As writers we are exposed to different types of writing. Play writing, fiction, poetry, nonfiction, creative nonfiction- the list goes on and on. From day one I have considered myself a fiction writer, and that was that. Set in stone, forever known. But, that has changed over the course of these last two weeks. My friends told me to be prepared for what they called “Poetry Boot Camp,” but the group of desks and a stool in the front of the room aren't as intimidating as they make it out to be. I don’t particularly like change. I never thought I'd be saying this but I have developed a true love for poetry and the feeling that it brings people. It sounds cliché but, I have never in my life experienced something quite like it. I remember sitting in class and reading “A Blessing” by James Wright. I was sitting in my desk thinking about how the poem was saying so much to me as a reader in just a few lines. Before my recent poetry class I never understood how a poem could move you in a way that is difficult to put into words simply because the words were chosen carefully and placed in a specific order. I am still very passionate about fiction as a writer but, I think merging my love for both poetry and fiction gives me great advantages as a writer. I've found myself going back to my short stories for poem ideas. It's a great place to start if I'm stuck. Samuel Taylor Coleridge once said, “Poetry: the best words in the best order.” And as a writer I am forever searching for those words to put them in my own “best” order. –Madison George, Social Media Editor

Before this year’s planning for Writers’ Fest began, I’d never heard of Tom Paine. As Élan’s Junior Fiction Editor, I’m quite ashamed knowing I missed out on his work for so long. After some internet digging to find one of his short stories, I can confidently say I’m ready to attend his Writers’ Fest workshop. In addition to the excerpts found in Paine’s profile on the Writers’ Fest website, I also read a longer piece of his titled “Oppenheimer Beach.” I really enjoyed this story for its introspective and explorative narrative. The protagonist is a war photographer named Hugh, and he’s tired of life—so tired he drags his son (pulling him from a prestigious school) and wife (despite their rocky relationship) to a vacation in western India. While away from his family, Hugh runs across a young native boy who helps him look deeper into his emotional state. Immediately into the piece, the first three characters above are quickly defined. The son, Magnus, stays inside on his iPad. He’s established through dialogue as someone who can’t relate well to his father, rambling lines like, “If he sees me use it on some of his nature, if he sees what it can do even out here, then maybe he’ll want to try it, and we can use it together on our trip. I just think he needs to see it work on what he likes, like a local tree or unusual bird or something...” Hugh’s wife, Alfhild, is also shown as a contrast with her laid-back parenting approach and naked yoga stretches. Through dialogue, it’s revealed that her and Hugh’s marriage is falling apart: “I get that you have foolishly burned all your bridges and given up your photojournalism career... And I get that in six months or less, having completed this forced ‘end of the world let our child see it for the last time odyssey,’ we’ll return completely broke to New York, Magnus will be a year behind in his studies, we will probably divorce, and I will find a wealthy new lover, younger perhaps and more limber, who likes to play computer games with my son, and doesn’t walk around drowning in guilt...” Hugh himself is the most complex, with his vacation-decision and overall disconnect towards his family. He’s obviously wound up with repressed emotions, relying heavily on beers and joints to pass the days by. He’s further defined by Oppie, the native Rastafarian boy. It says a lot when their interactions are more natural and equal compared to Hugh and Magnus’s. Oppie is essentially a foil, but even he is characterized with motivations and experiences: “You can tell everything about a person by how they respond to looking into the black eye of a squid, or how the squid respond to them.” “Oppenheimer Beach” is so well-crafted in the way character relationships and deeper concepts are established through minute details that pile up on each other. Everything in the story matters, from the ambiguity of Oppie’s true family to the fate of Hugh’s marriage. Even the ending itself doesn’t resolve much, but stands as a symbolic representation of Oppie’s closeness with a reef, away from tourist-tainted land. -Seth Gozar, Junior Fiction Editor

