Volume 2, Issue 1

Issue Cover Artwork: “les absents” by Cécile Gonneau

Letter From the Editor

Dear Reader,

Few things bring me greater joy than when I get to spend time with makers, making things with them, and sharing our creativity with each other. The act of making opens small windows into the soul of the maker. Whatever we create is done so by taking threads of ourselves and weaving them into something new. Over the past few months, the team and I held space for 204 creators as we reviewed the work entrusted to us through submissions. It’s an honor we don’t take lightly.

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Before submissions opened, the editors and I discussed the vision we each had for Volume 2, Issue 1. The feeling we kept returning to during this conversation was hope. There is so much fear and uncertainty happening in the world around us right now–how do we cope? What are we clinging to? What do we need to hear most right now? Hope, it seems, is in short supply. But here’s what I’ve come to learn about the abstract concept of “brighter days ahead:” the bad stuff never stops being bad.

We can change, but the past, and everything that lives inside it, doesn’t. Perhaps increased maturity, growth, allows us to find new understanding, or maybe a literal move, a change in position, distance, is what lets us push forward. None of this eliminates the fact that fear, despair, or pain occurred. Hope does not mean the absence of hurt. The tricky part, for me at least, is learning how to let both feelings coexist while looking forward.

In the work submitted to us, we found that many others are having similar conversations about hope. There is a communal yearning for it, and hope is something I truly believe can be accessible to everyone. The lingering question still is how. How we find hope, I think, looks different for everyone. For me, I access hope through making–art, poems, paper flowers, muffins, it doesn’t matter. The act of making reveals to me new opportunities.

Earlier this year, we welcomed five incredible readers to our team, each of whom have brought so much life and love to our journal. They are extremely smart and insightful readers. I have learned so much from them and look forward to continuing to grow together.

A team of readers has allowed us to have deeper, more attentive conversations about every piece we considered. Instead of only having the input of two or three of us, we had the voices of eight telling us how they are being moved by a piece. This has had a clear impact on our overall numbers from this submissions round–most notably in our acceptance rate, which was half of the rate reported from previous issues (moving from 8% to 4%).

Within the community of this issue, we are celebrating the first publication for several of our contributors. It’s a massively special feeling to share that achievement with these folks. Sending work out is brave. Choosing which pieces belong only to you is brave. Creating is brave. Whether this is your first, or your fiftieth publication, we hope you feel the magic created by sharing our art with each other. And if you are still waiting to find the right home for your work, please keep trying. We will always find a place where we can belong.

Among conversations about hope, Volume 2.1 contains wisdom from grief, untangling (or tightening) the ropes of family, and letting go of the past. My sincerest wish is that you find something to resonate with here. If you do, the team and I would love to hear your thoughts in an email, comment, or DM on social media.

Be kind, not only to others, but to yourself too. The world is hardening, but there is still much love to be found. Thank you for sharing space with us.

Gratitude, always,
Megan Eralie-Henriques
Founder, Editor-in-Chief