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Near the end of my sophomore year, I felt very distant from the work I was producing and my creative writing classes in general. Nothing really drastic happened, I just woke up one day and no longer wanted to write. I’ve found that it sometimes happens that way. Something in me had severed the connection I’d felt in holding a pencil to a piece of paper, and I didn’t have the energy to reconnect the ties. I got through the rest of the year emotionlessly, and that was that. At the start of the summer I spoke to my mom about the way I was feeling and about switching schools. It didn’t feel right to continue at the school when someone new could take my place, someone who stepped into the writing classrooms and felt a purpose. I didn’t feel that way anymore. I wanted to leave. And I was going to; my mom agreed that if by the middle of the summer I still felt the same way we’d look into different schooling options for me. I tried my hardest to get back into writing that summer. I bought multiple journals took time throughout the day to free write but never saw any potential. Mid-summer came and I still felt distant from myself as a writer. Somewhere along the way, however, I’d let my mom talk me into staying at Douglas Anderson and giving it one last try. She said if I hated it after the first couple of weeks I didn’t have to stay. She knew how happy the school made me and didn’t want to see me give that up. I didn’t hate Douglas Anderson, I just felt guilty for taking someone else’s spot there. The idea of leaving really hurt, which is why I allowed my mom to change my mind. The first day I walked into my poetry class on the first day of junior year, the shift was almost immediate. I’m still not completely sure what it was, but I knew that the year was going to be different, and a part of me knew I wouldn’t leave after all. After a couple of weeks, I realized what the problem had been; people. I had surrounded myself with negative people, who had already lost their connection with writing and no longer cared about what they did. They wrote meaningless pieces and turned them on. As a very easily influenced person, I let that state of mind slip into me and I became that. Once I realized this, I dedicated myself to working harder and pushing myself to love my art again. It took me two full notebooks of writing before I decided I could call myself a writer again. I think I would’ve gotten there sooner, but I didn’t fully trust that the connection was real. In the end, though, I realized how lost I had felt without writing. That’s what made me see that it was real; once I no longer felt lost, when I knew who I was again, I was a writer. -Kinley Dozier, Managing Editor

I don’t think there has been a very specific moment in my life where I’ve lost my love for writing. I believe I’ve had a number of little moments where I felt like giving up on writing for many reasons; whether I was stuck in a piece or couldn’t get a piece started at all, or I was just disappointed in what I wrote, that it didn’t feel like I’d taken the writing to its full potential. I could never imagine myself totally giving up on writing. I can’t help but write every day, not just because of classes and assignments, but also because my need to put down the things I see. I observe my surroundings and in them, I find characters, plot and conflict, abstract ideas. These things I put down, mentally at the time, then later on paper. Truthfully, I don’t immediately put these ideas to the test in a piece. I write fragments and leave them as is. Although jotting down ideas is a part of being a writer, it is nowhere near the full scope of writing. At the beginning of each school year is when I, in a way, reboot myself as a writer. During the summer, I never find time to write pieces and hardly find time to read. It’s not necessarily that I lose my love for writing, it’s just that I lose some of my abilities. I become unfamiliar when I’m away from it for too long. I attribute my ability to rekindle my love for writing to my teachers and peers. Again, I regain it at the beginning of school. Assignments in creative writing can be very stressful because they require a lot, mentally and emotionally. Being in the class environment with people who have the same love for writing as I do and knowing that they understand is encouraging. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone and that it’s not just a grade, it’s practice within my craft. I’m forced to clean off the rust of not having written anything for two and a half months. Another way I rekindle my love for writing is reading other people’s work. It’s another way of understanding that I’m not the only one on a journey to knowing myself, things instilled in me and around me, things I know too well and don’t know at all. –Lindsay Yarn, Digital Media Editor

