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When I was a high school freshman, I came to the Douglas Anderson Writers’ Festival with pens packed in my pockets. With each step I took, the paper from my empty notebook clashed against my fingers. I remember rubbing my eyes because the night before I stayed up and re-read each author's bio over and over, re-read pieces I already analyzed because how could one choose a workshop to attend with such an abundance of good writers? I remember being beyond eager to take a “real” workshop from published writers and college professors. Schedule in hand, I had messed up the times and ended up in a poetry workshop. I thought to myself, “Poetry. Yeah, right. The only thing I can do is write nonfiction.” My palms sweat, my stomach clenching, I sat down. This wasn’t any poetry workshop; this was the workshop of Patricia Smith, the woman who could make Hurricane Katrina beautiful, all through fresh lines packed with imagery and diction. Ms. Smith stood at the podium moving the hair out of her face. What I didn’t know at the time was that she was going to ask me to write the most difficult exercise I had ever done. To write a poem where the person you have had a difficult relationship with is dead in an empty room, laying on a marble slab, and you had to dress them. For starters, at this point in my life I had never written a poem I was proud of, or even considered writing something this complex. Ms. Smith just kept telling us, all we had to do was try. By the end, I had dressed my father in an Armani suit and leather loafers. Towards the end of the workshop, a couple of people shared what they had written, a couple of people cried. I didn’t write a great poem, or something that would make anyone cry, but I did write something real, something packed with emotion, and thoughtful decisions on why I chose the words I did. After the workshop I bought Patricia Smith’s book Blood Dazzler, and fell in love with the way her poems made me feel. She signed my book and, as I write this now, I look at it and am still as inspired as I was that day to become a poet. It reads: “Mary, I hope you find light here.” I realized that it wasn’t poetry I was afraid of; I was afraid of the journey poetry would take me on. Two years later, with several portfolios of poetry I am proud to say I have written, I look back on that day and am thankful for the exposure it gave me, as well as the inspiration. With the 2016 Douglas Anderson Writers’ Festival line up full of amazing writers, I anyone who attends can have the same experience I did, if they just try. You too can find light here. - Mary Feimi, Junior Editor-in-Chief

When I first ordered The Cage Keeper by Andre Dubus III, I wasn’t expecting what appeared on the first page. With a title such as this one, I expected the book to be a linear set of stories about human trials and tribulation. The book opens with a short story called “The Cage Keeper,” which I assumed would be a tale of finding a heart for criminals who were misinterpreted and prejudged. However, I was taken for a complex journey encompassing human interaction, violence, sorrow, loneliness, and desire. Dubus has a gift for crafting short stories that embody multiple themes without crowding the piece. As an aspiring writer, I enjoy when an author has the ability to open a story and instantly put you into a setting or character mentality. Since Dubus uses strong, authentic imagery, I was fascinated to see this didn’t affect the pacing in a negative way. In my own writing, I typically have a challenge with adding imagery that adds to both pacing and theme. I admire the fact that he could utilize extended metaphors and symbolism to explain such dark and uncomfortable themes. He also uses flashbacks to expand on how or why a character has been placed into bizarre situations when you first start reading the piece. It adds depth and engagement to characters you may have assumed were simply protagonists or antagonists. Another thing that interests me about Dubus is that his short stories are long, but still keep you invested through the dynamics of the characters he creates. I haven’t come across a character in his stories that is cliché or unforgettable, which is something I’m also attempting to work on as a writer. In the short stories “Mountains” and “The Cage Keeper,” first person narration is used. First person narration is usually a risky point of view to use since it can make your story sound cliché or overtly limited to the perspective of one character. However, in both short stories, this perspective guides the reader through the plot of the story and helps the reader care about every character in the story. In fact, I don’t know that these pieces would have worked in any other point of view since second person would have felt too inclusive, and third person would have felt distant and absurd. First person added a humorous take on the daunting situation of being held hostage in “The Cage Keeper,” and made you laugh even though you knew how serious and dangerous the situation actually was. Ultimately, I applaud Dubus for the risks he incorporates in his writing. His writing is fluent with societal issues that many of us refuse to acknowledge or act on out of our own fears and guilt. As a reader you become challenged to think about the “what if’s” that are presented in his pieces, whether they are what society deems good or bad. I’m ecstatic to workshop with him during Writers’ Festival and learn about his writing process, how he creates characters that are both engaging and thought provoking. During senior fiction, I wrote a portfolio from first person narration in hopes of stimulating the reader to engage alongside the character instead of as an observer or a character themselves. I hoped to mimic Dubus’s style of engaging the reader from the first minimal character description that he typically utilizes to set a tone for the story. I was surprised by the results, and anticipate that it’ll be fun learning how to perfect this craft even more. -Christina Sumpter, Senior Creative Nonfiction Editor

