird story that felt like a way for me to start thinking through my experience of domestic violence. I am also working on a collection of poems called Errors and Omissions that is still about this issue of risk and of our wish to avoid it by creating proxies to stand in for us. Both projects are more traditionally-lined individual pieces of poetry.

Melissa Nunez makes her home in the Rio Grande Valley region of South Texas, where she enjoys exploring and photographing the local wild with her homeschooling family. She writes an anime column at The Daily Drunk Mag and is a prose reader for Moss Puppy Mag. She is also a staff writer for Alebrijes Review and interviewer for Yellow Arrow Publishing. You can find her work on her website melissaknunez.com/publications and follow her on Instagram @melissa.king.nunez or Twitter @MelissaKNunez.

Jennifer A. Sutherland is the author of Bullet Points: A Lyric, from River River Books, a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Medal Provocateur and Foreword Indies Poetry Book of the Year. Her work has appeared or will soon appear in Birmingham Poetry Review, EPOCH, Hopkins Review, Best New Poets, Denver Quarterly, and elsewhere. She earned her MFA at Hollins University, and she lives and works in Baltimore.

*****

Kapua Iao 3/7/25 Kapua Iao 3/7/25

Her View Friday

Yellow Arrow Publishing supports women-identifying writers from a wide variety of backgrounds, not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it makes us stronger. Women’s voices have historically been underrepresented in literature, and we aim to elevate those voices and stories through our programs, publications, and support.

Part of our mission in supporting and uplifting women writers is to promote the Yellow Arrow community’s individual accomplishments. We’d like to further expand that support and promotion outside of our Yellow Arrow publications. Twice a month, we’d like to give a shout out to those within the Yellow Arrow community who recently published:

single-author publications
single pieces in journals, anthologies, etc., as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews

You can support our authors by reading this blog and their work, sharing their news, and commenting below or on the blog. Congratulations to all the included authors. We are so proud of you!

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling.

Author: Michele Evans

Michele Evans, a fifth-generation Washingtonian (D.C.) and high school English teacher, is the author of purl. Poems in this debut collection from Finishing Line Press have found homes in places like ASP Bulletin, Maryland Literary Review, Mid-Atlantic Review, Yellow Arrow Journal, and elsewhere. Despite always wearing the color black, she loves blueberries, blue hydrangeas, blues musicians, and Blue Mountain coffee. She lives online at WordSmithie.com and on Instagram @awordsmithie.

Where are you from: Washington D.C.

What describes your main writing space: Bright and airy; safe; coffee and coconut.

Tell us about your publication: Released by Finishing Line Press on February 14, 2025, purl, a collection of poems, reimagines feminine forces from Homer’s Odyssey and transplants them to modern, urban landscapes. This poignant debut, inspired by the poetry of Phillis Wheatley Peters, amplifies a chorus of the marginalized: queens and maidens, mothers and daughters, wives and mistresses, goddesses and slaves. With each page turn, readers are invited to celebrate the resilience of women bound by those universal traumas threaded through literature and life.

Why this book? Why now? How did it happen? This book is my COVID baby. I was teaching the Odyssey in my English 9 honors class when schools shut down during the pandemic. With a bit more time on my hands, I decided to reclaim my writing voice. I took a few virtual workshops with Moira Egan that summer and penned ten poems. By the time I returned to school the next year (virtually), I had made a list of other women from the epic poem I wanted to write about. My very first published poem ever was accepted by Tangled Locks in December 2022. It is so fitting that the beautiful blue queen on my first book cover wears a crown of tangled locks.

What is your writing goal for the year? I have a draft of a novel that has not been touched in over a year because I have been preoccupied with purl as well as februaries, a finalist manuscript in 2024. At some point this year, I would like to take a course or a trip (a residency or retreat) and find my way back to the story. I also want to make a dent in my “to be read” pile.

What advice do you have for new writers? Someone with a book that needs a home? Write often. Read often. Build relationships with other writers. Find a writing community or an accountability partner, or both. Be patient with the publishing process.

Author: Laurel Maxwell

Laurel Maxwell is a poet from Santa Cruz, California, whose work is inspired by life’s mundane and the natural world. Her work has appeared at baseballballard, coffecontrails, phren-z, Verse-Virtual, Tulip Tree Review, and Yellow Arrow Vignette SPARK. Her creative fiction was a finalist for the Women on Writing Flash Fiction Contest. Her piece, A Still Life, was nominated for Best of the Net by Yellow Arrow Publishing. She has a chapbook forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in 2025. When not writing Laurel enjoys putting her feet in the sand, reading, traveling, and trying not to make too much of a mess baking in a too small kitchen. She works in education.

Where are you from: Santa Cruz, California

What describes your main writing space: cluttered, sunlit, safe.

Tell us about your publication: Released by Finishing Line Press on February 14, 2025, All the Pretty Things Are Dying includes poems that speak to environmental loss, longing for the heart’s desires to be seen and recognized, beauty in life’s everyday moments, and questions that reach into the soul. Many poems rely on close observation of the natural world in order to make sense of our place in the universe and grapple with how to exist while living within a constant state of change and uncertainty.

Why this book? Why now? How did it happen? This book was a long process. I submitted All the Pretty Things Are Dying to a chapbook competition held by Finishing Line Press. It was the second time I had submitted this manuscript for consideration. I worked to put poems together which had a connective bond—in this instance loss and nature. Although I didn’t win the competition, Finishing Line Press wanted to publish my manuscript. It was took two years from acceptance to publication.

What is your writing goal for the year? My writing goal for the year is to keep up a daily writing practice and find ways to continue to experiment with form.

What advice do you have for new writers? Someone with a book that needs a home? My advice for new writers would be to have patience and tenacity. Rejections hurt, but it is a way to regroup and continue to edit work. Look for publishers who align with who you are as a writer.

Yellow Arrow (past and present) board, staff, interns, authors, residents, and instructors alike! Got a publication coming out? Let us help celebrate for you in Her View Friday.

Single-author publications: here.

Single pieces as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews: here.

Please read the instructions on each form carefully; we look forward to congratulating you!

*****

Kapua Iao 3/4/25 Kapua Iao 3/4/25

Ecopoetry: The Web That Connects

By Laurel Maxwell, written December 2024

As humans we are part of an interconnected web just like the mycelium that snake underneath the soil. As writers we have found ways to write about this connection we feel to the earth, what makes us pause in delight. We know how to select the right words to write about a bee tumbling inside the lip of a poppy. Writing about nature has gone by different names over the course of history. Today we know it as ecopoetry, or ecopoetics. This form of poetry focuses on how humans interact with the world around them, the observations they make, and the natural world itself. It runs deeper than personifying a tree, it is seeing that tree surrounded by forest and wondering what the forest will look like in 10 or 20 years. Ecopoetry works as a way to understand and untangle our thoughts on how humans can harm something beautiful while simultaneously striving to protect it. It can also serve as a call to action to protect all that is already disappearing.

One of the first poems I fell in love with was Mary Oliver’s Spring Day. The iconic line “what will you do with your one wild and precious life” set something free in my soul. Since reading those words I have slowly gravitated toward poets who use nature to make sense of the world. Over time I found myself writing in the same vein. It wasn’t an intentional change, there was suddenly more to write about as climate catastrophe became front and center in my personal life. Months of extreme smoke kept me indoors during summer, and flooding disrupted daily life in the winter. But ecopoetry can also be a love poem. Writing about the way a hummingbird dips into a flower or a honeysuckle vine tangles in a chain-link fence. How nature is resilient in the face of its own destruction in the way humans are not. Years after a massive fire swept through a state park I returned to visit with my mom and husband. Yes, tree bark was blackened, but there were also tufts of green sprouting above our heads.

Ecopoetry isn’t a new form of poetry, think of those early contemporaries Henry David Thoreau and Walden. It does seem ecopoetry has taken on a sudden sense of urgency as the world tips and spins with an increase in natural disasters. It has heightened our awareness of being on this marble in the universe. In my quest to learn more I searched in the scraps of time before dinner, in a few silent morning moments for poets who were writing now. Isabella Zapatas’ Una Ballena es Un Pais (A Whale is a Country) showed me it was possible to write about ecological concerns in a way free of scientific jargon. I loved the creativity she used to discuss animals in their habitats and her perspective on the way humans interact with them. Wound Is the Origin of Wonder by Maya C. Popa was the second book that shook me awake to what writing to the natural world could look like. What made her work different was that she wrote from the lens of loss, to an environment that is all too quickly disappearing. Mary Oliver is the queen of writing toward what is outside our window from geese to grasshoppers. Maria Popava writes at the intersection of science, the environment and wonder. Rebecca Elson used her background in astronomy to write clearly crafted scientific prose while boldly coming to terms with her diagnosis of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in Responsibility to Awe. Newer publications that give a nod toward women writers and the environment are Poetry in the Natural World edited by Ada Limon and Leaning Towards the Light, an anthology of poems geared toward gardeners. All these writers are playful and serious while grasping the fragility of humanity.

I didn’t see the turn in my own work toward ecopoetry until I submitted a series of poems for critique. The reader pointed out how often I returned to interweaving actions between humans and the environment. Within this larger theme I was also seeking to gather a sense of self. He gratefully pointed me toward writers who “document human interaction with the landscape.” I began to become aware of the poems I was drawn toward and found they all touched on nature with a hint of science to provide a sense of grounding. “Write about your obsessions,” Ellen Bass said in a workshop. I’m obsessed with this earth, its changing, and my place in it, the harm humans have caused. How destruction brings about beauty. And this is the root of ecopoetry: work that focuses on the natural world and how humans interact with the spaces they inhibit.

As writers we are often keen observers of the world. We don’t have the luxury of being Walden and spending years at a pond, but we can look outside the front door, at the spider web stranded between two porch beams, a flower sprouting in an unexpected location. This sense of observation lends itself to ecopoetry which places nature at the center rather than humanity. This written word helps to weave our existence within that of the natural world. How many times have I written about the waves in some sense? Their meditative fall and retreat? Or that waves always return to where they started. Smoothing eons of mountains to sand. One of the things I love about ecopoetry is that it can bring our world into focus with something as small as an ant; does the ant know the size of the leaf it carries across the foundation of the world? Or as large as the cosmos.

