These So-Called Answers (Eleanor Intro) (12/18/2021)

These So-Called Answers | The Weekly Atticus

A recap of the week's writing at Atticus Review. Intro by Joshua Raff.

Unlike in past letters, I don't know what I want to say to you today. I have trepidation, I have doubt and anxiety. This time, it's been more challenging to set my mind to knowing “this letter is going to flow, it's going to be easy, it's going to pour out with little effort.” That's what I want to feel, for sure. But I don't. It occurs to me that this is the place to start then, this admission. If I cannot confess my writing anxiety to this audience, then who? It's reflective of another admission I'm loathe to make: I haven't written any fiction for a few years now. It's hard to write that: a few. I tried to write “a couple” and blame the pandemic, blame working from home, blame the stressful political situation which I feel I must keep tabs on—but that would be a lie. Even now, I can't bring myself to look up the actual number of years it's been since I worked on a piece of fiction, fearing “a few” will turn into “several,” and if it does...well, that's the question: what does this mean? I think that question might be a distraction, though. Meaning can be made to serve any purpose: It means I need to refocus. It means I should give up story writing. It means I've lost my edge. It means other activities are more satisfying for me now. It means...I have something to write to you about today. I know that I've gotten too hung up on Why questions in the past, that I've used them against myself. I'm usually asking why something I want isn't happening, and I'm too often looking for a fault in myself to explain. I assume knowing why will make me feel better about the unwanted outcome – that from these so-called answers, I'll find a remedy for “next time.” I can tell by my vague language in describing what I supposedly get out of this round and round that this is a mental pattern I fall into subconsciously. A generally unsatisfying one, now. It's getting boring to describe. The value in a difficult situation is that moments of relief are stark and affecting. Like this one which came to me in March: I got an acceptance letter for a story I'd submitted at the end of 2019. Fifteen months. It was an email submission, so I hadn't been fretting over the lack of reply, I'd forgotten all about it. Any acceptance is wonderful; this one was especially so. The editor was kind enough to apologize for the delay and assure me profusely it was no reflection on the quality of my work. Why can't I provide the same assurance to myself? While I haven't been writing fiction, I have been writing these letters, telling strangers my personal stories, for a couple of years now. When (our outgoing Managing Editor) David first asked me if I was interested in contributing a letter every few months, I said yes despite having never written creative nonfiction. It's been deeply satisfying, and I'd be remiss if I didn't credit David's patient guidance for the emergence of whatever kind of writer I am now. The kind who's willing to start a piece full of doubt. The kind who can trust my writing to take me somewhere worthwhile. That's meaning enough for me today.Thanks for reading. We’re glad you’re here.Eleanor GallagherAssistant Fiction Editor

ATTICUS NEWS

Our Reading List is updated each week. Go check it out!Are you a contributor to Atticus Review who'd like your book featured in the reading list? Send us an email at [email protected]. 

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS

FICTION

OH, HOW THE WORLD TURNS IN THE CIRCLE OF A CAN

by Denise Robbins

"He hates reading online, much preferring to skim when they land at his feet, absorb their contents, and move them forward to the landfill, to be later squashed, buried, and stuck through with pipes, so their energy can be captured, condensed, purified into methane, and sold. Bob’s brain has grown ten times since he started."

POETRY

THE INVENTION OF TWITTER

by Jeffrey Bean

“It is high summer, the grasses are tall

and yellow. They seem to sizzle or murmur

in the wind, and they bring to the woman

the woody, tangy smell of her childhood.

CREATIVE NONFICTION

PRIDE

by Judy Bolton-Fasman

"When Elton sang about Spain, it seemed impossibly far away. Along with everything else."

MIXED MEDIA

TEN BAG OF ALBION

by Charles Putschkin and Richard Capener

“When Charles sent Richard the images for ”Ten Bag of Albion,” they reminded him of a longstanding idea he’d had to view the British Romantic poets through a contemporary lens. This was explored by feeding words and themes common in such literature into an online rap lyric generator.“

BEST SMALL FICTIONS NOMINATIONS 

Atticus Review congratulates its nominations for The Best Small Fictions anthology!

Alyssa Asquith, Lesley Finn, Ryan Habermeyer, Frankie McMillan, Joseph Tepperman

SUPPORT ATTICUS!

We are able to bring you content such as this through the generous support of writers and readers like yourself. Please consider becoming a regular

today. All subscription levels include free submissions.

**For photo credits, follow links to stories.**