I’ve always taken change in my life as signals for new beginnings. Just recently, I switched from Junior Poetry to Junior Fiction. At first, I was wary. How dare this get in the way of my poetry! Where shall I get my critiques and inspiration now? Ew, fiction. At the beginning of junior year, I held the same mindset towards Junior Poetry. I thought, how dare this get in the way of my fiction! Where shall I get my inspiration now? Ew, poetry. You see, I ended sophomore year with poetry, and I wanted a chance to revisit fiction after half a year. I knew I was rusty with fiction, which is why I was eager to come back to it. To me, my poetry was fine enough. Oh, how wrong I was. It took one day of Junior Poetry to revitalize me. One class period, one homework assignment, and one talented teacher for me to say, “Yes, poetry!” I was immersed. I shaped my poetry into a narrative style, and improved my skills on descriptive implication and developing speakers and settings. I gave and received critiques, and actually enjoyed the process. Lessons further tightened my grasp on poetic forms and structures, and I had plenty of opportunities to try out my brand new knowledge. So of course, I came to my senses after a few minutes. Fiction will offer the same enlightenment that Junior Poetry did. I have an equally-talented teacher, and lessons which are just as useful waiting for me. Soon I’ll write fiction portfolios and develop my dialogue skills, and practice on interweaving setting, plot, and character. I’m ready to switch gears, but that doesn’t mean my poetic skills will languish for the rest of the year. -Seth Gozar, Junior Fiction Editor

It’s the beginning of the new year and that means we at Elan have begun our preparations for the Douglas Anderson Writers’ Festival. We’ve been collecting excerpts from our distinguished guest writers and posting these with their biographies on the Festival website, dawritersfest.com. All of the reading I’ve been doing for the Festival excites me, as it does all of my peers, all of my teachers. Reading the work of a new writer is always exciting, but it’s even more exciting when you know that the writer is coming to your school and reading the same pieces to you, discussing how they were written and how you can write better. It reminds us that the Writers’ Festival is part of a great tradition that generations of Creative Writers have taken part in. Margaret Atwood, Joyce Carol-Oates, Billy Collins, and Richard Ford have all been keynote speakers in past festivals, and now we have the privilege to hear from more amazing writers. For the first time in Festival history, we have two keynote speakers—the nationally recognized educator and novelist Ron Carlson and President Obama’s own inaugural poet, Richard Blanco. We’ve entered a new era of the Festival, where we’re big enough to expand the stage for speakers. I am reaching the end of my time at DA, but I am able to be part of the Writers’ Festival this one time, and being part of its beginning is almost enough to make up for the pain of leaving it all behind. -Jacob Dvorak, Senior Fiction Editor

