For me, senior year is a list of count downs: counting down to my eighteenth birthday, to college deadlines and shining most teasingly away, of course, counting down to graduation. In this current world of projects and deadlines, of feeling my toes creep towards the finish line, I can’t help but still feel sentimental towards a few things. Tonight, the Douglas Anderson Writing Department is hosting its annual Coffee House. It’s known for the unique collaboration opportunity between all arts areas and its determination to showcase original, student created work. It will be my last as an official member of the school. The beautiful thing about Coffee House is that not only does the show change every year, both in writing and style, but the way that you as a person experience it changes as well. My freshman and sophomore years were marked as a performer, not of my own pieces but of other people’s. I stood backstage, eavesdropping on masterful writers practicing, borrowed someone’s giant, sweaty gray shirt for a prop. I sat on the floor between acts, trying to remember lines that weren’t mine and watching local directors spit out instructions. I don’t remember anything from my Junior Coffee House, regrettably. I may have been on the bleachers, or at a table, sitting by one friend or another. The only thing I cared about was that the One-Girl-I-Hated wasn’t preforming, and that the pieces were taking me places I didn’t want –but needed- to go. This year, things have changed again. As a member of the Elan staff, I am behind the scenes. I have sold tickets, painted doors, been pushed past my comfort level again and again to help make Coffee House happen. The entire production feels more meaningful than ever before, not just because of the glare of senior nostalgia, but because I now appreciate every single aspect of the process. Some things stay the same, of course. There will be a theme (this year it is doors and keys), teachers will be thanked and coffee will be served. Due to the construction on our building, we’re going back to my middle school for the show. It feels a little like driving to an old neighborhood and vaguely recollecting checking that yellow mailbox, or drawing on that old porch. In a way, it hints at an even earlier tradition. Next year, if I’m in town, I see myself coming back to watch Coffee House happen. It’ll probably feel foreign, a little like trying on a t-shirt half a size too small, it also could feel like a crop top that suddenly fits just right. That’s the thing about tradition, it lets you hold on to the best feeling of things, and create new experiences as you go along. -Savannah Thanscheidt, Web Editor If you’re interested in attending, this event will be held at LaVilla School of the Arts from 7-9pm. Tickets will be 7 dollars.

Welcome back! A new school year has begun at Douglas Anderson, and with it a new year of Élan. Our magazine went through countless changes last year, most notably our move to two online editions, as well as a print compilation. It was challenging but incredibly rewarding. This year our new staff is eager to begin. Élan will continue to be an outlet for creative and talented young artists and writers, as it has been for twenty-seven years now. We strive to be a cutting edge magazine, continuing to change and develop our brand. We uphold strict submission guidelines that ensure all pieces in the magazine are at the highest caliber. Thank you for embarking on this journey with us. We look forward to the adventures we are sure to have this year. --Emily Cramer, Élan Editor-in-Chief

I will never forget the day I was accepted into Douglas Anderson as a freshman, a fresh teenager, a creative writer. I expected to learn about imagery or symbolism or whatever colleges were looking for at that point, but didn’t anticipate how important a community can be towards honing my writing skills. The experience that I have gained as a result is nothing short of invaluable. Class activities were surrounded by group critiques and group discussions. When my submission was accepted into Élan, I was offered a glimpse into the inner workings of the magazine, and the staff who critiqued my piece to help it get to the place it needed to be. I saw a force that was indestructible: teamwork at its finest. This, I thought. This is what I want to have. And so the years have offered me such as I have wanted. If I need help with a piece due the next morning, I can text a classmate and they will offer me points for revision. If I need help with a piece I have written on my own time, I come to the same group. And, with my entry into the Élan staff, I have found the community of editors to be all I desired and more. There is always help offered, and there is always a person at your side who understands. It is a horrible feeling, to think of a future where I do not have the connections I possess now in terms of accessing writers who can help me further my work, and vice versa. Consulting writers is the foundation of how I write; I need unbiased judgement on the pieces I’ve drafted five times. I need fresh eyes on the pieces I don’t know how to finish. Community has changed the ways I write for the better; community is essential to writing. After all, how would Élan have begun if not for such a strong foundation of writers? -Logan Monds, Junior Social Media & Marketing Editor