If you are interested in submitting, there are a variety of publications that are looking for pieces which focus on the natural world. These include Fly Away Literary Journal, Kelp, Tiny Seed, Canary, and Ecotone, among others. The website Poets for Science explores the connection between science and poetry. This well-curated site has ways to advocate for the environment as well as opportunities to share your own work.

In this world of uncertainty I know that I can write what I see as I walk to the store, as I move between classes where I teach. I have my favorite tree whose leaves alert me to the season’s changing well before the air cools. For me, when I write about the environment it helps to keep me rooted. It also helps me pay attention, which in turn provides me with more to sift through as I put words on the page. I hope that you, too, can find joy in the small moments of the natural world to keep yourself moving forever forward.

“What Needs Care”

By Laurel Maxwell

This warming cracked, catastrophically changed planet.

Even though it may be too late to reverse course.

Except right now there is a squirrel with a yellow nut in its jaws skimmering across the patio.

Buttercup blooms on the yarrow plant daring the sun to emerge.

On Thursday I swam out in the ocean.

Investigated a log surfing the currents.

Head in the murky wet I didn’t notice the seal patrolling close to shore.

Today Ruth brought a bounty of pears from her garden.

We handled them like treasures.

The once burned landscape is beginning to care for itself.

Regrowth slow, but there all the same.

The birds which are inhabiting the charred branches, hip high weeds marking the trail.

People tentatively stepping into a brighter landscape than the one they knew.

Who will care for the coral bleached of their colors?
The rising tide battering roads.

Floods that disappear whole towns.

Seeds whose DNA have been so altered whole plant species are disappearing.

What needs care are these bodies we forget

as we hurtle through time.

Their age insignificant as space dust on this

billion-year-old planet.

If interested in learning more about ecopoetry or writing your own, check out Writing Ecopoetry with Joanne Durham, which starts on March 5. In this workshop, participants will read and discuss poetry that spans a wide range of relationships between people and the rest of the natural world from anthologies such as Poet Laureate Ada Limon’s 2024 You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World, Camille Dungy’s Black Nature, and Bradfield, Furhman & Sheffield’s Cascadia Field Guide. Learn more about the class at yellowarrowpublishing.com/workshop-sign-up/p/writingecopoetry2025.

Laurel Maxwell is a poet from Santa Cruz, California, whose work is inspired by life’s mundane and the natural world. Her work has appeared at baseballballard.com, coffecontrails, phren-z, Verse-Virtual, Tulip Tree Review, and Yellow Arrow Vignette SPARK. Her creative fiction was a finalist for Women on Writing Flash Fiction Contest. Her piece “A Still Life” was nominated for Best of the Net by Yellow Arrow Publishing. She has a chapbook forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in 2025. When not writing, Laurel enjoys putting her feet in the sand, reading, traveling, and trying not to make too much of a mess baking in a too small kitchen. She works in education. You can find her at lgtanza.wixsite.com/writer or on social media @lomaxwell22.

*****

Kapua Iao 2/25/25 Kapua Iao 2/25/25

Writing Process Notes: How Not to Dread Revision

By Isabel Cristina Legarda, written October 2024

I often get a little flutter in my belly when I turn on my laptop to open a work in progress. Revision can be exciting, but also dreadful. I totally get the well-known quip (often attributed, probably erroneously, to Dorothy Parker), “I hate writing. I love having written.” It’s a joke, of course. I love writing. What I actually dislike is feeling unable to translate what’s in my mind faithfully onto the page. The many stops and starts of finding the right words, the right structure, or the right direction fill me with anxiety. I’ve put my forehead on a desk surface many times and whined, “C’mon, you can do it. Keep going.”

Shirley Jackson claimed she wrote her masterpiece “The Lottery” in one sitting. Her essay about the process, “Biography of a Story,” used to fill me with envy. It describes what I (and I suspect many others as well) fantasize about when envisioning the ideal writing process: sitting in front of a blank page, a lone figure is struck by a compelling idea which then gives rise to streams of just the right words, all written in one great, almost unstoppable torrent, bringing the mental vision to perfect fruition. Inspiration with a captial “I” makes the words flow as if beckoned by some unseen power, and the author sits there writing or typing furiously, barely able to keep up. Jackson’s first version of “The Lottery” may have flowed out with the kind of unusual ease writers dream of experiencing, but in reality, writing it still involved drafts, feedback, and revision, as the process does for most writers.

Though this much-desired writing flow does happen once in a while, I think it’s rare—certainly for me. I might be an especially slow writer. I dread what I’ll euphemistically call the shoddy first draft; I wince at how inadequate it looks and sounds, how embarrassing it is in the ways it misses the mark. I procrastinate to avoid reopening it and seeing all its blotches, blemishes, and giant pores.

The truth, however, is that revision is the heart of the writing process. It’s the space in which the chiseling and shaping of a block of words can set free the hidden, essential work (to borrow from Michelangelo). Craft takes good writing and turns it into art. Although the creative process can be mysterious and elusive, craft is technical enough to lend itself to a methodical approach.

When I’m revising a piece, any piece, I comb through it line by line and ask myself the same six questions:

1. Do I encounter glitches reading it out loud? (e.g., stumbling, awkward pauses, unpleasant sounds, and bad rhythm)

2. Do I need this word (or phrase)? (I’ll question articles and weak verbs like “to be,” adverbs, adjectives, and redundancies.)

3. Can I replace groups of words with fewer words or one word?

4. Is each word the best word?

5. Is the piece “saying” what I want it to? (What do I want it to say?) Can I apply Flannery O’Connor’s well-known quote about stories to it, i.e. is it “a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the [piece] to say what the meaning is?”

6. Does the piece contain a DYBI moment? (DYBI = draw-your-breath-in. Often in the form of a fresh image, insight, use of language, or surprising way of seeing something. Examples from the poetry world include “How to Prepare Your Husband for Dinner” by Rachelle Cruz, “Cult of the Deer Goddess” by Caylin Capra-Thomas, and “Epithalamion for the Long Dead” by Danielle Sellers.)

I take heart that even the greatest writers of the past have wrestled, Jacob-like, with the Angel of Revision, like Victor Hugo and Emily Dickinson, whose home in Amherst contains a large interactive display of lines from “A Chilly Peace infests the Grass” for which she trialed different words to see if they would work.

*Interactive display at the Emily Dickinson Museum, Amherst, Massachusetts; photo by author*

*Facsimile of a page from Volume III, Book 1 of Victor Hugo’s* Les Misérables, displayed at an exhibit of his drawings, Maison Hugo, Paris; photo by author

I enjoy catching glimpses of a writer’s process. Images of manuscript pages, with the authors’ crossings-out and scribblings, and literary journals like The Account, where writers explain the backstories of their works, and Underbelly, in which first and final drafts of each work are printed side by side, inspire me and fill me with curiosity and wonder. There’s a kind of flow evidenced in these too—the unfolding of increasing clarity as writers draw ever-closer to the voice and words they want. When I look at the opening lines of my own poem “Boondocks,” published in Beyond the Galleons (2024), in their very first and last iterations, I am startled by how different the two are, yet pleased that the soul of the poem inhabits both:

“Boondocks” ~ opening lines as published

We hear the word and think

uncouth, naive, unsophisticated,

ramshackle huts off the grid,

prints of bare feet pressed

to dirt roads, scattered

corn husks, the smell

of burning wood, skin

prickling against the elements –

where a bad fall can mean

the end of life.

“Boondocks” ~ first draft of opening lines

If you’re from the boondocks

you might be stereotyped as uncouth,

naïve, unsophisticated, a fish

out of water in the civilized world.

We joke about the boonies –

how remote they are, how nothing

of any use can be found for miles,

just corn husks and the smell of wood

burning, ramshackle huts off the grid

along dirt roads carrying the prints

of the bare feet of unwashed, unschooled

children and the men who sired them,

who gather and cut firewood by hand.

Having crafted a piece for hours, days, or weeks, set it aside, revisited it, agonized, had the occasional break-through, and done as much as we think we can do, how do we know when a piece is “finished?” I don’t think we can ever be totally sure. Even the best writing samples could probably be tweaked or rewritten in a hundred more ways. I’ve had the experience of multiple voices offering feedback that led me to rework a piece many times, only to realize after some time away from the piece that my gut was still telling me the original “said it best” and later to have that very original accepted for publication. I’ve often wondered what would happen if I took a lesser-known work by a literary giant like John Donne or Virginia Woolf and distributed the piece without identification to a group of writers to workshop. I have no doubt there would be lots of eager critiquing. Someone always has a suggestion for even the greatest pieces of writing. At the same time, truly helpful feedback, from readers who understand and support the author’s vision, can elevate a work from good to great.

Flannery O’Connor wrote in The Habit of Being, “I am amenable to criticism but only within the sphere of what I am trying to do; I will not be persuaded to do otherwise.” I admire her strong faith in her own voice and work and strive to trust my own intention and vision for each piece that I write. In the end there’s nothing like applying a revision to a poem or short story, reading it to yourself, and exclaiming, “Yes!” in your heart. That feeling might even surpass the pleasure of writing that flows effortlessly onto the page by some “miracle” of Inspiration. With this in mind, I try to embrace revision. It is, after all, what makes us true writers, aspiring masters of our craft.

Isabel Cristina Legarda was born in the Philippines and spent her early childhood there before moving to Bethesda, Maryland. She holds degrees in literature and bioethics and is currently a practicing physician in Boston, Massachusetts. She enjoys writing about women’s lived experience, cultural issues, and finding grace in a challenging world. Her work has appeared in America Magazine, Cleaver, The Dewdrop, The Lowestoft Chronicle, Ruminate, Sky Island Review, Smartish Pace, Qu, West Trestle Review, and others. Find Isabel on Instagram and Twitter @poetintheOR.