It was towards the end of last school year when I lost my love for writing. All my pieces seemed lack-luster and dull, due to a combination of the persistent tiredness that usually rooted itself around all of the tests in May, and a lack of inspiration from a year of nonstop writing. I found myself hopelessly jotting down story after story and doing everything I could to finish out the year strong; I would make character maps and force myself to journal every day and endlessly research ways to regain what I had lost, however nothing seemed to work and once school ended, all of my efforts seemed useless and I gave up once and for all, taking the time off to stop stressing about what I was putting down on the page and focus more on relaxing. The idea, in theory, seemed helpful, however the longer break I took, the more of a rift arose that, as time passed, produced a growing divide between my craft and I that wasn’t noticed until I tried to write again a few weeks later. I remember sitting in front of my computer screen for hours at a time, but eventually leaving the same word document blank, and far more uninviting than it had been when I first started. It felt hopeless and once again I gave up, deciding that I needed this break. That all that writing throughout the year had drained me and I needed more time. I had never once thought that perhaps my struggle came from my constant, invading thoughts and not the lack of creativity itself. It was about a month after that, however when I was getting ready for a flight to Seattle with my stepmom, that my passion for writing began to spark up again. I had heard so much about Seattle and how it was a city you can’t help fall in love with, a city crowded with graffiti and creativity and artwork. The image of watching the city move below me, as I sat on the balcony filling page after page with writing seemed more than inviting, so I decided to pack up all of my pens and hard-bound notebooks and my laptop to once and for all conquer my “writers block” and find the creative part of myself again. It wasn’t until we were sitting at the airport, however, that I reached down into my carry-on bag to find my notebook and realized I had left that very book sitting on my bed at home after rearranging everything in my bag. Trying to problem solve in my head, and explaining the ordeal to my stepmom beside me, she introduced the idea of simply buying a notebook in one of the many airport stop-n-go shops we had passed along the way. The idea sounded senseless considering I had a very detailed organization system, but deciding to take a chance I made my way to the nearest stop, picked out a small red book and came back to my seat to just write. And I wrote. I wrote poems, and snippets of stories, and streams of consciousness, and character maps and everything I could think of. I wrote and wrote and wrote without stopping, not letting myself get in the way and not caring if the book tore or if coffee spilled on the pages or if the words smeared. I realized that it was not that I had a lack of creativity or any form of “writers block,” but rather that I was overthinking everything I wrote and holding myself back. It was as if I had created a dam in my mind to stop all of the ideas and now it had just broken open again, making its way through my hand and onto paper. I realized then that writing has nothing to do with the tight constraints of how you write but more to do with finding that creative space your mind won’t let you into and diving in deep. Since then I have found myself pursuing writing more and getting less frustrated when something doesn’t work out, and instead just moving on to something new and fresh. I journal every day and I read more often and I get random spurts of inspiration that lead to stocked up pieces on my computer and in my notebook, I look back on often. I’ve cleared my mind of harmful thoughts about what to write and how to go about writing and where to start, deciding to simply just let my mind wander and take me somewhere new every time. I finally found the key to writing that I was looking for all along: imprecision. -Lexey Wilson, Junior Editor-in-Chief

Becoming Junior Editor-in-Chief this year on Élan has taught me about writing in ways I didn’t expect, because being editor isn’t just about organizing people or putting together the editions. It’s about cultivating a collection of work that defines the publication. My role forced me to look at writing not just for its individual value, or my person connection, but from a critical eye: seeing the merits in work I don’t immediately connect to, defining why a piece matters outside of my personal experience. When we were reading for the spring book, I had to step in for the first time and make executive decisions about every piece we published: Did it represent Élan? Did it show thoughtful and professional technique? In the end, learning to identify the techniques of a piece of writing has given me a new approach to my own art. Before Élan, I would often produce work, and struggle through understand what exactly happened on the page before me. I knew when a piece was strong, when it fell flat, but I could rarely define why these things happened. Selecting work for our books taught me why: I began to identify specific and thoughtful word choice, structure, characters, imagery, and poetic ambiguity, placed in the right moments, which made the words of a piece come interact with the reader. I was writing poetry myself as these ideas became clearer, and for every step of revision, I found my path more clearly defined than ever before: I picked out where the diction lost its power, where the images came out dull, the metaphors obvious, and moved forward with careful steps to create a new draft. Élan taught me how to read like an editor, and it taught me to become more decisive in my own work. This year was all about learning for me. How to select pieces, how to release a book, how to pick out spelling errors or comma malfunctions in extensive paragraph. How to build up Élan Literary Magazine, constantly improving what we do and how we do it. I move into next year with an immense amount of knowledge, apprehension, and excitement for things to come. I will be challenged as Senior Editor, to make decisions and set plans other members of the staff depend on for releasing each edition. Perhaps most important, I will be educating the new Junior Editor in how to take on these responsibilities, passing on the Douglas Anderson tradition of this literary magazine to the next year, the next audience. Bringing together writers and artists from around the nation, and the world, into a single collection, has been an incredible process this year. Few things have been quite so difficult and demanding, but few have been as rewarding. I have gained such respect for the work of student artists: their bravery, talent, energy, and passion for expression. Above all, next year, I am looking forward to reaching out to as many people as this publication can, gathering the stories of young writers, young artists, to share and inspire. -Ana Shaw, Junior-Editor-in-Chief

