Conversation with My Mother

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
April 22nd, 2026


Militza Hernandez, or as her loved ones call her, Millie, has been referred to by titles such as: “The Mom I Never Had,” “The Neighborhood Mom,” “The Best Titi Ever,” “The Greatest Mom in the World,” “Mama Millie,” and simply “The Best,” among a trillion other well-suited designations. If the readers are wondering where my love for poetry comes from, look no further than my class act mother. She is unendingly kind, exceedingly loving, and incredibly creative. I’ll even add she had the patience of a saint to deal with me through my nightmare angsty teen years.

She is passionate about her hobbies, most of which revolve around scrapbooking. She has been an advisor for Creative Memories for over twenty years and continues to teach people how to preserve their memories in fun and beautiful ways. Reach out on Instagram if you want to give it a try!

Instagram | Creative Memories


                I often feel like I take my mother for granted. Every year I get older, I think about all the stories she’s lived and all of the wisdom she has gathered that she may never get to share with me before she has to leave for The Great Beyond. (Dramatic, I know, blame the acting degree!) I wanted to do this interview with Mami for a long time, and when my WWM team agreed on the Mums issue for motherhood, I knew this was the perfect chance.

                I gave her the questions in advance, then I came over a few days later, we poured some wine, and just… talked. Using the questions as our guide, of course. We cried a good amount and had a wonderful discussion about life and motherhood. So please, enjoy this conversation with my mother.

(You can read our Mums issue here!)


Militza Hernandez on “Life and Motherhood”

MELISSA HERNANDEZ (ME): Mama, what are some of your favorite memories of Steven and me when we were little?

MILITZA HERNANDEZ (MOM): I have lots of memories. Great memories of just watching you grow and experience new things. The memory that stands out the most is of you, Steven, and Dad playing hide-and-seek.

ME: Oh, yeah! When Dad would come home from work, you would say, “Dad’s home, go hide!”

MOM: Yep, and Dad would come home, and you both would hide and say, “Dad, come and find us!” And Dad would check all the rooms before finding you and hearing your little giggles as he looked for you.

ME: (laughing) Do you remember the one time Steven hid in the dryer?

MOM: (gasps) Oh, my God, that was scary! We couldn’t find him!

ME: And Dad looked for him for a long time!

MOM: But he was on top of the dryer, not in it. He had closed the little folding door to the linen closet so we couldn’t see him.

ME: Is that your favorite memory for both of us? The hiding?

MOM: Mhmm.

ME: I think that’s one of my favorite memories growing up, too. That was probably every day.

MOM: Every day. (laughing) And sometimes it would be the same exact spot!

ME: I could never tell if Dad actually was looking for us or if he was, like, pretending not to be able to find us.

MOM: Sometimes, he would go upstairs and change his clothes, calling out, “I’m looking for you!” And you two would get so nervous while he was looking for you, giggling as he got closer. 

ME: I remember that! Okay, next question. What surprised you most about becoming a mom and what did you learn from us?

MOM: What surprised me most about becoming a mom was how challenging it was, but also how rewarding it was at the same time. I had a responsibility to keep you safe, healthy, and happy, but sometimes with little sleep, and not knowing what was wrong or how to help you was hard.

ME: Was I colicky?

MOM: Yes, Steven had stomach issues, and you were colicky.

ME: What does colicky mean? Does that just mean I cried a lot?

MOM: That’s a good question. I think colicky is maybe when your tummy’s upset? I think, with you, it was the milk that you were drinking. It gave you an upset tummy as a side effect.

ME: Oh, you didn’t breastfeed?

MOM: I did. For the first four months, and then formula. I think you were getting too much air or something. I don’t know what was wrong.

ME: I was a hungry little child!

MOM: You always wanted more and more and more!

ME: Oh, that’s embarrassing. Made myself colicky.

MOM: I just googled it. It says “a colicky baby is a healthy infant who cries frequently.” You were healthy. “Frequently, loudly, and intensely for no apparent reason. Typically, for more than three hours a day, three days a week, for over three weeks.” Yeah, you were crying all the time!

ME: Yeah. And then I never stopped!

MOM: I think I talk about that later on.

ME: (laughing) Oh, no…

MOM: You said, “What I learned from you”, huh?

ME: Mhmm.

MOM: What I learned was how to have patience. When things didn’t go as planned, take a deep breath and try to understand why. Maybe you were tired or sleepy. I learned how to be a better mom and how to do things differently from what I knew. That’s what I learned from you.

ME: From me, particularly?

MOM: Yeah, well, you were my first kid. I didn’t know how to deal with a kid; I had never had a baby before! I just saw other people and thought, “Oh, that’s easy, I can do that!” And then when it happened, it was much more difficult than I anticipated.

ME: How was taking care of me as your child different than taking care of your younger siblings when they were babies? Because I know you were responsible for their care, too.

MOM: Well…

ME: Well, I know you shared the care with everybody, but Grandma had six kids, so everybody was kind of watching after each other.

MOM: But with you, it was more personal. More intimate. First of all, I was far away from everybody. I didn’t have any help.

ME: When I was born.

MOM: Right. It was just you and me, baby! We gotta figure this out!

ME: Okay then, since you’re talking about it being more personal, what was the first year of motherhood like for you? Because I know you were in Massachusetts at that time.

MOM: Yeah. We moved to Massachusetts. It was just me and dad. Dad worked most of the day.

ME: Right.

MOM: (laughing) You cried most of the day.

ME: (laughing) Sorry!

MOM: I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with you. You were colicky, and you cried a lot, and I was a little overwhelmed.

ME: And you were twenty-five…

MOM: And I was twenty-five! I didn’t have a baby manual or anything to know what I was doing wrong or how to make you feel better. And I felt like I was failing at motherhood. Like, “I can’t keep her happy, what’s going on?” We tried many things until we found what would work for you.

ME: Which were the car rides.

MOM: Yeah, and you used to like being on top of the washing machine. Anything that kept you moving. We learned from the doctors that if I kept you facing down with my hand pressed against your belly and just rocked you, that that was enough to keep you calm. You know, the pressure of it.

ME: So that was the first year for you, overwhelming.

MOM: Well, no, not the first year. I would say the first couple of months until I got the hang of it. It was just all brand-new, and I was by myself. No family, nobody to help me. Not even Dad, not really. He would come home and he would try to take care of you while I slept, but you would just cry.

ME: Yeah… and it’s difficult, too, because it’s not like he could say no to taking that job up there in Massachusetts. That was a big step in his career that helped him support his family. And it’s not like you could have said, “I’m gonna go live with our baby with mom back in New York, bye!”

MOM: Yeah, it was tough being a mom and being alone.

ME: Well, what’s your happiest memory of you and me together? That doesn’t have to be from my infancy, by the way, it can be from any point.

MOM: I think the happiest moments of you and me together were when we celebrated the accomplishments in your life. Those are all happy memories, like birthdays and graduations aaaaaand publishing your first book!

ME: Aw, yeah!

MOM: You gave it to me on my birthday!

ME: (laughing) You had me sign it!

MOM: Well, my kid wrote a book! Everybody’s got to read it! I told everybody!

ME: Yeah, you did! Let’s go to the next question. What is something that I’ve done that really meant a lot to you?

MOM: Everything you do means a lot to me. You know what I’m saying? Everything you do is, like, important.

ME: Sure, but is there something I’ve done for you that sticks out a little more, you know?

MOM: Hmm. You’re always doing nice things for me. You always think about me. (gasps) Ohhhh… I know! The day you had COVID and you came to see me through the door for Mother’s Day!

ME: I felt so bad… I was like, “I can’t believe I can’t spend time with my mom for Mother’s Day!”

MOM: Even though you were so sick, you still came and put your hands on the door and left a card there for me.

ME: Yeah, I left it on the bench and ran away.

MOM: Awwww, yes!

ME: For the readers, I did not interact with her at all! I had a mask on! And I was outside!

MOM: You just put your hands on the glass door and said, “Happy Mother’s Day!”

ME: Ah, yeah. I do remember doing that.

MOM: Yeah. But you’re always doing kind things for me. I appreciate you.

ME: Aw, Mami, I love you! Next question. What do you want or wish most for your kids? So, me and Steven.

MOM: Oh my gosh. What I always tell you guys! What I wish more than anything is that you both are happy. When you are happy, I am happy.

ME: That’s a very mom answer.

MOM: I always tell you that. If you guys are happy, I’m happy.

ME: I believe that.

MOM: That’s what I wish more than anything for you guys, that you are blessed with happiness.

ME: (laughs to not cry) Okay, now comes

the question that probably made you a little emotional.

MOM: They sure did.

ME: What have been the hardest parts and what have been the best parts about getting older?

MOM: The hardest part of me getting older is that you’re getting older.

ME: Really?

MOM: Yes. So it’s not the same as when you were a little girl and, you know, we’re growing together, right?

ME: Yeah.

MOM: So… so that’s the hardest part. You’re moving on. You have your own life, you’re doing your own things. We don’t see each other as much, right?

ME: Yeah… That’s funny because that’s… I think that’s the hardest part of me getting older is the same thing. Everything’s changing. You know, a professor in my MFA once said, “Change is grief.” And, you know, it’s true, because every time something changes, you kind of lament or grieve the way that it used to be. That’s what nostalgia is. You wish things didn’t get so difficult. You miss the things that were simpler back in the day. That’s because you were used to life being that way.

MOM: Right.

ME: What have been the best parts about getting older?

MOM: The best part of getting older is that life has taught me things that now I can share with you.

ME: Those are really good answers.

MOM: You like that?

ME: (a little teary) Yeah, that’s a good one. It’s nice and sentimental.

MOM: Like, I can give you advice on things that I’ve been through, and suggestions, just for you to ponder, because you’re not always going to do what I share with you.

ME: Well, you know, I think as I get older, I become more receptive to your advice, too. Like, when I was younger, nobody could tell me what to do, and that really frustrates me now because it really screwed me over.

MOM: Well, sometimes you think you know more. Like, “She’s not in my time, so she doesn’t understand what it’s like to be here right now.” That’s understandable. I guess we’re all like that with our parents.

ME: Yeah. Okay, if you could relive one day in your life, which would it be and why?

MOM: This is the one that makes me cry. (tears up)

ME: (giggling) I don’t even know what you wrote, so I’m just watching you cry for no reason!

MOM: (giggling) It would be the day that I became your mom. As soon as you grabbed my finger with your little hand and the love I felt for you, I knew we were going to be inseparable from then on.

ME: You would… you would relive that day? 

MOM: Of course! That was magical. When the doctor put you on my chest and you grabbed my finger right away, I thought, “Aw! We’re gonna be buddies forever!”

ME: Aw! Even though, you know, the pain of childbirth and everything?

MOM: No, the pain was like nothing compared to what came afterward.

ME: It cancelled out?

MOM: Yeah, for sure.

ME: Aw! Wow, that’s so interesting… That’s crazy… Oh, my gosh. (Dear Reader, I’m not sure I can fathom a love like this quite yet.)

Okay… let’s talk about you. What advice would you give your younger self? At 8? At 20?

MOM: At 8?

ME: Like, you as a child.

MOM: At 8, I would say be yourself. At 20… Hm. At 20, I was always worried about things, so I would say be happy and stop worrying about everything.

ME: (giggling) Yeah, that would have gone over well, probably.

MOM: Yeah… yeah, no. (laughing)

ME: The next part of the question is, what about your older self? Like 15 or 20 years from now?

MOM: 20 years from now. I would say, always be there for your family. And be happy. Happy comes up a lot around here, huh? Be happy!

ME: Yeah.

MOM: Well, that’s the most important thing. Being there for your family. Hm.

ME: What life lessons have stuck with you the most?

MOM: (looks at her notes) Oh! That’s so funny. I have: family first; don’t worry, be happy; and there’s a solution for every problem! (laughs)

ME: You always do say that. Actually, I started saying that every time I get frustrated about something now.

MOM: Yeah, I always used to tell you kids that when you were little. Sometimes we just gotta take that breather.

ME: Yeah… So… what do you want your legacy to be?

MOM: I want my legacy to be that I was that person who always treated people with respect, love, and kindness. That I did my best. I didn’t always have all the answers, but I did what I thought was right at that moment, with the knowledge that I possessed at that time. (pause) What do you think?

ME: I think you’re already living that. So, I feel like… I feel like that’s a good legacy to leave behind. Especially a “you’re not perfect, but you did your best” kind of deal. Right? Like, even if I didn’t know what to do, I properly thought about it, and I did what I thought was right.

MOM: Mhmm, yeah.

ME: I think that’s important to remember too, because I feel like as you get older, sometimes it’s really easy to sit in regret of the past. And it’s easy to forget that at the time you were working with the information you had, regardless of what it was. Like raising kids and maybe making mistakes as they grow up, or making the wrong investments, or something like that. It’s like, you did what you needed to do, and if you made a decision that was right for you at the time, then so be it.

MOM: That’s why sometimes Steven says, “Mom, why didn’t you do this? Or why didn’t you do that? And I tell him, “I didn’t know better.” You know, I didn’t think that if I did something different, it would have a different outcome. Sometimes you just don’t know. You go with what information you have, as you said.

ME: Okay. Last one, Mama. What’s something you want me to always remember even after you’re gone?

MOM: I want you to always remember that I feel blessed to be your mother. How proud I am of all your dreams, aspirations, and accomplishments. And how much I love you. (teary) Thanks for being part of my life as we grow together.

(both crying and laughing and hugging each other.)

ME: I love you so much, Mami, thank you so much for doing this interview.


A huge thank you to my mama for granting us the time to conduct this interview! If you’d like to support her in her scrapbooking endeavor, you can visit her links here: Instagram | Creative Memories

Interview with Claire Taylor: “Returning to Writing as a Mother”

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
April 30th, 2026


Claire Taylor is a writer for both adult and youth audiences. Her poetry collection, April and Back Again is available now from Publishing Genius. Claire is the founding editor of Little Thoughts Press, a literary magazine for young readers. She lives with her family in Baltimore, Maryland, in an old stone house where birds love to roost.