In three short days, renowned writers from across the country will converge at Douglas Anderson’s Writers’ Festival. At the beginning of the year, it seemed so far away, something to think about later, something that would happen at some point but not anytime soon. Now that it’s upon us, and we’re packing tote bags and deciding which workshops to attend, I’m reminded of my past experiences at Writers’ Fest, and how they’ve changed my perspective of writing. My first Writers’ Fest was in eighth grade, when Joyce Carol Oates headlined. At that point, writing was a central aspect of my life, but I really didn’t understand myself as a writer. I was just excited to be in a room of high schoolers and authors that I vaguely knew about. I spent the day listening to writers speak about their craft, and slowly began to realize that I wanted to become more invested in writing. In sophomore year, I attended Writers’ Fest again, where I went to workshops on publishing, spoken word, revising, songwriting- essentially all topics I knew about, but was too afraid to try. I learned how to ensure that my work gets noticed by editors at magazines, how to transform my life experiences into a powerful performance, how to revise my pieces in a precise manner, and how to take techniques learned in sound devices and meter lessons to explore musical poetry. I stepped out of my comfort zone, and learned so much about myself and the possibilities of writing. In three short days, all of the planning will come to an end, and Writers’ Festival will actually happen. We will have the chance to listen, meet, and learn from writers like Richard Ford, Patricia Smith, Joseph Millar, Dorianne Laux, Rick Moody, and Sarah Kay. In three short days, these celebrated authors will teach us what it means to be a writer in this day and age. In three short days, I will be reminded again why I write, why I get excited over the structure of a sentence, why I want to read a poem over and over until the message settles deep within me, why a book lingers around me for weeks after I’ve read the last page. In three short days, I will push away all of the stress of senior year and college and scholarships and finishing school and focus on the written word, because at Writers’ Festival, that’s what matters. To help me get ready, I’ve been reading sample works of authors attending the festival. Here are a few of my favorites. Check out the official Festival page at http://douglasandersonwritersfest.com/, where you can read bios, workshop descriptions, and register. See you soon! “Leaving for Kenosha” by Richard Ford: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2008/03/03/080303fi_fiction_ford?currentPage=all “Dust” by Dorianne Laux: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/241982 “Sole Custody” by Joseph Millar: http://www.writersdigest.com/writing-articles/by-writing-genre/poetry/poetry-the-leap “The Type” by Sarah Kay: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sarah-kay/the-type_b_3533002.html “Siblings” by Patricia Smith: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/244376 “Hawaiian Nights” (excerpt) by Rick Moody: http://www.newyorker.com/archive/1999/06/21/1999_06_21_108_TNY_LIBRY_000018453 –Emily Cramer, Editor-in-Chief

The fourth month of the year is a time for poets around the world to rejoice. An entire thirty days strictly dedicated to the craft of poetry. I’m eager to broadcast my passion for this art form beyond just my responsibilities as one of Élan’s poetry editors, even beyond the creative writing department as a whole. Poetry is a universal vehicle of emotion and connection. And so, the craft should be readily available to the universe. It would be unrealistic wishing for the entire Douglas Anderson student body to be as enthusiastic about National Poetry Month as I am, the tallest of any order. (But if they were, my existence on this planet would be fulfilled.) Instead, I’ll narrow my scope. This April, I hope to reach out and enlighten one non-poet and reveal poetry’s often overlooked allure. I want to shatter the dissecting lens English classes bound to poetry. I need to prove how poetry can flip a person’s entire world—just as it did to mine. --Mariah Abshire, Poetry Editor

Do you ever get the feeling that you just can’t write? You wake up, brush your teeth, comb your hair and go off to school. You don’t think about writing at all, or feel that you don’t have the time to. Trust me, all writers have been there. Recently, I realized that I have not been writing for myself. Focused on school work and life in general, I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write every day, just because I should. Writing is a living, breathing thing. If you don’t practice it, it dies. A harsh image, I know, but when you think about it, if you don’t write just for the pure enjoyment of being able to, you get rusty. It bores you after a while, and that to a creative writing student is very frightening. We all have that “aha” moment, where we realize that we have just been doing what were told, and have not done anything for ourselves in a while. On the other hand, sometimes we do take that time out of our day to sit and write, but nothing comes. Whether it be journal entries, daily haikus etc. All you need is about twenty minutes every day, a pen and paper, and the drive to create something that is unique and all your own! Here are some websites with great and easy prompts or daily challenges to get your creative juices flowing. http://inkygirl.com/1000-words-a-day-project/ http://institutechildrenslit.net/Writers-First-Aid-blog/2013/01/22/putting-first-things-first-by-using-accountability/ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/01/07/writing-challenge-map-it-out/ http://institutechildrenslit.net/Writers-First-Aid-blog/2013/01/22/putting-first-things-first-by-using-accountability/ –Sarah Buckman

