Tag: safta

Project Bookshelf: Rachel Mekdeci

My bookshelf is as eclectic as a thrift store quilt, with books and anthologies from every age and every style. It’s almost as if I learned my love of literature through trial and error, but I promise that is not the case. Truth be told, I am a harsh god to my bookshelf and am quick to throw out or gift away any book that does not intrigue me in the way I hoped. Here lie the survivors, the chosen few I continuously return to due to their lasting impacts on me as an academic, a woman, and a human.

Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen

In what world could I, this hopeless romantic, not include my leatherbound copy of Pride and Prejudice? The very first enemies-to-lovers left me hungry as a pre-teen watching Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. After taking an Austen class and rereading the novel with a more analytical eye, I opened more to its charms and quirks. I don’t care how much the movies remove from your personality, Darcy. You’re still my number one book crush.

The Prophet – Khalil Gibran

A book of 26 different poetic fables written by Lebanese-American Khalil Gibran. I am a woman of Lebanese descent who grew up in the Caribbean and immigrated to the US. Gibran’s poetry spoke so many impossible truths to this patchwork woman. The themes surrounding religion, life, and the human condition roused something pure in me that I thought I had once lost. Everyone deserves to read this book. Everyone.

Affrilachia – Frank X. Walker

The very same man who coined the term ‘Affrilachia’ in order to remove the stereotypical view of Appalachia wrote a poetry collection 9 years later. This collection was handed to me in an Appalachian Literature class, fresh off of reading some gory McCarthy, and I dove right in. This anthology is a testament to Black creatives in the region and their true lived experience. As a non-Black reader, most poems were clearly not meant for me but still left lasting impacts. I cannot recommend Affrilachia enough.

Voices of Cherokee Women – Edited by Carolyn Ross Johnston

Something that still strikes me as odd today is the difference between the treatment of Natives in America versus my home country. In Guyana, the Native population is revered and cared for. There are still a great many remote tribes living in the thick of the Amazon and they do so happily. Imagine my shock as I moved here and saw the polar opposite. This compilation of true Cherokee voices aided my understanding of the treatment of Native peoples, especially as I read it in my apartment on stolen Cherokee land.

Roots, Branches, and Spirits: The Folkways and Witchery of Appalachia – H. Byron Ballard

This book is a little out of left field, I know, but it is a core tenet of my bookshelf. As an immigrant, I had to leave a large part of my witchcraft behind in my hometown and learn the practice anew in an unfamiliar place. Ballard’s knowledge combines with Southern charm to teach both the history and modern practices of witchcraft in Appalachia.

Under the Skin – Linda Villarosa

If there is any book you pick up from my bookshelf, let it be this. Villarosa explores the connections between race, gender, and medicine through a non-medical lens that any reader can digest. As heartbreaking of a read as this may be, trust Villarosa to back up any and all claims with necessary evidence and historical context. Despite being painfully aware of the yawning maw of systemic racism in this country, Under the Skin introduces yet another way to be angry.

Rachel Mekdeci (she/her) is a foul-mouthed, mixed-race, Caribbean-immigrant Taurus with a bleeding heart passionate for the arts. As an undergraduate Literature student at the University of Tennessee, she takes every opportunity to write about queer literature and intersectional feminism. Her number one mission in life is to further the reach of the arts and maybe own a house?

Meet Our New Intern: Rachel Mekdeci

Author of this blog, Rachel, wearing a pink mask and a purple bandana with one raised fist and the other hand painted red while carrying a banner. Behind her, there is a sign that says 'Free Palestine.'

The first time I was ever a spiteful feminist was at the ripe age of 6, rushing to the water fountain after a taxing round of tag. Like all school girls are wont to do, we had been screaming with delight. A teacher rounded the corner and stuck up her nose at me. She pointed a finger at my eyes and said “Young ladies must be seen and not heard.” Reader, I have no explanation for what left my mouth next. I do not know how that little girl knew just what to say in that moment. All I know is that I said the next thing that came to my head: “Thank God I’m not a lady.”

