Author Statement: you were supposed to be a friend by Ashley Elizabeth

Dear Reader, 

I am unsure about how to start this, to be honest, except for by saying that honesty is the best policy. And the first person you have to be honest with is yourself. Maybe you won’t find yourself in love with the wrong person. Maybe you will but will learn from it anyway. 

I was in love with my best friend before I knew it. I was his before I knew what that meant, but I never told him. I wonder what would have happened if I did. I wonder if he loved me back and we simply missed our shot. I wonder how our stories would have played out if we were both willing to tell our truths. Now we have moved on and away and will never know. 

Inspired by the lyrical yet haunting quality of Bluets by Maggie Nelson as she puts her heart on the page, this manuscript originally started as a book of letters of things I hadn’t said to him but wished I had; letters had always been how we communicated. Rarely did we talk on the phone verbally but our texts and AIM messages spoke for themselves. I saved them and looked at them often, responding to myself and the time in short snippets across time. 

The book in the final format explores that love and asks the questions I was too scared to ask him but in poetry format. I also bring you through the end of our relationship by asking myself the hard questions. I break myself from my comfort and quiet, both in writing and sharing, and I hope this inspires you to do the same, to be your truest selves. 

Thank you to everyone who reads this book. I hope you continue to find yourselves a little in love, a little lost, and a little loved. 

Yours,

Ashley Elizabeth 

Learn more about you were supposed to be a friend

Interview with Megan Russo, author of A Daughter for Mr. Spider

Interviewed by Marie A Bailey

I’m fascinated by the format of your memoir, A Daughter for Mr. Spider. You combine flash narrative, poetry, photos and collage. How did you decide on this format?

I started with everything fragmented and slowly wove it all together. I was working on poetry and really trying to find my footing with that medium when I came across some old photos of my grandfather and me. I had been put in charge of making a photo montage for my grandfather’s funeral, and I sort of took all of the physical copies of the two of us once the event was done. My family was one of those 90’s families that documented EVERYTHING. So, I’m very lucky to have those memories captured in a way that I can preserve. As I looked through the photos, I began to get so emotional as I thought about the people in my life who never really got to meet him, and I  think that was what kicked off the idea of bringing my memories together into a chapbook. I studied printmaking in college and had done a lot of work with artist books. So, I knew I wanted to do something out of the box and blend all the media that I’m passionate about into a single work of art.

When I read memoirs, I often look for connections, commonalities between the author’s life and my own. Some parts of your memoir were painful to read so I imagine they must have been painful to write about. How was it for you to write about this pain?

It was honestly pretty difficult to explore. I’ve always carried around a lot of guilt when it comes to my mother. I have felt for so long that I robbed her of a future and people will say, “No, it’s not your fault” or things of that nature, but I keep some very negative thoughts inside of me and just let them haunt me. I have let this phantom crime eat away at me for years. I’ve always been very aloof on the subject, but when I was younger, and I lived with her as well as my grandparents, I had so much anxiety from just being worried that I was a burden. I just have always been afraid and kept myself guarded. I would spend as much time as I could working and struggling to be outgoing, because I was running away from my family. As I was writing, I would just stare at the page and think, “Wow, why did I let myself be so unhappy? Why didn’t I say anything?” but I don’t think I could have. I just wanted my mom to be happy, and I had no way of knowing if she truly was, but I wanted her to be even if that meant I was unhappy.

I had been very lucky in life to have never lost someone very close to me, until I lost my grandfather. He was someone who was very charismatic and witty in the public eye, but like me was very reserved with his own issues and thoughts. There was a kinship that I felt with him that I’ve never felt with another person, and when he passed, I almost felt betrayed at first. During his final hospital stay everything had been so secretive, his doctors weren’t sharing information, and I was just getting enraged, because I thought he would never keep something from me. And in this moment he was, but I didn’t know how to address it. However, now I knew he just didn’t want to be a burden to me. The one thing I had always feared, was his fear as well. And then I found it hard to be mad anymore. We were quite the pair. Writing about the whole situation gave me time to reflect on that and realize that my anger and betrayal were rooted in something so like the baggage I’ve chosen to carry. We shared a pain that we couldn’t share with each other.

