Tag: Fiction

Èlan as an Impact

Logan's Blog PictureMy first experience with Elan was in freshman year, when I was forced to submit my first fiction portfolio for a homework grade. The story was about some kid and how he related his father to parachutes, throughout different stages of his life. Shockingly, it was titled “Parachutes.” You can read it on page 44 of Elan: Winter 2013, located on the archives page of the Elan Literary Magazine website at https://elanlitmag.org/archives/.

From that point on, there were three reasons that I fell in love with Elan:

  1. Elan Literary Magazine was a professional publication run within my own department.
  2. Students led the masthead of Elan.
  3. My work was about to be published for the first time!

I looked up to Elan so much that I had neck pain. My hope for junior year was that I would become a part of the staff, so that I could also assist in the spread of literary publishing breakthroughs for other kids like myself, who started off without any hope of getting published.

And so, the dream has become reality. Bam. I’m here.

Oftentimes, reality can be described as a letdown.

With Elan, that statement is entirely false.

Being able to play a part in the group that led to what I consider to be my first and ultimately most important achievement as a writer means the world to me because I am able to contribute to impacting other kids the same way Elan impacted me. Most importantly, I am far from the only person who feels this way about Elan. Thirty years of children with writing and hopes for their work laid the road to where we are now. Thirty years of work have ultimately culminated into where the publication stands today, as both an online and printed work of literature.

And the most beautiful thing about the publication is that it continues to inspire me in new ways. For example, the recently-held Elan 30th Anniversary Alumni Reading brought together a few writers who were published in Elan during their time at Douglas Anderson in order to show where those writers stand today. Some of the writers pursued professions having to do with writing while others took more academically-based paths. Some of them admitted to giving up writing at some point in their lives. However, all of them still considered themselves to be writers because they all returned or stayed with the art, with Elan as the starting point to their explorations of the art form. Seeing those people made me, for the first time, truly see the importance of Elan as a legacy, and how much those thirty years of dedication have made an impact on the writers of my department, whether they are currently enrolled or left the school twenty years ago.

And so, my definition of Elan has evolved. Whereas when I was a freshman I only saw Elan as a publication, I now view it as an inspiration.

-Logan Monds, Social Media Editor 

Janice Eidus Reminded Me of the Inevitability of Life and Wandering

Alexis Blog Post PictureIn light of the Douglas Anderson Writer’s Festival approaching within the next month, I decided to take time to get to know some of the featured authors before working with them. Janice Eidus in particular stood out to me. She specializes in fiction, but has also written essays. In The Wanderer, an essay published in the New York Times that deeply explores the directions her life has gone up until now, she illustrates how shifts in her environment from her youth into adulthood fluidly, unraveled the milestones in her life and sparked endless imagination of her future, which continued beyond the end of the essay, off the page—as all of our stories do. Even before plunging alongside her into this moving world of crumbling staircases, alcoves, and music on rooftops, when I felt I knew her at least on the surface as an “honorary Jewish Puertorriqueña,” I found her fascinating. She was raised in the Gun Hill projects of the northeast Bronx, where she and her friends devoted themselves to the promise of an education, as well as the toughness of the streets. After college, she sought the Bohemian lifestyle which would infatuate her for years to come.

I could see from the beginning how influenced she was by her surroundings, and realized the truth this holds for everyone, especially myself. I’ve mapped the universe around my neighborhood throughout my childhood, connecting it to the roads that trail out from my home in all directions, as if this minuscule slice of my city is right smack in the center of everything. I’ve caught myself carrying out internal monologues in the lyrical British of my best friend, whose accent molds seamlessly into her words and occasionally slips into her questions. I’ve spent long nights huddled on the floor of my bathroom, like Eidus when the walls of her studio apartment in Hell’s Kitchen proved too small, to sit with myself a while and breathe. As childhood friends vanished and a life-long love from a noisy walk-up on the Bowery appeared, Eidus saw more shifts. She named a new building her home, occupied with dancers and musicians and a woman who mothered her cats among other hobbies. She moved upstate and eventually found her way back to Manhattan.

Unlike her, I’ve remained rooted in the same spot since birth. My parents bought our simple stucco home with a baby in mind, and while much of it has changed, the carpet is worn with wisdom and wandering feet like paws kneading on old pillows. Being so grounded, I’ve become significantly blurred by the present and its quick movement. It’s left me with little head space to dream of my future. But Eidus reminded me that dreaming is necessary and inevitable. So is the aimless wandering that is required of life’s destinations. I see them as plot points on a map, each preparing feverishly in a sort of time lapse for the moment you will reach them. She hopes for a stroll along the Promenade and an afternoon on the playground with her daughter, as I do for a sunroom cluttered with monstrous canvases and books. Her words encourage me to watch my present, the gasping whirlwind, with eyefuls of dreams and hope. She encourages me to peer out from the palm trees to the vast expanse of rooftops and mountains, and to wander there.

-Alexis Williams, Junior Editor-in-Chief

Andre Dubus III – The Cage Keeper

PICTURE Christina Auth. Stud.When I first ordered The Cage Keeper by Andre Dubus III, I wasn’t expecting what appeared on the first page. With a title such as this one, I expected the book to be a linear set of stories about human trials and tribulation. The book opens with a short story called “The Cage Keeper,” which I assumed would be a tale of finding a heart for criminals who were misinterpreted and prejudged. However, I was taken for a complex journey encompassing human interaction, violence, sorrow, loneliness, and desire.

Dubus has a gift for crafting short stories that embody multiple themes without crowding the piece. As an aspiring writer, I enjoy when an author has the ability to open a story and instantly put you into a setting or character mentality. Since Dubus uses strong, authentic imagery, I was fascinated to see this didn’t affect the pacing in a negative way. In my own writing, I typically have a challenge with adding imagery that adds to both pacing and theme. I admire the fact that he could utilize extended metaphors and symbolism to explain such dark and uncomfortable themes. He also uses flashbacks to expand on how or why a character has been placed into bizarre situations when you first start reading the piece. It adds depth and engagement to characters you may have assumed were simply protagonists or antagonists.

Another thing that interests me about Dubus is that his short stories are long, but still keep you invested through the dynamics of the characters he creates. I haven’t come across a character in his stories that is cliché or unforgettable, which is something I’m also attempting to work on as a writer. In the short stories “Mountains” and “The Cage Keeper,” first person narration is used. First person narration is usually a risky point of view to use since it can make your story sound cliché or overtly limited to the perspective of one character. However, in both short stories, this perspective guides the reader through the plot of the story and helps the reader care about every character in the story. In fact, I don’t know that these pieces would have worked in any other point of view since second person would have felt too inclusive, and third person would have felt distant and absurd. First person added a humorous take on the daunting situation of being held hostage in “The Cage Keeper,” and made you laugh even though you knew how serious and dangerous the situation actually was.

Ultimately, I applaud Dubus for the risks he incorporates in his writing. His writing is fluent with societal issues that many of us refuse to acknowledge or act on out of our own fears and guilt. As a reader you become challenged to think about the “what if’s” that are presented in his pieces, whether they are what society deems good or bad. I’m ecstatic to workshop with him during Writers’ Festival and learn about his writing process, how he creates characters that are both engaging and thought provoking.

During senior fiction, I wrote a portfolio from first person narration in hopes of stimulating the reader to engage alongside the character instead of as an observer or a character themselves. I hoped to mimic Dubus’s style of engaging the reader from the first minimal character description that he typically utilizes to set a tone for the story. I was surprised by the results, and anticipate that it’ll be fun learning how to perfect this craft even more.

-Christina Sumpter, Senior Creative Nonfiction Editor