It’s a funny story, one that I love to tell to unwilling houseguests. When a new friend finally asks “Rachel, what radicalized you?”, I tell them it was a game of tag. That isn’t true. What radicalized me was a history class. It was learning about dowries. It was watching movies. It was that black hole that opened in my stomach in 2015 when the newspaper headlines said there was oil miles off of the beach in front of my home. The tag story is a sweeter pill to swallow.

It was my very own radicalization that led to my hunger for knowledge. Once I could connect the dots, that star of capitalism and the constellation of its damage, I had to know more. I turned to the greats, hooks and Lorde and Butler and Spillers, and prayed over their words. After discovering my own queerness in my childhood, these essays soothed aching wounds yet ripped open some new. I knew I wanted to fix this ugly system, but I didn’t know how. It took many years of soul-searching and wrong choices to discover the best way for me to heal this world. I landed on a simple philosophy. I must learn in order to share.

Knowledge is power, yes, but because you then have the power to disseminate it. I must pour over these words, fiction and fact, so I can carry it forward. This is how I have ended up where I am now: determined senior in English Lit fighting tooth and nail to get accepted to a grad school where I can study queer literature (with an intersectional lens!) to my heart’s content. I dream of ‘Dr.’ attached to my last name, a comfortable office, and classrooms full of minds that need some learning. That is the legacy I want to leave.

I know this is not the usual thing one discusses when asked to introduce themselves, but I could not find a way around it. This, all of this, is who I am. I am a thinker before I am anything else, and I cannot help but to think of the state of the world. If I did nothing, I don’t think I could survive. This is how I do something, as little or huge of a change it might leave.

You’ve now met one of the new interns, but not really. I have written a great deal about one singular facet of my life. I am pleased to report that I am, in fact, a well-rounded individual with many hobbies, favorite foods, and a great deal of dislikes. That is not important. One thing about me is that I view every single moment as an opportunity to learn something new. I wanted this post to help somebody learn. I hope that you have learned one thing above all else:

Don’t do nothing. Please do something.

Rachel Mekdeci (she/her) is a foul-mouthed, mixed-race, Caribbean-immigrant Taurus with a bleeding heart passionate for the arts. As an undergraduate Literature student at the University of Tennessee, she takes every opportunity to write about queer literature and intersectional feminism. Her number one mission in life is to further the reach of the arts and maybe own a house?  

Sundress Academy for the Arts Announces 2024 Poetry Retreat

The Sundress Academy for the Arts (SAFTA) is thrilled to announce its 2024 Poetry Retreat, which runs from June 1-2, 2024. For the first time ever, this event will be entirely virtual held via Zoom. All SAFTA retreats focus on generative writing, and this year’s retreat will also include the following craft talk sessions: “Let’s Talk About Prose Poems” and “Third Space Grief: The (Written) Performance of Intersectional Mourning.”  The event will be open to poets of all backgrounds and experience levels and provide an opportunity to work with many talented authors and poets from around the country, including workshop leaders Amorak Huey, Sarah A. Chavez, and keynote speaker Barbara Fant.

Amorak Huey is author of four books of poems including Dad Jokes from Late in the Patriarchy (Sundress Publications, 2021). Co-founder with Han VanderHart of River River Books, Huey teaches at Bowling Green State University in Ohio. He also is co-author with W. Todd Kaneko of the textbook Poetry: A Writer’s Guide and Anthology (Bloomsbury, 2024) and Slash/Slash (2021), winner of the Diode Editions Chapbook Prize. Huey is a recipient of a fellowship from the National Endowment of the Arts, and his poems have appeared in The Best American Poetry, American Poetry Review, The Southern Review, the Academy of American Poets’ Poem-A-Day series, and many other print and online journals.

Sarah A. Chavez, a California mestiza living in the PNW, is the author of the poetry collections, Hands That Break & Scar(Sundress Publications), All Day, Talking (dancing girl press), like everything else we loved, (Porkbelly Press) and Halfbreed Helene Navigates the Whole (Ravenna Press’ Triple Series). Recent writing projects have received a 2019-2020 Tacoma Artists Initiative Award, as well as residencies at Dorland Mountain Arts Colony, the Macondo Writers Workshop, and The Writer’s Colony at Dairy Hollow. Her new project, In the Face of Mourning was awarded a 2023 Scholarship & Research grant from the University of Washington Tacoma’s (UWT) School for Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences. Chavez teaches creative writing and Latinx/Chicanx-focused courses and serves as the poetry coordinator for Best of the Net Anthology.