Poetry has always marveled me with its ability to craft words together and create magic on a page. The power present in and between words, hidden in the white space and embedded in the title astonishes me every time. I have found strength in the confined space of a poem, and this art form has taught me more lessons than simply what is seen on the page. Enjambment helped me overcome boundaries. Forced me to take leaps and surprise myself. Titles taught me to take control. Meter gave me a voice in its melody. Listening to my whispers amidst the commotion of life. Hyperboles warned me not to take things too seriously. Metaphors took me deeper. Forced me to understand all sides of a story. Taught me to explore the mind. Ambiguity allowed me to keep things to myself, to have secrets. Symbolism changed the way I viewed minuscule details. Suddenly nothing felt insignificant. Imagery gave me colors and instructed me to paint. Images awakened my world. Sensory details found their way around my body, hiding under my tongue and deep in my ears, becoming a part of me. Poetry has given me a different outlet for expression, one where I challenge myself to understand my own perceptions. It has pushed me to understand the origins, implications and the underlying details. Poetry has transformed my process of thinking and has inevitably affected the way I respond to the world. For the beauty it holds, and the power it has given me, I am incredibly grateful for the art of poetry. -Briana Lopez, Junior Social Media Editor

I am not someone who tends to be particularly taken by imagery in poetry. Most of the time I am excited by narrative, powerful connections, and precise word choice. Lee Ann Roripaugh does all of these, but she also has a very specific hand at crafting images that are as moving as they are beautiful. I was not expecting to be so empowered by her words, but I find myself in awe of her construction of story and description. I had not heard of Lee Ann Roripaugh until I read her bio on the Douglas Anderson's Writer’s Fest website.  I was not surprised to discover someone new who I loved through Writer’s Fest---the same happened to me my freshman year for several authors (Rick Moody, Dorianne Laux, Patricia Smith, etc.). But I am not someone who typically reads poetry for fun. It is not because I don’t enjoy poetry, but because I am not driven to consume it in the way I am driven to read fiction or nonfiction. Lee Ann Roripaugh changed that for me. Her poem, Transplanting, completely surprised me not only in its construction but in the way her images pushed me through the poem. The numbered sections were effective in the way they fit perfectly into the construction and her descriptions of her mother spoke to my own experiences (though not with the same event). I am incredibly excited to meet Lee Ann Roripaugh, but even more excited to learn from her workshop. -Zarra Marlowe, Junior Submissions Editor

Our literary magazine, Elan has been around for 30 years, almost two of me. I imagine that through the years, with the many different staff members, editors, teachers, and readers, that this book has learned a few things. When I first came on staff and took on the position of Junior Poetry Editor, I went back through some of the older editions of Elan and tried to figure out how the editors before me picked the poems that would be in the book. I decided it wasn’t editors that picked apart poems and threw them in “yes” and “no” piles, it was the book that made the decisions. The essence and aesthetic of Elan showed me that we want poems that speak to the big and small, that can be read and understood immediately or others that need to be unpacked. It told me to look at where a poem takes my breath, where it makes me grimace, where it makes me want more, those are our poems. Along with teaching me how to feel poetry, it’s taught me how to come out of my shell. This book has so much to offer people and as part of the staff, our job is to convince people that they need this book in their life. You need to read these pieces that students have poured themselves into, you need to invite them in, let them settle inside your soul and tell you a story. It’s become a drive and passion to share what this book has to offer with my own friends and family, the community of Jacksonville, and the community of writers. I’ve met and had more conversations with random people that I never would have before by just walking up to them and asking if they enjoy reading and writing, and just letting the conversation go from there. It has almost always led somewhere interesting. At Art Walk, I met two former theater majors and got to learn about their time at Douglas Anderson. I also met an older gentleman who was so excited for Writers' Festival, he actually had a countdown going. So, as a member of the Elan staff, in my year here, it has taught me a lot, but I think it has something even more to offer to our readers. Readers who can be any age and any gender and any type of person, there is something in this book for everyone and it has been that way for 30 years, offering the same quality and raw material every time. Elan would also say to its readers that it’s best enjoyed curled up on the couch with your favorite tea, taking in the sweet musings of teenagers from thirty years ago to now and all they have to say. -Madison Dorsey, Junior Poetry Editor #Poetry #Editor #Madison #Junior #17 #WritersFestival #staff #30 #ArtWalk #30thanniversary