*****

Kapua Iao 2/18/25 Kapua Iao 2/18/25

Meet a Board Member: Kelsea-Marie Pym

Yellow Arrow Publishing would like to introduce Kelsea-Marie Pym, board secretary. She started in October 2024, and we are excited to have her on the team. Kelsea is a political consultant primarily working in the nonprofit advocacy space, focusing for the past decade in nonpartisan civic engagement and democracy issues. Kelsea’s professional ghost writing has appeared in outlets from the New York Times to the Sacramento Bee, and everywhere in between. Kelsea has been fortunate to live on both coasts, from Portland to San Diego and from Boston to Washington, D.C., and to now reside in west Michigan. The perspectives from different cities in addition to a multitude of life experiences inform both her professional and personal work. Kelsea holds her BA from Boston University.

Kelsea’s hobbies outside of reading include baking, gardening, and running. Kelsea is a mother of a one-year-old son who keeps her on her toes. Kelsea and her husband are constantly running around after their son and after any of their three older pets (two dogs and one cat). It’s a busy life that doesn’t allow time for many hobbies, but above all else, Kelsea is still an avid reader who finds solace in all things written narrative.

Kelsea says, “I am inspired by others constantly. I love meeting new people and learning their stories. I am so excited to learn from the other women involved, to learn and be inspired by the work that is a part of Yellow Arrow, and to feel another thread of connection in a world that is somehow so wildly connect but disconnected at the same time.”

Tell us a little something about yourself:

My first award for writing came in 8th grade, when my anthology of poems titled “Ode to Oprah,” a middle-schooler’s ‘witty’ way of writing an anthology about social justice issues, won an award.

What do you love most about the Baltimore area and where you live in Michigan?

When I lived in D.C., I loved visiting Baltimore and going to the harbor. I’ve always been someone most inspired and at ease by the water, so that was a favorite. That is the only reason why I allowed us to move to the “landlocked Midwest” because I live within 35 minutes of Lake Michigan, which feels like a beach!

How did you get involved with Yellow Arrow and what do you do for us? Why did you want to join the Yellow Arrow team?

When I came across Yellow Arrow, I was immediately inspired. As a new mother, I cannot explain how many times essays, poetry, etc., have gotten me through some of the more difficult moments. Also, I have dedicated much effort in my professional life to uplifting the work of women, and to advancing opportunities for them in fields where we still do not have true opportunity equity.

Combining this love of uplifting women with this personal understanding of the importance of written word to inspire and connect us as women who have so many common experiences, is what led me to apply for the board.

What are you working on currently?

Right now, I am solely focused on the 2024 cycle. After November 5 and subsequent follow up, I will explore some more creative options to uplift the experiences of working mothers.

What genre do you write?

I write creative literary essays. My preferred writing is always poetry though.

What book is on the top of your to-be-read pile?

I feel like I’m the only person yet to read “The Midnight Library.” I’m also a huge Lilian Moriarty fan, and she does have a new one out.

Who is your favorite writer and why?

I have read and reread and loved every word Frederick Backman has written. I find his writing to be poetry in long form. I will never not read Roxane Gay when looking for analysis. Finally, I read the work of rupi kaur monthly, selecting from different collections as I need them.

Who has inspired and/or supported you most in your writing journey?

I was fortunate to grow up with two very creative parents, who were very supportive of any outlet that I chose to be creative.

What do you love most about writing?

There are seemingly finite ways to string together 26 letters into words and sentences, but seemingly infinite ways to then string those sentences or fragments together to actually evoke intense emotion, thought, or understanding. Writing is a true art form.

What advice do you have for new writers?

Don’t be intimidated by an industry that is not easy to navigate. Don’t think anything reflects the quality of what you have to offer other than your own feelings about your own art. The hustle and the work to get our writing out is not representative of the worth of our words. It unfortunately feels that way all too often.

What’s the most important thing you always keep near your computer or wherever you work?

Fluids (I always have at least three different drinks nearby because I get sucked into writing, creatively or professionally, and can be there for hours)
A notepad that has no purpose (not for work or anything dedicated) other than to scribble the many random ideas that come to me throughout the day
A mug with the Malala quote “Let us pick up our books and our pens, they are our most powerful weapons”

What’s your vision for Yellow Arrow in 2025?

I see no reason why Yellow Arrow can’t be a nationally known nonprofit, not just known in and around Baltimore. This mission, these women, this passion—all the components are there to spark true magic. I hope to add most to this . . . as I feel that [Yellow Arrow] has done the hard work setting up something so special and so critical.

*****

Kapua Iao 2/11/25 Kapua Iao 2/11/25

Down to Every Word: A Conversation Across Genres with Jennifer Martinelli Eyre

For Jennifer Martinelli Eyre, life comes with many hats. She is a wife, a mother, an employee, a daughter, a sister, a niece, and a writer, residing in Harford County, Maryland. At the end of a long day, you might find her tucked away in a home office, scribbling her next work on a vibrant pink chair. Jennifer’s poem, “If Barbie Were My Daughter,” was featured in Yellow Arrow Journal ELEVATE (Vol. IX, No. 1). You can also find her poem, “Better” in Yellow Arrow Vignette AMPLIFY.

Elizabeth Ottenritter, Yellow Arrow Publishing’s fall 2024 publications intern, and Jennifer engaged in a conversation through email where they discussed the craft of free-verse poetry and writing realities across genres.

You have resided in Maryland your entire life—do you have any early memories rooted in Baltimore that may have influenced your interest in writing?

I have been a fan of musical theater since early childhood. I was, and continue to be, drawn to the power of lyrics and the stories they tell. Seeing as though I cannot sing or dance, my admiration for the performing arts often took place in the seat of many Baltimore theaters such as the Morris A. Mechanic Theatre, Lyric Baltimore, and Hippodrome Theatre. I have countless memories of sitting on the velvet edge of my seat, mesmerized by the words being sung from the stage. Having access to these performances fueled my love for words and played a large role in my obsession with storytelling.

How would you describe the writing scene in Baltimore? Have you found a network of fellow artists?

I am just beginning to dip my toe into the Baltimore writing scene. Through social media, I have discovered local treasures such as the Ivy Bookstore, and I’ve long admired the city’s devotion to independent booksellers. I recently attended my first Baltimore Book Festival and was overwhelmingly inspired by the city’s love and support of the literary arts. The amount of joy and inspiration in the air was infectious, and I honestly didn’t want the day to end.

Prior to Covid, I joined the local Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) chapter where I connected with fellow Maryland writers all in various points of their writing careers. The resources and comradery were unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m proud to say I’ve made some lifelong friends through the SCBWI. I highly recommend seeking out the SCBWI if you write (or illustrate) for children and young adults.

I would love to hear about your MFA experience and how writing for children/young adults has influenced your approach to writing.

Writing for children and young adults has taught me the importance of unique character perspective. For example, an adult character walking down dark, basement stairs may view their surroundings differently than a child walking down the same set of steps. An adult may view the darkness as nothing more than an annoyance because their spouse failed to change a lightbulb. A child on the other hand, may feel like they are venturing down a dark tunnel to a deadly dungeon. A story can go in multiple directions when you take the time to analyze a character’s perspective. It’s so easy to write from the perspective of where we are in life (adults) but to step into the shoes of a child truly changes everything. This is just one of hundreds of lessons I took with me from the program.

When you write a free verse poem, where do you begin? What tends to come to you first?

My approach to free-verse poetry is rather unstructured. I view free-verse poems as internal thoughts. For example, we don’t think in complete sentences. We don’t process information internally with proper grammar or rhyme schemes. Thoughts come to us as an immediate reaction to a given event, and it’s those unfiltered moments that typically spark my entry point into a free-verse poem. From that point on, I work to fine tune the message or theme while striving to keep the vulnerability and honesty of the poem’s message.

Give me Better Homes and Gardens
without the strands of pearls.
Show me the woman bundled in a blanket, her golden strands now gone.
A warrior on a hospital bed throne, pulling the weeds of cancer from her garden
with grace, poison, and prayer.

“Better” from Yellow Arrow Vignette AMPLIFY

Your poem “Better” is unique in its framing and repetition. Do you feel that the poems you write reflect a certain headspace you were in at the time? Or a physical place?

I have had moments in my life that I was only able to process through writing. I find that these poems tend to be more for me than for sharing. It’s a way for me to face the truth of what I’m experiencing which is not always easy.

Poems such as “Better” come from a space held a little more at arm’s length. The line, “Show me the woman bundled in a blanket, her golden strands now gone,” wasn’t written from a specific personal experience, but more from a collection of experiences watching people I love battle cancer at various points in my life. However, pulling bits and pieces from my past for a poem doesn’t always feel intentional. Sometimes the truth I weave into my poems is so quiet that I don’t even realize I’m pulling from experiences until the words settle on the page.

You mentioned weaving pieces of yourself alongside vulnerabilities in “If Barbie Were My Daughter.” How do you move past fear of exposure while crafting a candid piece such as this?

Poems such as “If Barbie Were My Daughter” do expose a part of myself that isn’t always easy to see. I’d be lying if I said that I’ve never been afraid to share personal experiences and vulnerabilities in my poems. The fear and discomfort typically boil over in the drafting/revising phase. Having your truth stare back at you from a page can be disarming, and it’s in those moments that I allow myself to experience the fear.

However, when the piece is complete and ready to share, I no longer view the work as something private I’m revealing about myself. Rather, I take a few steps back from the piece and create space for others to connect to the work in their own way. My poems are bigger than me, and it would be selfish to think I’m the only one on the planet who’s felt a particular way. My hope is that by sharing my vulnerabilities, I can inspire others to come to the table with their experiences. Fear feeds of off loneliness and wilts in a crowd.

How do you approach revising your own poetry?

I approach my revisions by first determining what it is that I want a poem to convey. I then look for areas where I said too much or said too little. It’s important to me that my words not only share a thought or experience (whether fiction or reality) but that they also leave room for the reader to find their own connection and interpretation. I will rework a poem endlessly until I feel that I’ve created a space for both on the page.