Shifting into this awkward phase where I’m beginning to think about adult things like constantly being aware of money, yet I still laugh about the scribbling in the bathroom stalls is torture. I mean, that sounds really angsty, but it really is. I’m really disappointed nobody told me that all those high school movies are completely inaccurate, like me looking twenty seven at sixteen and definitely having my license by now (I don’t even have my permit). It’s reassuring as all my peers are going through the same thing too, the constant emails from all these colleges and the mail from universities I’ll never be able to even imagine paying for. Then there’s the part where I get to laugh with them about dorm life and dating all over campus and no parents! And then sometimes there’s those moments where I can’t help but feel absolutely alone when I’m looking at SAT and ACT registrations and when I’m wishing that my PSAT score was a little higher to offer some form of reconciliation. Mom of course says it’s natural to have these fears and I’ll get through it but constantly drowning (or more so flailing in open waters). Sometimes a boat will come by, offer help, and sometimes I’m an idiot and say no, and watch the boat fly off across the sea into the horizon. Sometimes boats ignore me, and then every now and again a boat stops and I’m not stupid and climb on. It’s strange planning campus tour dates and taking virtual tours of dorms, trying to decide the rest of my life. I know all adults are like: you still have time, but cut the crap, we really don’t. It’s like, college is probably going to be some of the best moments of my life, but if I mess it up, then it’s a huge blight looming over my life and you can’t get re-dos, just, I’ll try to clean up the mess. I’m just hoping I’ll get some awesome scholarships, and maybe a school will really want me to come to their school and debt won’t be a problem. I just want to get a job I love and pays amazing, but doesn’t everyone want that? Well, some people don’t but most people want that, and it’s in the form of that false American Dream or whatever people want to call it. But maybe, this end to my childhood, isn’t the end of me. -Kiara Ivey, Junior Layout & Design Editor

Authenticity: n. The quality of being authentic; genuineness On my first day of Senior Fiction, my teacher asked me to write down my personal definition of this word. For a Monday, starting my final semester as a senior in high school, I thought this was pretty heavy duty thinking. But after sitting at my computer, watching my cursor disappear and reappear a million –well, more like seventeen- times. To me, being authentic is what babies are: one-hundred percent human, one-hundred percent embedded in their emotions—what they feel precisely in a singular moment— and completely uninhibited by what others do. If a baby wants to cry, no amount of food or rocking or begging on one knee will stop them from being heard. That’s what telling an authentic story is like to me. While reading James Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time, I found myself fluctuating between two extreme emotions: awe (the man is a philosophical genius and an incredible wordsmith) and a high level of discomfort. One of my favorite quotes from this book is “The person who distrusts himself has no touchstone for reality—for this touchstone can be only oneself.” It is always my greatest fear that I won’t tell a story honest, that I’ll sugarcoat a character or over exaggerate the plot. Doubt is the number one killer of good writing and after four years of trying to find my own voice in my writing I completely understand why. To doubt your writing is to, by extension, doubt a part of yourself. There is no greater justice to telling a story than by telling it how you see fit for it to be told, and this is the best way to be sure that you will be proud of what you produce. To be authentic is tell all parts of a story— the beautiful, the ugly, the stuff your mother should never know about. And in the end, that— the moment when you no longer fear what your voice has to say— is one of the most defining moment of a writers’ life. -Shamiya Anderson, Nonfiction Editor #Authenticity #Craft #Blog #Writer #CreativeNonfiction #Editor #TheFireNextTime #Baby #HighSchool #Human #JamesBaldwin #Voice #Relationships #Truth #Fiction #Senior #Writing

The Élan classroom is filled with a gentle hum as editors, public relations teams, and web designers run scatter-brained ideas by fellow peers. I look up from my work to see students glued to computer screens, each individual delving deep into editing for the upcoming edition of the magazine. All the while, white walls echo with the chatter of deadlines and press releases, suggestive of a real newsroom. The editors-in-chief move to the front of the class, as the clacking of keyboards subsides. Students take their seats to begin the oh-so-familiar routine of a staff meeting. Merely teenagers, members of the Élan staff are already eerily acquainted with the cycle of the working world. Every other day we come together for an hour and a half, toiling away on individual assignments, deadlines in sight, and then we gather in the front of the room for group discussions. There is constant pressure to satisfy our editors, be the best, edit the best, and choose the best pieces, all within a very thin time frame. We work together as one large, simultaneously moving body to reach an ultimate goal: publishing a professional literary magazine three times a year. Being on the Élan staff is all about pushing the publication and sharing innovative ideas. It’s impossible to thrive without a voice, and I think that is one of the greatest lessons I can carry with me to the working world. Through dozens of staff meetings, I have learned the importance of speaking up for what I believe in. If I don’t open my mouth, voice my opinion, share my thoughts, a door may close for the magazine. One unsaid sentence can mean a missed opportunity. My involvement in Élan has prepared me for a world beyond high school on a monumental scale. With the experience and life lessons gained in this class, I feel I can walk out the doors of Douglas Anderson with a sense of confidence I did not previously possess. Because I am given so many responsibilities on a daily basis, I have discovered newfound independence and personal direction within myself. Student-run literary magazines are popping up all over the country. They are the future, a prime ingredient in creating a more driven generation. –Emily Jackson, Non-Fiction Editor