In relatively few pages, your memoir spans three generations—your father and mother, yourself, and your grandfather—and a bounty of emotions—confusion, fear, anger, love and grief. How did you distill the years and emotions covered in your memoir to less than fifty pages? How did you decide what to include and what to leave out?

This was hard for me. I struggle so much with editing in many aspects of my life. I am one of those people that wants to throw everything out there and really make sure that I don’t miss an opportunity to inject another detail to help my readers fully visualize. I actually spent a lot of time talking with my husband about it and he helped me to streamline and finesse pieces to fit in the proper places so that there would be a smooth flow to the collection. I explained to him what I was hoping people would feel or get out of it, and he was the one who really encouraged me to blend more of the images in, which I feel helped give moments of breathing room between the poetry and prose. He also was very encouraging when it came time to submit the collection and I almost didn’t. I was nervous in a way that I had never really felt before, but I’m glad I took the leap and sent the chapbook in for review [Editor’s Note: we’re glad you did, too, Megan!].

I really wanted to include a section about my grandmother or my great-grandmother, because my great-grandmother, especially, is a foil to my grandfather. But I wanted to keep the section of my family tree tighter and trimmer so that the characters included could be more defined and there wouldn’t be confusion about who was who. Also, there honestly wasn’t a good spot to inject another person into the narrative in my opinion. We have two explorations of relationships between four different people and adding a fifth person would throw everything off balance. But if I was going to add more, it would have been grandma content.

Your memoir reads like a path to self-healing. You write, “Learn to forgive and then dress the wounds of self-harm.” Learning to forgive is possibly one of the hardest things to do. Could you elaborate on how or what methods you used to heal, to “learn to forgive”?

I’ve done a lot of things to start my healing process. I’ve written, which has been a wonderful way of getting my thoughts out and letting the negativity leave me. Putting words on a page can be so liberating and I get a rush of energy when I finish a piece of poetry or prose. Like, “Yes! This thing is out of me!” But the biggest thing I’ve done is seeking professional help. I recognized that there are some things that you cannot tackle alone or expect your loved ones to solve for you, and that is why counselors and therapists exist! Having a neutral party to help you navigate your thoughts can be life
changing and I have learned skills that work to help me with combating my wavering emotions. But I still think I have a long way to go. I make time each day to be thankful for myself, taking a few moments to reflect on something positive that happened or just something funny that might have come out of a bad situation. Taking a step back from the world around you, and just giving your body a chance to breathe can make a huge difference in your mental health.

Did you have an audience in mind while you worked on your memoir?

I didn’t have an audience in mind, but I did have an emotion. I wanted the collection to be relatable in some way to the reader. Loss is something that many people struggle to navigate, and it is something that most people have felt at some point in their lives. So, I started with the concept of loss, but wanted to go beyond that and come out on the other side in a beyond the darkness resolution. I wanted the reader to see that they are not alone and that finding their way through their emotions is a process we create ourselves.

If you were invited to read from A Daughter for Mr. Spider, what part of your memoir would you read from, and why?

I would read from the Mr. Spider section. I wrote this chapbook to primarily capture the relationship I had with my grandfather. I also feel like the beginning of that section embodies the joy I want people to feel. My grandfather is a cherished memory, and I’d love to share any bit of happiness that I can with those around me as it relates to  him.

I struggle with titles. How did you come up with A Daughter for Mr. Spider?

I used to say that, “I was the fifth daughter that my grandfather never wanted”, and it would make him so mad that I would say things like that, because he wanted me in his life. He wanted to keep me close to him and devoted a lot of time into making sure I knew that he cared for me. I was a daughter to him more than a granddaughter. The one time I really noticed the difference in the way I was stationed within the family was when we were planning my grandfather’s funeral. I was included in all the meetings with the funeral director and voiced my opinions about how things should be done. I was the one who wrote his obituary, even. I was the only person out of my generation of the family to be part of this circle, and it really made me think about my position within the family.

I chose the spider as my creature focus in this collection, because they are very aloof and reserved creatures. Yet, they make such elegant webs and sort of put on a display for those around them. My grandfather and I were like that as well, very cautious yet always trying to keep those around us impressed. Spiders are often portrayed as tricksters in literature and that imagery suits my grandfather well. He was very quick with his wit and always ready with some sort of practical joke or prank. There are so many stories I could have added that would have injected humor into the collection, but those are maybe for another time.