Being a part of Élan this year has opened my eyes to art and writing in so many new ways. Before, I think a lot of my perception of art was limited to what I’d seen at Douglas Anderson because I hadn’t really been to many art galleries before or seen professional artwork in an environment outside of the school. Being on the staff, though, I got to read pieces and view art that was completely different than the things I’m used to seeing. At first I was surprised by the pieces because they were nothing like those in the various art galleries at DA, these pieces were more abstract and vibrant. However, I came to appreciate them for their raw talent and how looking at them made me feel like I could create something like that as well. The same goes with the writing that we read as a staff as well. It’s kind of cliché to say, but I was used to the “doom and gloom” that often comes from the depths that the creative writers around me reach into themselves to put into their writing. Knowing that there’s more to write about, different voices to speak from has really opened me up to trying new things on my own time. I’ve been more inspired to write on my own more this year than I have in all three years I’ve been at DA, and I owe a lot of that to Élan and the many artists who submit to the magazine. I also learned what it means to be a part of a team this year. Of course, I’ve been on teams before so I know the importance of working together, but this year taught me how essential that skill is. If we don’t work together and tell each other what we need we’ll sink, and we’ll all sink together. Communication is the most important part of being a team because if you don’t tell each other your needs, nothing can get done. I really hope to bring the same amount of passion and dedication to the staff next year that I’ve experienced this year. Having a smaller staff will be a challenge, which will require more dedication and commitment. However, I really enjoyed the staff this year and I know that I’m ready and willing to dedicate my time to keep it afloat next year. I also hope to bring a better unity to the staff next year. This year, I sometimes felt out the loop when it came to community events or things going on in class. I know that it’s not a priority to keep the people who aren’t a part of an event in the immediate know, but if an extra hand is needed and we have to pull someone in, it’s better if they come in knowing what to do so things will go easier. More importantly, though, I just hope to continue the legacy of Élan successfully and that the coming years continue it as well. -Kinley Dozier - Website/Submissions Editors

Being on the Elan staff has shown me that there is more to being a writer than just putting words to paper. By that I mean writing is a craft that takes practice to be improved on. Earlier in my life, I never really practiced writing. It was never something I did for myself, it was mostly just a prompt I was handed or an assignment due in the next class. Writing like this can make it feel more like a job and less like an art. On the staff, I saw the work put in by other members and realized that being a writer involved work outside a pen and paper. Production of work is very important, of course, but if there is no outreach, no work towards spreading the arts to the community in and out of the walls of the publication, then there is no publication. On the staff, I was exposed to a lot of writing in different genres from very different voices. This exposure has impacted my own way of writing. I think it is very true that to be a better writing, one has to read. I use to think reading published work from masterful writers was what improved another writer’s art. Being able to read the work of young emerging writers has taught me techniques of stylistic choices and character in all genres. What I hope to bring to the staff next year is what I’ve learned personally as a writer and what I learned in my positions on the staff.  Again, as a writer, I learned the importance of reaching people with writing, taking our art to the community. Through the positions I held, I learned what it is to take responsibility for this outreach and what it means to be a member of the staff. -Lindsay Yarn – Website Editor/Creative Non-Fiction Editor