Barbara Fant has been writing and performing for over 15 years. She competed in 9 National  Poetry Slam competitions, and she is a World Poetry Slam finalist. She is the author of two  poetry collections, Paint, Inside Out (2010) and Mouths of Garden (2022). Her work has been featured in the Academy of American Poets, Electric Literature, McNeese Review, The Ohio  State University Press, Button Poetry, and Def Poetry Jam, amongst others. She has received  residencies in Havana, Cuba and Senegal, West Africa. For over 12 years, she had led healing informed poetry workshops for both youth and adults who are incarcerated, those in community,  adults in recovery, and survivors of human trafficking and domestic violence. She is certified as  a Healing Centered Engagement specialist and holds both an MFA in Poetry and a Master of  Theology. She is the founder of the Black Women Rise Poetry Collective and co-founder of The Senghor Project, West African International Artist Residency, and co-founder of We THRIVE Healing and Arts Collective.

The total cost of attendance is $75. Space at this workshop may be limited, so please reserve your place today.

Meet Our New Intern: Halsey Hyer

Photo by Elwyn Brooks (2022)

I didn’t know I grew up in Appalachia. 

Or that I could even begin to consider myself Appalachian at all.

Everyone learns to play “Smoke on the Water” on a lap dulcimer to pass fifth grade. “Crick” and “crans” (“creek” and “crayons”) were just how you said it.  Pittsburgh is the place only ever referred to as the city, and if you live there, as I do, that means you made it (out). 

I’m from Mars. Pennsylvania, not the planet.

I’ve always said It would make more sense if it were the latter. I’ve always thought myself to be simply alien(ated).  

I couldn’t read until I was seven. Everyone else could. Not me.

Numbers and letters might as well have been the same. I got by with sheer memorization of words or phrases. My parents required I read to them—my mother Goodnight Moon, my father Good Night, Gorilla. Slow speech curling from tongue & teeth in tandem with the drag of my mother & father’s fingers beneath sentence fragments. I stop when they stop. I start when they start. 

Kindergarten had one Y2K Apple desktop & two CD-ROMs, Oregon Trail and Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego?, and the teachers instituted a two-book reading mandate in order to play. Games were the only thing motivating me through the drum of childhood.

I was strategic—I was sure to gun for the books when it was time to choose so I’d make it to the shelves first, select whichever we read during story time because they were fresh in my mind. 

I performed for my teachers.

I took my time. 

Dragging my pointer finger along the bottom of each sentence, lingering on the cliff of it, & I knew if they quizzed me, I’d be able to make them believe I read the two books required. I’d do anything to button mash my way from Paris to Minnesota to Australia searching for Carmen, or to risk dying of dysentery on the way to some new frontier home.

Anything but learn to read.

I’d have chosen to scour a pixelated world for pictures for images for clues as to what life was like for others who weren’t from Pennsylvania like I was. I wanted to know anyone who wasn’t like me. I learned young that who I was wasn’t someone I was supposed to like. I knew the world was kept from me, & I wanted to know. 

I didn’t know the empowerment of words. I didn’t know books other than the Bible could send me to ethereal worlds not otherwise known.

My mother became so desperate for my literacy that she took me to the next town over to peruse the library’s shelves in the hopes I’d delve into a book beyond my disapproving look of the front and back cover. The library was the only place she didn’t censor me.

There I found books about betrayal and vengeance, secrets and alienation, love without adverse consequence.

There was where words became worlds.

There I became empowered to explore word-worlds and build my own world of words.

Here I must invoke a quote from Audre Lorde—the writer whose words I rehearse in my head as I lie in bed at night and look at this Justseeds Artist Cooperative Celebrate Peoples History poster:

“and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.”

“Litany for Survival.” The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde by Audre Lorde

Without words, I have no worlds.

