Letter from the Editor

Dear Barnstorm readers, returning and new,

I know what you’re thinking, dear reader. 

“The March issue? In April? Who dropped the ball on this one?”

I know, I know. It’s not exactly accurate, but believe it or not, we prepared for this! Barnstorm has created a bit of a tradition for leaving the annual AWP conference with much to say. From Amanda Nevada DeMel’s Accessibility (Dis)services at AWP to Lindsey Wente’s I Went to AWP and All I Got Was Some Great Advice, some of our best craft essays began as post-conference recaps, critiques, or fixations. The decision to delay publication until after our LA adventure meant holding off on our “March” issue until the first week of April, but our inclination to wait paid off, as it led to an amazing craft essay by our resident Nonfiction Editor, Steph George.

Her essay, AWP Confessional: I’m A Conference Person Now, begins in a headspace full of resistance, hesitation, and, dare I say, outright defiance. I will say, from experience, that touching down in the supposed “city of sun” on a cold, cloudy day didn’t help me fight off the cynical intrigue of negativity. 

But what I love about this essay is how it showcases radical acceptance. Steph challenges a narrative we can relate to: we are just wasting our time. She writes “I reached some kind of decision paralysis breaking point and decided that actually, doing anything besides what nourishes me is what’s pointless.”

I dedicate so much of this letter to Steph’s essay for two reasons. 1.) It mirrored my own experience in LA, where I decided to open my mind to the possibility that this weekend could be fun — or at least, I decided, I could try. Try getting out of my head. Try digging myself out of my six-foot deep writing slump. Try forgetting about the fear that there is somewhere else I’m meant to be, something else I’m meant to be doing, and 2.) If this piece resonated with me, I thought it would resonate with some of you, our dear readers, whether you attended AWP or not. 

Because it’s officially spring — a time of renewal and rebirth. If we allow ourselves the chance to embrace something new, especially something we approach with resistance (like the haughty, crowded, sensory-nightmare conventions can be), we might just thank ourselves later. Even now, I don’t write this from my usual workspace (curled up in my blanket-covered bed with a hot latte and my charmander plushie) but  on a C&J bus driving me back to the hellscape (respectfully) that is Logan Airport. I am jet lagged and sleep deprived. But, more than that, I am thankful for the transcience of this era of my life: the constant traveling, learning, and writing. Thank you AWP for being the kick in the ass I needed to change my perspective, and thank you Steph for putting this experience into words far more beautifully than I ever could!

Anyway, enough about our team! This month’s issue is filled with great work, from poetry to prose to visual art. I couldn’t help but read these piece’s with my post-AWP manifestation in mind. There are moments meant to be savored, such as the beautifully devastating final scene in our featured fiction piece by Christopher Lloyd. Moments that capture balance, such as “the death creeping like sunset over the / horizon” in a new poem from Brandy McKenzie. The structure of Marlene Olin’s piece forces the reader to break away from the prose, “Left. Right. Left.” on repeat like a chant. Like a deep breath. Like movement fighting against a paralyzing level of overwhelm.

Olin writes, “Only one thing is certain. Passion dies when boredom blooms.”

I invite you, dear reader, to fight against the comfort boredom provides. I invite you to relocate the passion you may have lost sight of in the winter and drag it back to the surface, just in time for the flowers around us to bloom, reminding us that it is spring: a time of renewal and rebirth.

Enjoy our March issue! 

Cari Elizabeth Moll

Editor in Chief