Even though I knew being part of the Élan staff would be a unique experience, I didn’t know the extent to which this experience would impact me. Before joining the staff, I knew that I would write for the rest of my life after leaving Douglas Anderson. That was pretty much a given ever since I first decided that I enjoyed writing, even before getting into this high school, and regardless of the fact that I will pursue a mechanical engineering degree after I leave this school. But Élan made me realized that not only did I want to write after leaving the public education system; I wanted to be part of writing. By this, I mean that I now have a goal to continue my involvement with the literary community following my departure from high school. One of the things that I have actually considered through my college decision-making process is the quality of each college’s literary magazine. I want to be part of something big, and to help spread the word using my own skillset that I have developed through my time in Élan. I want to make a contribution to the literary community through more than my own writing, and I know that I would not have felt this way if I hadn’t been part of the Élan staff. On a lower scale, I wouldn’t have thought of myself as a huge team-player type of person in terms of responsibilities. But the first year that I was part of the staff, I shared the Social Media Editor title with two other people, Dwight and Claudia. I had to learn how to both delegate and handle tasks in order to make the social media branch of Élan function. Even this year, social media is split between me and McKenzie Fox; I handle Facebook and Instagram, and she takes care of Twitter. We depend on each other to make sure each platform has been communicated to, and together, we have helped the follower count for each of these platforms to rise significantly. I know that the legacy that I leave for Élan is the type that must be maintained. What I mean is that the status of our social media reach is in the hands of the person who will take over control of that branch of our magazine, and my accomplishments within this branch are not necessarily permanent. But I think that I gave a lot to our magazine this year in terms of my editorial position, and aside from that, I was one of the main players in the creation of our National Poetry Month Reading and Gallery event. So I leave the responsibility of keeping this legacy alive to the next people to join the Élan staff. It’s kind of hard to let go when I’ve been a part of this magazine for the past two years, but I know that I have to move on to different things, and contribute to different parts of the literary world. And I think that with new staff members, our magazine will continue to grow. So good luck, newcomers! It’s a hefty job and you’ll love every second of it! -Logan Monds, Social Media Editor

Leaving Elan is one of the hardest aspects of graduating from high school. The opportunities in leadership, teamwork, and artistic enrichment that have been shown to me while on this staff are immeasurable, and so are the benefits I’ve reaped from taking on my position as Art Editor. As I spent time on the magazine staff, I continually learned more and more about what it means to be part of a team and adapt to quick changes and roadblocks. The most important task I took on this year was being a part of the group that created the National Poetry Month Reading. We had an amazing opportunity to hold an event at the 5 & Dime Theatre’s new performance space in the heart of downtown; as a result, each one of us treated the curation and realization of the event as if we would never again get a comparable venue. I remember sitting down to make the programs, looking at bland templates on Publisher, and thinking, “Elan deserves better than this. Young artists deserve better than this.” It took me hours to perfect the program - honestly, it was one of my first journeys into creating something like that from scratch - but when it was done, I knew it was something that represented Elan and the artists we give a platform to. This may sound absurd, but those programs were the thing that made me realize what Elan stands for and how much potential we have as a magazine. Seeing the smiling, emotional faces in the audience as sets of teenage writers stepped on stage to spill their hearts made me swell with pride at the fact that I could be a part of something so longstanding and vital. As Mary, one of our editors-in-chief, finished her piece and thanked the audience for coming, I felt a shift not only within the room as the night began to wind down, but a shift within myself; it reminded me of why I write myself. It reminded me of sharing my own struggle, for me, yes, but also for those people who feel they have no voice, or no outlet. In a world which so often undervalues, or completely ignores the thoughts and feelings of artists - especially those who are young students - Elan provides an outlet unlike any other. Taking submissions from around the world, publishing emotionally nuanced art and writing, and being run by a staff comprised of student artists puts us on a level I feel many other magazines haven’t reached. Seeing how many connections we’ve forged and strengthened this year alone makes me so excited to see where Elan goes from here. I hope that Zac and I as Art Editors have left behind some guidance as to what this magazine stands for through the art we’ve helped select this past year; looking back on previous editions, our published art has expanded and begun to create what I feel is a more free-spirited, nuanced, and emotional aesthetic. This magazine’s art has always been beautiful and meaningful. But what I hope to leave behind is the understanding that Elan is enduring, ever-changing, and increasingly relevant; knowing those things opens connections within not only our community, but ourselves. -Mackenzie Steele - Co-Art Editor

