Writer Allison Scott shares her experience at the VONA/Voices summer workshops, an organization founded by Junot Díaz, Diem Jones, and Elmaz Abinader, authors who wanted to support growth in, and create a platform for, writers of color. VONA now makes its home at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia.
July 7, 2017 | Allison Scott
Julio the Pool Boy and 12 Other Lessons from the Field: How We're Building a More Inclusive Writing Center
About a year ago, GrubStreet staffers Jonathan Escoffery and Sarah Colwill-Brown held a focus group with six students of color to find out more about their experiences in Grub classrooms and within our community at large. The group met in the evening in our small conference room overlooking the Boston Common. A large poster created by a locally famous ad man hung above the table
March 15, 2017 | Eve Bridburg
The Novel Incubator is a program for writers interested in a deep revision of their novel draft, a comprehensive study of the novel form, and a thoughtful introduction to the publishing world. A unique and innovative course, the Novel Incubator is also producing books at a rate of knots, with 20% of our graduates find publishing homes for their books and several more are currently represented by top literary agents. We asked Incubator authors what they got out of the program, and how the course helped them on the path to publication. Want to learn how to ...
February 1, 2017 | GrubWrites
By Katrin Schumann
People tend to think writing is romantic, and they’re not entirely wrong. It’s romantic in the way that being obsessed with someone who kind of, basically, mostly loves you back can be romantic—it’s a compelling, desperate, all-encompassing, occasionally fabulous experience. It’s romantic like starving in a garret is romantic: you’re hungry (which sucks), but at least you’re doing something that feels meaningful.
January 4, 2017 | Katrin Schumann
Most nights, after a long day of work, I’m greeted first by my dog and then by my teenage son’s detritus – his backpack, sneakers, a sweater he’s shrugged off and let drop to the floor – littering the front hall and obstructing my path to the kitchen. Yelling at him doesn’t help nor does it feel good. Lately, I’ve taken to calmly opening the front door and tossing all of his things outside while remarking that I think a rainstorm might be coming