Èlan Literary Magazine is celebrating its 30th Anniversary. In honor of our longevity we are posting work from our editorial staff alumnus, which includes biographies, Q&A’s, and excerpts of their pieces. How did your experience at DA influence your current artistic development? It gave me the discipline to endure as an artist in the collegiate world. It gave me a home to fondly look back on, and gave me the strength to continue writing. Trailer Park Aubade (From Èlan 2013) Last night your smile has a yellow haze of “good old days”, the sunset over the drugstore making out by the dumpster, our initials scrawled on the belly of a metal beast fed on empty beer cans. This morning Stevie lyrics bring back memories beneath barnyard cobwebs. A slow dance to the hum of moths orbiting florescent moons. You touch my hair, nibble my ear and I I shake you off an indefinite hangover. We stare out the window. A series of white trailers stand at attention like rusted submarines, and you salute then with your naked frame. A pink tricycle wheel still spins. A mutt chews Last night’s take out. A patriotic bird house with chipped paint is vacant. Poet’s Drive (Performed at the Èlan 30th Anniversary Alumni Reading) Anne Sexton says it only matters how I remember him. The man he actually was is irrelevant. Sexton curls her knees to her chest and reads Stanislavsky. She drives down Tennessee Street, a dream catcher and a rosary hanging from her rear view mirror. I drive by her in a 1987 Ford Ranger we miss each other in our hurried passing. I’m in a chapel cleaning windows. He asks me how many windows I cleaned. I mumble about the pollen. He doesn’t know about all the poets driving around in this town. How we call each other late at night from the cold side of our pillows. Instead on the couch he tells me my poetry is my music. He doesn’t know Anne Sexton is a method actor at the podium. She says by the time she is at the last line of her work she is a naked woman. Her voice becomes small and exposed. I drive away from his house blasting my actual music so the last pieces of me can bleed into his life as he closes the front door. I roll down the windows open the sun roof at night pretend there is a texture to the air in this town. There is mystery in this fluorescent neighborhood. I park my car outside my apartment. Anne is writing from my third floor bedroom. She is writing my shadow against a dimly lit ballad. I am on repeat driving him home, watching him slide out of the car almost always pulling him back. What do you wish someone had told you about the experience of being a creative writer at DA when you were a student? (Think about things you wish you’d appreciated more when you were here that you now realize brought you value). My teachers always said, “Never again will you have a community quite like this,” and they were right. And I have been a creative writing major at FSU. I hope to be in a poetry MFA program one day. But I was writing with my peers at DA (most of them) since I was eleven. We were learning to read, and write- we were forming what language and art meant to us for literally the first time. And realizing that is key, but something that doesn’t come fully until you have the perspective of leaving.

I have always been a regular of libraries, often running around in the children’s section when I was younger, and musing over poetry in nonfiction when I was of age. But it did not occur to me until I was older that libraries were an establishment that played a vital role in my own community.  Not only promoting literacy, but hosting community workshops which inspire and educate. In the children’s department, they put on an event, “Superheroes Read,” where kids dress up as superheroes and keep a list of the books they’ve read. Running around in capes, they come to associate reading with a positive memory. For teens, they host writing contests, where submitters write a story to a theme, and volunteer at the library to be considered eligible, thus fostering artistic creativity. There are also valuable services for adults. In the main library, they hold classes for speakers of other languages to learn English, which give adjusting immigrants the opportunity to learn to communicate and be articulate in our society. All of these things in combination show that the library is a valuable resource for the people, as well as a place to check out an interesting book, and sit down leisurely to crack it open. It hurts me to see cities and politicians not respect the roles libraries play. Indeed budgets to fund the libraries are tightening in an unmerciful fist. Where else would impoverished kids with homework, but no computer, go to type assignments? Where else would the homeless go to relax and read? Where else would free knowledge be made so readily available? Whenever I go to the library, I browse bookshelves with new-found interest and stop when I see a book about healthy cooking, cultural revolutions, or classics. I take it off the shelf, and I read. -Aracely Medina, Senior Poetry Editor