Writers have a reputation for being cold. The writer spends his days at a desk working the same words into different orders, avoiding other people so he can concentrate, obsessing over titles, obsessing over the few experiences he has with the outside world, obsessing obsessing obsessing. The nights are the same, but darker, mixed with images of the tortured soul. Addiction, insomnia, and night terrors are common. The writer is alone, is misanthropic, is sarcastic and mean, is cold. The stereotype is half the story; the warmer side of the literary life is rarely thought of. The misconceptions of writing are clear to anyone who lives a creative life. No writer gets by spending all his time alone with words. The world itself is necessary for details in poems, characters in stories, and the plot itself in creative nonfiction. Not every writer is tortured. Conflicted over his emotions? Of course. Obsessive? At times. Insomniac? Well, if you’re working on a piece and sleep gets in the way…. But, overall, the writer must not be an emotional/psychological wreck. Not every decision needs obsession, not every poem means sleepless nights, and not every writer is an alcoholic. Even those who were made it a rule not to write while drunk—the process itself was plain and untortured. Which leaves the warmth of writing. The moments when the writer realizes the music of a phrase or sentence, the times when characters come alive, the times when a plot twist seems to suggest itself. And the warmth isn’t just related to craft—it comes from those moments when he reads another writer that confirms a belief he’s always had but never known how to express, when he rereads a book from his childhood, when he sits down after a long day to do something he loves—to follow a passion as fully as possible. The relationships formed from thinking so carefully about emotions, the dedication to work gained from reading and passion, the optimism from affirming that life is worth living, is complete, can be beautiful—these are some of the warmest experiences a person can have, and they all stem from writing. Let the stereotype of the tortured writer rest. Focus instead on those comfortable images—that warmth hiding behind the emotional façade. Affirm that life is good and happy. And write about it. -Jacob Dvorak, Senior Fiction Editor

All people do their entire life is try to figure out who they are as a person.  Many people die trying. As for myself, I can’t say I know the essence of my entirety. My mind and soul and body are on wheels spinning in different directions, sometimes on different continents, it seems… But what I do know is that I understood myself less before I poured into the pages of the Harry Potter series. I’ve found my fingers flipping J.K. Rowling’s pages, becoming lost in the labyrinths of her plots, carried away in the compassion flowing from her characters. As I’m reading this series, all these people see the body of the book, its spine, or the cover between my hands wherever I am. I heard things like: “I read that series in elementary school…” I couldn’t help but feel a flush of red overpower my cheeks and almost feel ashamed for being a seventeen year old reading this series. I kept reading and it was soon that I decided reading this series was the best thing that ever happened to me.  Anyone I’ve met that shares an interest and love for this series has felt instantly like family to me. These books hold so much invention and creativity, from creatures such a as hippogriphs and phoenixes, to things like death eaters and giant serpents, to settings of moving staircases and talking portraits…The plethora of uniqueness drips from page to page. Perhaps the love I feel for the Harry Potter books is mostly due to its characters. Like Ginny, I am often shy and quiet around crushes. Every now and then I am the clumsy and unlucky Neville. Sometimes I am the ambitious and overachiever Hermione. I am the animal enthusiast, Hagrid. I am the embarrassed, red cheeked Ron as my parents discuss bills, or my sibling’s triumphs surpass my own. I am the average person who found out they are indeed brave and special and worth something. Someone smart once said “you must love yourself before you can love others”. In a way, finding who I am is a step closer to being able to accept and love myself. I may not live in the world beyond the bricks of 9 and ¾. I may not fly Firebolts and speak to elves like Dobby, but that’s the magic of fiction. I can coexist as myself, in this world, or I can apparate into another world. And to J.K. Rowling, you’ve made a world in which I love the characters, and in return, have found ways to appreciate myself. And so for all the days and nights flipping pages, I give my most real and honest thank you. -Kathleen Roland, Art Editor

The temperature outside has dropped out of triple digits and that means fall is at our door step again. Only it isn’t really fall, more like Florida’s sad attempt at not being summer. And the season change isn’t really at our doorstep but more so in neighboring states. Fall is supposedly the time where trees surrender their lush, lively leaves to the warm hues of burnt harvest. Where scarves are once again pulled from the backs of dresser drawers. But by noon of each November day shoulders are bare and my hair is tied up, off my neck. A Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving is cycling on the television, but all I see is summer out the window. I even went home with a sunburn the other day. For residents of the sunshine state, autumn only exists in postcards from distant relatives. We’re surrounded by dull green palm trees, held captive by humidity’s year-round presence. In the midst of the time of change and transition, we’re drowning in monotony. Since no one can control the weather, I’ve taken the initiative to look for transformation in other places. With Élan’s Winter edition completed and launched, my responsibilities as one of the poetry editors has pacified. This allots me time for my personal poetry. I’ve always known that if I want to grow and get better at something, I must first learn to change. So with this in mind, I plan on utilizing my free time in class to alter and vary my poetic style. Maybe sooner or later, Florida will get the hint that sulking in the same season is getting old. But I won’t hold my breath on that one. Finally, for any readers wishing to indulge in the season through poetry, here are some suggested reads: Pink Elephants – Rachel McKibbens Love Poems – Nikki Giovanni Sailing Alone Around the Room – Billy Collins -- Mariah Abshire, Junior Poetry Editor