Website | Newsletter | Bluesky


               I sent out a query on Bluesky asking for people who wanted to talk about their experience with motherhood to reach out. Three people responded and asked to participate. I conducted these interviews more as conversations, which felt more personal and, by extension, more appropriate for the vulnerability that can arise when discussing this topic. I went in with no prepared questions, just an open mind and a desire for humanness through the stories of strangers.

[Content Warning: This interview mentions experiences with depression and PPD.]

(You can read our Mums issue here!)


Interview with Claire Taylor

WILD WILLOW MAGAZINE: Hi Claire! Wonderful to be able to do this interview with you. We didn’t talk much beforehand, which means we can jump right into it! What led you to want to do this interview in the first place?

CLAIRE TAYLOR: I am always interested in conversations about writing and motherhood because becoming a mother was the primary catalyst for my return to writing. I was surprised by how much motherhood opened me up creatively and helped me clarify and define what I wanted most for myself and my writing practice. But at the same time, being a mom is the main thing that steals the time and energy that could otherwise go toward my writing. I don’t think I would be writing at all if I hadn’t become a mother, but I’m also often not writing when I wish I could be because I have to prioritize mothering. I think it’s an interesting dichotomy that the thing that inspires me to write is also the thing that keeps me from doing so. 

WWM: What led you to want to write about motherhood? Please talk a bit about that!

CT: For much of my life I have suffered from depression and have always used writing as way to process that experience and my emotions. When I had my first child, I was very cognizant of my risk of postpartum depression, but was not prepared for the degree of postpartum anxiety I experienced. My initial desire to write about motherhood was mostly about needing a way to try to make sense of and release everything that I was feeling–the highs and the lows, the love and the rage, the sheer intensity of all of my emotions. Becoming a mother dismantles your being and creates a new and different version of yourself. I needed to work out who that person was and get to know her. I chose to do that through writing. 

WWM: “Becoming a mother dismantles your being and creates a new and different version of yourself.”

That’s a really powerful statement. We often go through many metamorphoses throughout our lives, but carrying a child has been proven to physically (and majorly) alter your body and mind. With something as physiological as that, can you explain what you mean when you say dismantled? Having a baby is much bigger than breaking up with a long-term partner or landing a dream job. How different was this new you?

CT: I think that all major life changes (good ones and bad ones; breakups, career shifts, losing people we love, marriage, illness, etc.) lead to new versions of ourselves. Your priorities shift, your connections to people change and you need different kinds of support and community. How you come to think about yourself and carry yourself in the world shift in response to all kinds of changes in your life. But motherhood is such a whole body, a whole self change. You have to learn how to care for this tiny, helpless being while also recovering from 40 weeks of increasing physical demands on your body, culminating in the intensity of labor. You have to do it all while sleep-deprived and while your hormones are shifting all over the place in ways you can’t predict. I had to be very careful about the stories I was telling myself about myself as I entered into motherhood. I had to find a way to be softer and more compassionate toward myself than I had ever been at any other point in my life. I had to learn how to let other people really, truly help me when I needed help, while simultaneously trusting and asserting that I knew what was best for myself and my baby and the family and life I was building. There are so many ways to feel like you’re doing motherhood wrong and so few ways to feel like you’re actually nailing it, and I had to learn to just be comfortable with and confident in the effort I was putting out and the decisions I was making. I would stumble more than I would succeed, and that is just the reality of parenting. I think that’s largely why I felt like I could take on my desire to write and be published at that point in my life because, through parenting, I was learning how to be comfortable with the idea that I could survive the struggle and the disappointment, take the wins when they came and feel confident about my ability to keep growing through these repeated efforts. 

WWM: How long did it take you to settle into this new personhood and pick up writing again?

CT: I started writing pretty quickly after having my first baby. I went back to work at 8 weeks postpartum, which was much too soon given the physical nature of my work as a massage therapist at the time. But those quiet hours in my massage studio gave my mind a chance to explore some of what I was feeling and processing and I would come up with story ideas and poems in my head while I was working. When my business shut down during the pandemic, I shifted my attention to writing in an even bigger way, really needing that creative outlet to process that experience, and my writing career has snowballed from there. 

WWM: You say you had to be very careful about the stories you were telling yourself about yourself. Were you the focal point in your creative writing after you gave birth? If not, what kind of subjects did you write about?

CT: Yes, I wrote mostly about myself and my personal experience and the confusing range of emotions I was feeling on a daily basis. A number of my early pieces about motherhood, though, were written directly to my son, sort of like small love letters to him, something he could read if I died before he was able to form any memory of me that would let him know how deeply I loved him. As I mentioned in a response to an earlier question, I had a lot of postpartum anxiety and it manifested not only as a fear that my child would die suddenly or unexpectedly, but that I would. I was very anxious about missing out on the opportunity to know him and watch him grow. For the most part, my early writing about motherhood focused on processing the intensity of my emotions–the intensity of the love I felt for my child, the intensity of the overwhelm I experienced from the daily tasks of mothering. Most of this writing came in the form or poetry or personal essays. I mostly put my fears about death into my fiction. I wrote about people who were grieving, who were recovering from illness, who were processing loss in some way. Many of my characters were mothers whose children had died or disappeared, or never came into being. Fiction is a good place to work out your worst fears while maintaining a safe distance from them. 

WWM: When you say shifted your attention “in a bigger way”, what do you mean by that? And I couldn’t help but notice you used the word “snowball”. Could you dive into your work and how it’s evolved since you first entered motherhood, through the pandemic, to now?

CT: Prior to the pandemic, I had been writing in spare moments, my little pockets of free time around work and parenting. Once the pandemic started and I wasn’t working anymore, the energy that I previously put into my job shifted to writing and it largely stayed that way even after my business opened again. Because I had a young child who was not part of the initial wave of vaccinations, our family had to continue to significantly limit our exposure, so I returned to work very slowly, only doing a few appointments each month. The balance between the amount of time and energy I was devoting to work versus writing remained shifted heavily to writing, and in the years that followed, it moved further and further in that direction, in part out of desire and in part because of some physical limitations I developed that eventually required surgery to treat and led to my moving on from my massage career entirely. As that shift was happening, I had more and more pieces published, and had two chapbooks come out, and just recently had my first full-length poetry collection published. It’s been nine years since my son was born and that initial shift into more focused writing occurred, so I guess it’s not an insignificant length of time, but the amount that I have written and published in that period is well beyond what I could have imagined in those early days. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, I allowed myself to envision writing as more than a hobby–it was a career I could pursue, a vocation that could bring a greater sense of purpose and meaning to my life. Once I started thinking about it that way, I was willing to devote more attention and effort to longer and more difficult projects, to think about my writing not as a bunch of single pieces but as an expansive body of work that I will carry with me. I was open to trying out a greater range of genres and formats, and starting projects that will take years to complete. 

WWM: Postpartum mood disturbances are extremely common, with something like 85% of women experiencing some sort of anxiety, but PPD is a bit less common. It’s said that about 15% of women around the world develop some form of PPD post birth, give or take 5% depending on the study. And even though there is such a precedent, there is also a lot of shame entangled in it, and because of that, it is all very hush-hush around the topic. Could you speak a bit about your postpartum anxiety (only what you’re comfortable with, of course) and how you learned to manage it outside of writing?

CT: My postpartum anxiety largely took the form of panic attacks. I have always struggled with at least a small degree of generalized anxiety, but not panic attacks like I had after the birth of my first son. I would be walking down the street feeling fine and then suddenly I couldn’t move. I felt frozen with fear, convinced that whatever I did next would create a ripple effect that would somehow lead to my death. I would feel like I couldn’t breathe. Or I’d go to walk down the stairs while carrying the baby and would have to pause halfway down, sure that if I took another step, I would slip and break my neck and die. Things like that, and I would have to pause and really focus on slowing my breath and calming my mind. I guess one positive thing about having struggled with my mental health since a young age was that by that point in time, I had a lot of knowledge about anxiety and depression and had a whole host of techniques to fall back on to help manage them. Whenever I was panicked, I would look around and name five things in my environment that were the same in that moment as they had been the day before. It helped pull me out of my mind and back into the physical space and was a good reminder that I was safe, things were the same as they had always been, and I was okay. 

I was also lucky that a bunch of my close friends and I had all had babies right around the same time, so I had a great network of smart, loving women to reach out to about how I was feeling. Just being in that same chaotic space of early parenthood alongside people you trust is so helpful. Interestingly, this same intense panic returned during my first trimester when I got pregnant with my second child. It turned out that my thyroid levels were really out of balance, and my OB told me that was likely contributing to the intensity of my anxiety, so it’s possible that was also responsible for my previous postpartum anxiety and I just didn’t know it because once you’re postpartum, all care basically stops. 

WWM: It’s really great that you had that community to help and alleviate some of that fear. Earlier in our conversation, you said, “I think it’s an interesting dichotomy that the thing that inspires me to write is also the thing that keeps me from doing so,” regarding motherhood and writing. Can you talk a bit about the balance between making sure you give your writing the attention it needs while balancing caring for your family’s physical and emotional needs?

CT: It’s a hard balance for sure, and one that has, in some ways, become more difficult as my first son has gotten older. He requires less of my time and attention during the day than my three-year-old does, obviously, but he has a lot more going on in the evenings and during the weekends than he used to, and that has diminished my ability to use those hours as additional writing time.

I am very lucky in that I have some childcare help during the week, but it is limited. I have about 18 hours a week of dedicated childcare coverage into which I have to fit my own writing, the work I do for the magazine I run, any additional editing projects I’ve taken on, and anything I want to do for my own health and sanity. It’s a lot to fit into not that many hours, but I use the time well. I’m good at sitting down and getting straight to it, not overthinking early drafts too much and not feeling overly precious about my work. I also carry a notepad and pen with me most of the time, or add ideas to my Notes app while I’m sitting around at my son’s sports practices or piano lessons. I think that becoming a mother teaches you very quickly how to multitask and how to move in and out and back into activities in a way that feels pretty seamless. Your attention is so often being pulled in multiple directions at once. So I can start a piece, get interrupted, and then get right back into it without too much trouble. 

Sometimes I purposefully tell my kids that I am not available for them because I am busy writing – I want them to see me actively dedicating myself to my work and my passions. I think it’s important that they know there are multiple facets of my life that give me a sense of meaning and purpose. But I also will let the writing fall away for stretches of time if my family is in a period of greater need. I know I will get back to it eventually, and sometimes these pauses prove really helpful in solving problems with a piece I’ve been struggling with, or put me in a different headspace that leads to new project ideas. Stepping away from a piece of writing and giving it some space is sometimes more useful for me than digging in and trying to force it to become something it doesn’t want to be. 

WWM: I can see it being important for your kids to see you managing your passion and a family successfully. Do you feel like that adds extra pressure to you at all?

CT: No, not pressure really, but I think maybe a greater sense of purpose. It’s tough to build a life around a creative pursuit, especially in the US where the arts are so underfunded and undervalued. I have no delusions that I will be able to turn my writing into a lucrative career and I am lucky to be in a position right now where I can still pursue it without having to rely on it financially. I want to model for my children that creative endeavors are worthy pursuits, that doing work that brings you joy and intellectual stimulation and sense of connection with the world is worth the effort. I want to show them that you can have a happy, fulfilling life that balances a wide range of needs and desires. You can carve out space for creativity and passions–it may not always be as much space as you’d like, but any little bit helps to fill you up, helps to make you feel whole. 

WWM: And some less existential questions: what are your favorite pieces of work? It could be books, specific poems, a short story, or even a piece of visual artwork. Just your favorite!

CT: Oh, gosh, this is a hard question. There are so many. There are a few books that I come back to again and again, especially when I need to feel inspired or need help reengaging with writing. Ordinary People is the first book I read as a kid that made me want to be a writer. It’s not a book for kids, and I probably read it much too young, but as a child who was only a few years away from being diagnosed with depression, I really connected with the depiction of sadness and hollowness in the characters, and was amazed by the way writing could convey those feelings. 

I love Evvie Drake Starts Over and read that book whenever I need a good reminder of how to build romantic tension or write relatable, realistic dialogue. 

I love stories about complicated families, and Flight is probably my favorite book in that specific genre. 

There are too many poems and poets to list here, but Kate Baer’s poem, “Idea” is one that really speaks to how I am trying to live my life, especially as I get older. I just want to take everything in, appreciate what I have and what I’ve learned and whatever lessons are still to come, pull everyone in my orbit into a tight embrace, and find a way for all of us to love our lives a little more.

WWM: And in the same vein, because of the nature of this interview: are there any pieces of art, visual or written, that you really connect with as a mother?

CT: “Rain, New Year’s Eve” by Maggie Smith. It’s in the same vein as “Idea” but specifically tied to motherhood.

“Let me love the world like a mother.
Let me be tender when it lets me down.” 

Right now especially, I am trying to apply a mother’s hope and tenderness to all aspects of the world and my life. Let me not lose my optimism that care and intention lead to healing. 

WWM: One last question: If you could speak to the version of yourself just before becoming a mother, what would you tell her about her writing and about herself? 

CT: About her writing, I think I would tell her that everything you write now is practice for the things you will write later. It’s all leading in some way to all your future writing. Every discarded draft, every truly embarrassingly crappy piece of writing is needed to build the skills that you will come to rely on in the future.

And about herself, I would tell her that the sorrow will continue to come and go but she’ll learn how to better manage it, how to turn it into words that will help her understand herself, appreciate herself and that will bring comfort and understanding to other people in their moments of sadness. I would tell her, don’t worry, you build a good life and, more often than not, you are immeasurably happy.


A huge thank you to Claire for granting us the time to conduct this interview! If you’d like to support her, you can visit her links here: Website | Newsletter | Bluesky

Interview with Kristin “Momming from Bed”

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
April 30th, 2026


Kristin Houlihan is a mother, wife, and disabled writer from California and EIC of Epistemic Literary and Nimblewitlit Magazines. Her poetry has been published in a variety of literary magazines and her book, Lift the Mask, is available widely in ebook, paperback and audio.

She is cofounder and poetry editor at Epistemic Literary and Nimblewitlit (our kid lit imprint).

You can find Lift the Mask on Amazon here. Available on Amazon in ebook, paperback, and audio. Alternative retailers: Kobo, Barnes and Noble, libro.fm, and Spotify.