Halsey Hyer (they/them) is the author forthcoming full-length hybrid collection, Divorce Garter (Main Street Rag, 2024). Their microchapbook of micropoems, Everything Becomes Bananas (Rinky Dink Press, 2022), was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2023, and their debut chapbook, [deadname] (Anhinga Press, 2022), won the 2022 Rick Campbell Chapbook Prize. Based in Pittsburgh, PA they’re a collective member of The Big Idea Bookstore and the 2022-2024 Margaret L. Whitford Fellow in Chatham University’s MFA in Creative Writing. Find out more on their website—www.halseyhyer.org.

Meet Our New Intern: Anna-Quinn French

Anna-Quinn French

Anytime I am asked to give any information or details to introduce myself to new people, my answer is always, “I am nothing if not a sensitive, hopeless romantic”. For as long as my memory goes back, I can remember being drawn to anything teeming with self expression, curiosity, and love. With a brother four years older and a sister two years older, my life consisted of tagging along or performing absurd made up plays and dances for my family. My siblings nurtured and protected this artistic part of me, most likely because watching your youngest sister make a fool out of herself is free entertainment, and supported all of the wild products that stemmed from this unbridled creativity. Whether it was attempts at fantasy short stories, songwriting, auditioning for the school band, or desire to act in our school plays, my siblings and parents were applauding my efforts every step of the way. 

Around the time I entered my teenage years, my once unflinching confidence was being threatened by growing feelings of self doubt and insecurity; the beauty of being a teenage girl. These overwhelming feelings seemed to elucidate an obvious truth I had been ignoring. Despite my continuous efforts in varying arts, I was not really good at any of them. I had dipped my toes in repeatedly, testing the waters of all the different artistic pools, but none of them seemed to feel good enough for me to dive right in. This realization hit me like a cartoon piano falling on an oblivious passerby; I didn’t really have an art or creative outlet to proudly identify myself with, even after years of trying. 

I finally discovered my place artistically when I was 13. One day when I was in the 7th grade, my brother came home from school and walked into my sister and I’s shared room with his laptop propped open on his forearm. With a nervous energy radiating off of him, he slowly lowered the screen down to my bed and said he wanted to give me something. The top of the Google Doc pulled up on his screen read, “An Ode to my Sister”. While I had read some poems before this occurrence, usually for assignments in school, never had I received one that was about me or was filled with the kind of words that immediately produce tears and a burn in your throat. I was unaware of the power that poetry possessed until then, and after witnessing how much it touched me emotionally, I saw a way to release my desire to create and produce some form of art. 

I began writing as much as I could from that moment. While a lot of my early poems are impossible for me to read now out of sheer embarrassment, they still reveal the emotions and sentiments of what it is like to be a confused teenager who wants nothing more than to feel a part of something important and special. Poetry introduced me to a world that did not shy away from painful vulnerability or sensitivity, but rather embraced it. Getting to be a part of the Sundress team is an opportunity I craved when I was younger, so I feel nothing but gratitude and excitement to be where I am today. I am hopeful that more opportunities like this will come my way in the future, but for right now, I am thrilled to be in an environment that loves the art as much as I do.

Interview with Marah Hoffman, SAFTA Writer in Residence

Our editorial intern Anna-Quinn French sat down to talk with our newest Writer in Residence at the Sundress Academy for the Arts, Marah Hoffman, to learn more about her goals for her time at Firefly Farms.

Marah Hoffman is a 2022 graduate with bachelor’s in English and Creative Writing from Lebanon Valley College. In college, she served as co-poetry editor of Green Blotter Literary Magazine and Sigma Tau Delta English Honors Society president. From the LVC English department, she won The Green Blotter Writer Award. She has been featured in journals including Green Blotter, LURe Journal, Oakland Arts Review, Beyond Thought, and Asterism. Now, she is discovering new literary communities and new methods of igniting creativity. She loves creative nonfiction, intertextuality, whimsicality, cats, lattes, distance running, and adding to her personal lexicon. Her favorite word changes nearly every week.

