Issue 21.1 Home
Letter from the Editor-in-Chief
This October, we watched Dead Poets Society, a classic film for every creative being, especially academics sucked into a tornado of autumn leaves. I could quote nearly any line, and it would remind us why we find time in our ever-shortening, ever-darkening days for art and writing, even when attention spans are shrinking and artificial intelligence is a few keystrokes or swipes away.
Creators, as always, thank you for trusting us with your brains and your hearts. It has been a privilege to receive submissions from 76 brave souls who offered us a grand total of 25 art/media, 47 fiction, 14 non-fiction, and 134 poetry pieces. Some of our genre committees cannot remember such numbers! Of course, I extend congratulations to everyone who found a home for their work in Euphemism, but I also reserve a moment to recognize anyone at all who crafted something with their own mind and body this year. Please do so again in the next.
Staff, we are so lucky to be surrounded by such warm people. The review and publication process is always a labor of love, and this semester definitely pushed our limits. Somehow, we still found time to stray off-task in laughing fits—a problem I promise never to complain about. You made Mondays bearable. My chest warmed every time a group of us lingered during office hours or after meetings. We will genuinely miss those of you moving on. We wish you the best.
Readers, I hope a snippet of issue 21.1 leaves you with a paper cut that grazes your fiber of existence and stings for days to come. Mine is the end of Robert McDonald’s poem “The Feel of that Paisley Jacket”: “I suppose I was aware of it, the way / you might know / that someone’s blown out / that row / of teacup / candles / on the mantlepiece / just before you entered the now / empty room.”
Lilly McGreevy
Editor-in-Chief