What are you working on now? Do you have any more publications planned or hoped for?

I am currently working on a second collection called, The one who makes all the sacrifices, exploring the different jobs I’ve had over the years and some of the interesting people I’ve had a chance to work with. I hope to have it done by the end of this year; fingers crossed!

A Daughter for Mr. Spider

An Excerpt from A Daughter from Mr. Spider

[one_half]

I’ve been cursed,
stricken with a malady.
I have his eyes.
A reflection that cackles at me
each time I have the misfortune of meeting the gaze of a mirror.
Endlessness that calls me back to him.
When I see myself,
I am consumed by the depths,
the memories attached to immovable orbs.
The infinite holes draw me in.
We shared this darkness,
until—
then it was just me.
The one left burning bright.
Doomed to repetition.
Bound to keep him close and swirling within me.

[/one_half]

[one_half_last]

[/one_half_last]

from A Daughter for Mr. Spider

Author Statement: A Daughter for Mr. Spider by Megan Russo

Dear Reader,

I’ve been trying to find a witty or creative way to phrase my feelings about my mixed media collection, but all I can seem to think of is how much of a release it has been for me. I’ve struggled with my identity for most of my life. I grew up never knowing my father and falling into that stereotype of combative, jaded daughter with my mother. I was aloof and unable to connect parts of who I was to the people around me, but I found an almost magical kinship with my grandfather. He was the tempo that kept my life on track. A steady beat that I could always rely on and feel within the beating of my own heart when I was faced with uncertainty.

His passing caught me by surprise, but he was the kind of man who put others before himself and strived to see happiness in the people around him, no matter what it cost him. I feel that taking time to write about him has given me the chance to reflect on what he truly means to me rather than obsessing over the fact that physically he isn’t with me anymore. There isn’t anything anyone can do to stop death, but for the last three years, I’ve kept reliving those moments and trying to think of something I could have done.

I spent my last hour with him exhausted from work, thinking that I would just come back to the hospital next day, and then we would get to go home because nothing was seriously wrong with him. He had beaten cancer twice, lived through working years in an asbestos filled steel mill, broken both of his arms – at the same time!! He was made of stronger stuff and I believed he could fend off anything. I was living in a dream that there was nothing that would take him from me but the passage of time. The truth that he was dying, and he knew it. The days that followed his passing were like waking up in a world I could have never imagined.

It caused me to change my life in drastic ways. I quit my job and moved across the country, desperately trying to get away and start over. I’ve struggled to connect with my family members, because of my lingering anger. I was stuck in a mindset that being far away from my problem would fix things, but he was still there with me.

Loss is a difficult thing to navigate, and the one thing I’ve learned is that grieving is a process we all handle in our own ways. There is no right answer for how to process dramatic changes in your life, and there is nothing wrong with seeking help if you find yourself unable to handle it on your own. This collection is dedicated to everyone who has lost someone close to them and found themselves adrift. My words to you are take you time and try to be kind to yourself even in those moments where you feel hopeless.

You are loved, and the memories we carry with us of those we love will let their legacy live on within us.

“And so, The Black Girl Sings in a Whisper,” an excerpt from Dichotomy by Mikhayla Robinson

And so, The Black Girl Sings in a Whisper

I might be too loud for this one,
Maybe a little off-key.

My life has been an echo-chamber of complaints,
Of things I will never be allowed to do.

One day I’ll skip down the street
Running straight through traffic,
Afro and all.

I’ll look at everyone who uttered an order,
And I’ll break every rule.

Most importantly,
I’ll love myself more than anyone else did

from Dichotomy

An Interview with Mikhayla Robinson

First and foremost, what inspired you to write Dichotomy?

Dichotomy started off as a way for me to express myself to myself. They were poems that I had written over the years that I felt may connect to others that see the world from a similar perspective.

You designed the cover for this chapbook yourself—can you tell us more about that design and process?

I felt that the symbolism of differing types of flowers with the distinctive black and white color scheme provided a way to see into the book without ever opening the cover, giving the reader a chance to absorb the meaning of the chapbook itself.