Anna-Quinn French: Your love for literature and language is brightly apparent in the writing you did for Project Bookshelf and Sundress Reads. If you were stuck with only one book for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

Marah Hoffman: Thank you! What a wonderful and cruel question for a person who is currently reading four different books! I would have to choose The Best of Brevity edited by Zoe Bossiere and Dinty W. Moore. It was one of many impulse buys at AWP this past spring, and it does not disappoint. The collection celebrates Brevity’s 20th anniversary by compiling what the editors believe to be the best flash. It is likely the only book in the world that could satiate my fluctuating literary moods for the rest of my life. The themes, structures, voices, and economy of language are awe-inspiring. In my margin notes, I am writing wow over and over again. It masterfully showcases the spectrum of the form and humanity. 

AQF: At what age or time in your life did you recognize that writing or an English-based profession was the path you wanted to take? What influences or inspirations led you to that realization?

MH: I can remember being in sixth grade, standing on a tiny stage in my school’s commons room reading a poem I had written called “Sunrise” where I compared the sun to a coin in the pocket of heaven. It was not a good poem. I was definitely not a prodigy. But the rush of fleshing an experience with words, of creating enticed me. I considered other career paths such as flower arranging and environmental science, but I always knew that English brought me the most joy. In high school, taking AP Language and Composition gave me permission to consider an English major seriously. The texts we read in that class, among the most noteworthy being The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan and Wild by Cheryl Strayed, convinced me that writing was something I needed. This was the same year I saw Dead Poets Society, and Mr. Keating’s words, “medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for,” really struck a chord with me. 

AQF: I saw that you tutored throughout your undergrad, and I am in training right now to become a tutor at UTK! In what ways do you think tutoring and helping others with their writing aided in your own growth as a writer? 

MH: That’s great! Tutoring is a fantastic way to improve as a writer. It is true what people say about explaining a concept to others being the true test of your own knowledge. Tutoring reminded me that writing, at its core, is an act of communication. I had to explain to fellow students how readers might respond to their argument, the holes they might find if they don’t include counterarguments and rebuttals. When writing my own papers, I would often hear my tutor-self correct my student-self who was about to make a mistake.  

AQF: While I was reading your Intern Intro for Sundress, I related to the sentiments you stated about your father and the advice he gave you that has stuck with you through hard obstacles you’ve faced. Do you ever find yourself going through bouts of self-doubt or lack of fresh ideas? If so, how do you persevere through this type of writer’s block, and what advice would you give to new writers in overcoming similar difficulties?

MH: Throughout college, there were semesters where creativity struck me frequently and at the worst moments. I would have to force myself to finish my reading instead of starting a poem. There were also semesters where my brain felt trapped in analytical mode, unable to invent. The difference between the two, I am almost certain, was what I was reading. When I am reading the kinds of things I aspire to write, I find myself inspired and invigorated. This summer, I purposefully chose to read essay collections because I have been writing a lot of essays.

AQF: I also noted your long history in writing poetry and that creative nonfiction has been a new outlet for you. What aspects or changes in your life led you to this interest in writing personal essays? 

MH: Good question! I have an easy answer. In the fall of my senior year, I took Writing a Life which focused on creative nonfiction. That was definitely the genesis of this interest. The previous year, I had done a deep dive into the history of the personal essay, reading the work of pioneers like Michel de Montaigne and Francis Bacon. But Writing a Life exposed me to fresh, lush essays that I became obsessed with emulating. I still write poems, but my default seems to be more essays now which I never expected. 

AQF: Congratulations on your long-term residency at the farm! What projects are you currently working on or  hoping to write? Do you have any specific themes or topics you are focusing on? 

MH: Thank you! I’m mainly working on MFA applications, composing my personal statement, trying to make my writing sample as strong as it can be. A theme I can’t seem to get away from is ephemerality. The farm is a great place to ruminate on this theme because caring for animals showcases all sides of Mother Nature.

Anna-Quinn French

Anna-Quinn French is a junior at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville where she studies English, with a concentration in literature and a minor in Philosophy, and works as a student tutor in the Judith Anderson Herbert Writing Center. She is a sucker for fantasy romance novels and romantic poetry and is constantly on the hunt for the next story that she can fixate on for months.

