Poetry isn’t a thing, but a being. It gives voices and confidence to many people that become the very artists that many of us look up to. As a poetry editor on the Élan staff, I made it my goal to commit to more exposure of the art and form of poetry. Throughout April, National Poetry Month, the staff has worked to push poetry out of corners, like lining the hall with poems and even distributing poetry grams. However, one major accomplishment met my goal for the promotion of Poetry Month was to hold a school wide slam. Holding the slam this year was extremely important to me because it was abandoned last year. It was hard for me to watch all of the preparation and promotions go to waste, to watch our audience dwindle until there was no one. This year was like starting over, like taking the hand of a child and teaching them how to walk or speak again after months of practice. Doing the slam this year became a child that whined and wrecked things until it had my full attention. The Poetry Slam grew and matured, becoming a project that held an ample audience that was ready and willing to sit and listen to poetry, letting it take over. I cannot put into words how wonderful it felt to watch each participant go up and give the audience piece after piece, as if to introduce themselves formally as artist with words that matter. The slam was a good way to promote poetry because when you host an event, the people that support are those who love to allow themselves to become one with art. Art is more than a thing, but a being that sprouts an obsession, passion, and true love: poetry. --Brittanie Demps, Poetry Editor

Sophomore year, I decided what my final words would be. Famous and noble men are remembered fondly for their last words. Thomas Jefferson, Marie Antoinette, and countless others have created a legacy through their final sentences. There’s so much pressure to put the right words together, to leave the world with a message that in essence captures a whole person. With all of this in mind, I put some serious thought into what I would say. I added articles and cut out nouns. I frowned at the definitive period at the end of the sentence and stuck my tongue out at my sorry pronoun usage. All of that culminated into what will be my final message to the world: “It was the chicken.” Short, sweet, and to the point of my greasy, characteristically unhealthy diet that will most likely be the cause of my early grave. Don’t judge. The words “It was the chicken,” came from the voice of an elderly woman from a fiction story I wrote. The words were the final statement of her will and this was her way of confessing to killing her husband years earlier. Out of every story I wrote last year, this was the only line that even my friends walked around saying after they read it. Somehow the simple, four word, foodie-induced phrase created a memorable effect. Now that I’m on Élan staff as the Junior Creative Nonfiction Editor, the truth to that statement has never seemed clearer to me. The pieces we read don’t have to have a car chase and a gruesome death. There’s nothing better than writing with subtlety that engrosses you more than the graphic detail given to how someone butters their toast. Strong writing has needs nothing but the words and the essence of the writer themselves. It’s always the not-so-famous last words that make the greatest impact anyways. --Shamiya Anderson, Creative Non-Fiction Editor

Before last year I had considered myself a fiction writer. A storyteller, maybe even a future novelist. I loved reading it and writing some of it but I never had the experience of growth that  I did with other forms of writing. I've always felt like I've never progressed with my fiction. It's almost as if I'm writing on the same level as I was in my freshman year. So, with the semester halfway over and my journey to fiction class is near I have decided to take a new approach to fiction writing. Funny. I always find myself going back to the same topics when writing. Those include children, parenting and coming of age experiences. I try to make mental notes to myself to "change it up!" But it never really happens. But I feel that this year while in my fiction class I can take a humorous route. I enjoy reading funny stories that are light hearted and witty and I think there are plenty out there that still retain literary value in terms of style and technique. Sometimes people may fail to recognize a piece's merit simply because of its subject matter. So, with the new semester on the rise I have challenged myself. Create funny fiction. Whether it be about an awkward first date or a rain dance while making a pie in the kitchen, I'm going to make my stories funny. -Madison George, Social Media Editor

Being a senior, it’s often hard to think of the last time something was not beginning. A new test, a college application, a new email, etc. But I have recently been trying to teach myself that beginnings are not always troublesome; they happen for a reason. I was recently accepted to the college of my choice. I was attempting to create a password for my new account with them. I had so much trouble with it that I had to call the help desk. I was so entirely frustrated and ready to give up, but the girl on the other line was kind enough to set my password for me. It was a two minute phone call. So, you are asking why I am telling you this? Because it took me that long to figure out how lucky I am to be able to go to college. There I was, sitting on my nice couch, in my warm home, complaining to no end about something out of my control. I had to stop and think about my life this year. Have you ever counted how many times a day you complain about anything at all? For me, the number would be astronomical. I have decided to do more with my days as a senior than complain constantly about trivial things. I will complain about math tests for sure (that cannot be avoided), but I will try to focus on all of the beginnings that my senior year has brought to me. I can’t wait to graduate and start the next part of my education, but for now, I want to take each day as it comes. I want to focus on the opportunities that I receive and I want to learn to be more thankful for what I learn from this year. -Sarah Buckman, Editor-in-Chief