Èlan Literary Magazine is celebrating its 30th Anniversary. In honor of our longevity we are posting work from our editorial staff alumnus, which includes biographies, Q&A’s, and excerpts of their pieces. After graduating from Douglas Anderson in 2014, Emily Cramer moved to Tallahassee to attend Florida State University, where she is studying Nursing. She is a member of the Honors Student Association and has been on the Dean’s List for the past three semesters. She is currently serving as Secretary on the Executive Board of Lady Spirithunters, a spirit-based organization that works closely with the Florida State Athletic Department to spread love of FSU to the Tallahassee community and other FSU students. Cherokee Land, 1830 (From Èlan 2014) We found a maimed wolf this morning, caught in the chicken wire. Pa called for my brother to fetch the rifle. When he passed he brushed my shoulder, whispering of footsteps words spoken in a tongue we could not understand. Sometimes at night, when Pa slept off his fingers of whiskey and twigs snapped beyond our windows, Ma told us stories of man and wolf melding into one, sun thrumming through veins. She told us how we pushed into their land, built on their earth. She told us of a brotherhood painted on hills, feathers sticking to stone to form figures, histories hung from lips lit by fire. My brother returned with the rifle. Pa hawked up spit and sent it into the wolf’s face. He told us to watch, learn what happens when savages enter our land, take from our mouths. Dear Harper (Performed at the Èlan 30th Anniversary Alumni Reading) Between your ink-blot pages I found the cul-de-sac at the end of our street, where my brother and I raced bicycles round and around and around, until we stumbled home, dizzy with grins and sun. In Scout, I discovered my mother, mirror image younger sister, scabbed knees, undending curiosity and stubbornness, a kindness sunken into her very being. Within your letter fragments I unearthed the history of the soil I buried by toes in, from sun rays dappling leaves in the park down the street, to dark boughs bending over, cries ringing through the wood. But in Atticus, dear Mr. Finch, I found the father I had only dreamt of, a father who would take my hand and explain justice in a way I understood, a father who would hang on my every word, who treated me like my mind was made of gold. Somewhere, a mockingbird begins to sing, and two children run through a wood, their father following with a smile. What lesson did you learn at DA that sticks with you still? (Not just a lesson in the classroom but a larger lesson that gives perspective to your current life) In junior and senior year, I really began to understand that fiction and poetry are not completely separate genres. In my last two years at DA, I began experimenting with using fictional storytelling techniques in my poetry, and using poetic language in my fiction. Some stories need to be written in a fictional format, and others need to be poems. At DA, with the help of [my instructors], I learned how to merge genres and write stories the way I needed and they needed to be told.

In the card department of any drug store there is a section called, “Mile Stone” that holds cards for 5 year olds, 13 year olds, 16 year olds, 21 year olds, and 50 year olds. It’s doubtful that you’ll find a card to give your seventeen year old, sort of mature but not really daughter or cousin. You might find one out of one hundred cards for a newly 16 year old, because someone at the Hallmark factory accidentally typed a seven instead of a six. That’s how it feels to be seventeen, not necessary and almost accidental. When I woke up this morning the first thing I thought of was the popular 1976 Abba hit, not the fact that I was a year older. I even avoided thinking about getting a year older when my dad sat me down during breakfast and told me that he was proud of the young lady I’d become and that I was so mature at seventeen. Seventeen, he emphasized the age like I was turning seventy and he was one of my kids describing how old I was. When you turn sixteen, there are more perks than not. You get to finally retrieve your license, unless you’re like me who waited too long to get her permit. You are officially a teen, a title many value and many more loathe. When I turned seventeen, I only thought about the cons. You’re one year older than a teen, but one year younger than a legal adult. You’re closer to being able to get a tattoo than you were at sixteen, but you still need your parent’s consent. I almost found myself wondering why we didn’t just skip age seventeen and let sixteen year olds just go straight to eighteen. Then I realized that fourteen year olds, eleven year olds, and forty three year olds probably feel the same way. Some of them might want to go backwards, while others want to fly into the future. These in between ages are a time to cringe about what you did when you were a year or two younger and dream about what you’re going to do when you’re older. In between ages are necessary, whether cards to cement them exist or not. -Chelsea Ashley, Junior Website Editor

February is a month set aside in remembrance. It is a month to remember historical leaders of the past, and to remember those we love. It is a month of showing passion about the things for which we care. Check out this month’s Vlog, where the Elan staff tells you just a few things that they love. What are some things that you love? Is it writing, like us? Or something else entirely?