I sent out a query on Bluesky asking for people who wanted to talk about their experience with motherhood to reach out. Three people responded and asked to participate. I conducted these interviews more as conversations, which felt more personal and, by extension, more appropriate for the vulnerability that can arise when discussing this topic. I went in with no prepared questions, just an open mind and a desire for humanness through the stories of strangers.

This was Kristin’s message to me:

Hello! I’m a mom of four (14, 12, 9, 7), a writer, and a litmag editor — and I’ve been mostly bedridden for coming up on four years. It’s absolutely difficult and not traditional, but I’d like to think I’ve learned to be a good mom under the circumstances. The mom guilt is extra heavy, but I’m also, I think, more acutely aware of my value/importance.

(You can read our Mums issue here!)


Interview with Kristin Houlihan

WILD WILLOW MAGAZINE: Thanks so much for agreeing to do this interview with me, Kristin. Firstly, I want to ask the obvious question: What made you decide you wanted to do this interview?

KRISTIN HOULIHAN: The short answer, I guess, is awareness. I want people to know that moms like me exist, but more than that, I want people to know our reality. It is freaking HARD – for the mom in bed, for the spouse, for the kids. I’m not trying to be inspirational and I don’t want to sugarcoat any of my reality, BUT I also want people to know that it is possible to be a good mom from bed. When I first got sick, I got a lot of “your kids need you,” as if I wasn’t still there for them? I mean, I was a lot sicker than I am now, and I could do even less than I do now, but I also know that what I was present for was vital for all of us. I still do it to myself; berate myself for what I can’t do, but there’s an awful lot I do! And I know my worth in my kids’ lives. And my kids do too – and I want the haters and ableists to know about it, and I especially want other moms in my position to know it, too. 

WWM: If you don’t mind, and I realize it may be a bit heavy, but could you talk a little bit about what it was like when you received your diagnosis from the lens of motherhood? I realize there was a ramp-up in symptoms before then, so feel free to talk about that as well. What was it like for you? What was it like for your family?

KH: So, my actual diagnosis (with MECFS) was a huge relief, but by that time I was already seriously disabled. I got the diagnosis at Stanford and was basically advised to get into bed, which I did, and I’ve been here ever since. It was a relief because the previous year had been an epic struggle and a steep decline in health, and I was struggling to get doctors to believe me, take me seriously, and treat me appropriately. Once I had the Stanford stamp, though! People respect them (for good reason, though the care I received there turned out not to be awesome.) It opened a lot of doors and changed the way my other providers were interacting with me; suddenly, I wasn’t the crazy woman anymore! I got a power chair covered by insurance! A parking placard! My long COVID diagnosis came later – I had no positive test for COVID because I was sick in March 2020, so Stanford wouldn’t even consider it. I had to leave Stanford and Kaiser and seek out really expensive options that weren’t covered by insurance, but eventually, I got testing and treatment specific to long COVID and started to make very small bits of progress. So the diagnosis and being bedridden coincided with one another: March 2022, four years ago (!!). I was in such a terrible place at the time that I don’t really remember how I viewed it in terms of motherhood, except that I had a constant feeling of being a failure as a mother. I slept a ton, and when I was awake, I was not engaged. I had a kid in diapers and no one to care for him. I do remember getting angry, though – and I think some of that anger helped change my perspective. It’s gotten easier as the kids have gotten older – their needs have evolved into less physical things that I can’t provide and more emotional or guidance-based things that I can provide, especially as my cognition improves. But the anger… I had a visceral reaction to people implying I wasn’t there for my kids, which made me pay attention to all the ways I am (and was) there for them, all the ways I know I am an essential and integral part of my family’s life. Believe me, I am acutely aware of all that I cannot and do not do – for my kids, my spouse, myself, my home – but when the prevailing assumption is that people like me are a useless waste of space (is that harsh? maybe a little hyperbolic but I FEEL it from the outside sometimes) it gets easier to be like, “no, I am worthy, actually!” and pick out the places where I contribute, to pay more attention to those things than to my own perceived failures or moments of “wish I could.”

WWM: What was it like for you and your family adjusting to your new normal?

KH: Hm, “new normal” – there really isn’t one! Both the nature of my illness(es) as a dynamic condition and the reality of four growing kids means as soon as we think we have a routine, it changes. I mean, there are givens: my spouse worked out a telework agreement for his job because someone has to get the kids to and from school, and I can’t (we have no bus service here). We had two years of everyone in the same school (beautiful thing), but now we have two schools and three different dismissal times plus high school sports… I gave up driving before I was bedridden. This, plus my spouse needing to work and care for us all, means my kids have to do less – a lot less. I used to take them to the park to play outside after school every day – now they come home. and spend a lot more time on screens. We don’t typically have people over for playdates, because Mom is sick and Dad is working. They can’t do after-school activities because how will they get there and back? 

WWM: Right, I can imagine how tough that is. I know that you mentioned your cognition is improving, so how is school now?

KH: This school year has been better in that I’m doing marginally better. I’m still in bed, but I can help with homework on a regular basis. I was able to supervise my daughter’s required science fair project and guide her and her partner through the hands-on process. I can put frozen pizza in the oven now and occasionally use the stove (or at least supervise a kid using the stove) – I used to shake too much to do any of that safely. I can read aloud to my kids almost every day. The kids just know now. That said, everyone has their turn to have a breakdown about it, you know? Like out of the blue, one of the kids will try to pull me out of bed, or yell that I need to get up or get better. It’s like, the pent-up frustration we all feel has to come out sometimes! We talk about my illnesses a lot, and I’m open about trying new things and when I’m feeling worse or better or whatnot (at varying levels of detail depending on the kid). I’ll say the one thing my kids seem incapable of adjusting to is my need for quiet. They are LOUD. And loud is very difficult for me. It just… doesn’t seem to sink in for them. Otherwise, we all know this is not a typical life, but we also all know this is our life, and we need to make the best of it. It’s hard. And messy. And we all miss out on a lot of things. We use more screens as a family than we did before, we get less physical activity, we order takeout a whole lot more than we used to and don’t eat as healthily. Our house is messy, but I haven’t been upstairs in four years! How can I teach my kids to keep their rooms clean and organized? I can’t. My spouse is a hero – he does more than one human’s share of laboring and loving around here, but he is still only one person. So a lot just doesn’t get done.

WWM: Let’s talk a bit about your writing. What are you writing right now? Or what is the most recent thing you’ve written?

KH: So, my writing! I feel like most of my creative energy goes to the magazines I co-run rather than my writing. But this year I’ve been doing a very tiny bit better and have been able to focus a bit more on my own writing, which is great!

I rarely set writing goals because my illness makes it near impossible to follow through, but I’ve been feeling good enough lately to set a goal of submitting one piece per month this year. Which isn’t necessarily writing a new piece, but I put it in the “writing” bin because it’s a focus on me and my writing rather than others’ writing. So far, I’m on track, which is exciting for me. WHAT am I writing? Recently, I’ve been focusing on haiku – doing some craft reading, working on my form. I tend to write free verse mostly because formal poetry intimidates me and takes a lot of concentration that I don’t always have. But haiku feels accessible to me, and I like its focus on nature. I don’t get out much, but it’s been a great way for me to capture something special about each time that I do manage to get out, even if it’s just 20 minutes on the front porch. I also write them to vicariously capture the moments my family tells me about, and that’s fun, too. I’ve also wanted to expand into writing more speculative or idea-based poetry, less of the narrative truth-telling that I more naturally write, and I’ve been dipping my toes into collaborative work. My most recent publication, in fact, is both of those – with Kathryn Reese, I wrote a collaborative piece that was published in the engine(idling (Habitat, Haunted by Kristin Houlihan and Kathryn Reese). Other than this stuff, I have a languishing draft of a poetry collection focused entirely on my long COVID experience. Languishing because I’m at the hard part: the pieces are drafted, I’ve had alpha readers, editors, and coaches, and now I have to make the edits and arrange the pieces in a coherent order. I’ve managed my illness and avoided PEM by basically not doing anything that “feels hard” – it sounds lazy and like a horrible way to live (And it is! A horrible way to live, I mean. Never challenging yourself? Blech), and this feels very hard. So it never gets my attention. Sometimes I think about writing an intro that says as much and publishing it/submitting it to presses as-is. But I want it to be good, you know? 

I’ve been awful at updating my website these past couple of years, so while I do have an archive of published stuff on my site, it is not at all up to date. You can, however, find purchase links for my book there! I self-published a chapbook of micrometry a few years ago called “Lift the Mask” – all the pieces were written based on one-word prompts from the #vss365 thing on Twitter at the time. I collected a bunch of them and published them; people seem to like them!

WWM: Let’s talk about your favorite pieces!

What are your favorite pieces of work? It could be books, specific poems, a short story, or even a piece of visual artwork. Just your favorite!

And in the same vein, because of the nature of this interview, are there any pieces of art, visual or written, that you really connect with as a mother?

KH: My favorite piece I’ve ever written is called “experimental procedure” and actually hasn’t been picked up anywhere, but it’s in my book draft! Of my favorite published pieces, you can find two of them here at Corporeal (“Conversation with my son” and “enemy of the gods.”) I wrote both of these really early in my illness, before I was bedridden. “Conversation with my son,” I wrote on my phone in my notes app while sitting next to my son in the other seat of the double stroller, one of the last times I was able to walk to school to pick up my kids. Yes, we did go to the park that day! From my published book, Lift the Mask, one of my favorite pieces is “#exist” because it perfectly encapsulates what it was like at my worst. (You can hear me read it here)

What art strikes me, as a mother? We’ve published a couple of pieces in Epistemic Literary that come to mind. First, by Rachel Woodgate, this poem called “Mother’s Shadow” from our Nostalgia issue. I can FEEL it, all of it. It even makes me miss it (nostalgia!). Another piece that comes to mind is “Free Drawings” by Megan Hanlon, in our Exclusion issue. Megan writes a lot about motherhood in her pieces published in litmags, but also on her blog.

WWM: What does your writing process look like on a day when your energy is limited? And separately, do you write differently now, either structurally or stylistically, than you did prior to the onset of your symptoms?

KH: So, on low-energy days, my writing process looks like not writing! I go long stretches without writing, and I don’t force things, mostly because I can’t. 

Before I got sick, I didn’t consider myself a writer at all; I mostly considered myself an editor. I was working very part time as a freelance copy editor, mostly for independent authors. I had a couple of regular clients who kept me as busy as I was able to be, and I loved it! I was writing, though – I was blogging fairly regularly, mostly book reviews. I didn’t start writing for publication outside my blog until right around when my symptoms started. It’s all a bit of a blur, but it was in that 2020-2021 timeframe when I was homeschooling and starting to experience weird stuff with my body. The biggest change, though, I’d say, is I’ve mostly lost my ability to write long-form. I gravitated toward poetry, and short forms at that, because I don’t have the cognitive stamina to write longer stuff. I can write you these emails off the cuff, but sitting down to write something organized or researched is really difficult, if not impossible. It crashes me, which I despise because I have so many ideas, but I just cannot implement them right now. Hopefully someday.

WWM: And I’m a little all over the place with questions, so apologies if this gives you a bit of whiplash, but I keep thinking about you talking about being present for your kids and what that means for you. Can you explore that thought a bit more?

KH: What does being “present” mean to me? Well, that has changed over time, too. At its most basic, being awake with my door open. For the first couple of years I was in bed, I was asleep a lot, and even when I was awake, I wasn’t able to do anything or be with people. Nowadays, my door is open almost all the time that I’m awake, and I’m sleeping more typical hours, so I tend to be awake most of the time the kids are awake – and I hear about it when I’m not! But merely being awake isn’t entirely what I mean – I conserve my energy, purposely structure my day so I have emotional energy for my kids. I can’t join them in the kitchen for their after-school snack, but I’m here and ready to hear about their day, see and gush over the prizes my kid got in class, commiserate over how sweaty they are from walking home… that kind of thing. I am ready to hear about swim practice when my high schooler gets home, and respond to random inquiries about chickens from my tween. Basically, all that totally random and unpredictable stuff moms end up talking about with their kids throughout the day – I can do that now! They just have to come to me in my room, so it’s a little less organic than if I were, say, in the kitchen making dinner while they do their homework at the table or whatever normal families do. I try really hard not to have done something unnecessary during the day that results in me having to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t have a conversation with you,” to one of my kids, or, “you can’t be in here right now.” Because there was a time, and there still are times, when the presence of another person is too much. But they’re rare now, and I’m grateful for that.

WWM: Do you think our culture defines “presence” too narrowly when it comes to motherhood? (I know you have the added lens of your chronic illness, but your unique perspective allows you to look at the question from angles others can’t.)

KH: I mean… short answer yes, long answer… I don’t know? I think our culture puts too many demands and expectations on motherhood – or, rather, on whoever the primary caregiver is. We’re expected to be everywhere and do everything, and there’s an extreme pressure to meet all of your kids’ desires (not needs – I hope that I am still meeting my kids’ needs). The line between wants and needs is constantly being examined in our home. My spouse can only be so many places at one time and do so many things in a day! But are we, for example, approaching a point where our seven-year-old NEEDS a physical activity outside of school as opposed to “thinks it would be fun/would be good for him”? We might be! So we’ll agonize over whether and how to make something happen and hopefully figure it out. 

I’m sure there are people who are wondering why they’ve never seen me at a swim meet (and it seriously BREAKS MY HEART BECAUSE I SO WANT TO BE THERE) – but I cannot be physically present. But my spouse is there, and I’m texting my kid and my spouse and following along with races and personal bests, and I’m the one buying the swimsuits, etc. I’m present, I’m involved – but not visibly. My third grader recently had a wax museum biography project coming up – I helped her figure out her costume and props and start her research,  and I did her hair the morning of, but I wasn’t able to show up and see her being the wax figure – I’m still “present.” I’m not seen at school, but teachers hear from me electronically and have been great about doing meetings virtually to accommodate me.

I often feel like I’m failing my kids. I can’t teach them to cook or clean, I’m not modeling how to care for a home, they use screens way too much because I need quiet time, they don’t get to do nearly as much outside the home as I’d like, and they get less time outside than would be good for them. But do they know that mom and dad are trying their best? Do they know they can come to us with anything? Do they know we love them more than anything? Yes, I’m pretty sure they do. And that is presence.