Sundress Academy for the Arts Presents “The Elegiac Hybrid”

Sundress Academy for the Arts

The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present “The Elegiac Hybrid,” a workshop led by Mary Leauna Christensen on July 13, 2022, from 6-7:30 PM. This event will be held over Zoom. Participants can access the event at tiny.utk.edu/sundress (password: safta).

This workshop will reflect on the poetic tradition of elegy, while experimenting with what it means to elegize. The subject of an elegy might be a concrete person or thing, or the loss of language, ancestral land, or even personal agency. Reading the work of poets such as Layli Long Solider, Jake Skeets, and Donika Kelly, we will give attention to historically silenced voices, while discussing how experimentation with genre, form, and the use of the blank page allows more avenues for elegizing and the processing of grief. 

Grief is, of course, non-linear. By considering elegy as a possible experimental or hybrid form, we will consider the importance of writing at the line level. We will discover ways individual lines interact with each other as well as how what we write interacts with the page itself. Using guiding prompts and example poems, participants will generate new work.

While there is no fee to participate in this workshop, those who are able and appreciative may make donations directly to Mary Leauna Christensen via Venmo at @Mleauna or via PayPal to mleauna@hotmail.com.

Mary Leauna Christensen, an enrolled member of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, is a PhD student at the University of Southern Mississippi. Mary is Managing Editor of The Swamp Literary Magazine. Her work can be found in New Ohio Review, Puerto del Sol, Cream City Review, The Laurel Review, Southern Humanities Review, and Denver Quarterly. She has also recently been named an Indigenous Nations Poets fellow for the inaugural In-Na-Po retreat.

Project Bookshelf: Marah Hoffman

For my birthday, my roommate got me a personalized stamp that proclaims, “From the library of Marah Robyn Hoffman.” In the stamp’s center is a simple bee (I have been nicknamed Mother Nature for the magnetic pull I seem to have on small, winged creatures), and around it are leaves and petals. I gasped at the gift’s beauty. In its intricate me-ness, I saw how well my friend pays attention.  

The stamp is a gift for the future. At twenty-two, I do not own a bookshelf, let alone a library. My books, like a child’s stuffed animals, often travel back and forth from various dwellings, mainly from my dorm room to my parents’ house but also to my boyfriend’s row home in Philadelphia, to the beach house we visit every summer, and to my grandfather’s hunting cabin in the deep mountains of Pennsylvania, far from cell service and suburbia.  

Books are my constant companions. I have been known to, on occasion, bring three books to an outing, so I may read according to my mood. On one particularly uneventful trip to the mountains, I inhaled three-and-a-half books. I still reminisce about that vacation fondly.  

“My bookshelf” or, in other words, the obnoxious stacks populating my room, is becoming increasingly obscure and diverse. On the lower rungs of these literary ladders used to climb to other worlds are The Box Car Children, The Hunger Games, Twilight, Harry Potter, and Percy Jackson. But the higher your eyes scan, you see how my interests have evolved beyond the domain of dominant pop culture. You may discover Animals Strike Curious Poses by Elena Passarello, a collection of sixteen essays ruminating on famous animals, or Bluets by Maggie Nelson, a book full of pieces of varying genres each considering the color blue.  

This Christmas, both my boyfriend and my sister complained that buying me presents was like playing a scavenger hunt. My Christmas list was 70% books, but many of them could not be easily found online or in the small, independent bookstores my sister frequents.  

My liberal arts education in the humanities is the culprit. I used to know only fiction, but now, thanks to my professors and my position on my college’s literary magazine, I am acquainted with the existence of prose poems, flash fiction, micro fiction, creative nonfiction, personal essays, braided essays, and hybrid essays. I have become more voracious because I know the vast voices I have yet to hear.  

When I consider my bookshelf, my brain becomes a chorus of these different voices making similar, resonant sounds.  

I hear my dad reading my first favorite books to me as a child snuggled against him on our small couch. These storybooks no longer exist in a physical place; instead, they rest on the shelves of my mind. Current reads echo these old stories. The themes have not fully changed despite their placement in new genres.  