As we close in on Élan’s 30th consecutive year in publication, it’s important to remind ourselves why we’ve made it this far and why we’ll continue to publish in the future. So often, young writers are marginalized by their age, lack of experience, societal status, and perceived lack of skill. Most “big” publications skim over these authors, mistaking those qualities for an inability to craft a compelling story full of depth and growth. The youth’s perspective is one often distorted by social media and trends. It’s because of this that the young person’s perspective in literary communities is all the more important. The stories of people our age are just as important (in some cases, more important) as the stories written by established writers, particularly in these developmental years where so much is unknown to us. And not the post-adolescent Judy Blume novels written by an adult on the life of a young person, but actual stories written by actual young people motivated to share their own truths, flawed as they may be. We’re all born into our own reality that’s continuously shaped by our experiences. With each story told, we chip away not at the answer, but at the question. Élan does so much more than share the works of young writers. It keeps young writers from slipping through the cracks. It shares the stories we love hearing and forces us to listen to ones we don’t. Élan’s 30th anniversary marks an important milestone in more ways than one. In some ways, it proves naysayers wrong by reminding the community of the drive and motivation of young people to tell stories. In others, it reminds us writers there is demand for our work, and sometimes, all it takes is that boost to bring us back to why we do this. To chip away at the question. To stick it to the man. To tell a badass story. -Tatiana Saleh, Community Outreach Editor

Communities are an essential part of living. They bring people together and establish a common ground. Too often people are trying desperately to become themselves by taking the parts of others. Communities limit those distractions. They remind people what it is to be united by individual thoughts and beliefs. A community groups like-minded people and gives light to each of their differences. As a child, I was never a part of many communities. I wasn’t on the soccer team, I didn’t have dance after school. I’d only really been a student and a daughter, not much more. As I grew, I found myself searching for a sense of community. I went on to pursue a study of writing and soon became very close to the literary community. It was a different world, being surrounded by people who shared the same sole purpose as I did. I wanted to write and I wanted to read, and everyone around me wanted the same. I developed many friends with similar interests, and unlike ever before, I felt myself belonging somewhere other than where I was required to belong. When I was invited to join the Elan staff, I was eager to experience the same sense of community I had recently learned about. What I got instead was life changing.  The lessons I learned about communication and unity educated me on levels far beyond the walls of the classroom. Each of us on the staff were equally as passionate and excited to commit to something bigger than ourselves and we worked together to put on the greatest events, and create the best book we possibly could. The community we developed as a staff, taught us each to be our own leaders, listeners, and achievers. Each of the communities I have been involved me have helped me grow and mature and as I move forward I hope to not only join other communities and learn from them, but to create my own. Uniting people by their similar interests and impacting them in such a way that they grow and mold into new and better people, ready to open themselves up to the world. -Briana Lopez, Senior Editor-in-Chief

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

Last year for Valentine’s Day I wore black to mourn the loss of the true meaning of love (and also to mourn my happiness since I was single). This year, I will be visiting my boyfriend’s house and eating popcorn while forcing him to spend hours watching Hallmark movies with me. However, even though I am in a relationship I have a special part in my heart where I harbor my detestation of the popular love holiday. So here are some things about Valentine’s Day that I do NOT love: 1. All that free chocolate makes everyone fat and then the next couple of weeks everyone will be complaining about how fat they are 2. We are forced to consider our own perpetual loneliness if we are not in a relationship 3. True love has become an over-sized, over-priced Walmart teddy bear 4. It is my father’s birthday but everyone who is not immediate family is too busing buying into consumer culture to care 5. Flowers die and make a big mess and use water that could go to kids in Africa 6. Hallmark movies are addicting and are the cause of many sad, lonely people who realize no one who loves them 7. You should love your significant other every day NOT once a year when you remember that your Facebook status says that you are “in a relationship” 8. Love is the essence of transcending the material world, so stop celebrating it with more credit card debt 9. Sexism 10. Saint Valentine was also the Saint of Plague and Disease (Food for thought). So although the day now passed,  just remember Valentine’s is another day of the year and you have every other day of the year to love and be loved (or mourn your loneliness). -Stephanie Thompson, Head of Marketing