What types of art do you feel you respond to the most? How do they manifest in your own work?

I enjoy contemporary prose fiction, and my nightstand is currently stacked with such books. In free-verse poetry, there is an overwhelming call for brevity that doesn’t exist on the same level in prose. Every word in a poem must serve a precise purpose. That’s not to say that prose allows for needless detail, but it does add a layer of storytelling that inspires me. For example, I will get lost in a chapter that talks about nothing but the smell of a fresh cut grass from the perspective of a man who’s just been freed from prison. I want to know every detail of what that grass smells like to this character because it’s significant to who this person is and what they’ve been through.

After I finish a story written in prose, I will always take a moment and ask myself if that same story could have survived in a free-verse format. Sometimes the answer is yes and sometimes it is no. Regardless of the answer, it’s the process of asking myself these questions that helps me become a stronger, more intentional storyteller.

At the Baltimore Book festival, you told me to write what I wanted and to not let anyone tell me what I should write. I think this is such a powerful notion. Do you have any more advice for young women writers who are new to the publishing/literary world?

Women continue to be challenged by those too afraid to hear what we have to say. We are told to be quiet, comply, and to not talk about the hard things because it makes others uncomfortable. In my experience, being silenced and censored has only strengthened my literary voice.

My advice to women new to the publishing world is to go with your gut when it comes to your writing. Only you know what drove you to pick up that pen and place those words on paper; it’s crucial that you hold onto this. It can be quite easy to let the opinions of others dim the spark that started the whole project, but don’t let it. You have something to say, and the world needs to hear it.

Jennifer Martinelli Eyre graduated with her MFA in writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts in January 2023, where she spent her time studying writing for children and young adults. Jennifer enjoys exploring various literary styles of writing, particularly free verse poetry. When she is not writing, Jennifer can be found behind a desk at her full-time job or reading one of the many books piled on her nightstand. Jennifer has resided in Maryland her entire life and currently lives in Harford County with her husband, daughter, and ornery cat. You can find her on Instagram and Thread at @jmeyrewriter.

Elizabeth Ottenritter (she/her) is a senior at Loyola University Maryland, where she studies writing. She is passionate about reading, crafting poetry, contributing to Loyola’s literary art magazine, Corridors, and traveling worldwide. Upon graduation, Elizabeth hopes to continue her love of learning and language in a graduate program.

*****

Kapua Iao 2/4/25 Kapua Iao 2/4/25

Tips on Submitting Your Work to Literary Publications

By Leticia Priebe Rocha

During the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself (like many people) contemplating where my life was going after any semblance of a plan went out the proverbial window. I had an epiphany that I refer to as my Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally confession moment: “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” Except for me, instead of a stunning Meg Ryan as Sally, my beloved is poetry. I felt a great sense of urgency to share my work with others. I was also acutely aware of my inexperience—I’d been writing since high school, but I had virtually no exposure to the literary world and had no idea how any of it worked.

I vaguely remembered advice from a creative writing professor in college—typically people start their writing careers by submitting their work to literary magazines. I Googled around and eventually found some open submission opportunities. My head filled with questions. What on earth is a Submittable? How do I write a cover letter? Which poems should I even send in? Needless to say, it was quite the learning curve.

Five years and hundreds of submissions later, I’d like to share the knowledge that I picked up along the way. Over the last two years, I have also had the pleasure of working with Yellow Arrow Publishing as guest editor of the EMBLAZON issue of Yellow Arrow Journal, later joining their editorial staff. Seeing the other side of the submission process was incredibly illuminating, so I will share tips from the perspective of both a writer and an editor. Submissions to the next issue of Yellow Arrow Journal, UNFURL on the process people go through when finding and transforming into their authentic selves, are open until February 28. Learn more about the submissions process and how to submit at https://www.yellowarrowpublishing.com/submissions.

Submit with Care: Choosing Where to Submit

You’ve written some pieces, wrestled with revision, and you’re ready to share them with the world. Where do you start? There are thousands of literary publications out there and it can quickly get overwhelming.

I have three sources that I use to find submission opportunities. Many publications have a social media presence and post about their reading periods. I especially like being able to see the online community that surrounds a publication. I also use ChillSubs, which is an online database of literary publications. It’s a great tool because you can filter your search to find what works best for you. There are other databases, too, like Duotrope. I also look at the acknowledgments page of poetry collections that I read and research any publications listed that I haven’t heard about.

Aside from finding submission opportunities, I urge you to find publications that align with your values and will take care of your work. When I started sending out submissions, I was so excited by the prospect of someone liking my work enough to publish it that I was not especially concerned with who was publishing it. With more experience, I started thinking more about how where I choose to publish could be seen as a reflection of my own values. Since then, I’ve been more intentional about where I submit, evaluating each publication’s website to determine whether we are in alignment. Reviewing the “about” section for every publication, observing whether they’re transparent about their editorial team (often called “the masthead”), and checking their social media presence are a few ways that I vet a journal.

Once I feel comfortable with a publication’s credibility, there are a few other layers I’ve learned to consider. How you approach them is dependent on your preferences and writing goals:

Publications can be in print, digital, or both. I personally don’t prioritize where I submit with this in mind, though it is really exciting to see my work in print!
Many publications charge reading fees, typically ranging from $2.00 to $5.00. This is fairly standard in the literary world, though there are plenty of magazines that are free to submit to. Personally, I tend to submit to free publications.
While a lot of publications don’t have the funds to pay their contributors, there are many who do. How much they pay varies widely. Typically, more established and “prestigious” publications can pay more than others.

Reading is Fundamental: Submission Best Practices

Now you’ve found literary publications that you want to send your work to who are open for submissions. Yay! The most important advice I can give you on the logistics of submitting is to read and follow the guidelines on the submission call.

Each publication has its own rules about how many pieces you can send, formatting, and other important details to keep in mind when submitting, like a theme. Considering the number of submissions most places receive, failing to follow guidelines can be an automatic disqualifier. Reading the guidelines also helps me get a feel for the publication and whether it is somewhere I want to see my work in.

One aspect of the submission process that initially baffled me was the cover letter. Once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty simple, and you should not spend a lot of time writing it. I created a template for myself and adjust it as necessary to save time when submitting. Starting off with a simple “Dear editors” will suffice, unless an editor’s name is listed in the guidelines or easily found on their website. In the body of the letter, I list how many poems I am submitting, their titles, and any content warnings. Most publications ask that you include an author bio in the cover letter, which gives them a glimpse of your previous publications, background, and anything you want to include to give a glimpse of your personality. Additionally, if you have a personal connection with the publication, have published there before, or received an encouraging rejection in the past, these are all details you can include in the cover letter. Otherwise, keep it simple.

Before serving as an editor, I sometimes had a hard time remembering that there are other people on the end of the “submit” button who will actually engage with my work. While editors can feel intimidating, they are humans with their own busy lives. For many publications, editorial staff are volunteers. Be gracious and make the process easier by following guidelines.

The Waiting Game: Keeping Track of Your Submissions

You’ve read and followed all the guidelines, drafted a beautiful cover letter, then clicked submit or sent off that submission email. Now what?

The waiting game begins! Everything is out of your hands and all you can do is wait for a decision. Many literary magazines and journals list how long they take to reply. Transparency around waiting times is another factor that makes me more likely to submit to a publication. From my experience, most places take at least three months to send decisions, though six months is common. Usually, more “high-profile” publications will take at least eight months to respond, but don’t be surprised if over a year goes by due to the volume of submissions they receive. If you are eager for a piece to be out in the world, many journals offer “fast response” options and these typically cost more than standard submissions. I encourage writers to submit the same piece(s) to multiple publications (called “simultaneous submissions”) unless a publication explicitly indicates against it in their guidelines. If a piece gets accepted, be sure to notify any other publications and withdraw it from consideration.

Aside from waiting, you can also keep track of your submissions. When I first started submitting, I did it pretty sparingly and did not see a need to track them. I eventually decided to get more sophisticated with my system and created a spreadsheet, especially to avoid any snafus with simultaneous submissions. My spreadsheet is organized into the following columns: Title, Publication Name, Submission Date, Response Timeline, and Submission Status. I also have a column that notes whether this is a simultaneous submission. I’m a big fan of color coding, so whenever I receive a response, I turn each row (which corresponds to an individual poem) green for accepted, red for rejected, or yellow if I need to withdraw any poems from consideration.

While tracking your submissions is not essential, it has been a useful practice for me because it helps me stay organized. I’m in this for the long haul, and I appreciate having this kind of data to look at over the years. Do what works for you! It should feel useful, not like so much work that it discourages you from submitting.

Give Yourself Grace: Swat the Rejections Like Flies

One aspect of living as a writer that I was not initially prepared for was the magnitude of rejections sent my way. I had a difficult time not taking each rejection personally at first. My stubborn nature served me well in those early moments, because I refused to give up when the desire to create and share was so strong within me. Over time, I also built up a community of writers through social media and attending literary events. Being in community with other writers helped me understand that rejection is a universal writerly experience.

Now that I’ve been on the other side of the process as an editor, I also better understand how incredibly subjective these decisions are. Editors are just people, and they approach your work with all their lived experiences and personal tastes. Another layer of this is the sheer volume of submissions that most publications receive. Even relatively “small” journals receive hundreds of submissions per reading period. Resonant work inevitably gets turned away for reasons that have nothing to do with its quality. One thing to keep an eye out for is that some publications send out “tiered” rejections with feedback and encouragement to send more work their way. Even if you get a rejection from a publication, you should absolutely try again if it is somewhere you truly see your work in alignment with.