A huge thank you to Kristin for granting us the time to conduct this interview! If you’d like to support her, you can see her published work on her site here.

Interview with Sara Rauch “The Woven Tapestry of Motherhood”

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
April 30th, 2026


Sara Rauch is the author of What Shines from It: Stories and XO. She gets up at 5:30am every morning to fit in writing time. She is the Poetry Program Coordinator at The Care Center in Holyoke, MA, where she encourages teen and young moms to find their voices through writing. Her home overflows with books, and her sons are all avid readers. Every day she is grateful for a life full of wonder, family, and words.

Website | Substack | Bluesky


               I sent out a query on Bluesky asking for people who wanted to talk about their experience with motherhood to reach out. Three people responded and asked to participate. I conducted these interviews more as conversations, which felt more personal and, by extension, more appropriate for the vulnerability that can arise when discussing this topic. I went in with no prepared questions, just an open mind and a desire for humanness through the stories of strangers.

This was Sara’s message to me:

Prose writer here and mom to two, stepmom to one–my first story collection explored the decision to become a mom from a bunch of different angles; would LOVE to be a part of the issue!

(You can read our Mums issue here!)


Interview with Sara Rauch

WILD WILLOW MAGAZINE: Thank you so much for agreeing to do this interview, Sara. Can you talk a bit about why you wanted to be interviewed about this topic?

SARA RAUCH: To answer your question about why I wanted to be interviewed on the topic of deciding to become a mom and what that’s looked like in my life and in my fiction, partly what drew me to your call was wanting to share the experience of my decision as something other writers might relate to.

For a really long time, from the time I was a teenager until into my mid-30s, I did not want kids. I wanted a creative life, and it seemed impossible to have kids be a part of that (I laugh a little at this naivete now!). In my 30s, around the time that a weird little nagging voice started to pipe up with ideas about “starting a family,” I was in a long-term, committed relationship with another woman. She had originally wanted kids, and I’d always said no to that, but when I expressed the possibility that I might be changing my mind, she balked. I can only see this in retrospect, but because I couldn’t talk with her without fighting over what I was struggling to understand, all my questions and worries came out in my writing.

Writing fiction was still pretty new to me at the time, but it turned out to be a really fertile (pun intended? lol) place to explore what was essentially an identity crisis. After all this time swearing I never wanted kids, who was I to start wanting them now?! At least half of the stories I wrote during that time (ultimately published in What Shines from It) had to do with pregnancy and/or babies in various forms — abortions, miscarriages, fertility issues — babies that wanted to be born but couldn’t, for whatever reason. During this time, I got caught up in a (mostly, but not entirely, long distance, emotional) affair with a married man (not a secret; my second book, XO, is an autobiographical account of those years) – again only with retrospect, I can see that part of me was “borrowing” his life, trying it on in an emotional way. Eventually, both of those relationships ended, and I was single for a while.

During this time, I did a LOT of soul searching. But my desire for a family didn’t ebb — honestly, some days I am still surprised by this. But I met my husband, who already had a son from his first marriage, and we had two sons in fairly quick succession. I wasn’t wrong to think that it would be hard to balance motherhood and writing: it very much is! Balance, as a writing mother, is an impossible word. At no point has it been easy to keep writing a part of my life (though, honestly, that was true even before kids), but I’ve kept at it, mostly because I want my kids (now 7, 9, & 18) to see me honoring and valuing a creative life.

WWM: Your story inspires me with so many questions! In your first publication, why did you specifically focus on difficult topics during your struggle to understand your initial desire for motherhood?

SR: This is a really good question, though I fear my answer is somewhat boring! When I was writing the bulk of the stories in What Shines from It, I was in an MFA program, learning how to plot and how to raise stakes and how to give my characters secrets and… all the things. So I suspect it was purely by (perhaps subconscious) accident that I gave my characters such emotionally thorny situations to deal with. It was such a fraught decision for me; perhaps I felt that the only way to fully represent that struggle was to make my characters struggle even more mightily.

WWM: And how did writing about these difficult and emotional aspects of pregnancy and motherhood shape your decision to become a mother? Because, as you said, you did later end up having your kids, but did those thoughts that you explored in your first collection follow you years later when you were experiencing your first pregnancy?

SR: It’s interesting, because I wrote the stories (mostly) during a two-year period, then three years passed, and the collection was accepted while I was pregnant with my first kid, and I was editing it when he was a baby, so I was reengaging with the material in a very different way. But I found that the emotional aspects of what I had written held true, even if the circumstances were different. My first pregnancy was uneventful, but early motherhood was different from what I expected: it was exhausting, but also a little boring. That surprised me! My second kiddo arrived seven weeks early and spent his first three weeks in the NICU – a situation I hadn’t written about (and still haven’t) – and then having two kids at home was its own whirlwind. I don’t remember a lot of those days. But when it was hard, and it often was, I thought of the stories. How much I had put my characters through, and how they represented pieces of me:  the surprise of changing my mind, how much I had wanted a family, and what I had given up to get to motherhood. The big difference, I suppose, is that stories end. Being a mom doesn’t.

WWM: What is your favorite piece of work themed around motherhood? I know that’s a bit of a loaded question given that you’ve written so much from different viewpoints, but I’m also wondering if having children changed this answer. Like, if I asked you in your 30s versus now, would the answer have changed?

SR: For a long time, pre-children, my answer to this question would probably have been Beloved and To the Lighthouse. Two remarkably different narratives about motherhood, what family is and can be, how history/time impact what it means to mother, to face loss, to let go. I still love both books, and they both still feel tapped into some essential truth about motherhood. Since having kids, I might add Terrace Story by Hilary Leichter, The Changeling by Victor LaValle (this book is narrated by the father, but allows the mother’s grief and belief to drive the action, which is refreshing), Sea of Tranquility by Emily St John Mandel, The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki, and Grady Hendrix’s The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires, which features a group of bad-ass suburban moms kicking vampire butt. You probably noticed I didn’t mention any nonfiction here; much to my chagrin, I have not found a whole lot of memoir or essay that really speaks to me as far as motherhood goes. I did enjoy Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts, but not enough to call it a favorite. I don’t necessarily think my experience of motherhood is unique, but I haven’t been able to find much resonance in contemporary nonfiction accounts. Perhaps this will change with time. Oh, and I would be remiss to not mention poetry: pre-kids, Anne Sexton’s work was some of my favorite – loved her clear-eyed, confessional tone about mothering her daughter. More recently, Rebecca Hart Olander’s Singing from the Deep End and Jenny Browne’s poems really hit home.

WWM: So many books and stories! I love that. With your craft, have your children directly inspired any pieces of writing?

SR: Perhaps related to my previous answer, kinda-sorta? I don’t write directly about my kids. They appear occasionally in my nonfiction because it would be ridiculous to try to pretend they’re not there. Perhaps especially because they are still young, it feels like it would be an invasion of their privacy to write about their lives in any specific way. That said, being a mom and having a family has influenced a fair amount of my newer fiction – I feel a lot freer to play with and/or push ideas and struggles about mothering and children when I can invent things. Even if those inventions are rooted in experience. I am put in mind of this Robert Flaherty quote that I happened upon recently: “One often has to distort a thing to catch its true spirit.”

WWM: During your journey in discovering this new side of you, you ended up dating a man (your current husband) who already had a child. What was that like for you to be put in a mother-like position at that point in your life?

SR: This is a really interesting question! I remember feeling really unprepared for anything mother-like. (Has that feeling changed? LOL, not really!) My husband and his ex-wife remain on cordial terms and custody is shared, so I wasn’t really expected to step fully into a mother role. But it was important to me to have my stepson understand that I cared for him and wanted him to be a part of my life. I tried really hard not to disrupt the father-son relationship that I had become a part of: that was important to me, too. There is no real playbook for stepmothers (except as wicked) and that makes sense, because each stepmother’s role is different depending on what dynamic they’re entering into. So I did my best to adapt as we went along, and I think that’s gone okay.

WWM: What’s something that terrified you before having kids that ended up being nothing to worry about? And alternatively, what’s something that you worry about now that you have children?

SR: It’s funny because I can’t think of anything that terrified me before having kids. I grew up with an anxious mom, and either as a reaction to that or just innately (or some combination of both), I tend to lean toward being the type of person who thinks: “I’m not going to worry about the disaster until it happens.” Did I develop anxieties and do I worry now? ABSOLUTELY. All the freaking time. I worry about losing my sense of self in the seemingly endless tasks of motherhood, I worry about gun violence in schools and too much sugar and whether my kids know I love them and which video games to let them play and if they get enough protein and if I yell too much and if there will be world for them to live in when they’re my age and and and. 

WWM: Motherhood is so different from person to person. Is there anything specific you wanted to speak about that maybe I haven’t touched on?

SR: You know, while I agree that motherhood is different for each mom, because we are individuals and our children are individuals and each family is unique, I also think that there is so much commonality across experience and how we tell our stories. I work with teen moms (as a poetry and ELA teacher), and I find that, despite the (sometimes very big) differences in culture, age, lifestyle, being moms gives us a very particular connection. When a student comes in tired because their baby is going through a sleep regression, I know exactly what she’s talking about. And when I share the kinds of back-talk I’m getting from my own kids, my students laugh – because they’re going through it too, or will be soon. My personal story is twisty, and very much my own, but I also strongly feel that I am part of a larger tapestry of experience. All these threads woven together create something unendingly rich and beautiful.


A huge thank you to Sara for granting us the time to conduct this interview! If you’d like to support her, you can visit her links here: Website | Substack | Bluesky

Minna Zallman Proctor Interview for Mythological Minison Volume 3

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
August 15th, 2023


Minna Zallman Proctor is an editor, award-winning translator, and writer. She is the author of the essay collection Landslide: True Stories (Catapult, 2017), Do You Hear What I Hear? (Viking, 2005), and co-author with Bethany Beardslee of I Sang the Unsingable: My Life in 20th Century Music (University of Rochester Press, 2017). Her recent translations from Italian include Fleur Jaeggy’s These Possible Lives (New Directions, 2017), and Natalia Ginzburg’s Happiness, As Such (New Directions, 2019), shortlisted for the Warwick Prize for Women in Translation and longlisted for the PEN Translation Prize. Her translation of Cesare Pavese’s existentialist interpretation of Greek myths, Dialoghi con Leucó, is forthcoming from Archipelago. She has written for Bookforum, The American Scholar, Conjunctions, The Nation, Aperture, NPR.org, The New York Times Book Review, and others. She has been an editor at COLORS magazine, BOMB, and The Literary Review. She teaches in the creative writing program at Fairleigh Dickinson University. She is currently working on a collection of short stories responding to Pavese’s myths and a new translation of Fabrizia Ramondino’s Althénopis for New Directions.


               Minna Zallman Proctor cannot be summed up into words. She is an ethereal and unending fountain of joy and wisdom and is monumentally skilled at her craft. She gave me the opportunity to pick her brain about mythology and folklore, and I left with more questions than before! Differences between mythology and folklore can sometimes be nebulous and in many cases subjective, but we still had a great time discussing ideas and hypotheticals.

(You can read Volume 3 of Mythological Minison here tomorrow!)


Interview with Minna Zallman Proctor

The Minison Project: There’s so much to cover, let’s just jump right in! What is your relationship to folklore and mythology?

​​Minna Zallman Proctor: The first thing I think of when you ask this question is that when I was a little kid I never went through the big Greek/Roman Gods and Goddesses stage that a lot of kids go through. I did a report on Herakles when I was in fourth grade and I was really intrigued by the concept that all the stories came from urns—which they didn’t but that was interesting—and I always believed the interesting version of truth over the real version. Other than that, I liked Irish folktales Arthurian legends, Norse mythology, and African folktales, because those were the books I found on my parents’ bookshelves. The Irish folktales were in a book that I loved especially called There Was a King in Ireland and all the stories (obviously) started, “There was a King in Ireland…”

But that’s my formative/little kid relationship to myth. My interest in the African folktales stuck the longest, because they were all short and profound and funny—like the one about how the sun went to live up in the sky because he was annoyed about the way people kept breaking bits off of him for an afternoon snack. Caveat: the book I read from was edited by Paul Radin, a Jewish immigrant from Poland who was an influential anthropologist in the 1950s who specialized in Native American and African religion and language. I suspect that a great deal of his work and probably all his cultural perspective has since been invalidated.

Then I didn’t think about myths at all for a long time. …until I started work on this translation project about Greek mythology, and suddenly that’s all I think about.  

TMP: I suspect that a lot of the obsession for Greek and Roman myths stem from focusing on those literatures in schools, so I find it fascinating that you discovered Norse and African folktales to be more captivating for you. With that and everything you’ve been researching for your translation project, which I’ll ask about later, how would you classify the differences between folklore and mythology?

MZP: I am 170 percent sure that there is a formal distinction in the social sciences, which I don’t know and won’t look up, because it’s more fun to guess and make up an answer. So, with the caveat that I’m inventing this: Mythology explains things—why the grass is green, where you go after you die, why we exist. Mythology is exalted, larger than life, aspirational and eternal. Folklore are stories authored by a community—stories that are passed down whose purpose is story, nothing more or less. Folklore is local and specific and only lives as long as people repeat it. Both mythology and folklore are author-less. This is important. They belong to time and place, but not a single intelligence. Because folklore is specific, it reveals details about very specific cultural systems… of a family, of a village, of a town. Mythology is more general with an eye toward universal, and the figures of mythology are avatars; there is nothing really substantial in their character build that determines their actions; there are no real individuals; the gods have many faces and many names—suggesting they are many but none. Folklore is the language of a people. Mythology is more of a code than a language, and as such has a broader reach. This shared code crosses lands and histories and cultures and timelines. We continue today to repeat and interpret those ancient mythologies bringing them forward organically from a long long time ago to now. Roland Barthes said the mythologies a society creates express explanation and desire and that determines, and codifies, values.

And again, I just made this up. There are actual, formal definitions in some fields and volumes of theories and debates too. In other words there’s a 100 percent probability that there are many answers to this question that contradict, or at least discredit, mine.