It pains me to think that some people finish their education and never read another book. Words have woven themselves so deeply into my life. If I stopped reading and writing I wouldn't be myself anymore. It would be like reincarnation.I don't know who I would become. Lately, I've been telling myself this quote a lot: "Dream big, work hard, stay focused, and surround yourself with good people." Right now my classmates and I share a common goal to work hard and focus on becoming better writers. A community like this should never be taken for granted. It should be appreciated completely. Pretty soon, I will graduate from high school, and perhaps, I will never see some of these amazing people again. My creative writing class has become a family. Writing reveals such intimate, personal parts of ourselves, and over the past four years, my classmates have come to understand, accept and love each other. It takes a lot to create a community as strong as the one we currently have. It's strange to think where we'll all be ten years from now. Which of us will stay writers? Which of us will get married, have kids, or live somewhere other than Jacksonville? Maybe our decisions will not only surprise others, but ourselves. I'm such a calender, plan oriented person. Maybe I will make a decision and forget who I am. Maybe the person I will become will be better than the person I am now. I can't believe that all of the years of learning, workshopping, and critiquing are almost over at Douglas Anderson.Whoever the members of my class become, we will always know each other within the experiences of our pasts. I can't ignore the power of having other writers in my life. People influence each other. I want to stay connected with other writers. Being with other writers creates an even stronger desire to create an art with words. I will forever try finding other writers to connect with. The power of a writing community creates incredible bonds and paves pathways for improvement. In the future, the worst thing that could happen to me is that I would wake up one morning and realize I never pursued my passion. My life is all about the people I surround myself with. Graduation, the summer, and the start of college will really test me. Staying connected sounds like a good plan, but people drift, and meeting new people and making connections takes a leap of courage. For right now, I'm going to appreciate every moment I have with this writing community. We're all different and come from different areas of Jacksonville but we cam together for one thing. The love and support a group of strangers can create when they come together is powerful. I can't say thank you enough for my experiences here at Douglas Anderson with my teachers and peers, who have become my writing family. -Kat Roland, Art Editor

Here is a throwback piece from Elan’s 1999 Spring Issue, by its then Editor-in-Chief Billy Merrell. Since graduating from Douglas Anderson, Merrell published his first book Talking in the Dark, a poetry memoir, with Scholastic in 2003. He also co-edited The Full Spectrum: A New Generation of Writing About Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, and Other Identities for Knopf Books for Young Readers with David Levithan. It was released in 2006 and won the 2007 Lammy in the Children's/Young Adult category. Merrell has been a frequent guest writer at the bi-annual Douglas Anderson Writers' Festival. Quickening - Billy Merrell I felt it push inside the poetry I read it, but didn’t dream it, and now there… Oh! a push from the inside, and words are in me pregnant of language kicking with the verse and verbiage, but Oh! And I love that feeling being a father a mother giving life. They told me “It will come in time,” But when I dreamt it it was ugly the rain came angry and the process married only hours of cold sweat and in the end, a still born… but don’t worry, that was only a dream I am here still with a child inside me waiting to be born, I have found clothes, fitting prepared the nursery and now, am only waiting for the inspiration, the night and the child, unborn and breathing my breaths.