My bookshelf exists in its full capacity only in my mind. Even when I find a true bookshelf for my room after graduation, and even when I someday, hopefully, have an office/library in my own home, my bookshelf will foremost stand in my imagination, holding stories whose names I may forget but whose contents inform future passion.  

Marah Hoffman is a senior double major in English and creative writing at Lebanon Valley College in rural Pennsylvania. Within her campus’s lively literary community, she is a writing tutor, mentor for prospective and new students, co-poetry editor for their literary magazine, and president of her college’s International English Honors Society chapter. Marah enjoys reading classic and contemporary literature. She has written poetry since she was twelve but has lately found herself wandering the realm of creative nonfiction, particularly personal essays. Besides being a bookworm, Marah is an avid runner. She is a member of LVC’s cross country and track teams. When Marah graduates, she hopes to find a position that allows her to continue pursuing her passion for books.  

Meet Our New Intern: Marah Hoffman

While predicting future professions, a high school classmate of mine once said I would own a teacup shop in Paris. I smiled before replying that his assessment of me was the daintiest one I could imagine and would ultimately prove incorrect. Despite my size (and admitted affinity for tea and florals), I am not dainty.  

I have been a cross country athlete for seven years. Meaning that I run long distances (sometimes in snow, frequently through mud) and climb large hills for fun and for the challenge.  

I am ambitious too. My father taught me ambition by advising, “Be your own best advocate.” I follow his advice by asking my questions, applying for the position, and submitting my work. Over time, I have come to accept the failures that can come from putting yourself out there. In Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography, I found one of my favorite words—errata. Errata are errors in printing, and Franklin believed they should be embraced because they promote learning. The word errata contains little of the heft of failure or sin but all the promise of growth.  

Language and literature have been among my greatest advisors. In Wild, Cheryl Strayed attests that even the greatest pain—the worst pain I can imagine myself experiencing—may be survived. In The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Charlie explains why individuality must be celebrated. Such lessons have indebted and endeared me to the written word.  

Language, as many literary icons have stressed, is sustenance, knowledge, delight, and unity. We cannot live without it. Therefore, using it well is an endeavor anything but dainty. Being part of a team such as Sundress that uses language to diminish the boxes and binaries of the world is an enormous blessing, an early dream realized.  

Marah Hoffman is a senior double major in English and creative writing at Lebanon Valley College in rural Pennsylvania. Within her campus’s lively literary community, she is a writing tutor, mentor for prospective and new students, co-poetry editor for their literary magazine, and president of her college’s International English Honors Society chapter. Marah enjoys reading classic and contemporary literature. She has written poetry since she was twelve but has lately found herself wandering the realm of creative nonfiction, particularly personal essays. Besides being a bookworm, Marah is an avid runner. She is a member of LVC’s cross country and track teams. When Marah graduates, she hopes to find a position that allows her to continue pursuing her passion for books.  

Sundress Reads Review Series Looking for Recently Published Books

As part of Sundress’s ongoing commitment to service, we recognize that COVID-19 has caused hardship by cancelling readings, launches, tours, and other needed promotional efforts. To combat this, Sundress Publications continues to accept submissions for consideration for inclusion in our review series, Sundress Reads. We’re looking to write featured reviews for any books published or to be published from July 2021 to June 2022. We at Sundress hope to champion writers whose work highlights human struggle and challenges misconceptions.

Authors or publishers of books published within this date range are invited to submit books, chapbooks, or anthologies in any genre for consideration by our reviewers who are standing by. Submissions will be considered on a rolling basis.

For immediate consideration, please forward an electronic copy of the book (PDFs preferred), author bio, photo of the cover, and a link to the publisher’s website to sundresspublications@gmail.com with “Sundress Reads: Title” as the subject line. In addition, we request that one print copy be mailed to Sundress Academy for the Arts, ATTN: Sundress Reads, 195 Tobby Hollow Lane, Knoxville, TN 37931.

Submissions to Sundress Reads will remain eligible for selection for one year. Hard copies will become a permanent part of the Sundress Academy for the Arts library and will be made available to SAFTA residents and staff as well as by request to affiliate journals for further reviews.