When I receive a rejection, I still feel a little sting, but I can brush it off easily now. I try to reframe every rejection as an opportunity. Perhaps the poem could use some revision. Sometimes revisions are obvious right away, sometimes it takes years to see a new direction. What matters most is how you feel about the piece. If you still believe in it without revising, keep submitting. If you have doubts or are less excited about it, try to revise or take a break from submitting that specific piece until your excitement returns. I also strongly believe that each piece has the home it’s meant to be in, so a rejection only means that specific publication was not its home. I recently received an acceptance for a poem I wrote nearly eight years ago that I revised very little. It simply had to make its way to this specific publication, even if that took time. I’ve also realized that a lot of getting published is a numbers game—the more you send out work, the more acceptances you will get.

While I’ve laid out the submission process in a linear way, I want to recognize that submitting your work is no easy feat. It can be time-consuming, tedious, and tiring, especially when rejections start piling up. Sharing your work with anyone is a vulnerable act, and sending your work to editors requires tremendous courage. With all of this in mind, it is essential that you give yourself grace. Don’t let rejections define your worth as a writer. Take a break from submitting when you need to (my longest break was almost a year) and come back when you’re reenergized. Don’t self-reject from publications by not sending your work out, even to the most “prestigious” places. What do you have to lose? Listen to your intuition. I wish you all the best on your submission journey—here’s to many acceptances coming your way!

Leticia Priebe Rocha is a poet, visual artist, and editor. She is the author of the chapbook In Lieu of Heartbreak, This is Like (Bottlecap Press, 2024). Leticia earned her bachelor’s from Tufts University, where she was awarded the 2020 Academy of American Poets University & College Poetry Prize. Born in São Paulo, Brazil, she immigrated to Miami, Florida, at the age of nine and currently resides in the Greater Boston area. Her work has been published in Salamander, Rattle, Pigeon Pages, and elsewhere. Leticia is an editorial associate for Yellow Arrow Publishing and served as guest editor for their EMBLAZON issue. You can find her on Instagram @letiprieberochapoems or her website, leticiaprieberocha.com.

*****

Kapua Iao 2/1/25 Kapua Iao 2/1/25

Yellow Arrow Journal (X/01) UNFURL Submissions are Now Open!

Yellow Arrow Publishing is excited to announce that submissions for our next issue of Yellow Arrow Journal, Vol. X, No. 1 (spring 2025) are open February 1-28, exploring the process people go through when finding and transforming into their authentic selves. In her introductory blog, guest editor Sara J. Streeter (she/her) recently explored her personal journey with her adoption and her Korean-American heritage.

“I gave myself space and tended to my pain, prioritizing self-compassion when grief gnawed at me. Like a tree burning from the inside out, a flame inside me flickered, begging for release, though once I let it out, I couldn’t go back to the person I had been. . . . Writing my story gave me permission to examine the parts and pieces that were at times too ugly, too dark, too broken to touch. When people read what I wrote, it felt like the fire leapt from my throat and danced its way out into the world.”

The first issue of volume X will be a survey of the unique journeys people take when experiencing and undergoing self-transformation, journeys that all start with a little fire, a desire, deep inside. This issue’s theme is UNFURL

: to release from a furled, coiled, or wrapped state
: to open out from or as if from a furled state
: to unfold

Do you need some help choosing the right piece to submit? Here are some guiding questions about the topic and theme:

What role did community play in finding yourself?
How has your sense of self changed due to your transformation? What about your relationships?
What did you find along the way?
What do you still need to be authentically you?
Was there something that forced you to be a different version of yourself? How did you internalize it?

Yellow Arrow Journal is looking for creative nonfiction, poetry, and cover art submissions by writers/artists who identify as women, on the theme of UNFURL. Submissions can be in any language as long as an English translation accompanies it. For more information regarding journal submission guidelines, please visit yellowarrowpublishing.com/submissions. Please read our guidelines carefully before submitting. To learn more about our editorial views and how important your voice is in your story, read about the journal. This issue will be released in May 2025.

UNFURL’s guest editor, Sara J. Streeter or 한혜숙 Hea Sook Han, is a writer and a Korean-American adoptee. Since starting her writing journey in 2021, Sara found her writing community through Adoptee Voices and developed a meaningful connection to readers, both within the adoption constellation and beyond. She mainly writes creative nonfiction prose and has been published in literary journals, such as Longleaf Review, Hippocampus Magazine, Peatsmoke Journal, The Rappahannock Review, GASHER Journal, Cutleaf Journal, and others. Sara has been nominated for Best of the Net, Best Microfiction, and Best Small Fiction. She joined the Yellow Arrow community when her piece “Bitter / Sweet” was included in Yellow Arrow Journal kitalo Vol. IX, No. 2. She lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, with her family and is an interior designer for a small hospitality firm. You can find her at sarajstreeter.com. We are excited to work with Sara on UNFURL over the next few months.

The journal is just one of many ways that Yellow Arrow Publishing works to support and inspire women-identifying creatives through publication and access to the literary arts. Since its founding in 2016, Yellow Arrow has worked tirelessly to make an impact on the local and global community by advocating for writers who identify as women. Yellow Arrow proudly represents the voices of women from around the globe. Creating diversity in the literary world and providing a safe space is deeply important. Every writer has a story to tell, every story is worth telling.

*****

Kapua Iao 1/31/25 Kapua Iao 1/31/25

Her View Friday

Part of our mission in supporting and uplifting women-identifying creatives is to promote the Yellow Arrow community’s individual accomplishments. We’d like to further expand that support and promotion outside of our Yellow Arrow publications. Twice a month, we’d like to give a shout out to those within the Yellow Arrow community who recently published:

single-author publications
single pieces in journals, anthologies, etc., as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews

You can support our authors by reading this blog and their work, sharing their news, and commenting below or on the blog. Congratulations to all the included authors. We are so proud of you!

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling

PRIZES/AWARDS

Tangles by Kay Smith-Blum from Seattle, Washington

Genre: historical suspense

Name of award: Best (New) Debut Fiction from the American Writing Awards

americanwritingawards.com/american-writing-awards

TANGLES is Kay’s debut novel. You can find Kay on Twitter @kaysmithblum, Instagram @discerningksb, and Facebook/Linkedin @kay.smithblum. You can also find her on her website kaysmith-blum.com. Kay was one of our 2023 Pushcart Prize nominees for “On Edge” in Yellow Arrow Journal UpSpring.

Yellow Arrow (past and present) board, staff, interns, authors, residents, and instructors alike! Got a publication coming out? Let us help celebrate for you in Her View Friday.

Single-author publications: here.

Single pieces as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews: here.

Please read the instructions on each form carefully; we look forward to congratulating you!

*****

Kapua Iao 1/28/25 Kapua Iao 1/28/25

Writing About the Cure

By Charlie Langfur, written October 2024

I have written all my life and learned to trust important events in my life as apt subjects for my writing. One such event that impacted me in a big way was when I was asked to leave high school to be cured of being gay in 1964. The school was Northfield School, an old and distinguished prep school in the sweet rolling hills of northern Massachusetts. I was there on a scholarship from my mother’s boss even though I came from a family always struggling financially.

In 1964, you ask? Back then, being a lesbian was considered to be a disease with the American Medical Association (AMA) and the American Psychological Association (APA), but no one told me about it until I was forced to return home to Hasbrouck Heights, New Jersey, to see a psychiatrist every week to be cured. In 1974, the medical establishment altered the diagnostic code for gay people (homosexuals at the time) so that the disorder was no longer considered pathological. The APA made the change first. The fact that there was no such disease (and therefore, no cure) in the 1960s emboldened me and gave me the courage to try and talk my way out of things without talking about being gay at all. The Harvard therapist from Northfield School told me what I said to him was private (between us), but then he and the headmaster sent me home anyway without any warning. “I did not say I was gay, the Northfield doctor did,” I told my New Jersey therapist, but he told me I had to say more to be cured, even though I had no idea what more was any more than he did.

A couple of years after all this, I wrote a short story about what happened called “Curing Sarah,” and in it I tried to make sense of what happened and also to memorialize it for me in some authentic way because it impacted my life in every way possible for many years. Writing about it saved me and helped me understand what happened in a way I could absorb. After I wrote “Curing Sarah,” I began to send it out for publication, even more so after the APA declared gayness was no longer a disease in the 1970s, but the story was always rejected (some with and some without comments). Some years ago, the editor of Zoetrope wrote me, “God, I think this is a funny piece, but I couldn’t possibly publish it.”

But finally in 2012, the University of Southern Kentucky accepted it for Ninepatch: A Creative Journal for Women and Gender Studies. The story is still online and last month my neighbor told me she read and loved it. I’ve reread it and feel it still holds up. The tone matches how it was back then, and it shows how it led me to my life today. I am still writing and sending out my work for publication and recently my poem, “The Way Back,” was nominated for the Best of the Net 2025 by Yellow Arrow Publishing, and I was asked to write a poem for Poetry East’s special issue on Monet (a plumb piece for an organic gardener like me).

Over the years I have learned with writing to never give up on what I have to say. Writing has helped me through good times and bad, reflecting my life as an LGBTQ and green writer, in times when what I had to say was okay and when it was not. Recently Paul Iarobbino, an editor for Bold Voices, who is putting together an anthology of defiant moments in gay lives asked me about putting a reprint of “Curing Sarah” in his publication. He said it had “historical value” but wanted his editors to rework it in a first-person narrative. I politely declined because even though a reprint is a good idea, I know the text is right the way it is now—at least for me it is as a writer and a person. The tone works and so does the style.

Writing helps me pave a way through the difficult, and I try to write my way out of difficulty every chance I get. Nowadays, aging presents many experiences for me to do this, and I finally wrote my first short essay about what an elder is. So, I keep writing and changing and learning anew, and as always I write on.

You can read “Curing Sarah” for yourself at encompass.eku.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1027&context=ninepatch.

Charlene Langfur is an LGBTQ and green writer, an organic gardener, a Syracuse University Graduate Writing Fellow in Poetry in 1970 and she has hundred of publications in poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction. She lives in the southern California desert in the Palm Springs oasis.