Did you have the idea of this being a manuscript from the start or did this start out as individual poems?

I feel that it started off as individual poems, but through the course of writing and rereading them I realized that the messages connected into a theme.

Do you have a favourite piece from this collection?

I put a lot of thought into each work, and I view each one almost how a mother isn’t “supposed” to have a favorite, but, if I had to choose, I’d have to say Save Yourself is something that I connected with at that time.

Were there any sections you decided not to include in the final version? Or pieces you added later in the process?

No there wasn’t. At the time that Dichotomy was picked up, it was virtually a finished work.

Who would you most recommend Dichotomy to?

I feel like everyone can read Dichotomy and get something from it whether it be a sense of acceptance, understanding, or perspective, however, growing up as a black woman, it was written with that in mind.

What have been your favourite and least favourite parts of the publication process?

I would say my own ignorance in a sense is both. I despise the fact that I don’t understand the entirety of the process but experiencing it and learning has been an enjoyment.

Do you have any advice for those who might want to follow in your footsteps?

I wouldn’t call myself some kind of expert on the process but I would say that if you are going to write and express yourself in this format, you have to be true to what you believe in and write that.

What project(s) are you working on going forward?

I have another collection of poetry that I am working on that has yet to be named, but it is similar in content.

Besides the amazing work you’ve created here, what’s your favourite piece you’ve ever created? How about your favourite by someone else?

My favorite book is Their Eyes Are Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston and I don’t really have a favorite piece by myself as of yet.

Dichotomy will be available 24 March

An Interview with Elizabeth Kemball

First and foremost, what inspired you to write A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak.?

It was actually in a university seminar in my final year; we were dicussing perspectives in poetry and tasked with writing a poem from the perspective of something which wasn’t human. I went through a few different ideas in my head but something about sheets just felt so right.

What drew you to the idea of sheets specifically?

I was thinking about how I could make something inanimate also feel intimate and universal, which drew me to the idea of beds – I like that humans all sleep, and whilst we sleep we’re so vulnerable, and sheets also are physically close to our bodies. Perfect poetry fodder. Two images especially drew me to sheets: the idea of someone tucking all of their body inside of a blanket so that they become nearly invisible, and also the weird marks from the fabric that are left on our skin when we’ve slept in the same position for too long.

The cover image is, of course, absolutely stunning—what led you to choose that imagery?

I wanted to depict something that encompassed the relationship between sheets and humans, a sort of codependecy and desperation, but also simplicity. I like that the image of a hand grabbing sheets could be interpreted in so many ways as well, is it passion, anger, sadness, stretching… it adds another part for the reader to unravel in their own way.

Did you have the idea of this being a micro-manuscript from the start or did this start out as “just” a poem?

It actually started as a performance piece – I wanted to write something longer which would sound good when performed with varied moods and tones throughout and words that felt juicy as they were spoken. It was only when I started splitting the poem into stanzas for the page that I realised this could transform into something very different than a performance piece, a more fragmented manuscript, with more space around each page for the words to breathe.

Do you have a favourite line or stanza from this collection?

My favourite little section is:

‘it’s abstract verbal calligraphy,
too twisted in on itself
for me to decipher.’

Were there any sections you decided not to include in the final version? Or pieces you added later in the process?

There were definitely cuts and changes, but the piece as a whole didn’t change that much throughout the process, it was more the layout and formatting that took a while to perfect.

Who would you most recommend A letter from your sheets to?

Lonely people. I wrote this poem when I was in a phase of life where, no matter how many people were around, I couldn’t help but feel very alone. I think you can feel that when you read it. We all feel lonely sometimes, it’s a good poem for that mood.

What have been your favourite and least favourite parts of the publication process?

My least favourite part is easy: clicking submit. That’s the scariest bit; the gnawing feeling in your gut that you should’ve changed something or you haven’t filled the submission in right or you didn’t proofread it properly. After I click submit I generally submit myself (no pun intended) to the ‘what will be, will be’ mindset. The favourite part was a little after acceptance, when I got to sign the publishing contract – it felt like a huge step in my writing career.

Do you have any advice for those who might want to follow in your footsteps?