In poetry class my Junior year, we recited poems we found intriguing or moving in order to practice our oral interpretation skills and bring us closer to the work of other poets. Before I knew who Jamaal May was or heard he would be attending Douglas Anderson’s Writer’s Festival, I recited his piece "There are Birds Here," a piece of his which is dedicated to Detroit. Previously, I read it as a jab to critics who tried to put symbolism and emphasis into every poem they read, but today, understanding who he is as a writer, I see it as him asking people not to sugarcoat what is real and true. This piece connects to his other work, where he writes to show what he sees as true and does not attempt to hide it under any circumstance. In every piece he builds up cohesive images and ideas until the final sentence where he adds something impactful, something you didn’t expect when reading about a boy whacking fireflies with a stick. In poems like "Hum for the Hammer," there is a more industrial focus that involves more tactile imagery like in the line, "May sandpaper be the rough hand that rubs you smooth," and still captures this human feeling as naturally as his childhood and community-centered poems. Upon reading more of Jamaal May’s work, I’ve also come to admire how he can bend a narrative into poetic format. As a writer who leans more towards the fiction genre, creating poems focused on single emotions or moments without full flourishing sentences and thoughts is extremely challenging. Yet May manages to pull off this poetic vibe even when there are long sentences, like in his piece "On Metal," published through Gulf Coast Journal. Despite there being a whole narrative focus, there are still poetic elements, abstract ideas, a meaning that could only be provided through the poetic format he gives it. Balancing between gritty textures and light or sometimes religious imagery, Jamaal creates statement pieces about the state of the world he grew up in and the one he lives in now, including both man, machine, and sometimes even God. His narrative pieces remind us as both writers and readers that there are no limitations in poetry and the poets that show us that are the ones that we should look forward to seeing again and again. -McKenna Flanagan, Senior Art Editor

I made a best friend in first grade by falling on my face. I stumbled gracefully off our morning bus onto the concrete. My friend, Dorian, helped me up and sat with me every morning after that. He listened to me tell stories about my brothers, class pets, anything that came to me. Stories kept us interested for the hour-long bus ride, and it became a routine for us until my fourth grade year. He switched schools before I wrote anything down. This was before I had a phone or social media, so losing contact felt like losing a friend and my favorite audience. It’s embarrassing to think about what I did eventually start writing down, but I had to start somewhere. Until I became a part of the writing program at Douglas Anderson, I didn’t show anyone. Partially because I wasn’t comfortable with my work, but also because I didn’t think anyone would care as much. Since, I’ve become more confident. That probably has something to do with not writing like a first-grader anymore. Dorian and I have been catching up recently. And his memory is unbelievable. I almost wish he didn’t remind me of elementary school or where my stories started, but it says more than anything that they were memorable. I’m sure he appreciates the improvement, but we do talk about the cute stories and laugh. He is still great at listening, and more than anyone, my favorite to share my work with. -Jordan Jacob, Senior Editor-in-Chief

Welcome back! With the smells of sharpened pencils and fresh paper comes classes, homework and peers. I’m so honored to take the lead this year and carry the torch hand in hand with my fellow co-editor, Sarah Buckman. The Élan staff as a whole is eager to take the brand new foundation we constructed last year and keep progressing. With the new building and construction occurring on campus, it comes natural. It’s almost unreal to try to image we could implement anymore change than we previously did. But I’ve already been proven wrong. This year’s homecoming is held in an entirely new location. And no one’s complaining about having to move the event out of the muggy gym. The new venue will hopefully attract a larger crowd. More people showing up means more people learning Élan’s name. Last year was strictly all about branding and defining our identity. I see this year’s focus being directed towards projecting that fortified identity to the public. We want people to know who and what we are. A large portion of gaining followers is making sure we’re directing our attention to the people who actually want it. The Élan will be striving to reach out the writers’ of this community and securing their presence with us. It’s so exciting to know that new art and writing will be in our hands in a matter of only thirty days. The submission period can be intensely chaotic with the hundreds of pieces to be read, but I’ve missed it. It’s so rewarding to be a part of a staff that has a shared, overarching goal: the dispersal of art. The process to achieve that distribution, no matter how hectic, is always worth it. Here’s to a new year, new land to trek and a new Élan to discover. -Mariah Abshire, Editor-in-Chief

If I had a nickel for the number of times I’ve heard the phrase “write what you know,” I’d probably have fifty nickels. While that is only a whopping $2.50, the point is, fifty times is a lot, considering I’ve only considered myself a writer for the past two years. This phrase used to grate on my nerves, making me want to scream, because I didn’t really know anything. Or at least, I didn’t think I did. I knew that Romeo loved Juliet and that anything that wasn’t poetry was prose. But how do you write about that? The answer is: you can’t. After many moons of biting my nails and unsuccessful third, fourth, and sometimes fifth, drafts, I realized the key is much more than writing what you know. A brilliant poetry teacher once told me poetry was like an onion, and with every read you pull of layers of emotion, meaning, truth. The core of it is writing what you know, but all the layers around this core rely on–get ready for it—lies. Tim O’ Brien said it best,  “A lie, sometimes, can be truer than the truth. And that’s why poetry gets written.” (Alright, he said fiction, but I think poetry still applies here.) After this brilliant discovery my poetry seemed to blossom. I took the core of it, what I knew, and all of these lies blossomed. Lies like beautiful images I’d pay to see, people I’d kill to meet, love I’d die to have, and loss I’d barely live through. I’d found that the images, or the lies, I created were indeed truer than anything I’d ever written, because once they were complete and on the page, I realized they were simply truths I’d never acknowledged. And so I’ve realized that lies are the key to all brilliant poetry, or maybe even all brilliant writing. Because the lies bound to page by an author’s hand really aren’t lies at all, but layers of an onion that were otherwise unacknowledged. –Darcy Graham, Fiction Editor

