Next year I put my feet in Emily Leitch’s shoes. I’m afraid her shoes may be a few sizes too big to fit my size fives. I’ve tried them on a few times, walked around in them a little bit, but my heel might just slip out of the back.

I’ve learned a lot about the tedious process of layout from my own experience with InDesign, but I wouldn’t have learned some of the most important things about placement and design without the help of my senior editor. We had to figure it out together, test the water a little bit, since we were both new to the process. Through this, my eye for what Élan is has effloresced into something intimate because now it means so much to me.

The hardest part of this year was definitely starting from scratch and maintaining the continuity and the branding of the book. Once we established our image and tweaked the templates we had a really good idea of what we were going for. I am so proud to be a part of this delicate process because the caliber of our book’s art and writing deserves every bit of dedication and reverence from the staff.

I led the design of our spring edition and really got the chance to get my hands dirty in the printer ink and keyboard dust. Designing the book takes a team and without my team of editors there is no way the book could have achieved the greatness it did.

I could not be more proud of our print edition. The greatest prize was to see our work evolve into something tangible and professional. I know it will leave a big legacy for Emily Leitch as she departs for college; she deserves every bit of it.

I hope that I can stand up to the high standards she’s placed so that next year’s editions can be just as meaningful to the legacy of our book. It’s time to start walking in her shoes.

— Taylor Austell, Layout and Website Editor

Quiet as I am, throughout my first year as an Élan staffer, I have noticed a lot of things. One: the seniors are pretty awesome. Two: they’ve taught me a whole lot about myself without ever having to say a word.

Emily Cramer, Editor in Chief, taught me how to lead by example with a bright personality and a whole lot of love.

Kiera Nelson, Fiction Editor, taught me the importance of self- confidence.

Emily Jackson, Non-fiction Editor, taught me how to think as an editor not as a casual reader.

Makenzie Fields, Submissions Editor, taught me that being organized is the only way to get through life.

Raegan Carpenter, Poetry Editor, taught me how to laugh at everything that can possibly go wrong.

Haley Hitzing, Social Media Editor, taught me to stay on top of things and take very copious notes.

Brittanie Demps, Poetry Editor, taught me to live life.

Emily Leitch, Print and Web Design Editor, taught me that being small should never make you act small.

And most importantly all of the seniors taught me through their constant love and support how to be someone worth being remembered. Trust me, I will remember all of them.

— Shamiya Anderson, Nonfiction Editor

For the past seven years of studying Creative Writing in school, I’ve never thought of myself as a poetry person. I’ve always connected more with fiction writers, like Rick Moody, George R.R. Martin, Khaled Hosseini, and Markus Zusak. I’ve always found more inspiration in their stories of suburban America, a fantasy world of thrones, children playing under a burning Afghan sun, and a young orphan learning to read in a basement in Germany. Through their stories, I’ve been able to find myself in the lines, discover facets of myself that I couldn’t uncover anywhere except through words. I’ve learned to weave my own stories, create characters that reeled me in and still haven’t let go, reach into my childhood and extract truths that I needed to express. I always thought that fiction held more truth than poetry.
Then this year happened.
I discovered that poetry was more central than I thought last year at the Dodge Poetry Festival, where poets like Nikki Finney, Taylor Mali, Patricia Smith, and Rachel McKibbens exploded my small world of understanding to smithereens. When I got home, I wrote pages and pages of poetry and told myself this is it, this is what being a poet is. Then I got stagnant. I forgot about intent and speaker and line breaks and poetry. I forgot everything, and when I returned to school I studied fiction, and got pulled back into the longer form of writing I’d always loved. Halfway through the year I switched to poetry, and the first lesson was essentially a slap in the face. We were to write on whether or not poetry was dead, and I didn’t know how to answer. I struggled with poetry through the first month or so, navigating this strange land of technique and style with the grace of a bull. I had no idea what I was doing. Then I wrote a poem exploring the myth of Medusa, and everything clicked. I connected to her pain, her ambition, her refusal to back down for what she wanted. From there on out, poetry and fiction equaled in truth. In Fiction, I can hide. I can spin stories that don’t clearly show myself in them. In Poetry, there is no shelter. Each poem is some extension of myself, some exploration of emotion and memory. Poetry and Fiction have become equal for me. Depending on what story I need to tell, I craft paragraphs or stanzas, but both show my identity in an equal light. Both are ways of telling my story, in whichever form that story needs to be told.

–Emily Cramer, Editor-in-Chief.