I truly care about Élan, and I hope that dedication is felt by future members. I want incoming students to see the hard work my peers and I accomplished during events like read-thrus, ArtWalk, Homecoming, Coffee House, and so on, and use that as a guide to propel this magazine forward. With each passing year, Élan is able to evolve the caliber of its works and its visibility in the local art scene, and it has been an honor knowing my efforts contributed to that. In Élan, we are a collective. In this group, at least, we recognize and respect its thirty-one year heritage. There’s no hesitation in putting aside personal differences to ensure the product we put out is worthy of our title, school, and identity: Élan International Literary Magazine, student-run by Douglas Anderson School of the Arts’ Creative Writing Program. It’s a great name—one that’s audibly aesthetic yet also has the history to back it up. I’ll admit it does sound like I’m laying it on really thick, but all of my praise is genuine. I’m incredibly thankful because Élan changed my life, no lie. The Élan legacy played a large part in shaping who I am today. Long story short, I was terribly insecure about my writing, all throughout middle school, and most of high school. I did have moments where I looked at something and thought, “Yeah, I wrote this, and no one else could’ve,” but for the most part, I didn’t think I had a place in this department. This insecurity was enough that I avoided confronting my cultures, fears, and identity in my own pieces. I was afraid of my voice. Élan gave me that voice. Being chosen for a position at this magazine showed me that I had potential. It told me that I had a place in this department, and that my voice mattered. Taking on a specific role with specific expectations conditioned me, in a good way. I learned what I was capable of, which was certainly more than I’d given myself credit for. Being in Élan in junior year grounded me. I felt closer to the department which gave me a safe atmosphere to write, and my confidence grew. I write this at the end of senior year, happy with who I am, thanks to Élan. It was at the beginning of this school year—about a year into my “job” at the magazine, that I felt comfortable enough to tell myself “stop.” Stop being scared of who you are. Stop blocking out the pain and sadness and distance you want to write about. Stop keeping good work from coming out (haha)! And that’s what I did. My confidence and writing improved because Élan awakened me, in the same way it did others before me, and I’m sure will continue to do. Even our adult sponsor, Tiffany Melanson, proudly states that Élan gave her her voice, when it was a voluntary after-school club. Today, she leads us, an actual class we come to every other day. Élan will continue to grow, as it inspires others to grow alongside it. -Seth Gozar - Co-Fiction Editor

I remember when I found myself on the Élan staff my Junior year, on the first day Mrs. Melanson asked us each to go around the room and say why we wanted to be apart of Élan. I have always been a shy person, quick to blend in and follow the crowd, but I wanted things to be different for me being on the Élan staff. I wanted to be a leader. I wanted to be apart of things and have my hands in a little bit of everything. I didn’t know how true that would end up being two years ago. I’ve been apart of a lot, but I consider Coffee House and being the Co-Lead of Community Engagement as being the biggest parts of my “career” in Élan. My first stake in Élan and what I hope to be my legacy was being the Junior Lead last year and Senior Lead this year of Coffee House, which is a collaborative show of 100% original work that Élan puts on every year. It sounds super nerdy, but I had so much fun organizing and managing the event and working with all the performers was such an eye-opening experience to get to be involved with all the different arts areas. I am forever thankful for the Senior Lead of Coffee House that year, which was Tatiana. She taught me everything I needed to know about how to make this show happen and managed to make it fun at the same time. So I was ecstatic when I was able to be in the same position and have the same close relationship with the Junior Lead this year, Oona and I can only hope that she will take everything I taught her and be able to turn around and teach her Junior Lead and so on and so forth. Coffee House is an event very near and dear to my heart and I’ve met a lot of great people through this show, so I am thrilled to have been apart of making it happen. My Junior year I was the Poetry Editor and while I loved this role and I loved being immersed in poetry and being apart of the production of the book, I didn’t feel like I was doing enough, so I think I really found my niche being one of the Community Engagement Managers along with Savana. Community Engagement has a lot of parts to it; there’s marketing, sales, community in relation to Douglas Anderson, our Jacksonville community, and then the community of literary magazines. Juggling all of this was a lot, but I loved getting to talk to people at events like Art Walk or Jax by Jax and spread my love for Élan and try to get people to care for it as much as I do. Our role was a newer creation. There has always been a need for it, but last year was the first year it was an official role, so it’s required a lot of figuring out and learning from our mistakes, but our mistakes will allow for whoever takes on the role next year to be even better. - Madison Dorsey - Co-Community Engagement Editor