1. Catch up on any missed assignments. Those zeros may not seem like they are hurting your grade, but the trick to feeling good about yourself is commitment and not leaving any loose ends. 2. Plug into the last few lessons of the year. I know you’re probably already accepted into college and got the score you wanted on the SAT, but that doesn’t mean you can give up now. Finish strong. 3. Don’t take this as an opportunity to skip school. Pretty soon, you won’t be required to sit through school for eight hours a day and you can suffer through it for just a little while longer. 4. Engage in conversation with your teachers. They are interested in what you plan on doing after graduation. They have become “substitute parents,” and in just a few short weeks you won’t see them every day. Thank them. Thank them even if you weren’t their biggest fan, because it takes a certain type of person to spend their weekdays with teenagers. 5. Take pictures. In a few years, these last memories will fade and you won’t remember who you sat with at lunch or what your style was. That’s the magic of pictures. They ignite those gray areas in your brain and will spark hours of conversation about the “old days.” 6. Go to your senior prom. Ladies, strap on those high heels that you can barely walk in and fix your hair until you feel beautiful. Guys, get that suit or tux ready. Try to have as much fun as possible so you have a story to tell your kids one day. 7. Attend all meetings and rehearsals about graduation. There will be many things to remember in the coming weeks and you don’t want to miss out on spending time with your senior class. 8. Spend as much time with your friends possible. School has made it convenient to spend numerous hours of the day with them, but make time to meet up after school or on the weekends. With the end of school comes the parting of ways. The friends you have now can carry you through the rest of your life. Confide in them. Go places with them. Listen to them. Laugh with them. 9. The morning of graduation, wake up knowing that after that day your life will be changed forever. You won’t be told to go to school, you won’t have busy work assignments to catch up on or have to wake up at the crack of dawn everyday. Spend that day in relaxation doing whatever makes you happy. 10. The night of graduation, put on that cap and gown with pride and let your parent’s take pictures of you. In their eyes, you are still the baby they held 18 years ago. Smile when your name is called and they hand you your diploma and try not to think about the possibility of tripping. Be proud of what you accomplished. Soak in the atmosphere. That will be the last time you will ever be in the same place with these people again. 11. Don’t be afraid to cry. In these last days, you may be upset thinking about how you will never do any of these things again. Cry because you are sad, but also cry because you are happy. This is a mile stone in your life and is just the beginning of so many firsts. --Makenzie Fields, Submissions Editor.

For the past seven years of studying Creative Writing in school, I’ve never thought of myself as a poetry person. I’ve always connected more with fiction writers, like Rick Moody, George R.R. Martin, Khaled Hosseini, and Markus Zusak. I’ve always found more inspiration in their stories of suburban America, a fantasy world of thrones, children playing under a burning Afghan sun, and a young orphan learning to read in a basement in Germany. Through their stories, I’ve been able to find myself in the lines, discover facets of myself that I couldn’t uncover anywhere except through words. I’ve learned to weave my own stories, create characters that reeled me in and still haven’t let go, reach into my childhood and extract truths that I needed to express. I always thought that fiction held more truth than poetry. Then this year happened. I discovered that poetry was more central than I thought last year at the Dodge Poetry Festival, where poets like Nikki Finney, Taylor Mali, Patricia Smith, and Rachel McKibbens exploded my small world of understanding to smithereens. When I got home, I wrote pages and pages of poetry and told myself this is it, this is what being a poet is. Then I got stagnant. I forgot about intent and speaker and line breaks and poetry. I forgot everything, and when I returned to school I studied fiction, and got pulled back into the longer form of writing I’d always loved. Halfway through the year I switched to poetry, and the first lesson was essentially a slap in the face. We were to write on whether or not poetry was dead, and I didn’t know how to answer. I struggled with poetry through the first month or so, navigating this strange land of technique and style with the grace of a bull. I had no idea what I was doing. Then I wrote a poem exploring the myth of Medusa, and everything clicked. I connected to her pain, her ambition, her refusal to back down for what she wanted. From there on out, poetry and fiction equaled in truth. In Fiction, I can hide. I can spin stories that don’t clearly show myself in them. In Poetry, there is no shelter. Each poem is some extension of myself, some exploration of emotion and memory. Poetry and Fiction have become equal for me. Depending on what story I need to tell, I craft paragraphs or stanzas, but both show my identity in an equal light. Both are ways of telling my story, in whichever form that story needs to be told. --Emily Cramer, Editor-in-Chief