TMP: You said “folklore is local and specific,” but when people document folklore on the internet where it can be widely spread, does it lose specificity and context? And what role do you think technology has played in allowing these stories to reach beyond their regional communities?

MZP: That’s such an interesting question and I wish I had a very smart answer. …In discussions of the internet, people reference this participation inequality ratio: 90 percent of users are “lurkers” (aka “audience”), 9 percent occasional participants, and 1 percent create all the content. (This ratio is over fifteen years old, so it has likely shifted as social media has grown.) In really crude terms, participation inequality is bad because it means that one percent of people have “undue” or “outsized” influence. But the same ratio applies to wealth (the “one percent”), and we know that wealth isn’t just having more, it’s about controlling more and so everything that’s about control—legislation or information—is basically controlled for all by the very few. Which is sinister and antidemocratic and totally from the dark ages and all of this has happened before and all of this will happen again. But, there is something about that ratio that also calls to mind a group of people gathered around a storyteller. Yes, folklore is of a community and is not about authorship, and yet, it’s not as if the village gathered for storytime and then everyone started talking at once. That’s anarchy, not folklore. When everyone on the internet is talking at once and no one is listening, then everything zeroes out and is totally useless. (Like, if you’re looking for a restaurant on Yahoo and it has 800,000 reviews, you know you’re not going to learn anything about whether to go to that restaurant from the reviews: half the people hated it and half of them loved it and half of them hated it for dumb reasons, like it was raining the night they went, and the other half of them hated it for good reasons that are meaningless to the other half of the people—like, say, the ketchup was too vinegary, which is meaningless because half the people hate ketchup and wouldn’t order it anyway, and half the people prefer their ketchup more vinegary, and half the people wonder “How much is too much?”… so that’s just time wasted.) I guess what I’m saying is that folklore is by definition unauthorized, it’s passed along by people and may be altered in the process for any number of reasons. If it’s being passed along on the world wide web instead of in a town square, the people who receive it to pass it along might evolve it differently than the people who receive it and repeat it in the town square, but that just means that there are now different evolutionary tracks (probably many many different ones) for that story. Some are more local than others. Consider this, the African folktales I read in the 1970s were collected in the 1950s, translated by one person from a variety of languages and cultures into a monolithic text, and published in a book, which fixes a story in that moment and culture and medium. It un-folklores it. In other words, is the world wide web essentially more pernicious than 20th century ethnographers? Probably yes, and probably no. …Maybe it depends on whether you like ketchup.

TMP: “Un-folklores” is such a good term. You bring up a good point: when everybody is talking at once, can anybody really be heard? I often wonder about our future and our legacy as human beings. Do you think any modern stories will be classified as mythology or folklore in the future?

MZP: I don’t know. The question is really about whether we human people have hit some natural limit of archetypes, or explanatory apparatus (e.g., Why is the sky blue? Where does water stop? Why do we exist?) Are there things in the natural world that don’t already have a variety of explanations versatile enough so that the stories start repeating each other? Will we change the natural world so much that we’ll need new explanations? And, in terms of being worried about our future because we’re always challenging and disrupting the natural world, don’t you think it’s significant how many morality tales in mythology and folklore turn on the sin of hubris (aka pride)? …Maybe that’s because humanity keeps moving toward its own eradication with progress, and recklessness? And then it explodes and starts again, or the gods throw rocks and destroy and rebuild? It’s been and will be again, etc. Why does Prometheus’s liver keep growing back so that the birds can eat it again? Will AI ever be so mysterious that we’ll need to explain it in terms that go beyond “manmade”? Can AI turn into organic matter? And, if so, is that how the earth ends and restarts? Is bacteria AI? Will the new organic AI need explanations about how it came to be, or will it just access its vast information banks and discover that it was created out of 1s and 0s by people who were created out of cell division? Do you think, maybe, that aliens/life on other planets will be our future folklore? Or, do you think that the idea of other life forms on other planets is another variation on the idea that gods live in the sky? Was Zeus an extraterrestrial? And, I want to know about sharks.

TMP: I think we all want to know about sharks… Do you think folklore is a building block to creating mythology or does mythology spawn folklore?

MZP: I think they are two kinds of storytelling that both have strong cultural roots and identities. Whether you’re using my explanation above or Carl Jung’s, the distinction between myth and folklore is artificial; it’s either descriptive or theoretical—like the distinction between poetry and prose. It’s not as if you’re describing mitochondrial division, or the difference between sand and glass. Sure there’s overlap and fuzzy boundaries. (Is a story about how the leopard got its spots a local morality tale or a cosmology?) Different cultures express different needs and wants through the stories they tell. But ultimately storytelling has its origins in rational thought. The question Why? is the primordial ooze of language. Event and consequence are the primordial ooze of story. Those are the building blocks; mythology and folklore are some very big buildings those blocks made.

TMP: Let’s talk a bit about your translation project! What’s that about?

MZP: My translation project is hard to explain. Every time someone asks me about it, I talk for an hour too long. I have to find a compact way to describe it. Like everything complicated, it starts, of course, with my mother. My mother was fascinated with this book, which in Italian is called Dialoghi con Leucò, and its author, Cesare Pavese, who was mostly a poet and novelist—even though this book is not really either. I’m chronically fascinated by my mother, who was a composer, whose music was inspired by literature. When my editor at Archipelago and I were casting around for a perfect new project—and she was making some wonderful, very fun suggestions—then I had this image of my mother holding this particular book, and I asked if maybe it could be the perfect project. Ultimately, it wasn’t a perfect project; it was something else. More like a dare. The hardest thing I’ve ever translated. Baffling on every single level, from the subject matter to the language, to the emotional center, its socio-historical context, the conceptual landscape, the legacy. I love it unreasonably now, but I think that’s because I finished it. 

Here’s my attempt at a compact description: Dialoghi con Leucò is a collection of 27 short lyrical dialogues between Greek gods and heroes, reimagined as existentialist debates, the paradoxes of which are extrapolated from their big mythological stories: Oedipus wondering whether the choices of his life have any moral meaning at all if they were all prophecy. Calypso trying to convince Ulysses that immortality is just as good as mortality—because she loves him and wants him to stay with her, but she doesn’t quite believe her own argument and he sees through her. Endymion complaining because his rapist, Artemis, won’t let him love her back. Leucothea (the white goddess) trying to convince Ariadne that she should stop crying about Theseus abandoning her, because Dionysius loves her and is going to turn her into a constellation—a cold comfort. Sappho hating the afterlife, because it exists, and she had killed herself to stop her thoughts, not to sit in them for eternity. And so on. They are funny and brutal and complex and suffuse with contemplations of life and death.  

TMP: That sounds right up my alley, I can’t wait to read it! Is there anything you wish I asked that you would like to talk about?

MZP : ….Melissa, you’ve asked me everything there is to ask in the world and many things that I don’t have answers for. I’ve been thinking about myths in such a specific way for the last three years, and it’s been very fun to think about myths and folklore from a more holistic, cultural perspective for this interview. There’s a reason we all come to myth with different questions and wildly different answers, and the reason is routed in myth as a common point of reference. In his foreword to Dialoghi con Leucò, Pavese wrote: “Given the option, a person could certainly get by with less mythology. But we’ve come to accept mythology as a language, an expressive mode—which is to say, it’s not random, it’s a hothouse of symbols that belong, like all languages do, to a specific set of references that can’t be conveyed any other way.”


MYTHOLOGY LIGHTNING ROUND:

TMP: What is your favorite myth?

MZP: Orpheus

TMP: What is your favorite folktale?

MZP: The Devil

TMP: Which mythological figure do you relate to most? Who do you find most interesting?

MZP: Circe

TMP: Which mythical creature would make the best pet, and why?

MZP: Heracles. I think he’d be good at protecting me. 

TMP: In mythology or folklore, if you could swap the roles of a hero and villain, who would you switch and why?

MZP: …I don’t know. I think one of the cool things about mythology/folklore is that all the archetypes are both good and bad or value-neutral or undeclared. Like the idea of a “trickster god” for example, or Dionysius, who’s fun, and fun-loving, and dreadful, and a savior, and a killer. …PASS

TMP: Is there any country’s mythology or folklore that you haven’t explored yet that interests you?

MZP: Of course—it’s not like you finish being interested in something you don’t know everything about. The list is inexhaustible. But. …if I had to pick two (because one is totally not possible), maybe I’d say Poland and Brazil. 


A huge thank you to Minna for granting us the time to conduct this interview! If you’d like to support her, you can visit her website here and read her work.

Lexi Everland Interview for Carnival Issue

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
June 14th, 2023


Lexi Everland is a professional fire spinner and wildland firefighter, among many other things. She has been performing for a little over 5 years but has been practicing for about 10. For Lexi, it is hard to find the time to balance a very demanding full-time job and performing, but not impossible! She aspires to inspire the creative who is balancing their love of their art and a full-time job.


               Lexi is a long-time lover of fire. This love has brought her down many related paths in life, including learning how to perform fire spinning, dancing, and performing, and securing a job as a New Jersey Wildlands Firefighter.

               Performing for a living is a dream not many are able to realize, so, like many creatives, performers have to balance booking performances with the realities of everyday life. In this interview, Lexi talks about her love for fire performance, the balancing act of having a more demanding job while trying to maintain your creative outlets, and advice on how to begin the foray into fire arts!

(Read the Carnival issue here!)


Interview with Lexi Everland

TMP: Fire Spinning. Wow! Of all the skills to pursue, how did you choose that one? How did it start?

LE: Well, I’ve tried out many many hobbies but this one really stuck! I went through phases where my artistic expression showed itself as jewelry making, painting, drawing, and even writing – but this one allowed me to move my body while expressing myself, and also showcase the hard work I put into my performances. Sometimes I even get to make money by doing it! And the work I put in to get good enough to not burn myself and feel confident performing didn’t feel difficult at all. Before I realized it, years had gone by and I had gotten pretty good, and I had kind of forgotten all the hours I put into it. I think that’s just because I love doing it so much, and it offers me an amazing outlet so it didn’t feel like work at all.

TMP: In our previous conversations, you’ve mentioned other skills, hula hooping, aerial performance, acroyoga — have you ever married any of those skills with your fire spinning?

LE: Yes! I have. A fire hula hoop is one of the many fire props I use and probably the one I am most proficient at. It is also where my love for the art really started. My performing partner and I will also throw in a couple basic acroyoga moves into an act, which is sort of like partner acrobatics.

TMP: What was the biggest struggle when learning how to fire spin?

LE: I would say the biggest struggle was lighting my fire prop on fire for the very first time. I practiced for quite a while without the wicks lit until one day I said, I think I’m ready. And my brother was there as my “safety,” a term we use to describe the person usually standing off stage with a towel or fire resistant duvaline cloth just in case we catch something (or ourselves) on fire. I guess it was mostly getting over the fear of getting burned. And I’m not going to say that you don’t get burned while performing: you take the proper precautions, wear the proper clothing (natural fibers because synthetics melt to your skin, fire resistant material, and/or fire resisting spray), but you still frequently get burned. But that’s the nature of the art. Hey, if you play with fire, you are going to get burned! But if you are well practiced, the burns are usually very minor and almost feel like a small patch of sunburn. Sometimes you may mess up, and then they’re a little more than a sun burn, but over time and with much practice and many mistakes, you fear getting burned less and less and less and you get better and better and better. I feel it’s a great analogy for life in that way.

TMP: Is there a fire skill you prefer? Do you have a favorite prop you like to use?

LE: I certainly have my go-to props, and the fire hoop is the one I have practiced the most, but I love them all for different reasons. There’s almost a completely different flow to each one. Some have similar moves that translate, but overall it’s almost like playing completely different instruments associated with completely different genres of music. Sometimes I am just in the mood for my dragon staff, which is a long staff with four wicks at either end that you manipulate by rolling down your arms and body and legs for the most part. And sometimes a different song will come on my playlist and it’s a song I just HAVE to pick up my fire fans and groove to. There’s also a common philosophy in the fire-spinning world that certain props are similar to dancing with a partner, like the fire hoop, dragon staff, contact staff, etc. The prop moves around you and you move around it. While other props are like extensions of yourself while you dance, like fire fans, double hoops, buugeng, etc. The props accentuate your movement. So it depends on whatever I’m in the mood for!

TMP: What was the hardest trick for you to learn, and what is the hardest trick for you to perform?

LE: Currently, the hardest tricks for me to learn are anything with my fire dart. Which is a large ball-shaped wick attached to a very long rope. It is so hard for me, and takes me the most time when learning tricks because it is a prop not like any other prop I have used before.  The flow is different, the way you move your body in relation to the prop is different, the footwork is different, the parts of your body you use to manipulate the prop are different. And therefore, it is also the hardest for me to perform.

TMP: Pyro Noir Productions. Let’s talk about it: what is it? How did it start? Where do you want it to go?

LE: Pyro Noir Productions is a performance group based in South Jersey specializing in fire performing that my best friend and I started when we both had more time on our hands to book gigs. For a while there, we were booking gigs every other weekend around our normal jobs during the spring and summer and had a lot of fun! We performed at local festivals, car shows, bike shows, backyard BBQs, birthdays, weddings, and even at bars while bands were playing. Then Covid hit and we couldn’t perform for quite a while. Then we both got really busy with our jobs but we are looking forward to hopping back into the groove soon!

TMP: So, you work as a New Jersey Wildland Firefighter now — how did you make the leap from starting fires to putting them out?

LE: I guess my affinity for fire manifested itself in a couple ways! Fire spinning came first, and probably did influence my decision to take a career in fire. Since graduating high school, I knew I wanted to work outdoors in the environmental field. I went to school for environmental sciences and began taking the forestry route. It was then that I learned about the field of wildland firefighting. Initially I started out in the research realm, and then made the transition into the operational side where instead of studying wildland fire and its effects, I now get to fight fires and sometimes light them for prescribed burning purposes! From dancing with, to studying, to fighting and lighting, I can say I have come to intimately know the nature of fire. This reaffirms just how amazing a phenomenon it is, making it even more exciting to me.

TMP: A lot of our readers are creatives, not unlike you, attempting to make their creative life work with the reality of their everyday. Do you have any advice on how to manage that balancing act?