The first time a poem came together for me, the words working with me rather than against me, the feeling of success and fulfillment confirmed that I am a poet. I struggled my whole life with getting words together in the way I wanted them to, so to know I had that superpower within me my whole life to express things I previously believed to be indescribable through imagery and poetic devices changed my life. I began carrying myself with more confidence and stopped invalidating my personal truths and experiences. This not only allowed my true voice to come out and helped me confront things I’d run from my whole life, but also allowed my peers and friends to be affected by my work as well. Élan has provided me the room to share my passion for poetry to a wider audience. I no longer feel like I’m loving poetry in a vacuum. I had the opportunity to visit the creative writing club of Kirby-Smith Middle School to help with workshops, and each visit, I saw the two girls I worked with most light up when I entered the room, invite me over, eagerly show me their newest work and revisions. Their enthusiasm is genuinely a reason for me to continue living and writing even when I feel discouraged. The beneficial relationship I built with the girls is mutual- I helped them with poetry, hopefully fostering a deeper love or appreciation for words within them, and they gave me hope for the future of writing and Élan. Being the poetry editor has enabled me to reach out to so many people and make poetry more accessible through workshops and class visits throughout the school year, and I want to leave behind this legacy of connection. Through creating poem-in-a-pocket handouts for Artwalk booths and book festivals and leading the creation of the National Poetry Month reading at the 5 & Dime, I’ve extended my passion for poetry to others to build Élan’s presence in the local writing community. Hearing people discussing the poems performed at the 5 & Dime, hearing the small gasps and approving grunts amongst a silent attentive audience in response to powerful imagery and language means the world to me. Seeing people’s faces light up as I talk about poetry with them amongst a crowd of people at events like Artwalk affirms that I am fulfilling my role as poetry editor and planting my legacy of interaction and passion behind in those I’ve reached out to. As Élan grows and evolves, I hope my love for the craft of poetry is carried on through National Poetry Month events and workshops and class visitations. One cannot create in a vacuum, and one cannot exist in a vacuum. Poetry has the power to connect and resonate with people so it needs to be shared and talked about. Future poetry editors will hopefully consider this with everything they do so they can maximize poetry’s impact through their passion. - Gabriella Christenson, Poetry Editor

I hope that the motivation to encapsulate the essence of Elan remains within my legacy. As the Layout and Design Editor it is my job, with the junior editor, to bring about the physical book, whether it be online and in print. It needs to come alive, and have a face, and become a home for the work of many emerging writers and artists who want to share their words. It is an important duty, and the process takes much time and effort and meticulous review, and in the end having that physical book in your hand is one of the sweetest things that can be received. This is because you work for the book. And I want the legacy I leave is that you’re going to need to work hard for the book, because the people who share their artistry with us work hard. They weave their experiences, knowledge, and questions into the work that is produced. So it is our job to work hard for these young voices that have pushed themselves, because there is in vulnerability in sending off work to anyone. When I first came into Elan, I wasn’t aware of the weight of these things. Of course nobody can be completely aware to anything until they actually become entangled deeply with something. I became Layout and Design Editor originally because I like to work with the aesthetics of things, and be a part of the conceptualization of a creative process. And I did learn how to do these things, and to teach these things because those who come after me need to be a seed that has taken root. I became very close to the process of how the art and writing is selected, and how these things exist in this space of this book and there needs to be a balance of these pieces, as well as room to breathe and reflect that is offered up within these pages as well. The people who submit work to any publication, are putting their trust in us, that if we do pick their work to be showcased, that it will be respected and loved the same way that the creator respected and loved the work. There is the notion, that it is exchanging hands in a sense, because that is how art is circulated. It moves from one place to the next until someone else obtains it, and then really absorbs it, and then shares is genuinely to others, and with love. Art is one of the purest forms of human expression. It is beautifully aware, as well clueless, art has all the answers and then in the same moment, only questions. The legacy of Elan that I want to share, is that fact, that in the end, we are all creators, and we are all a part of the larger human narrative, and there is pride in having the ability to combine many difference experiences, and thought processes, and have them converge in one place that can really inspire another. The cyclic process of creation can only be fed if it is able to be shared. And if people feel like they have the means to share. – Kiara Ivey, Senior Layout and Design Editor