Èlan Literary Magazine is celebrating its 30th year Anniversary. In honor of the evolution of our published writing, our editorial staff is appreciating the techniques and stylistic choices of those that have inspired them. One of the first poems I ever read in middle school was “in Just-” by e.e. cummings, a poem about an odd little balloon man in a neighborhood during the height of Spring. We had someone read it aloud, the words smushed together, the spacing odd and confusing for students who had barely even read “standard” poetry. After the reader finished, everyone pounced on the writing: several comments like, “Doesn’t he know how to use punctuation?” and “This is stupid.” I had the same doubts; surely someone good enough to be in a middle school literature book knew how to construct basic lines and use proper grammar and punctuation. But it was the way “eddieandbill” looked on the page, the way they became one and the same as they ran down the street, chasing the balloon man. There was something purposeful in those conglomerations of words, something about the way cummings described spring - something more than a season. In my own poetry - towards the end of my Junior year - I, too, began playing with form and grammar. In my final portfolio, I created a piece titled “Just a Pill,” a poem about my fear of medicine, stemming from having lived with my drug-addicted grandmother for the majority of my life. I began to understand just how meaningful floating language and improper grammar could be in conveying emotion; they weren’t just to make the poem look eccentric, or more modern. It was such a useful technique in what I wanted to create, lending a visual tension and pause to a piece that was otherwise gripping and forceful. Once I started writing things I valued, it became much easier to allow myself time to play with form. Just like e.e. cummings did in his balloon man poem, floating language and combined words took my writing to a place it couldn’t have gone in any other way; these choices shaped the pills into more than medicine, more than seeds of fear - suddenly the pills were an idea, a moment, a snapshot into a part of my life I didn’t want to re-examine. Sitting in my seventh grade classroom puzzled by a man who would later become one of my favorite poets, I discovered something about writing: it doesn’t have to be perfect, or formal or anywhere close to “normal;” it just has to make you look at what you thought you already knew - how to write a line of poetry, how to interpret scary moments in your life. e.e. cummings was a man so dedicated to letters that he legally changed his name to all lowercase. He was a poet so dedicated to craft that he broke rules and created new ones. In the space between “far   and   wee,” the poem lives; in the closeness of “bettyanddisbel,” innocence is illuminated; in the “mud-luscious” world, the odd little balloon man delivers the essence of Spring. -Mackenzie Steele, Co-Art Editor #Poetry #Inspiration #floatinglanguage #grammar #inJust #stylisticchoices #eecummings #technique #September #balloonman

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

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.

DA’s writing department flourishes a plethora of interesting relationships. We spend four years getting into small groups and dissecting each other’s personal writing. As each year progresses, said writing blossoms into embodiments of the writer. We learn to pull inspiration and authenticity from our actual lives. Then, we go to class and sit idly by while class members peer into a sliver of who we are. On the page this calls to be a highly intimate experience. Yet over these years, I’ve watched us all leave the writing classroom and hardly even share eye contact. On the page, it would seem that these people reading into my life would be the closest friends. Writers, though, don’t follow societal norms. We have to go against the grain. Instead, we writers associate in more subtle ways. We all walk around on campus as if a part of a secret society. As if we’re all too busy being the quiet observer in the corner -pooling ideas for the next short story- to acknowledge one another. Whenever I’d pass by a fellow writer, my lips would give a small smile accompanied by a quick head nod. This year, I’ve greatly stepped out of my comfort zone. Writing has taught me that nothing is learned if risks aren’t taken. Maybe it’s senior year blues, maybe nostalgia, but I’ve put in a lot more effort to form an actual relationship with these incredible people. Not a single trace of regret has surfaced since. In the coming months, we’ll all go our separate ways. Inevitability at its finest. But these unique perspectives that I’ve sat beside for the last four years aren’t about to leave. As I continue pursuing writing, I’ll always refer to my original, and most cherished critics. -Mariah Abshire, Editor- in- Chief

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

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