LE: It is HARD! Especially when you are passionate about both. At times, one will overtake the other. For the past two years, I haven’t gotten to perform much at all because of my new job. But things will slow down soon, and I will be able to get back into it eventually, and that is okay. I still practice at home when I get the chance and it serves as such a great stress reliever! It helps ground me and reminds me of why I do what I do. It gives me a moment to myself, to slow down, to move my body, to express my emotions, to feel my emotions, to process, to create! And that keeps me going at my other job. Especially when my other job gets hard, when it hasn’t rained for weeks, it’s dry as hell, and fires are happening left and right. It helps soothe the fires in my own life. And I feel like that’s why creatives create! So you have to make time for it. It’s how we self-care.

TMP: Any tips for beginners wanting to get into fire spinning?

LE: Yes! I would say buy a prop you are interested in and spend a lot of time with it UNLIT. You will most likely have to begin your search for a prop online. Watch a ton of YouTube videos to figure out which props you are interested in (you will probably have to order them online.) And then watch a ton more YouTube videos to learn how to move with the prop. There’s a bit of a learning curve, so don’t get discouraged! But also, don’t be afraid to try another prop. Certain ones might just click for you. There is also a huge fire-spinning community in the country, and the world! Connect with them! There are groups on Facebook and Instagram, find local ones, find out where they meet for spin jams, and just show up! You will learn a lot from watching people, and they are also always more than happy to teach.

TMP: Anything I haven’t asked that you want to talk about?

LE: As much as I love my full-time job, it does make it very hard for me to spend as much time practicing and performing as I would like. It’s so very hard to find a balance. Part of me thinks that If I could make performing my full-time job, I wouldn’t work a day in my life. The other part recognizes the reality of what it would take to do performing full-time. Probably gigs every weekend and a lot of scouting for gigs at first. A lot of marketing, maybe getting into teaching fire spinning. Maybe traveling the country hosting workshops. Probably a lot of time spent content-creating, which does sound amazing. But after some time, I know it would become mundane at times, and become a job like any other job. I like not having to sell my art. Not having to sell my creativity. I wish I could spend more time doing it, and hopefully I will be able to. The ideal balance is probably different for everybody, and maybe so worth it for other people to put the work in to make it a full-time job. And some would probably rather have a bad day doing what they love, than a good day doing anything else. But for those like me, with so many different passions and hobbies, I think it’s okay to not have to sell your art and to do it purely just for you.


FIRE SPINNING LIGHTNING ROUND:

Question: Favorite genre of music to perform to?

LE: it really depends on whatever I am in the mood for. Sometimes it’s really techy stuff if I want to move fast. Sometimes it’s soulful music if I want to move with intensity and passion. Sometimes it’s reggae or jam bands if I want to just flow like the wind!

Q: What was your favorite costume?

LE: So all of our costumes have to be fire-resistant and very unrestrictive, and that can make costume creation a little tough. But putting together a theme-specific costume is another aspect I truly enjoy about performing. Halloween events are always fun because you can get really creative. Circus clown costumes are super fitting and usually allow a great deal of movement.  But I think my favorite costume so far was this skeleton catsuit with skull face paint. The material was so flexible and comfortable, and painting the skull face was fun!

Q: Biggest inspirations in the industry?

LE: My biggest inspirations in the industry were definitely my friends in the industry that introduced me, the local community I was lucky to have access to, as well as very influential content creators online.

Q: Most challenging/uncommon place you’ve performed?

LE: I’ve performed in very tight spaces and on very small stages. But the most challenging is when it’s hot out, and you’re on asphalt, and the sun is cooking you and so are the flames! Just have to remember to hydrate and take breaks.

Q: What has been your most memorable or unique performance experience so far?

LE: My most memorable experience performing so far was performing for the first time in front of a very large crowd, probably over 2000 people. I was surprised how much the crowd watching me didn’t matter and just melted away into the background. The flames sort of blind you from the crowd and you feel like it’s just you and your prop. And every now and then when you nail a tough or visually appealing trick you hear the crowd cheer and clap and whistle.


A big thank you to Lexi for allowing us such a wonderful interview! If you’d like to support her, you can visit Pyro Noir Productions website, or follow them on Instagram.

Jenny Tufts Interview for Carnival Issue

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
June 10th, 2023


Deciding that a job in her academic field of study (politics) sounded exceptionally un-fun, Jenny proceeded post-college to live in 7 different countries across three continents taking jobs as an assistant editor, a live-in nanny, an English teacher, a university administrator, and a full-time dog walker. These occupations allowed her time to pursue a patchwork education in circus across various institutions including Circus Warehouse (NYC), Circus Oz (Melbourne), and Centro Acrobatico Fedriani (Madrid), alongside participation in innumerable private lessons, workshops, and festivals.

While she’s tried her hand at just about everything, aerial hoop is Jenny’s primary discipline followed closely by her invented apparatus ‘the infineight,’ made in collaboration with metalworker Tim Omspach. She has also performed aerial harness/vertical dance, spanish web, aerial chains, hula hoops, aerial spiral, and worked at great heights on crane gigs with Fidget Feet Aerial Dance Theatre. She might even do verticals if you pay her a lot of money, and she is a born 3-high middle.

Jenny is a US citizen and aspiring permanent resident of Ireland. When not on tour, you can find her snuggling her two giant dogs on the coast of county Sligo. She is proud to also be supported by the Arts Council of Ireland, and her beloved team over on Patreon. You can find her all over the internet under the name @circlecirque.


               When we think of circus, we think of the experience of watching performers and acrobats “fly through the air with the greatest of ease.” Whether it be trapeze artists, aerialists, or fire performers, we always find ourselves asking the same question: how do they do that?

               Well, Jenny Tufts is here to give us some insight on exactly that! She is well-versed in many kinds of aerial performance art and has graciously given us the opportunity to ask her about it. In this interview, Jenny talks about what it’s like to work as a full-time aerialist, her aspirations for her future, and what to do if you want to chase the “wheeee” like she does!

(Read the Carnival issue here!)


Interview with Jenny Tufts

TMP: We’ll start it off with a basic question, what got you into aerial performance? How did your journey start?

JT: I got hooked on aerial arts through the recreational scene in NYC just after graduating college – I was working a bunch of odd jobs (academic administrator, barista, nanny, dog walker…) and trying to decide what to do with my life, since a job in my field of study (politics) turned out to be way less appealing than The West Wing made it sound. I’ve never done intensive gymnastics or dance training, but I’ve always loved adrenaline and challenging my body, so when I discovered aerial hoop it was love at first sight!

TMP: Is there a type of aerial performance that you like the best? One that you specialize in?

JT: I specialize in spinning bar apparatuses. In contrast to ‘floppy apparatuses’ (like aerial straps, or verticals like fabric or rope), most steel-based aerial apparatuses no matter what their shape will have similar properties, and once you’ve mastered one it’s fairly simple to translate that knowledge to other landscapes. My foundation in aerial hoop gave me the tools to explore other bar apparatuses, like spiral, with confidence and comfort.  And while I wouldn’t say I’m stage-ready in many other disciplines, I do train or have trained in dozens of other circus arts. I LOVE being a student and am a huge believer in having a diverse movement practice, both for practical injury prevention and to inspire new ways of approaching your home discipline!

TMP: What does your training process look like? What does your training look like when you’re contracted versus when you’re in your off-season?

JT: The unfortunate thing about circus is that, unlike every other professional sport, we don’t typically have an off-season. France has a brilliant artist unemployment scheme where performing artists are paid a livable wage during the months they’re not working so long as they’ve clocked enough hours in a performing job, which allows them to appropriately recover from the demands of a long contract, upskill, and/or create their own independent projects! Most artists around the world don’t have this luxury. …Like most freelancers, my calendar is a hectic patchwork of gigs. I prioritize performing, but also teach a few aerial intensives and festivals per year. I’m extremely fortunate to be supported by the Irish Arts Council, and through their grant programs have for the last several years been able to schedule paid time to work on my own creative and technical training, usually with the guidance of outside mentors. I can’t overstate how much this has transformed my work, especially coming from the US where circus arts funding not tied to a product is virtually unimaginable.

When I’m on contract, keeping my body healthy is the top priority: time in the studio is mostly spent conditioning and doing my physio exercises until I’m confident I can handle the show load without risking an overuse injury. When I’m at home and have the luxury of full training days, I’ll often go to the notes app on my phone where I write down quick choreo ideas and follow one or two of those rabbit holes for a while. These ideas come to me while watching my own work, watching others, when I’m randomly in the shower, and sometimes even in my dreams! At least half the time I try something and realize my understanding of physics or anatomy was flawed and the idea is impossible – but occasionally it works, and more often it leads to a totally different surprise.

TMP: What are some of the physical and emotional challenges you face while learning new aerial skills? How do you work through or around them?

JT: I went through quite a rough couple of years where I’d feel fear in the face of a new skill, and then get so overwhelmed with anger at myself for feeling that fear that I’d give up in shame. I thought all I needed to do was toughen up, commit, just do it, all those gym clichés – I thought that my peers who were doing the things that scared me were just braver than me, that my fear was an inherent personality flaw. But I see now that what those peers had wasn’t necessarily more bravery, they just had more familiarity with the apparatus. Nothing can substitute for time, and don’t discount what a dramatic difference time can make. I like to imagine fear is my little buddy just doing his job, keeping me alive – he deserves to be listened to, and then we can negotiate whether that particular warning is valid or not.

TMP: What kind of preparation goes into each performance?

JT: All aerialists should have as much rigging knowledge as they can acquire, and check their own rigging before every session. Whether you’re in a class or on stage, there are never too many eyes on the equipment and no question is a stupid question (if your rigger makes you feel stupid for asking a question, fire their ass and find someone who actually cares about your safety). I make sure I’ve run the act in the costume (nothing makes an act sloppy or dangerous like fabric that’s slipperier or grippier than you’d anticipated!), that I have my preferred liquid chalk on hand, and that my body is warm and ready. My favorite grounding exercise comes from my mentor Rachel Strickland, who recommends asking yourself: ‘Where are my feet?’ It gets me right out of my head and into my immediate physical surroundings.

TMP: What is it like being in the air? How does it make you feel?

JT: Once in a workshop the leader asked us each what our core motivation for our work was, and I said, ‘I’m just out here chasing the wheeee!’ And I think that’s pretty apt. Nowhere else can I be more present, in a playful conversation between my body and the apparatus. I like these heavy solid steel apparatuses because they feel more like a dance partner than a prop – sometimes they support you, sometimes they reject you, and when you work as a team with that incredible force of spin it’s pure magic. Aerial also gave me my first environment where I felt consistently powerful. Raised as a woman, and a chronically shy one at that, it’s not a feeling I experienced much prior to entering the aerial world and very much enjoy.

TMP: Chronically shy? That raises more questions! I know you’ve been doing this for a while, but do you still get performance anxiety? How do you combat that?

JT: Absolutely! I suspect the day I feel zero performance anxiety should be the day I quit, since the butterflies signal to me that I still care deeply about it. Good preparation is key to quieting nerves, but also the acceptance that in live performance, things go wrong all the time. Most of the time the audience doesn’t even notice. The more imperfect performances I give, the more I can relax into the knowledge that it’s not a big deal and happens to everyone.

TMP: Can you discuss the teamwork aerial performances? How do you work with other performers and technicians to create a smooth experience?

JT: One of the most intimate ways aerial artists (who are majority soloists) work together is through counterweight systems, where one artist lifts another via a pulley system. Getting the timing and height of the lifts perfect can make or break an act, and I love counterweighting aerialists I know because I can usually predict their needs better than any rigger. My girlfriend Aisling Ní Cheallaigh (also a world-class aerial hoop artist, go follow her!) and I always lift for each other when we can, and I feel much more relaxed knowing that the person on the other end of the rope knows my discipline and body language inside and out.

TMP: Any tips for beginners wanting to get into aerial performance?

JT: Learn broadly – take as many classes in as many disciplines with as many teachers as you can! Not every teacher/studio is the right fit for every student, so shop around until you find a culture that feels like home – and even then, travel to festivals or outside workshops whenever you’re able. Also, go see some circus. Attend a Fringe festival, see anything that comes to town big or small. As Stephen King says of writing: ‘you learn more reading a bad book than a good one,’ and in the same vein, I never feel like I’ve wasted time watching a show. 

TMP: Thank you so much for this interview, it’s been incredibly fun to hear you talk about your passion so deeply! Is there anything I haven’t asked that you would like to mention?

JT: If you’d like more in-depth writings on professional aerial life, exclusive access to full shows/act videos, and first dibs on booking intensives, sign up to my Patreon! It’s a brilliant way for fans of my work to show monthly support, and for me to connect to a more intimate audience than the megaphone of instagram.

I suppose my last tip for anyone wanting to pursue aerial professionally is just this: show up, in person, over time, and be kind. That’s it. Call it nepotism, but people really only hire people they know – so get in the room. Show up to festivals, take lessons from people you admire, ask thoughtful questions on CircusTalk panel zooms… there are endless ways to engage. And know that these interactions will build up over time. People enjoy helping people they like. Good luck!


AERIAL LIGHTNING ROUND:

Question: Favorite genre of music to perform to?

JT: I don’t really understand genres anymore, but usually something instrumental with a driving beat.

Q: What was your favorite costume?

JT: In Disneyland Paris’ Le Roi Lion I got to be a hyena in a full velvet catsuit – I felt like a kid in footie pajamas and it was so cozy!

Q: Biggest inspirations in the industry?

JT: Aisling Ní Cheallaigh, Dreame Frohe, and Jennifer Cohen have always been some of my favorite technicians to watch – Emilia Dawiec is another up-and-coming hoop artist who I really enjoy watching these days. I also get a lot of inspiration from movement artists outside my field, like Yvonne Smink (pole) and Aime Patching (handbalance), and always look to Rachel Strickland for wisdom in all things related to creative life.

Q: Most challenging/uncommon place you’ve performed?

JT: Probably atop a crane in Gweedore, in the remote northwest of Ireland – the views were SO stunning I kept forgetting to wave at the kids below!

Q: What has been your most memorable or unique performance experience so far?