Writing is built on relationships. Writing is composed, constructed, resurrected, and thrown together with a relationship in mind. In literature, readers -myself included- are quick to judge the characters without in depth analysis or benefit of the doubt to the situation unfolding. As readers you place your struggles and the concepts of your own personal relationships into the text, sometimes letting it overshadow the new way of thinking the writer wants you to experience. For example, last year, I read the book Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal Hurston. This book is sewn together with beautiful language as it follows the life of Janie, a mixed race woman in the early 1900s. Though I connected to the strength and determination the main character had the entire time in the book, I couldn't understand why she stayed married to a man who abused her. Even after reading this book, I weighed the argument that Janie had a nice life married to a pastor but was muted into submission by him. I didn't understand why she didn't just pack her stuff and leave. As a senior in high school I have already begun to mentally pack my bags for college and have grown to understand Janie. I've learned that even when the front door is open it's hard to leave the people and the place you've called home for so long, that there is a relationship you have to even the drippy faucet you'll only notice when you're gone. As the year progresses I take the idea on relationships Hurston gave her character Janie and now look for it in other stories. Relationships run deep. They don't need to be subjected to a list of archetypical characters. In the long run, they are really hard to walk away from. -Chrissy Thelemann, Submissions Editor

Over the course of this school year, our staff created a whole new position for getting our name out and really advertising the launch of our books and the work that we do. Being the first social media editor, there was a lot to do, and so much to leave behind. I had the privilege of having junior social media editor Madison work under me and really help prepare the role of what social media is. During book launches, it consists of consistent and multiple posts throughout the week to help promote the work from all of you. Madison and I wanted to ensure that your voices would be heard farther than the boundaries of our school. We were really excited when we got our first outside submissions, because that meant we were doing something right. So to guarantee that more would come, we researched other magazines and studied their social media habits to see just how well they reached out to their writers and readers as well. In doing that, we created ways to stay involved and keep in contact with you as much as we could. Thus, Mondays and Fridays were dedicated to posts about our current book. We highlighted what we felt best represented the caliber of both art and writing that we publish. That way not only could we show our gratitude and appreciation of the talent that you have, but also spread the word. Without a doubt, this position was a time-consuming but rewarding job to have. I feel each and every staff position is crucial to the success of this publication, social media being the driving force to help find all of you. I am completely satisfied in the work that we have accomplished (although I know next year, it will run more smoothly,) and I hope you enjoy your new social media editor, Madison, as much as I did. The next chapter to Élan is in such incredible hands and I couldn’t be more confident in the way all of our future seniors will do. So thank you readers for making our jobs on this staff so incredibly rewarding and fulfilling. We could not produce the work that we do without you. I know this publication will thrive, and I am so happy to have been a part of it. -- Haley Hitzing, Social Media Editor