Over the past two years I had the opportunity to get to know and bond with the Élan staff. This closeness has helped us to work together and develop a cohesive magazine. However, I have always felt that there was an unseen divide between the staff and our readers. I think that it is important for our patrons to really know the individuals who work behind the scenes—the editors, public relations teams, and web designers who make the book a possibility. Therefore, below are interviews that highlight a several staff members, so that our readers can get to know the students who work to create Élan for them. Kiera Nelson, Fiction Editor Who is your favorite author and why? My favorite poet is Nikki Giovanni because I love her originality in the way she manipulates words to evoke emotions. For fiction I would have to say ZZ Packer because she knows how to integrate the reader into the story. What do you like to do outside of school and writing? [Laughs] That’s funny. Well, I like to binge watch TV shows like American Horror Story and Carrie Diaries. What lessons or skills have you gained from your experience on the Élan Staff? I have learned how to take responsibility for my actions and manage complex tasks without getting overwhelmed. I have also learned how to think as a group, a staff, rather than just as an individual. Mariah Abshire, Poetry Editor Who is your favorite author and why? Right now I’m reading Pink Elephant, so I’m really into Rachel McKibbens. What lessons or skills have you gained from your experience on the Élan Staff? Teamwork. Having to be a small part in a big production and having other people depend on me has really allowed me to develop a sense of responsibility. As a staff member I have to meet other people’s expectations, not just my own. If you were stranded on an island and could only have three items with you, what would they be? Well I would need to finish reading Pink Elephant, so I would bring that with me. I would also bring an unlimited supply of Tijuana Flats Chicken Tacos and a journal with a pen. Emily Cramer, Editor-in-Chief Who is your favorite author and why? Taylor Mali and William Carlos Williams. Their poetry is so simple but deep—it seems to be about small ideas but once you delve into them, they’re so complex. Both also have other jobs outside of writing, which gives me hope that it’s possible to always be a writer, no matter what field I go into. What lessons or skills have you gained from your experience on the Élan Staff? I’ve learned what it means to be a leader, how to make sure that all work is getting done, while understanding the needs of individuals and maintain our magazine’s mission and standards. Who are your favorite musical artists? Mumford and Sons, Jose Gonzales, Sufjan Stevens, The 1975, and Fleet Foxes. Emily Leitch, Layout and Design Editor What do you like to do outside of school and writing? Wow, that’s funny. Writing and school are literally the only things I do. I go on Tumblr… is that an answer? What lessons or skills have you gained from your experience on the Élan Staff? I have gained a sense of community through this staff. I feel like we work really well together and we all participate. I have learned how to organize and collaborate. Being a layout editor requires me to work with every member of the staff when it comes time to layout our online and print books. It is very important to learn how to cooperate with each other as a staff and I know this will help me in the future. If you were stranded on an island and could only have three items with you, what would they be? Jason Schwartzman. My collection of poetry books. My pet turtle Phillip. That's all I need. --Emily Jackson, Creative Non-Fiction Editor

Sometimes I am not a writer. Despite the common misconception that many have that a writer is someone who “writes”, this is quite untrue. There is more that constitutes a writer than just the act of putting paper to pen. For some people writing is a spiritual expedition, one in which the worlds they create are more than just a figment of imagination but friends, cohorts, the voices in side their heads if I may. Borrowing Sidney Sheldon’s words: “A blank piece of paper is God’s way of telling us how hard it is to be God.” Writing is becoming God and creating matter out of thin air. I learned in Physics (and it might be the only thing I learned) that matter cannot be created or destroyed and yet writers defy that rule. I am a writer when I am creating more than ink on paper, more than black pixels on a computer screen. I am a creator of people, feelings, and moments that are more real to some people than their own lives. And as a writer, I break down barriers and flout social rules and shed light on the shadows of humanity. But sometimes I fall short. Sometimes my first draft is something that I use to mop up the spilled coffee on my table, something that I’d have to beg a dog to eat. But I get back up. I pick up my pen, and I become a little bit closer to God. The following a three poems that I feel come unreasonably close to describing the unique experience of writers everywhere: “Teaching Apes to Write Poems” by James Tate “Beware: Do Not Read This poem” by Ishmael Reed “Oatmeal” by Galway Kinnell --Stephanie Thompson, Public Relations & Marketing