I –like so many others on this staff- am new to Élan this year. What sets my experience apart from others, however, is that my role, my small piece of this literary magazine puzzle, is as new as I am. After the first few days of class once meetings were held and staff positions decided on, we each were given a letter, a sort of welcome to your job/ this is how you do it kind of packet written by the amazing group of students who came before us. I was handed a packet not for my position as Web Editor, but one that was deemed “close.” I had mixed emotions about it. On one hand, I was excited to be trusted in fulfilling an unchartered editorial job, on the other hand, I felt a little like I was being pushed off of a dock before I knew how to swim. Over the course of these first weeks, before submissions come pouring in and we’re up to our knees in department events, I’ve mostly been learning and experimenting. Running a website, I’ve come to realize, is a lot of work, a lot of trial and error. Learning the system has been a very positive experience, thanks to the lovely and talented Taylor Austell. I now know how to maintain the great standards that already exist, and have developed things I’d like to change. I’m the kind of person who has to use the same pen until its ink runs dry, who organizes her closet not only by clothing type but color and shade as well. That being said, I jumped at the idea of enhancing our Blog. I created a rotating schedule, varied by position and grade, and decided that we should have monthly themes. September, of course, has been all about new beginnings and a fresh school year. I believe we have a website to be proud of, and our blog has great potential. It’s important that our audience not only sees the product of our labors, but can also read the product of our words. The Élan staff has plenty to say. Feel free to walk on this literary journey with us, not only by reading the gifted student work we publish, but by taking a look behind the scenes. Share our troubles and triumphs, laugh at our mistakes as we learn and grow, and maybe –hopefully- take a little something back with you. -Savannah Thanscheidt, Web Editor

The beginning of October can only mean two things: summer has ended and another year of school has begun. A new school year brings new classes, new people, and new experiences. I entered the Élan classroom on the first day knowing plenty of new things were in store. There were still holes from the 2013 Print Edition to fill, a website that needed updating, and students that needed new direction. The staff jumped in head first, knowing that we already knew how to swim. Staff members were assigned a focused job with specific tasks to complete before we were able to move forward with receiving submissions for our upcoming 2013 Winter Edition. My job you ask? I was assigned to organize all submissions. I was busy right away because all of the people we received work from outside of our school last year never got contacted (I feel it necessary to point out that we were not an international magazine before and we’re new the whole process. We sincerely apologize if you are one of those who didn’t get contacted for a few months). Then the staff made a decision that changed the dynamics of my job entirely: we wanted to allow submissions to be sent through email instead of just mail. I knew we would begin to get high traffic of submissions by email, and I couldn’t wait to see submissions come in from all over the world. While a fancy looking website and fabulous looking books are important, the writing is what truly makes the staff excited. We have already seen addresses from California, New York, Korea and many others and can’t wait to see more people from around the world submitting (see our submissions tab for all information on how to submit via email). I know all of the time I’ve spent organizing submissions will pay off when the Winter 2013 Edition launches on November 15th and we have connected writers from around the world. I can’t wait to see your submission by Friday, October 11th! --Makenzie Fields, Submissions Editor

I’m seeing right down the barrel of InDesign already, even though adulthood is in my peripheral vision. With a new year comes a new focus, and I couldn’t be more excited about taking the sole leadership in Élan’s Layout and Design editorial position. I wouldn’t feel as ready as I do now to fight the computer’s quirks and glitches, without the life lessons I learned from my former lead editor, Emily Leitch. I’m waiting to receive a successor of my own to continue the lovely tradition of “layout lessons.” It’s the feature that brings this staff together over the painstaking, sophisticated masterpiece that is Élan. Last year, right at the final stage of the yearly print edition – the very last day of school – we lost our computer just as we hit save. It was probably the most tragic thing to ever happen all year. That computer was a real dinosaur, I’m sure you’ve seen one half its age at most. There’s no telling how much blood was shed from the nail biting minutes of anxious saving, how many tears fell from the disparity of a frozen screen, or the sweat drops that rolled down the furrowed ‘brow of the crazy-eyed perfectionist. That computer was the diabetic heartbeat of Élan for the first year of true continuity. It will be greatly missed. But this year, as I walk into the classroom empty handed, I am fully minded. I am going to do everything I know how to do to continue making our publication carry the inspirational individuality and professional beauty that our breathtaking art and writing are worthy of. I’m here to show the world that Élan is not just an impressive magazine made in the corner of a library after school, but a true representation of the merit brilliant teenage artists deserve. -Taylor Austell, Layout and Design Editor