JT: In 2022 I got to premiere a show I made with my partner Aisling and two of our close friends. It’s the closest I’ve been to having creative control over a full-length piece of work, and while that responsibility was often harrowing, it was also incredibly rewarding! I screwed wheels onto our home couch so we could use it as a set piece, got to see the apparatus I invented make its stage debut under the capable hands of our friend Jen DeBrún, and shared the process with some of my favorite people. I’m looking forward to more of this in the future! (PS: the full show NASC is available to watch on my Patreon.)


A big thank you to Jenny for allowing us such a wonderful interview! If you’d like to support her, you can visit her website, sign up for her Patreon, or follow her on Instagram, Tik Tok, Facebook, or YouTube.

Alyse Knorr Interview for MiniGames Issue

Melissa Ashley Hernandez
April 2nd, 2023


Alyse Knorr is an associate professor of English at Regis University, co-editor of Switchback Books, and co-producer of the Sweetbitter podcast. Her most recent book of poems, Mega-City Redux, won the 2016 Green Mountains Review Poetry Prize, selected by Olena Kalytiak Davis. She is also the author of the poetry collections Copper Mother (2016) and Annotated Glass (2013); the non-fiction books GoldenEye (2022) and Super Mario Bros. 3 (2016); and four poetry chapbooks. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The New RepublicPoetry Magazine, Alaska Quarterly Review, Denver Quarterly, and The Georgia Review, among others. She received her MFA from George Mason University.


Video games are incredible. Not only are they great tools to stimulate and improve creativity, focus, and critical thinking, but they are also great outlets for entertainment and art. The Minison Project is a collective focused on literary arts, but writing is so intrinsic to all kinds of art, not just books. There are video games that have some of the best storytelling I have ever experienced! With dynamic characters, dialogue, and world-building, video games can be (and often are) playable stories.

Alyse Knorr is no stranger to video games or the literary world. She has written two documentary-style books about video games published by Boss Fight Books, a perfect marriage of two of her passions. Her roles as poet, prose writer, and editor have allowed her to work with both big and small names in the literary industry, and she also has the added experience of teaching in academia.

Because of Alyse’s experience wearing different hats within the industry and her love of video games, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to interview her for the “MiniGames” issue of the minison zine. I asked her a variety of questions involving different aspects of her roles and got some seriously cool responses!

(Read the Video Games issue here!)


Interview with Alyse Knorr

TMP: How would you describe your relationship to writing?

AK: Writing is my life! I’m a writer (poetry, fiction, and nonfiction) and I’m married to a writer. I teach writing of all kinds to undergraduate students at Regis University. I’m an editor of Switchback Books, a feminist poetry press, and a co-producer of a podcast called Sweetbitter, where I write every episode. For as long as I can remember, reading and writing have been a tremendous source of joy and comfort and inspiration in my life. It’s my passion, my profession, and my source of meaning in the world.

TMP: How did you get into writing? What does your writer journey look like?

AK: I’m one of those people who has always loved storytelling–when I was a little kid, I wrote these little books with my dad, and then throughout my childhood I always had my nose in a book, either reading or writing stories about other worlds. I spent high school math classes typing poems into my TI-83 graphing calculator, and after school I’d write little songs on my pawn-shop acoustic guitar. In college, I double-majored in English and journalism, and then I went on immediately into a poetry MFA at George Mason University. Ever since then, I’ve been living the wonderful life of writing and teaching writing!

TMP: How would you describe your relationship with video games?

AK: Playing video games with my father is one of my very earliest memories. I grew up playing Mario and Donkey Kong platformers, Doom, The Sims, Mathblasters, Oregon Trail–video games were a form of education, bonding with family and friends, entertainment on boring rainy (and sunny!) days, and a way for me to make meaning about my own gender, sexuality, and personal struggles. Games have always been a source of not only fun but also potential and possibility. In a game, you can go to another world and be a hero. You can feel more powerful than it’s possible to feel in real life. And that can be life-saving.

TMP: I know you’ve written two brilliant deep-dive, documentary-style books about two video games, but other than writing specifically about video games, how deeply does your history with video games affect your writing?

AK: This is a fascinating question! I learned to play video games before I learned to read, and my entire life, I have experienced stories through both books and video games, so I’m sure that a video game aesthetic or mentality or structure has certainly seeped into the way I write or tell stories. I think that in my poetry, maybe I’m influenced the video game’s inherent sense of potentiality. Games are full of rewards to win, levels to beat, secrets to find, and (effectively) an unlimited number of chances to do all this. I hope that my poems are imbued with a similar rich sense of potential and exciting possibility, where each turn of the line reveals a new world and a new exciting direction. Now that I’m writing fiction, I’m finding that I’m more interested in setting than anything else. I like drawing maps of where my characters are traveling and what they’re seeing along the way. And in platformers and open-world games like the ones I love playing, one of the most exciting features is exploring new worlds–Henry Jenkins calls this “topophilia.” Perhaps that’s one influence I’m taking from games to my fiction!

TMP: Walk me through your writing process.

AK: It really depends on the genre! The way I write poetry is very different from the way I write prose, and the way I write each book differs depending on the book’s content and limitations. For instance, for my book on Super Mario Bros. 3, I wasn’t able to get many interviews with the game’s developers, since Nintendo is very private. So the research for that project involved more time reading games criticism and doing a long playthrough of the game, whereas all of the GoldenEye team members were generous enough to speak with me for that book project, so most of the early research for that book involved talking with them, then crafting an outline based on what they’d shared with me.

In general, I like to research and plan as much as I can, then use that material to generate an enormous “shitty first draft” (in Anne Lamott’s words), then go through and cut, cut, cut and re-focus. I tend to write way more than what I’ll need in the final version–sometimes as much as three or four times more than the final draft. It’s the completionist in me!

TMP: How do you find being an editor impacts your writing? And on the other end, how does being a writer affect how you view video game narrative and dialogue writing?

AK: Believe it or not, all these areas feel pretty distinct to me! I think I’m able to compartmentalize and really put on my “editor” hat when I’m editing, my “writer” hat when I’m writing, and my “gamer” hat when I’m gaming! The one area where I see a lot of overlap is when I’m watching TV or movies. I don’t claim to be a screenwriter myself, but sometimes I get very frustrated by awful writing in cinema! If I had to say one thing I’ve really learned about writing poetry from my volunteer position as a poetry editor at Switchback books, it would be that it’s absolutely critical that the first ten pages of your poetry manuscript be very strong when you start submitting it to contests. These first ten pages are the most important part of the book.

TMP: Not only have you been published by bigger names, such as POETRY Magazine, but you have also been published in smaller journals and do editing for a handful of smaller/“indie” publications. In your experience, what are the benefits of involving yourself with smaller presses/journals/magazines? What are the pros/cons? What do you find the most rewarding and working with lesser-known companies in the capacity that you do?

AK: My bookshelves contain a huge variety of publisher titles–many from the big names like Norton or Penguin Random House, and many from smaller indie publishers run (like my press, Switchback Books) entirely by passionate volunteers. Just like we go to indie music for some of the most exciting new material, I think we can look to indie presses for really cutting-edge and beautiful work published by passionate people dedicated to editorial work not for money but simply because they believe in stewarding good literature into the world. The biggest risk of an indie publisher is that it will disappear, as many amazing small presses and journals routinely do. Without sustainable funding and staffing, indie outlets can disappear–along with the books they have published–which can put their authors in a really tough spot, especially considering how many authors are also academics whose only chance at promotion or success on the job market is the existence of published books. That risk aside, I think that the indie scene in literature, and poetry especially, is incredibly rewarding and inspiring. I have met some of my closest friends through indie publishing, and I love having a closer relationship with the editors at smaller outlets. I think it’s very important to support this work, most of which is keeping literature alive, keeping it new, keeping it fresh.

TMP: Do you prefer long-form or short-form writing?

AK: I love both! My home genre is poetry, which is about as short-form as you can get. But I really enjoyed working on the two video game books, and I’m working on a novel right now (more below!) and having a ton of fun with that.

TMP: What is a question you wish I had asked you, and what is your answer to that question?

AK: Hmmmm. Well, if you’re looking for other great video game book recommendations, I would say any Boss Fight title is awesome, though my favorites are NBA Jam and Baldur’s Gate II. I also can’t recommend enough David Kushner’s Masters of Doom. An incredible read no matter how much you already know about Doom. And of course, there’s the novel Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, which is a gorgeous book about friendship, love, creativity, and video games.

TMP: What are you working on next?

AK: I’m writing a post-apocalyptic novel! Here’s the logline: After almost all of humanity disappears overnight, an emotionally scarred Coast Guard veteran must journey across what remains of the southern United States to find her twin sister, all without sabotaging her relationship with the woman she loves.


VIDEO GAME LIGHTNING ROUND:

Question: What video game character do you think is underrated?

AK: Probably Funky from the Donkey Kong Country series. Dude always seemed high as a kite but was running a thriving business (“Funky’s Flights”) and still seemed to always have time for his surfing hobby. Plus, he figured out how to make a barrel fly!

Q: A video game you think needs more love?

AK: I’ve really become addicted to this weird little Minecraft clone called 7 Days to Die. It’s Minecraft but with a less cartoonish look and 24/7 zombies. The zombies are slow-moving and super easy to kill, so the game’s biggest challenge is more around survival–you get hungry, thirsty, sick, and too cold or too hot (the game has several different biomes). It’s really a base-building and survival game about tedious tasks like collecting snow, boiling it into water, making soup, making bullets, collecting sand and crafting concrete to build walls. etc. I love that kind of slow, boring game. I can’t find anyone else who’s playing it, but I love it. I’ve built an epic base and farm on top of an abandoned gas station, and dug a huge moat full of spiky traps around it, and I feel pretty badass about that. Totally the opposite of how I’d fare in any real zombie apocalypse.

Q: In your opinion, which console is the best console?

AK: I’ll always have a soft spot for the Super NES. It was the best birthday present I ever got (at age 7) and my first console of my own. Right from the get-go, Super Mario World rocked my…well, my world! There are so many absolutely amazing games for the “Snezz,” as the British pronounce it. And for me it perfectly captures that feeling of childhood innocence.

Q: Thoughts on VR?

AK: I haven’t done a ton of VR, but every time I play it, A) I love it and B) I get really nauseous. So, mixed bag!

Q: What is your preferred game genre?

AK: I love a single-player open-world RPG (Skyrim, the Fallout series, 7 Days to Die, Breath of the Wild) and any platformer! I’m so excited for Bethesda’s Starfield…if it ever actually comes out.

Q: Favorite video game of all time?

AK: Super Mario Bros. 3! I wrote this book about it. : ) It’s not only a masterpiece, but also a cultural touchstone and a super fascinating artifact from Nintendo when it was at the peak of its powers.

Q: A video game you thought you’d like and then didn’t at all?

AK: I recently downloaded Ark: Survival Evolved because it’s my favorite genre of game AND it has dinosaurs. But it didn’t capture my fascination the way I thought it might. I think the level of challenge is kind of weird? Some things feel way too easy and other things feel way too hard.

Q: Best soundtrack goes to?

AK: Donkey Kong Country 2! I still regularly listen to “Bramble Blast” while I work. Shoutout to the geniuses at Rare!

Q: Who/what got you into video games?

AK: My dad! I talk about this a lot in my book about Super Mario Bros. 3. He taught me how to play that game (and Doom!) before I even knew how to read. We bonded a lot over gaming, and he really passed down his love for video games to me–a love that I’m now passing down to my own four-year-old daughter!

Q: Your weirdest video game flex?

AK: I don’t know if this is weird, but I’m pretty sure I know every secret area in Super Mario Bros. 3, and I can beat the game in about 15 minutes. Maybe my biggest flex is the weird amount that I know about SMB3 and GoldenEye–all from writing my books about them!


A big thank you to Alyse for allowing us such a wonderful interview! If you’d like to support her, you can visit her website here, or purchase any of her books here.

Not enough people are trying to interview me rn so I interviewed myself

Lauren Matthews
October, 2020 – March, 2021

Oct 2020

What’s on your desk?

(Laughs)

Do you want the cool answer, or the gross answer? I like things that are revealing and a little shocking and a little too personal so I will tell you the true gross one. My fingernails.

I rip them off during calls or when I’m thinking, and don’t always throw them away immediately, and curse myself for being so dirty and having a body and hurting the body or manipulating the body and like, what if someone knew? Now you know. My boyfriend knows, and hates it, but he’s not the boss of me! 

Do you work at your desk? Or is it too fingernail-strewn?

I do, sometimes! My boyfriend built us a joint desk that I love for a couple of reasons. One is that it’s pretty, and minimal, and handmade, and custom. Fits perfectly in our big greenhouse window, which is the reason we said yes to this apt. You feel like you are in the tree, and we have become intimate with the wildlife who live there and rain tree nuts down on us in the fall. Thunk thunk, you know? Good distraction during calls. 

The second reason I love it is because when we first moved in I had a vision of my desk being there, and Josh was like “no, no we can’t, it simply must be the tv room,” and his sister and I were like “nah, you can release that dominant narrative,” but like, ultimately I let him have his traditional living room TV set up there, bc it’s not like he was totally wrong on that impulse, he just…doesn’t have my vision. He has his vision, you see.

The third reason I love it is because it’s like … an example of a triumphant part of our relationship. As per my dharma buddhism class, you’re supposed to wish destruction on yourself and success on others, but I will just grip to this little shred of triumph, because, like, I want to. Basically, when COVID hit he told me I needed a desk. I’d been WFH for 6 months already because my job is based internationally. also it’s important to tell you that between COVID and us first moving in, he had built me a desk. It sat in our dark little den and I only used it for, like, a static altar to the concept of desking or selfhood or desire or whatever, or perhaps creative work as a totem, but I never actually sat there. Because there was no natural light. But it was a lovely desk and I love when people make me things.

So anyways, he needs a desk and he’s like “I’m thinking of having my desk by the big greenhouse window,” and I fully lost it and tantrummed, because it brought up everything annoying about everything. It reminded me of all the times as a child my sister got something and I didn’t, or someone didn’t believe me or didn’t see where I was coming from or was like “that’s dumb” and then 6 months later we’re all about it but for themselves. And that is … so frustrating! So I threw a royal fit and Josh was like “ok ok” and a few days later was like, “I have a solution. what if I build us a biiiig desk so we both get a desk there?” And I basically died of joy because it was such a sweet solve and he just offered it to me like “no problem, I got you,” and it’s so much better than my lonely desk there.