Make sure your manuscript is one you’re confident in before you submit. Before this manuscript was accepted I’d been sending around a chapbook which received a few rejections (it was even longlisted by Nightingale & Sparrow) – I was very much just wanting to get a body of my work published and now looking back at it, it’s not right. I can’t explain really how it’s not right because the manuscript is full of poems I believe in, but I need to go back and rework it, change the order, add and remove and so on. This microchapbook felt right as soon as I put it together; from the cover art to the way I split up the poem onto the pages, I just knew that this is something I wouldn’t change before submitting again if I needed to, it was cohesive. I hear a lot of advice saying ‘just send things out, go for it’ and so forth but I think before that, you need to really believe that what you’re sending out deserves to be published and that it will have an impact on other people.

What project(s) are you working on going forward?

I’m currently working on that chapbook I mentioned before, I don’t think it’s a chapbook anymore – it’s a full length collection that needs more of my poems and reordering. It’s going to be centred around sections of ‘light’. I’m also working on a novel! A constant project that, I guess, won’t go away until I finish it.

Besides the amazing work you’ve created here, what’s your favourite piece you’ve ever created? How about your favourite by someone else?

I have always been proud of a poem I wrote called ‘Styx and Stones’, it was the first poem I wrote that really made me feel like a writer – it felt original, it had a voice, my voice. I’ve still not found the right home for it yet, it’s quite hard to let go of. It’s hard to pick a favourite by someone else, for poetry I’d probably say (at the moment, though it changes with mood) the poem ‘Bird’ by Liz Berry.

Editor’s Note: A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak. by Elizabeth Kemball

When reading through microchapbook submissions this winter, A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak. was one of the first to catch my eye.  I never could have imagined a conversation with my sheets. I wash the sheets each week and battle the cat to re-make the bed afterwards—I never thought to ask how they might feel about that.

Elizabeth Kemball’s microchapbook considers the sheets’ thoughts and feelings.  Her poetry personifies something so seemingly insignificant—bed linens, of all things—and makes them into the star of the show.

Have you ever stopped to thank your sheets? After reading this book, you might want to. In Kemball’s interpretation, they are silent protectors, quiet comforters, a different kind of lover holding you close.  Your sheets watch you through your most intimate moments, think of you when you’re gone from them, and long to call out to you.  Their affections may be unrequited, but still, you return to your bed–to your sheets–and yearn for the solace they bring.

I couldn’t ask for a better title to launch our 2020-2021 microchapbook series than this beautiful little book.  A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak. will be available in print, Kindle, and PDF editions next week. Be sure to stay tuned for more information on our other upcoming releases as well!

Author Statement: If your sheets could speak // a letter from your sheets. by Elizabeth Kemball

Have you ever felt like something was watching when you were all alone? Or wish that something was? Laid down at night to find yourself straining to hear anything other than your own breath and heartbeat in the pitch black? Have you dreamt of someone, something, and woken to find only air between your fingers?

A letter from your sheets // if your sheets could speak. gives a voice to that feeling; it explores the idea of vocalising to the inanimate, through imagining a letter written from a person’s bed sheets. When I started writing this piece, I was looking at writing a poem distanced from the ‘I’ which I find myself writing most often; I wanted to instead write from the perspective of something that does not have a voice of its own. Sheets are witness to a huge portion of humans’ lives: sleep, sorrow, romance, sex, death and more. This book is a voyeuristic but gentle observation of a place in which humans are often at their most vulnerable; it is a fragmented narrative, of flashes of actions and images that gives us an insight into the person’s life through the moments that they spend in their bed.

Our sheets are primarily places of comfort and solace, but also isolation. Loneliness is something we all feel – something I certainly have felt, especially when staring at the ceiling lying in bed in the darkness. I was intrigued by what people are like when they think nothing is watching – when they are allowed to be their barest self. It may read like a confession or a love letter, and I think to each person it will vary depending on their own relationship with sheets and sleep (one of the few activities all humans partake in). For some, these sheets may not be sheets at all; sometimes we find our own voices, or others, in the most mundane objects.

Thank you to everyone who reads this book; I hope that, perhaps, this will make you feel more connected to the world. Not everything can speak, but everything says something.