This is a poem about Community [yours]
By Madeline Katz
Freshly nineteen and alone. I remember the weight of that periwinkle and black book pressed against my chest and the comfort it provided while I stood in Green Apple Books. It was a book of photographs by Burt Glinn depicting the artists and writers of the Beat Generation in New York and San Francisco captured between 1957 and 1960.
It was heavy and luxurious, the pages thick, glossy, and containing the secrets of what I now realize I desperately craved back then—artistic community.
Photo by Margaret McNamara
More than the writing itself, the photos captured the ways in which community is formed and maintained through a mutual agreement to keep showing up, for each other and through art. While I could see how they gathered in small apartments, bars, and park benches to hang out and create, it took me a while to figure out how to translate this to Fordham.
Especially at Lincoln Center, it could feel quite isolating and like everyone was doing their own thing. It might seem like you’re the only one feeling this way but based on conversations I’ve had reflecting back on the first few years, it’s easy and not uncommon to feel like a lost speck of a person floating by in this big, nebulous city.
It actually took a global pandemic for me to engage in a committed way to the writing community at Fordham. I started writing for The Observer and then became an arts & culture editor. Campus publications, like you may have heard and will definitely continue to hear in the future, are a great way to gain experience, learn to work with others, and figure out if this type of writing is a good fit for you. Don’t you just love it when peoples’ well intentioned advice to join campus publications turns out to be right? It’s so great.
Some other publications to consider contributing to are The Comma (not the Oxford one, but still, we love it!), Flash magazine, Grain of Salt (or any other zines that pique your interest, doesn’t have to be Fordham affiliated). Basically, if you like the publication and think your writing would feel at home with the other pieces of work, then it’s a good indication that you should submit and see what happens. Pitching stories is something that takes time, effort, and practice. Did I mention practice? So you may as well start now.
Along with having an outlet for your writing, joining publications is unofficially a gateway to networking *gasp* the horror! The idea of networking has always made me cringe. It conjures images of suits, uncomfortable small talk, and having to pitch myself in the span of a metaphorical elevator ride, like, hello where are we going?
I’m happy to report, however, that I have since realized, through the oft repeated advice from professors and just about every media professional I have come into contact with, that networking is key. Which is to say that relationships matter. They are advocating for the expansion of community, the inclusion of new and exciting voices, they are saying ‘get in, we’re going writing.’
By joining publications, you may also hear about opportunities that you wouldn’t have known about otherwise. For example, I was able to participate in the Financial Times News School 2021 programme after I saw an email forwarded by The Observer. I applied and was fortunate to learn from industry professionals about what it takes to run a news organization and the business aspects that go into supporting journalism. There are so many opportunities out there and it’s really a matter of trying a variety of experiences to see what you like.
One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that people typically want to help you. Most people have been helped at some point in their early careers and want to pass it forward. This is great news for you. Not only are you a lovely budding writer, but you also have a whole community waiting to uplift you.
Even with these support systems in place, like helpful and available professors, kind alumni, and your peers, they won’t actually know you need help unless you ask. Fordham has yet to include a mind-reading requirement in the core curriculum and thus, the task of speaking up for yourself still rests squarely on your shoulders. I know advocating for yourself can be challenging but think of it as good old character building. Surely if you can write scenes of growth for your characters, you can begin to do the same for yourself.
We may be seeing less depictions of explicitly “main character” videos on our social media feeds but this does not take away from the fact that you deserve your very own nuanced character development arc.
As you begin your English journey, there’s plenty of time and space to explore the different communities of writing at Fordham. Through the pandemic, community has popped up in different forms including English Connect, the English Department’s online community forum. This can be a great way to stay updated on things happening in the English community but it’s not the only way.
It’s really up to you how you want to engage with different aspects of the English community, whether that is through in-person events, online, or a hybrid approach. The important thing is to reflect on how you feel after the variety of interactions and see what works best for you. Essentially, consider sticking with the format that leaves you feeling most vibrant and ready to create.
You know the saying, “In order to have friends, you must first be one”? That's very true. As great as it is to receive the love and support of community, you have to reciprocate in order to cultivate a culture of care. Sometimes, this can seem daunting, scary, and overwhelming. It’s difficult to be open at times. But it is almost always worth it. Being open with others allows you permission to be open with yourself and also honest in your writing.
Nowhere can this atmosphere of acceptance be felt more than in Fordham’s creative writing classes. The amount of support I have received and tried my best to reciprocate is staggering, in the best way. Particularly, in poetry classes, there is the platinum rule — “Give more than you hope to receive.”
Can you imagine how transformative it would be if we applied this method of thinking and offering to all aspects of our lives? Even if you simply aim to uphold these values in your English and writing classes, they have a way of spiraling into your life and enabling you to become a more compassionate and engaged person. In class, we uplift, listen, and make space for each other. This is a time to be in conversation with each other rather than competition.
Investing in the class community and participating in a gentle, open space enables you to authentically show up to the page. It allows for honesty, experimentation, and radical ways of thinking. There is a freeness that comes from play, from not being afraid to make mistakes in our writing or being afraid but doing it anyway. The more you contribute to your writing community, whatever that looks like for you, the more you will reap the benefits creatively and personally. There is no one way to participate, simply do what works for you. Meet people where they’re at and go from there. The path is much more fun together, plus who else is going to debate whether the comma is necessary or if you should get rid of them altogether. Create new pathways of thinking and feeling and being through the artistic spaces that you share.
Also, please prioritize your mental health and that of others. It’s important to check-in with each other, to send cat pictures in the class Discord channel, to ask about the size of someone’s notebook and how they feel about the way their thoughts fill the page. In short, people matter and so do you. Your writing will improve the more invested you become in caring.
This isn’t about career advice, plenty of people can tell you about that. This is about building a community that can help sustain your creative spirit when you feel unsure of where to go from here. This is about finding and holding onto the poetics [ of p e o p l e ] in your life. To the people who move you and who you want to move together with. This is a movement. A song. A dance. For all of us off-key singers in secret who often cannot find the words in the moment, let them flow from your pen or onto the screen from keys that clack at odd hours. When you find the duende, and trust me you will, let it crawl root to rise, hold it in your lungs then expand in all directions and share your story with [ ].
This is a poem about life. I’d love to hear yours.