On Issue 1: New Beginnings
Dearest Reader,
Hello, and welcome, and thank you for all you did in getting us here. When I decided to start this adventure in July, I thought it was going to be much easier than it really was. Note, if you are thinking of starting a literary journal of your own, know what you are getting yourself into.
This first letter, or the start of it at least, will really be a thank you note to everyone who has supported us in this process.
First, I'd like to thank my co-founder and submissions head, who happens to be my best friend too, Amani Jones. Amani jumped into this project with me head first. It's hard to say if she balances or highlights the crazy, but it works. We've built a website from scratch, frantically tried to rename our journal, run through the snow to hang up flyers, and emailed dozens of strangers trying to get this journal up and running. We would not be here if it weren't for our teamwork. Thank you to my incredible girlfriend, Bex, who created at least five different versions of our logo, and my dear friend Em, who polished it and made it usable. Thank you to friends like Liv Moreno and Sienna Gallus who worked hard to get the word out, and for being beautiful people in general. I'd like to thank my amazing teachers, past and present, for their input, support, and promotion. Without you all I would not be the writer I am today.
Now, to get into our first issue.
The first issue of Chewing Dirt, with a general theme of NEW BEGINNINGS features pieces by Patricia Wroblewski, Ali Fishman, Bex Greenberg, and many others.
In their poem, overthinking, Zoe Stark discusses the vulnerability of love. They write cautiously about the future of her relationship, about the insecurity of the natural occurring suddenly. She questions what emotions, or rather lack thereof, morning will bring. In her short story, Ava Shaffer writes about catching a glimpse of what her future could be, and the struggle and euphoria of recognizing a new identity. In Amelia Roselli's poem, she writes about being on the inside looking out, and the inevitable and inescapable alienation that comes with living on this Earth. When she writes, "But in their wild free dance that I can't see through, / They are moving marble / and I am sweating at the louvre." she perfectly captures the concept of being surrounded by beauty, and seeing ourselves just outside of it, never quite a part of it. In what the sea is really made of, Sienna Gallus considers making more room for herself in her body, writing beautifully about feeling too much, and the desire to "let the tide roll out".
Over the course of the past four or five months, I have felt a range of emotions about the progress of this journal. I've been excited and anxious, frustrated and accomplished, and pretty much every feeling in between. It is new. And it is difficult. There have been days that I've wanted to give up, and days that "trusting the process" seemed impossible, but here we are now with our first issue out. I couldn't tell you all the things I've learned curating this first issue of Chewing Dirt, but if there is one thing that reigns supreme it's that sometimes we have to rely on other people. With a project like this there is only so much I could have done on my own. I can work to get word out, put up posters, create TikToks, reach out directly to people I think may be interested, but at a certain point the control is out of my hands. It is up to people like you, reader, to contribute and share and help our journal bloom. So I thank you one more time, for your huge role in us getting here.
I won't drag on, because this first issue, and every issue, is about the writing, and not about me. Bear with me through this first letter from the editor, I think they can only get better from here on out.
I sincerely hope you all enjoy our first issue of Chewing Dirt, and I thank you so much for your support through it all.
With love,
Amelia Tuerk (she/her)
Founder and Executive Editor
Hello, and welcome, and thank you for all you did in getting us here. When I decided to start this adventure in July, I thought it was going to be much easier than it really was. Note, if you are thinking of starting a literary journal of your own, know what you are getting yourself into.
This first letter, or the start of it at least, will really be a thank you note to everyone who has supported us in this process.
First, I'd like to thank my co-founder and submissions head, who happens to be my best friend too, Amani Jones. Amani jumped into this project with me head first. It's hard to say if she balances or highlights the crazy, but it works. We've built a website from scratch, frantically tried to rename our journal, run through the snow to hang up flyers, and emailed dozens of strangers trying to get this journal up and running. We would not be here if it weren't for our teamwork. Thank you to my incredible girlfriend, Bex, who created at least five different versions of our logo, and my dear friend Em, who polished it and made it usable. Thank you to friends like Liv Moreno and Sienna Gallus who worked hard to get the word out, and for being beautiful people in general. I'd like to thank my amazing teachers, past and present, for their input, support, and promotion. Without you all I would not be the writer I am today.
Now, to get into our first issue.
The first issue of Chewing Dirt, with a general theme of NEW BEGINNINGS features pieces by Patricia Wroblewski, Ali Fishman, Bex Greenberg, and many others.
In their poem, overthinking, Zoe Stark discusses the vulnerability of love. They write cautiously about the future of her relationship, about the insecurity of the natural occurring suddenly. She questions what emotions, or rather lack thereof, morning will bring. In her short story, Ava Shaffer writes about catching a glimpse of what her future could be, and the struggle and euphoria of recognizing a new identity. In Amelia Roselli's poem, she writes about being on the inside looking out, and the inevitable and inescapable alienation that comes with living on this Earth. When she writes, "But in their wild free dance that I can't see through, / They are moving marble / and I am sweating at the louvre." she perfectly captures the concept of being surrounded by beauty, and seeing ourselves just outside of it, never quite a part of it. In what the sea is really made of, Sienna Gallus considers making more room for herself in her body, writing beautifully about feeling too much, and the desire to "let the tide roll out".
Over the course of the past four or five months, I have felt a range of emotions about the progress of this journal. I've been excited and anxious, frustrated and accomplished, and pretty much every feeling in between. It is new. And it is difficult. There have been days that I've wanted to give up, and days that "trusting the process" seemed impossible, but here we are now with our first issue out. I couldn't tell you all the things I've learned curating this first issue of Chewing Dirt, but if there is one thing that reigns supreme it's that sometimes we have to rely on other people. With a project like this there is only so much I could have done on my own. I can work to get word out, put up posters, create TikToks, reach out directly to people I think may be interested, but at a certain point the control is out of my hands. It is up to people like you, reader, to contribute and share and help our journal bloom. So I thank you one more time, for your huge role in us getting here.
I won't drag on, because this first issue, and every issue, is about the writing, and not about me. Bear with me through this first letter from the editor, I think they can only get better from here on out.
I sincerely hope you all enjoy our first issue of Chewing Dirt, and I thank you so much for your support through it all.
With love,
Amelia Tuerk (she/her)
Founder and Executive Editor