We’ll have to come back to the dharma thing, but first, where do you work if not at your desk?

Wherever the wind takes me. I like to work from bed sometimes and stew in the forbiddenness of that. You know, everyone’s like “NO SCREENS IN BED” and whatever but they’re wrong, as are most firm edicts!  I mean I get the principle, but sometimes you just need to trick yourself into working by staying in bed, or sometimes, it’s just the best place to bleed the thoughts out.

The other thing I’m really into lately is wfbath. it’s sort of the same indulgence of working from bed, like, haha I’m going to meld two parts of my life that capitalism realllllly wants me to keep separate. I like to bathe in the middle of the day so I’m in all of the hot elements (sun, water). Bath Office. It’s precarious, but really, what isn’t?

Where are you going first, or what are you doing first, when all this is over?

Morocco, India, and Turkey. Specifically: Tangier, Marrakech, Casa, Rabat, Fes, Nagaland, Assam, and the Aegean Coast. That’s where we’re based so I can justify it, but also because I’m really enmeshed in stories and craft from these places. I’m DYING to go. And I miss my coworkers! I want to hang out with them. I want to see Eri silk weaving in Assam. Oh, and North Carolina because there’s a textile mill there I gotta see. Plus this artist residency in France with one of my best friends who is a costume designer and an amazing artist and thinker.

What have you been eating lately?

Right now I’m basically drinking straight soy sauce. Kidding! Sort of! I make black beans and drink their broth and add lots of Tamari.

Do you have a mantra?

I get a new one about once a week. Something I’ve accepted or learned about myself this year is that I’m clairaudient – not, like, particularly expert at it but I hear things, people, and energies talking in my ears. This is just a very clear way I receive information. Sayings. What have you. I don’t always understand it and certainly it’s not always like…available to me. But when it comes it really comes. So often the words show up in this very emphatic way like my big self talking to my little self sort of? Like words on high.

So today during yoga almost immediately, as I was thinking about how I believe someone perceives me, I heard:

It is not my job to reveal myself to others; it is my job to reveal myself to me.

I think about the Frances the Badger book – Bedtime for Frances – often, because the dad badger is all, it is the wind’s job to blow against the window at night and make a creepy sound. And it is your job, Frances, to sleep. Which I find extremely poetic and sort of like – I think this is what my teacher, Kat, means by “obedience.” Like that quote, tulips don’t question anything – they just grow. Just do what you are to do. Don’t freak out about it.

The pandemic yoga format (o the privilege) really works for me. Because I am not fast at transitions or I’m very much on my own timeline with things, which means I’m usually late to yoga, but now I don’t even have to change out of my pjs or drive 4 minutes, I just have to roll out of bed and click a link and there you go, like, yogurt in hand, no less. Plus it means I can talk to myself, accidentally have my boobs fall out of my shirt, turn off my camera if I can’t bear it, take breaks to pee – reveal myself to myself. Because as a brilliant intuitive named Asher Hartmann put it “I have a people-pleasing gene,” which means like, try to dismantle it as I might, I will be affected by other ppl in the room, to the extent where like I won’t go pee out of fear of disruption. “It’s rude,” you know? Whatever. Denying our needs in favor of politesse. No bodies in capitalism! Etc! 

Also, I have an incredible yoga teacher thanks to my friend Sophia Moreno-Bunge who invented her for me lol. Kyle Miller is actually just…the medicine. My medicine! She is a bright light in my scared, pandemic heart, beaming into my “library” where I do yoga. Funny and weird and sunny and singing to her dog and talking to her friends and just being who she is. “I love Britney Spears because she’s just like me – an insecure white girl who just wants to be a mom,” she said today. My boyfriend always laughs at least once during her class from his perch on the couch because she’ll say something so clowny. All from the shell of this popular girl! Like, I call it popular girl yoga because she is undeniably popular and cool, in the way where you want to come along, not in the way where you hate her. Like in the way where she is def a cool kid but is also, somehow, nice to everyone. I want to write an interview with her because I think she’s fascinating and also I feel like I have a firsthand understanding now of how someone becomes a cult yoga teacher. Like, they give it their all and also have “it.” She’s just a pleasure to be around…on Zoom! Which…how many people can you say that about???

I receive important information when I move my body. When I run or dance I usually have an inspiration, thought, or answer to a question. When I do yoga, because the point is to move, I save up these thoughts to record later, obsessively repeating them to myself. I’d like to try to use this tool to that end: moving not to move, but to receive. 

Dec 5, 2020

Are you synesthetic? A synesthete?

Ummm no? like. no. But I do think it’s really extremely important to catalog the things that feel the same to you. Sarah Faith Gottesdiener calls these correspondences and I think of them as corresponDANCES because these are things dancing together in relations. So like, the Bernadette Mayer poem where she’s like 8 = yellow. or whatever, but then also, cocoa always makes me think of the word COAX so its like cocoa-x which makes me feel so cozy, or um, how a lowercase g in serif font looks like its giggling, like how the word giggle looks like the sound or concept giggle. My sister gets it with tastes so she’ll be like “sometimes peanuts taste like skunks to me,” or other wild links. And I think the more you can classify the things which feel the same to you the more you can … enjoy the energies of this world.  

Mar 9, 2021

What is your favorite feeling?

Once I read an interview with a respectable lady who said her favorite thing was the monthly pluck of her one wiry gray hair on her chin. She had a name for it – him – like Spike, or something, and joked about it with her husband. Whoever you are, thank you, you changed my life.

I think about this a lot because I have a very wiry hair that grows out of a sweet little mole near my chin, and it’s just such a sturdy, toothsome, grippable hair, and it is probably gray too – looks translucent to me – and I also have to remove it about monthly or maybe every 6 weeks at most, and I have to say – this feeling is almost better than orgasm. Sometimes I replay it in my mind to soothe myself as I fall asleep. I mean, I also love orgasms, those are extremely important and another favorite feeling, but removing my personal Spike is a close second. After it’s gone I touch the spot where it was for like an hour, caressing this phantom limb, remembering what it was like when it was there. Psychological! Far out!

Mar 13, 2021 (new moon in Pisces)

How do you keep your house?

I like to leave my clothes in piles all over. Like a spatial arrangement of them lingering together, on a chair or railing or bench or my bed or in a basket. This is how I find new outfits because I see stuff together that I wouldn’t have thought to combine without first seeing their correspondence or alikeness. This definitely first started because my room would periodically as a teenager / young adult become a tornado of mess, just literally covered in stuff, and I’d always find inspiration there. I feel like this was something I also read in an interview maybe, like this is a tried-and-true tactic of letting things get cluttered together so you can eventually clean them up, parse them apart, and find new expressions in their midst. This is maybe also why I like leaving some things on the floor, like using the floor for storage. “A minefield” as my dad would call it, but I like witnessing the effects of use on a space, like, for a lot of feb and march I had on the floor of my room 3 tulle ribbons, 1-2 other various ribbons, all my potions next to my bed, you know like just smearing your desires and beings and STUFFS all over. This comes from an abundance and carefree mentality I’ve always wanted to cultivate and aspire to. It’s also the root of a term coined by my friend Annie and her sister Lucy which is “toyboxy”. It describes your friend who is so rich and her parents are so la-di-da that she never has to put her things away, no toybox constricting her, it’s always empty and the toys are always strewn all over the room. Also, I like sitting on a nice cozy rug and making stuff. Groundedness. I always have. Feels right.


Lauren is a writer and creative director in Los Angeles. You can read her work here.

You can also follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Book Review: Shouting at Crows by Sadie Maskery

Poetry Collection

Halina Stone

December 7th, 2022


When the average person thinks of poetry, they start having war flashbacks to their high school English class. They imagine being forced to read the works of long-dead stuffy old men who wrote in a version of English so antiquated that it might as well have been written in another language. What they do not imagine is the variety of exciting, gripping poetry being written by poets today, like Sadie Maskery and her new poetry collection, Shouting at Crows. The collection is masterful in technique, rich in meaning, and an engaging read that explores how the loss of or search for something impacts, reveals, and changes us. 

The first poem of the collection, aptly named “Beginnings”, sets up these themes. It is a poem about potential, beginnings, and the search for connection. Maskery explores this by presenting us with a speaker experiencing “attraction at first sight”. The speaker is drawn toward a stranger and time freezes, a potential partner and companion are identified:

a pause in the celestial clock;
a tick of time suspended,
potentiality acknowledged.

There is an element of destiny in the poem, integrated by the use of words like “celestial” and the lines “we are magnets, an exquisite tug / dilating pupils, veins, souls,”. The implication of “soulmates”, of the inevitability of this meeting and this potential connection, is further emphasized by the lines “the universe played this moment / to infinity before we were born” and again by the repetition at the end of the poem where the speaker says 

[…] no I don’t think we’ve
actually been introduced, although
we’ve met. We’ve met. We’ve met.

Many of Maskery’s poems cover similar topics, but each poem presents a new facet or unravels a different experience of seeking or losing. For example, the poem “Eternal” is about the loss of memory. Though short, it is a sharp little poem that reminds us of one of the great failings of our species: we forget. Maskery sums up the sad reality of our unreliable and limited memories in a few lines: “I don’t really remember what to regret / or who I said I would never forget.” Another poem about loss is “Retirement” which, unlike “Eternal”, explores how the loss of intimacy can change how people in a relationship interact. The title implies that the speaker and their partner have “retired” from the relationship. They’re no longer “working” to improve or maintain it but remain in the relationship anyways. Maskery uses food imagery to characterize the speaker’s feelings about it. She describes the life of the couple as “[…] unappetizing, / […] a reheated / yellow sticker ready meal.” It is not bad, just disappointing. There is some subversion of expectations, however. When we think of the loss of intimacy, we imagine people either trying to rekindle it or accepting the loss and leaving. Neither the speaker nor their partner has left the relationship, and there is this plea towards the middle of the poem:

please, sit here on the sofa.
I promise to shift so the warmth
of our bodies cannot be shared.

The use of “promise” implies a concerted effort to not try and is quietly heartbreaking, but begs the question of why even bother to pantomime intimacy when there is no desire to engage in it? We are left to question ourselves and the speaker on this point. “Eternal” is an honest depiction of our unfortunate ability to forget, even the things we want or swore to remember. “Retirement” is a touching and honest depiction of what it might feel and look like when intimacy just isn’t there anymore. Both explore loss and its many facets and impacts in a sincere way.

Maskery’s poetry is honest even when steeped in metaphor, powerful without becoming melodramatic, and sensitive without pulling its punches. These qualities are clearest in her poems about loss and death. My favorite example is the poem “there is a beach”, which uses the imagery of shells to explore the grief of losing a child. It begins with an observation of crabs on a beach and the “infant faces etched into their backs”. There is a pause halfway through the poem, a “…” as if the speaker needs to catch their breath before continuing, the emotional weight requiring the speaker to steel themselves to continue talking. Then the connection between an infant to shells is repeated again at the end of the poem, 

in our yearning as we recognize
the features of our dead child
in the swirls of a discarded shell,
hear waves through its emptiness.

Maskery takes an image we associate with life, joy, and childhood, listening to seashells to hear the ocean, and subverts it. She repurposes it to characterize grief: how it ebbs and flows but is always there, how it comes in waves. The grief and feeling of loss being a constant part of life is an idea explored in other poems about death within the collection, such as “Not Fade Away” and “Pass On”.

Throughout Shouting at Crows, Maskery shows off her ability to manipulate structure and language to maximize the impact of each poem. I particularly enjoyed her manipulation of line structure in “Zoom”. In it, the loss of connection on a Zoom call parallels the loss of connection between two people. Maskery’s clever use of structure allows her to give us a visual representation of that conversation while maintaining the specific effects of awkward, broken off and overlapping speech present in calls with unstable connection. The lines are made of incomplete phrases scattered across the page and the words are repeated, have inconsistent spacing, or are fused together. The lines “h a v eyoutried no it’s / B R E A K I N G (up)” and “what did you / you / it’s too / late / no it’stoo llllate” are great examples of this. Maskery utilizes similar manipulations of line structure in other poems, such as “holy”, “Fallen”, and “end scene”.

It would be remiss of me not to discuss the titular poem, “Shouting at Crows”. The title is interesting considering how soft much of the language in the poem is. Maskery uses words like “muffling”, “heartbeat soft”, and “velvet” which are at odds with strong language like “shouting”. They add a gentleness to the sound of the poem, and the use of alliteration and rhyme further heightens the softness and rhythm of the poem. This softness is juxtaposed with ideas of transitions and endings, of death. The poem begins with

Surrender your dead memories.
Brush away the film of flesh,
your hair, eyes, lips, to mist.
Peace. Be still now.
What you were will yet exist

Maskery goes on to integrate nature imagery into the presented idea that the dead never really leave; they are still present because death is part of the cycle of things. The poem is full of references to moments of transition in nature: “leaves falling” refers to the changing of the seasons and the coming of autumn and death, and “owls calling” and “the setting sun” refer to the change of day into night and the shift from light to dark. Death is just another transition. It is fitting for a collection of poetry broadly connected by transitions, by beginnings and endings, to have the poem it is named for be filled with transitional moments and cycles of change.

Shouting at Crows is a poetry collection that demands your attention and sticks with you days after reading it. Sadie Maskery’s writing will enchant and haunt you as she reveals the many ways in which we search for and lose people, relationships, and a multitude of other things. Her mastery of language and imagery, her subversion of expectations, and the calculated way in which she manipulates line structure truly sets her work apart, Shouting at Crows has definitely earned a spot on every reader’s bookshelf.


You can buy Sadie’s book, published by Alien Buddha Press, on Amazon:

US: a.co/d/cynNqTL

UK: amzn.eu/d/hSYyyXb


Halina Stone (they/them)
is a fiction writer, poet, and fantasy lover hailing from New Jersey. They studied Creative Writing in undergrad at Fairleigh Dickinson University and are pursuing a second Master’s Degree. When not writing, they can be found taking care of their army of succulents or sampling wares at various local cafes.