Arts & Media:Edward Michael Supranowicz
Editor’s Choice: About the Author: I am the grandson of Irish and Lithuanian immigrants, both sides of the family having worked in the coalmines and steel mills of Appalachia. I have worked in law enforcement, for the state health dept., ran several HUD programs, worked pipeline, in factories, been a member of the US army, and have been painting and writing since I was a child. About the Work: Basically, most of what I do is intuitive and expressionistic. I feel that neither time nor space is as simple, or linear or static as we often think of it. Here and there are never really separate, and time is circular, and perception and perspective are often matters of convenience. |
Fiction:Emily Porter
Editor’s Choice: About the Author: My name’s Emily, I’m a 20 year old college student majoring in English Studies, and writing is both my love language and coping mechanism in life. I’ve been writing my whole life but didn’t start fostering a passion for creative writing until I took a class in the subject my sophomore year of high school (shout out to Ms. Teuber). Ever since, writing fiction and poetry has become the outlet for expressing all my love, pain, contempt, confliction, and hope. I’ve written nearly 150 poems and my goal is to one day get all of my work out into the world. My work can be found on Instagram (@luna.andpoetry), TikTok (@emily.e.port), and Substack (@mymoonlitpages). About the Work: My piece “Hillwood House” started out as a random short story assignment given in my sophomore year creative writing class. At the time, I was still exploring different genres of storytelling and decided to delve into horror; using my favorite true crime and supernatural tales that’d been floating around in my head as inspiration. After graduating high school, I rediscovered this short story and decided to come back and edit it with more advanced and mature writing skills. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much that needed editing even though I wrote this at 15 years old, and it’s become a special piece in my heart. My family has continuously told me how much they love “Hillwood House” and were the ones who strongly pushed me to submit this story to Euphemism, so I have to acknowledge them as my biggest supporters. |
Non-Fiction:James B. Nicola
Editor’s Choice: Flights of Friendship at Pier 84 About the Author: For decades I directed plays all over the country, as well as New York City. (I am also a composer, lyricist, and playwright.) My goal seemed to be to spend time with the greats: Shakespeare, Williams, O’Neill, Chekhov, Sondheim, many more. They became, in a way, my teachers. Now I have turned into a writer myself, which may have been the path I was on all the while. About the Work: The article is a true story. Goslings did eventually appear, by the way, as I had anticipated. Friends who knew of my “thing” for the geese told me of the chicks before I saw them. There were five at first, adorable as babies are wont, but only two survived. The rest of that spring and summer we watched them grow to almost their parents’ size. The family of four remained pretty friendly for the rest of that season until it was time for them to migrate south once again. |
Poetry:Emma Reid
Editor’s Choice: About the Author: I’m an undergraduate studying English and Linguistics at Washington University in St. Louis, and am currently in the last few weeks of my final semester. I’ve loved all of the writing classes I’ve been able to take here during my four years—not only have they given me the opportunity to improve my writing, but they carved out places in my busy schedule for me to be able to just, write. Nothing more. Writing has always been something I’ve loved, and I hope to hold onto it as an anchor while I’m ruthlessly catapulted beyond graduation and into the vague, undefined space that is life after college. My plans still aren’t clear, but I’ve been figuring it out, one step at a time. About the Work: “Sunflowers and Sweet Corn” actually began as an assignment for my Poetry 1 class last spring, written less than two weeks after the death of my great grandmother. By the time she passed away, I hadn’t spoken with her in well over a decade. The memories I retain of her and my great grandfather are fleeting but incredibly vivid, tinted a warm, soft yellow by sunshine and the naivety of childhood. Reading her obituary unearthed memories I’d long forgotten about, and that Poetry 1 assignment offered me a way to try to articulate them. I ended up taking a long, bittersweet stroll down a half-forgotten memory lane, to try to imagine myself in the scuffed up shoes of the little girl who loved going to Grandmama and Grandpapa’s house. This poem has stuck with me since I first wrote it, and I’m so happy to be sharing it in Euphemism. |