*****

Kapua Iao 1/21/25 Kapua Iao 1/21/25

Meet a Board Member: Susie Duong

Yellow Arrow Publishing would like to introduce Susie Duong, board assistant treasurer. She started in October 2024, and we are excited to have her on the team. Susie brings 15+ years of experience in accounting, finance, and academics to her role with Yellow Arrow. She has held leadership positions at a global professional organization and is currently working as a subject matter expert and instructor for a leading education company. She earned her PhD in accounting from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, an MPhil from the University of Hong Kong, and a BA from Fudan University. Susie resides in Kansas City, Missouri, with her husband, two daughters, and their miniature schnauzer.

Susie says that she “I look forward to contributing to the future growth of Yellow Arrow.”

Tell us a little something about yourself:

I enjoy reading, walking, exercising, and spending time with my family.

What do you love most about Kansas City?

It’s a very family friendly place. My husband grew up in Kansas City, and we have a big extended family here.

How did you get involved with Yellow Arrow and what do you do for us? Why did you want to join the Yellow Arrow team?

I serve as assistant treasurer on the board, and I’m committed to supporting Yellow Arrow’s mission of empowering women writers.

What book is on the top of your to-be-read pile?

The books on this list by the Economist are my to-be-read books: economist.com/interactive/graphic-detail/2024/07/26/how-long-would-it-take-to-read-the-greatest-books-of-all-time.

Who is your favorite writer and why?

Haruki Murakami.

What’s the most important thing you always keep near your computer or wherever you work?

A water bottle.

What’s your vision for Yellow Arrow in 2025?

I believe there’s opportunity for the organizational to grow nationally, and even internationally.

*****

Kapua Iao 1/14/25 Kapua Iao 1/14/25

The Desire and Fire Within All of Us to Find Ourselves

Yellow Arrow Publishing would like to announce the next guest editor for Yellow Arrow Journal, Sara J. Streeter. Sara will oversee the creation of our Vol. X, No. 1 issue (spring 2025).

This next issue of Yellow Arrow Journal explores the process people go through when finding and transforming into their authentic selves. This issue will be a survey of the unique journeys people take when experiencing and undergoing self-transformation, journeys that all start with a little fire, a desire, deep inside.

MARK YOUR CALENDARS:

Theme announcement: January 20
Submissions open: February 1
Submissions close: February 28
Issue release: May 20

Sara J. Streeter (she/her), or 한혜숙 Hea Sook Han, is a writer and a Korean-American adoptee. Since starting her writing journey in 2021, Sara found her writing community through Adoptee Voices and developed a meaningful connection to readers, both within the adoption constellation and beyond. She mainly writes creative nonfiction prose and has been published in literary journals, such as Longleaf Review, Hippocampus Magazine, Peatsmoke Journal, The Rappahannock Review, GASHER Journal, Cutleaf Journal, and others. Sara has been nominated for Best of the Net, Best Microfiction, and Best Small Fiction. She joined the Yellow Arrow community when her piece “Bitter / Sweet” was included in Yellow Arrow Journal kitalo Vol. IX, No. 2. She lives in Silver Spring, Maryland, with her family and is an interior designer for a small hospitality firm. You can find her at sarajstreeter.com.

You can also find the video above on the Yellow Arrow YouTube channel. Please follow Yellow Arrow on Facebook and Instagram for the theme announcement. Below, you can read more about Sara’s self-reflection into who she is, where she came from, and who she wants to be. Her words below explore her self-journey, and we can’t wait to hear yours. We look forward to working with Sara over the next few months.

By Sara J. Streeter

Just a few years ago, you wouldn’t find me here, writing about my South Korean birth family or the unyielding adoption industry. I was out wandering in the fog—a soft, cozy place of adoption unawareness I inhabited nearly my entire life. I hadn’t yet “come out of the fog,” or in other words, I had not gotten to a place where I accepted the realities of my relinquishment and familial displacement. The fog protected me from emotions I couldn’t quite process and from complex concepts I had yet to understand. It probably saved my life though, in turn, it kept me from understanding who I was, a cruel bargain.

So, what happened when, as an adult, I emerged from that comfortable bubble—when I came to consciousness about my adoption? I reluctantly began to understand my story was made of the “both–and”: By both love and structural systems of oppression. By both self-sacrifice and the lucrative business of adoption. The both–and was, and still is, difficult to hold with both hands. I had to come to terms with the idea that adoption starts with loss, and I had lost so, so much. Who I was as a person began to fundamentally change, but I still had to wake up, drive to work, attend the meeting, make dinner, maintain conversation, laugh when I was supposed to, pay taxes, dress myself, survive. I had to settle for being unsatisfied in knowing both too much and yet not enough.

I gave myself space and tended to my pain, prioritizing self-compassion when grief gnawed at me. Like a tree burning from the inside out, a flame inside me flickered, begging for release, though once I let it out, I couldn’t go back to the person I had been. I was scared that if I let it, the blaze would consume me. On the heels of 2020, as a working parent nearing middle age, I began to write. Writing my story gave me permission to examine the parts and pieces that were at times too ugly, too dark, too broken to touch. When people read what I wrote, it felt like the fire leapt from my throat and danced its way out into the world. Support came in the form of connection with readers and writers within the adoption community and beyond. I could breathe again. To become, I learned, I had to unbecome who I had been, and writing became a sanctuary for my transformation.

We are all shaped by the things in our lives. Allowing ourselves to be vulnerable and open to possibilities of a new self is brave and hard. In this issue to Yellow Arrow Journal, I invite us to consider the ways we embrace changing into our authentic selves, what we gain and lose, and how we build connection through sharing the journey. If we can imagine a world in which we are liberated from obsolete systems and tired stories and, instead, trust the process of change, we can get further together than alone.

*****

Kapua Iao 1/7/25 Kapua Iao 1/7/25

Yellow Arrow Publishing’s 2025 Yearly Value: Blazing the Trail Forward

Dear Yellow Arrow Community,

On January 1st of every year, I go on a “first day hike” with my family. No matter the weather, every year since my daughter was born, we’ve gone on a hike on January 1st. I don’t know if it will mean anything to her as she ages, but it means something to me, now. It’s a way of committing to an act, of saying, even if it is cold, or raining, or snowing, we will hike. Even if it is for half an hour, we will hike. No matter the conditions surrounding us, we will find a trail, and we will navigate forward.

Hiking is a lot of different things to different people. I don’t consider myself an intense hiker—more of the leisurely type—but one of the more memorable hikes I ever tackled was the Koko Crater Tramway, a steep climb up abandoned railway ties that ends at Koko Head Lookout on O’ahu. To get to the lookout by sunset, you have to begin hiking in the dark, so we set out with headlamps strapped to foreheads and unsure footing. About halfway up the climb is a bridge of railway ties with no ground beneath for about 50 rail steps. On the day I hiked this trail (if you can call it a trail), a swarm of bees began building a hive under one of the railway ties. Hikers ahead of me whispered back messages of caution and support, offering up what hikers before them advised worked or did not work to avoid getting stung or falling. I remember this part of the hike the most—and how, when we finally reached the top, the other hikers and I were all comrades, having followed the same path successfully, having tossed each other encouraging smiles as we paused for deep breaths or sips of water, or to take in the view.

In addition to taking a hike to start each year, I work with the team at Yellow Arrow Publishing to select a yearly value that encompasses all we plan to achieve in the months ahead. We began this practice in 2020 with REFUGE, in 2021 with EMERGE, building momentum with AWAKEN in 2022, and lighting things up with SPARK in 2023. In 2024, we focused on the value AMPLIFY.

When our team was voting on our 2025 yearly value for Yellow Arrow, and I saw that BLAZE was a frontrunner, this was the image I had in mind: blazing up that hiking trail, determined to persevere. First, with only the light of a headlamp and some strangers to guide me, and finally with the glow of the morning’s sun stretching over the water beyond the island.

Many of our board members, staff, and volunteers shared what BLAZE meant to them, and it was inspiring to see the wide array of interpretations our women-identifying community offered. The heat of passion. The beginning of a flame. The way the wind takes a spark or an ember and carries it, igniting more fire (or change) elsewhere. The changing of seasons. Transformation. The concept of being in heat and the way our sexual desires can send out their own strong signals—a blaze of pheromones. A blaze of glory. And, of course, the temptation to burn it all down.

But we also loved the imagery of blazing a trail—precisely what we have always aimed to accomplish here at Yellow Arrow. The idea “blazing a trail” originated in the 18th century, when forest trailgoers made notches or chips in the bark of trees, quite literally called “blazes.”

If you can, imagine our team here behind the scenes. We are tending to this trail our writers are on, trimming the overgrowth to soften the path, laying down markers to guide them, whispering words of encouragement through the branches, reminding them, reminding you, that you’re on the right path, you’ve got what it takes, and you are not alone. We are marking the trees with blazes for you. We are letting you know we are here.

The thing about hiking is that even when you do it alone, there is always evidence of those who have come before you. Sometimes it’s as simple as a footprint or a spot in the path that is more worn than others; sometimes an accidentally dropped receipt or water bottle cap. Sometimes it is more profound, a bond over a shared experience, a friendship formed at the trailhead.

A few years ago, Yellow Arrow’s founder, Gwen Van Velsor, shared the origin story behind Yellow Arrow’s name, which speaks to a similar theme of an individual on a path, trying to find her way. In my story and in hers, one thing stands out: when we are blazing a trail for ourselves, we are not doing it alone. There are signs of other life, yellow arrows, or blazes, that remind us that we are going in the right direction. Sometimes we wander, sometimes we get lost, but it is those outside influences that help guide us along the way. Sometimes those outside influences are strong enough to feel like a form of internal motivation. And sometimes they are so strong, so present, and so continuous, that they form a community.

The community we have at Yellow Arrow is truly remarkable. I was not here in the founding days, or even years—it was 2020 when I joined the community, initially as a writer-in-residence. At that time, I was trying to blaze my own individual trail as a newly recommitted writer trying to navigate the literary world. I hadn’t known what was up around the bend back then, that as I continued on my path I would move into the executive director role at Yellow Arrow, or that I would start an MFA program last fall. As I’ve persevered, though, I have tuned in to those around me on my path; I have listened, watched, observed, and absorbed all they have to offer me. I’ve followed the yellow arrows, the blazes, in whatever forms they appeared. That proof of other writerly life around me, specifically other women-identifying writers, has buoyed me on this journey.