Welcome to Élan literary magazine.  This launch of our website is the beginning of what our staff hopes will be a home for aspiring young writers and artists. We are proud that what started out as an after school club in 1986 has grown to a publication that accepts submissions from national and international high school students. This year, as our inaugural dive into the digital world, we will publish two online magazines. A year-end print edition will highlight the best of all this work. Our staff selects all pieces for publication through three to four rounds of evaluation as part of a blind reading process. Writing submissions, which include fiction, non-fiction and poetry, are read by all staff members and art pieces are chosen by group discussion. We follow the National Council for Teachers of English guidelines for excellence in writing and look to seasoned professional writers and professors of English for our overall finalists in writing and art. The experience of creating our first digital magazine after years of print editions has deepened our identity as a publication run by young artists and writers for young artists and writers. As the world becomes involved in our endeavor, we strive to be on par with prestigious literary publications in offering artists new opportunities to share work. We are a dedicated staff under the direction of two passionate teachers, and we hope to make the staffs of years past proud. With that said, we continue the tradition of spontaneous, boundless love for art and literature, while adding a fresh edge that reflects the changing dynamics for youth around the world. This website is a place for creative thoughts to be published, but also a place for reflection and interpretation. It is our valued readers who keep such an imaginative book alive. With much gratitude, Jenn Carter and Emily Cramer, Editors-in-Chief

Fiction writing is…hard. For me, the longer the piece, the harder it is to produce words. Perhaps it’s a magical word count; you reach a certain amount of words and suddenly the pages seem too crowded. So crowded, in fact, that your mind refuses to crowd the poor pages any more. This past November (feeling inspired by the incredible fiction pieces we received in our Winter Submissions) I decided to participate in NANOWRIMO, National Novel Writing Month. Basically, you have a goal of a certain amount of words per day which by the end of November will hopefully have produced a full novel. It’s hard enough to keep your thoughts organized to reach that word count, but on top of school and work, it forces your brain into overtime. The progress I made was below satisfactory, I can assure you, and yet I feel somehow better about my writing as a whole. Shaping the characters, working through the plot, it has been a rough journey, but I’m closer to the words because of it. I have a few tips, though, for your long-term writing process: Don’t compare yourself to other famous writers. Jane Austen may be able to create a timeless masterpiece, but that doesn’t mean your characters should go around saying, “Oh, there is nothing more I love than to sit and enjoy the splendors of reading, Mr. Smith! I daresay a woman who does not enjoy reading has not fully exercised the true potential of her mind!” If you reach a block, just keep writing. Even if the words are nonsense, sometimes the subconscious powers your writing more than you know, and you just might get some material out of it. Sometimes it’s not about the end result. The point of NANOWRIMO was not to produce the next award winning novel – it’s about the experience. –Zoe DeWitt, Fiction Editor

As I lay curled up in an armchair reading Richard Blanco’s third book Looking for the Gulf Motel, I was struck by his diversity and approach. In my personal life, when my writing suddenly shifted towards interactions with my father and references to Mexican culture- I housed a fear that I would be pigeon holed. Surely no one wanted to read ten poems all dealing with my father, and italicized Spanish words. However, words like chiles and tortilla popped up again and again, along with whole lines of dialogue in Spanish. Somehow,- it wasn’t enough, just to talk about my father and discovering culture. There had to be something else, a layer or theme hiding from me I hadn’t explored yet. Blanco poetry showed me just that. Knowing he was a Cuban writer, I expected unbridled praise for his culture, imagery upon imagery of joyous family gatherings, and ethnic dishes. It wasn’t quite what I imagined. Reading the poem for which the book is named, I realized there was so many other layers to exploring culture. In the poem he touches on the intricacies of poverty, shame and trying to exist in a society that is not completely forgiving. Amidst this, he celebrates, he creates the true immigrant experience of being out casted, a pariah, and in that humility rebuilding pride, but accepting the weight of practicing culture in different country. Blanco also explores how his sexuality relates to his culture. He does this in a poem about his grandmother suspecting he was gay, and what the cultural implications of that were. Knowing how the LGBT community is viewed from the traditional Hispanic lens, I felt for him. More than that, Blanco taught me that even though culture can be beautiful, and rich, you can walk the line of being an in-between, you can criticize it, and be fond of it. Most recently, with this nugget of knowledge, I’ve been exploring the difficulties of having mixed heritage, being Irish American on my mother’s side and Mexican’s on my fathers. For a long time I suppressed this desire to voice this confusion. Now I see I can, I have permission to celebrate, and express my identity and its intricacies. -Aracely Medina, Senior Poetry Editor