I hear the same sentiment from other writers in our community that while writing can often be an isolated journey, at Yellow Arrow, there is a sense of what can I do for you, what can we do together, that is so pervasive that one cannot feel isolated. Writing can be a solo act, yes, but it can also be a community effort. I saw this firsthand this year when Kerry Graham and I led our new, free community event Poetry & Prose in the Park (which we will continue in 2025!). Writers gathered in city parks each month and listened as we shared poetry and prose on various themes. Some stayed on our yellow picnic blanket, and some wandered off to a quieter spot, but we all sat and wrote, alone but together.

In 2025, we are thrilled that we are starting the year off strong, with grant awards from Maryland Humanities, the Maryland State Arts Council, and Baltimore Office of Promotion and the Arts. We will publish three chapbooks by incredible authors (read about them here), continue our Yellow Arrow Vignette online series, and will release two more issues of Yellow Arrow Journal (stay tuned for the first theme to be announced later this month!). We will also continue to offer a host of online and in-person workshops and our spring schedule was just released—check it out here!

We are very much looking forward to blazing this trail together with you all, our Yellow Arrow community, in 2025.

Annie Marhefka and the Yellow Arrow Publishing team

*****

We are ever so grateful for your continued support of women-identifying writers. We need your support now more than ever. We welcome donations that support our mission, especially as we kick off our 2025 programs and publications. Donate today to support our 2025 initiatives!

Kapua Iao 12/10/24 Kapua Iao 12/10/24

2024 Year in Review: Our Work Is Not Done; It Is Only Just Beginning

Dear Yellow Arrow Community,

Each year Yellow Arrow Publishing selects a yearly value that embodies the energy we want to bring into our work, and for 2024, we selected AMPLIFY. Our priority this past year was to showcase our authors to a bigger audience, increase the conversations around our published creative works and their themes, and boost the understanding that our community has about these works, their writers, and the issues that matter most to them.

As executive director, I spent a significant amount of time this year sharing Yellow Arrow’s views on why we (still) need to fight for women’s voices and stories to be heard and shared, speaking on panels at literary festivals, writing retreats, networking events, and universities. After the election, I confess I had a moment of despair, wondering if my and our efforts have been in vain. The day after the election happened to be a regular Yellow Arrow board-meeting day and on a good day, those meetings are not filled with despair. Those meetings are filled with unflinching compassion, active listening, the freedom to express outrage, the warmth of unity, and the love for one another. The women on the Yellow Arrow board and in the Yellow Arrow community are reaffirming, passionate, and authentic. The creatives who joined me at that meeting on that day after the election reminded me that our work is not done. They reminded me that I am not alone in the critical work of uplifting women’s voices. And we want to remind you that you are not alone in the work of sharing your story.

When I think about what’s to come in the year ahead, I first turn to my writing. Whether it’s journaling, jotting down a note in my phone at the grocery store, or working on essay revisions for my MFA program at the University of Baltimore, writing gives me and our authors purpose. It allows us to turn our anguish into something meaningful, something actionable. It allows us to do the work of advocacy with our pens. We are talking about all of this behind the scenes, the importance of our work and the need for pen on paper, and are working toward our vision for 2025 with this in mind. We’ll introduce our thoughts for 2025 in the new year; for now, let’s take a moment to look back at all that we have done in our 2024 Year in Review. And we have done a lot.

Yellow Arrow Vignette AMPLIFY managing editor Dr. Tonee Mae Moll curated a stunning collection of poetry and prose this summer, and we celebrated with a reading on stage at the Baltimore Book Festival in the fall. We encourage you to read the full Vignette AMPLIFY series, which is available online at yellowarrowpublishing.com/vignette/amplify-2024 at no cost. Brigitte Winter’s poem “Seashell” particularly resonated with me as I reflected on this year. With Yellow Arrow Journal this year (Vol. IX), we first explored the theme of ELEVATE with guest editor Jennifer N. Shannon. The opening piece in ELEVATE, “Cicada” by Elliott batTzedek, speaks to this moment. Our second issue of Yellow Arrow Journal was kitalo, which focused on griefulness, exploring the intertwining of grief and gratitude. “Kitalo” is an empathetic Luganda term of solidarity offered when someone experiences a spectrum of loss. It directly translates to “this/that is tragic” but is far richer than that. The opening piece in kitalo, Kat Flores’ “Temporary Homes” takes the ideas explored in “Seashell” and “Cicada,” being truthful to oneself and those you love, even further.

Kitalo guest editor Tramaine Suubi shared, “Being the guest editor is a privilege, but the greatest gift I received in this role is true vulnerability. I grieve and give thanks alongside each of our artists here. I hope their words are lifegiving for you, just as they are for me.” (P.S. If you don’t have copies of either issue yet or want to gift them to someone for the holidays, you can buy them at a discount of $27 here.)

We published 79 incredible writers in Yellow Arrow Journal and Yellow Arrow Vignette this year and are so happy to have had the chance to hear so many diverse, rich voices. In addition to these creatives, we published three incredible poetry collections: Beyond the Galleons by Isabel Cristina Legarda, Iridescent Pigeons by Candace Walsh, and Ghosts Only I Can See by Julie Alden Cullinane. We recently announced our 2025 chapbook authors and are eagerly looking ahead to their publications next year and can’t wait to support them and our future vignette and journal authors.

With our Writers-in-Residence program, we were able to continue building community amongst local writers by offering unlimited workshops, one-on-one meetings with team members, and more in partnership with Bird-in-Hand bookstore. We were thrilled to have four talented Baltimore writers join us on their creative journeys this fall: Ashley Elizabeth, Kavitha Rath, Parisa Saranj, and Steph Sundermann-Zinger. Stay tuned for info about a reading featuring their work in early 2025!

In the spirit of AMPLIFY, we set out to spread the word about Yellow Arrow this year at literary events, universities, and through partnerships with Baltimore arts organizations. In March, we traveled to the AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs) conference in Kansas City and connected with many of our Yellow Arrow contributors! We are delighted to share that we will again be attending AWP with a Yellow Arrow table in the book fair in March of 2025. We hope to see writers from our community in Los Angeles! And if you haven’t heard, AWP recently announced that the conference will be coming to our very own Baltimore in 2026—we cannot wait to show the literary world what Charm City has to offer!

We also spent a lot of time connecting further with our Baltimore-area community through speaking engagements and events including the Baltimore Book Festival, the CityLit Project, CHARM lit, Howard University Writers Guild, Loyola University, the Creative Alliance, the Entrepreneurs & Artists Podcast, B’more Kind, and Manor Mill. We gain momentum by collaborating with such incredible creative communities across Baltimore’s many thriving local arts neighborhoods.

Finally, this year, we are so thrilled that we were able to host over 20 workshops on craft writing topics! Our writing workshops are accessible, affordable, and foster a sense of community and support among writers in all stages of their creative journey.

We could never do this incredible work without our tremendous team who collaborate so diligently behind the scenes. Every single team member, whether volunteer, staff, workshop instructor, intern, guest editor, or board member, is focused on supporting and empowering women-identifying writers at every stage of their artistic journey.

We are so grateful for everyone’s continued support of women-identifying writers, and we need your support now more than ever. You can check out our holiday gift guide here. We welcome donations that support our mission, especially as we wrap up the year and plan for 2025. Donate today to support our 2025 initiatives! via PayPal (staff@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@DonateYAP), or US mail (PO Box 65185, Baltimore, MD 21209). You can further support us by purchasing one of our publications from the Yellow Arrow bookstore, joining our newsletter, following us on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, or subscribing to our YouTube channel.

Once again, thank you for supporting independent publishing and women writers. See you in the new year!

Warmest Wishes,

Annie Marhefka and the Yellow Arrow Publishing team

Kapua Iao 12/6/24 Kapua Iao 12/6/24

Her View Friday

single-author publications
single pieces in journals, anthologies, etc., as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews

You can support our authors by reading this blog and their work, sharing their news, and commenting below or on the blog. Congratulations to all the included authors. We are so proud of you!

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling.

Author: Ashley Elizabeth

Tell us about yourself: I am a fall writer-in-residence with Yellow Arrow. I am also a middle school educator, poet, and essayist who likes to document everyday life in a way others haven’t thought of.

Ashley (she/her) is a Pushcart-nominated writer and teacher. Her poetry has appeared in SWWIM, Voicemail Poems, and West Trestle Review, among others. Ashley’s debut full-length collection, A Family Thing, was released with Redacted Books/ELJ Editions (2024). She is also the author of chapbooks you were supposed to be a friend (2020) and black has every right to be angry (2023). When Ashley isn’t teaching or working as the chapbook editor with Sundress Publications, she habitually posts on Twitter and Instagram (@ae_thepoet). She lives with her partner and their cats.

Where are you from: Baltimore, Maryland

What describes your main writing space: My writing space differs based on how I feel. I do a lot in my office currently, which I could describe as nostalgic, chilly, and open.

Tell us about your publication: CHARM(ed) chronicles Baltimore life and grapples with the idea of home and belonging. It also celebrates a city with deep roots, history, and culture—particularly the food. With the added element of photographs, this collection blends visual art and written word as part love letter, part critique of the goings-on in Charm City. CHARM(ed) was published by fifth wheel press in November 2024.

Why this book? Why now? How did it happen for you: Funnily enough, the idea for this book came to me during undergrad about 10 years ago and was my last written assignment, my mini-thesis. Since that time, I have come home to Baltimore, now also working and living in Baltimore. Too many people have too bad of an idea about what Baltimore is, and this collection is meant to shift one’s perspective. The combination of photographs are also my first photography credits as I seek the truth and seek justice for a city judged so poorly.

What advice do you have for other writers: Do your research on where to submit, but also don’t be scared of rejection. Make sure you edit, edit, edit. Be intentional with your words.

What was your writing goal for the year: This year, my goal was mainly to uplift my debut full-length, A Family Thing, which came out August 2024. But I am also wishing to try new forms and genres, focusing less on individual publications more on the journey.

Yellow Arrow (past and present) board, staff, interns, authors, residents, and instructors alike! Got a publication coming out? Let us help celebrate for you in Her View Friday.

Single-author publications: here.

Single pieces as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews: here.

Please read the instructions on each form carefully; we look forward to congratulating you!

*****

Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we AMPLIFY women-identifying creatives this year by purchasing one of our publications or a workshop from the Yellow Arrow bookstore, for yourself or as a gift, joining our newsletter, following us on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, or subscribing to our YouTube channel. Donations are appreciated via PayPal (staff@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@yellowarrowpublishing), or US mail (PO Box 65185, Baltimore, Maryland 21209). More than anything, messages of support through any one of our channels are greatly appreciated.

Yellow Arrow 12/3/24 Yellow Arrow 12/3/24

Meet the 2025 Yellow Arrow Publishing Pushcart Prize Nominees

The Pushcart Prize honors the incredible work of authors published by small presses and has since 1976. And since then, thousands of writers have been featured in its annual collections—most of whom are new to the series. The Pushcart Prize is a wonderful opportunity for writers of short stories, poetry, and essays to jump further into the literary world and see their work gain recognition and appreciation.

The Prize represents an incredible opportunity for Yellow Arrow to further showcase and support our authors. Our staff is committed to letting our authors shine. Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling. We are so proud of everyone we publish at Yellow Arrow. Without further ado, let’s meet the 2025 Yellow Arrow Pushcart Prize Nominees!

Julie Alden Cullinane

“Ghost Ships”
from *Ghosts Only I Can See*
~ My ghost ships do not go gentle into that good night. My ghost ships are beautiful, they are all different shapes, colors, and sizes. They sail down the river of my life with full flags flying. ~

Julie Alden Cullinane is a Boston-based writer. She holds both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in English, and her writing credits include poetry and short stories published in numerous literary magazines. Her common themes include womanhood, motherhood, and wonders of being human. In addition to her writing, Julie works as the vice president of human resources for a large behavioral health hospital, a role that offers her a rich perspective on the human experience, which she incorporates into her writing. She enjoys reading and writing in her free time and has a dedicated following on social media, X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, Facebook, BlueSky, Threads, and Instagram. She also maintains an author’s website at julie.wildinkpages.com/poetry to engage with her readers.

Julie’s chapbook Ghosts Only I Can See was released in October 2024 and can be found in the Yellow Arrow bookstore.

Belinda J. Kein

“Elegy in Silver”
from *Yellow Arrow Journal* Vol. IX, No. 2, **kitalo**
~ . . . the silver lovingly shined, years of tarnish giving way to a luminous gleam, the only remaining darkness deep in the crevices that curled about the slow turn of the handle to reveal a swirling cornucopia of rotund fruits and trailing vines etched in sharp relief, rendered exactly as in my memory . . . ~

Belinda J. Kein is an expat New Yorker who resides in San Diego, California. A poet early on, she now brings her lyricism and love of the succinct to creative nonfiction, fiction, and hybrid shortform prose. Her work has appeared in The Belmont Story Review, Hippocampus Magazine, Vestal Review, The Fourth River, The Razor, Stanchion Zine’s Away From Home Anthology, 2022 Dime Stories anthology, Mom Egg Review, The New York Times, and The Spirit of Pregnancy anthology. Her work is forthcoming in the We’ve Got Some Things to Say anthology. She holds an MA in English from San Diego State University and an MFA in fiction from Queens University of Charlotte. She is currently working on a flash collection.

Belinda contributed her creative nonfiction piece, “Elegy in Silver” to Yellow Arrow Journal Vol. IX, No. 2, kitalo, which can be found in the Yellow Arrow bookstore.

Isabel Cristina Legarda

“Boondocks”
from Beyond the Galleons
~ When bundok became the boondocks
lost was the mountain as holy ground
in the civilized world
of “water cures” and massacres;
denied, the wisdom of the wilderness ~

Isabel’s chapbook Beyond the Galleons was released in April 2024 and can be found in the Yellow Arrow bookstore.

Angelica Terso

“Anatomy of a Lumpia Girl”
from *Yellow Arrow Journal* Vol. IX, No. 1, **ELEVATE**
~ Right now, I’m made of 50% lumpia and 100% grateful. I know I’m 150% terrible at math. ~

Angelica Terso (she/her) is a Filipino American writer currently residing in Maryland. Her stories feature LGBT, Asian Americans, and other under-represented themes. Previously, her work has appeared in Atticus Review, The Raven Review, and others. When she’s not writing, reading, or daydreaming, she’s either hiking or rock climbing. You can find her on Instagram @angelicatersowrites.

Angelica contributed her piece “Anatomy of a Lumpia Girl” to Yellow Arrow Journal Vol. IX No. 1, ELEVATE, and can be found in the Yellow Arrow bookstore.

Candace Walsh

“Wild and frail and beautiful”
from *Iridescent Pigeons*
~ *something flying fast*
iridescent pigeons
cloudy future flocks
a peacock butterfly ~

Candace Walsh holds a PhD in creative writing (fiction) from Ohio University and an MFA in fiction from Warren Wilson College. She is a visiting assistant professor of English (creative writing and literature) at Ohio University. Her poetry chapbook, Iridescent Pigeons, was released by Yellow Arrow Publishing in July 2024. Recent publication credits include Trampset, California Quarterly, Sinister Wisdom, Vagabond City Lit, and HAD (poetry); March Danceness, New Limestone Review, and Pigeon Pages (creative nonfiction); and The Greensboro Review, Passengers Journal, and Leon Literary Review (fiction). Her craft and pedagogical essays and book reviews have appeared in Assay: A Journal of Nonfiction Studies, Brevity, Craft Literary, descant, and Fiction Writers Review. Her book Licking the Spoon: A Memoir of Food, Family, and Identity (Hachette/Seal Press) won the 2013 New Mexico-Arizona LGBT Book Award, and two of the essay anthologies she coedited were Lambda Literary Award finalists: Dear John, I Love Jane, and Greetings from Janeland. Find her on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook; her website is candacewalsh.com.

Candace’s chapbook Iridescent Pigeons was released in July 2024 and can be found in the Yellow Arrow bookstore.

*****

Kapua Iao 11/29/24 Kapua Iao 11/29/24

Her View Friday

single-author publications
single pieces in journals, anthologies, etc., as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews

You can support our authors by reading this blog and their work, sharing their news, and commenting below or on the blog. Congratulations to all the included authors. We are so proud of you!

Every writer has a story to tell and every story is worth telling

“Breaking silence” by ann van wijgerden from the philippines

Genre: short story

Name of publication: redrosethorns journal

Date Released: October 18, 2024

Type of publication: online

redrosethorns.com/post/breaking-silence

Ann’s poem “Dear Planet” from Yellow Arrow Vignette SPARK was nominated by Yellow Arrow for Best of the Net 2025. Keep up with her on Facebook @ann.vanwijgerden.

“The spirit of dwelling” by heather brown barrett from Virginia

Genre: poetry

Name of publication: The Ekphrastic Review, John Anster Fitzgerald: Ekphrastic Writing Responses

Date Released: November 1, 2024

Type of publication: online

ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-challenges/john-anster-fitzgerald-ekphrastic-writing-responses

Learn more about Heather on Instagram @heatherbrownbarrett.

Translation of “Roses For Edgar Allan Poe” originally written by Zhao Dahe, translated by Yuemin He From virginia

Genre: poetry

Name of publication: Mayday Magazine

Date Released: November 1, 2024

Type of publication: online

maydaymagazine.com/roses-for-edgar-allan-poezhao-dahe-translated-from-the-chinese-by-yuemin-he

Find Yuemin and news about her other translations on Twitter @HebeR32123.

“embodied” by kellie brown from tennessee

Genre: poetry

Name of publication: Amethyst Review

Date Released: November 8, 2024

Type of publication: online

amethystmagazine.org/2024/11/08/embodied-a-poem-by-kellie-brown

Connect with Kellie on Twitter @Kelliedbrown1, Instagram @kelliedubelbrown, Facebook @kelliebrown, BlueSky @kelliedbrown1.bsky.social, and Threads @kelliedubelbrown. More of her work can be found at kelliedbrown.com.

Yellow Arrow (past and present) board, staff, interns, authors, residents, and instructors alike! Got a publication coming out? Let us help celebrate for you in Her View Friday.

Single-author publications: here.

Single pieces as well as prizes/awards, book reviews, and podcasts/interviews: here.

Please read the instructions on each form carefully; we look forward to congratulating you!

*****

PRIZES/AWARDS

Tangles by Kay Smith-Blum from Seattle, Washington

Julie Alden Cullinane

~ My ghost ships do not go gentle into that good night. My ghost ships are beautiful, they are all different shapes, colors, and sizes. They sail down the river of my life with full flags flying. ~

Belinda J. Kein

Isabel Cristina Legarda

~ When bundok became the boondockslost was the mountain as holy groundin the civilized worldof “water cures” and massacres;denied, the wisdom of the wilderness ~

Angelica Terso

~ Right now, I’m made of 50% lumpia and 100% grateful. I know I’m 150% terrible at math. ~

Candace Walsh

~ something flying fast

iridescent pigeonscloudy future flocks a peacock butterfly ~

“Breaking silence” by ann van wijgerden from the philippines

“The spirit of dwelling” by heather brown barrett from Virginia

Translation of “Roses For Edgar Allan Poe” originally written by Zhao Dahe, translated by Yuemin He From virginia

“embodied” by kellie brown from tennessee

Subscribe to the Yellow Arrow Newsletter!

~ When bundok became the boondocks
lost was the mountain as holy ground
in the civilized world
of “water cures” and massacres;
denied, the wisdom of the wilderness ~

iridescent pigeons
cloudy future flocks
a peacock butterfly ~