Hey there! Kota here with some fantastic news. I’ve been waiting anxiously to be able to share with you the winner of Inked’s third annual Anthology Contest. This year’s theme was “We Deserve to Exist” simply looking for stories written by (and for) marginalized communities. Publishing isn’t the most accommodating or accepting of marginalized folk and Inked is on a mission to change that.
Allison’s story, What Remains, hit home for our judges in so many ways, and we cannot wait to bring this story to you. It speaks about courage and finding purpose in a world that is unforgiving. I think that is something many of us can relate to.
A little about Allison:
Allison began writing as a teenager, winning Ohio’s “Power of the Pen” twice and advancing to the state level as a finalist both years. Her piece “Wounded Birds” was published by Scars literary magazine entitled Down in the Dirt. She is also a Swarthmore Book Award recipient and a contributor to several literary journals including The Chatterbox, The Goldfish, and Oberlin College’s The Grape. Her written works can be found on her website. Currently, Allison is a student at Harvard University obtaining her M.A. in Creative Writing and Literature and is in the process of self-publishing a collection of poetry and short stories. In 2018, Allison delivered a TEDx talk about redefining one’s life in the face of adversity entitled, “A Fall Does Not Define You, But How You Rise Will Redefine You.”
You can also find Allison On Twitter, LinkedIn, their personal and writing Instagram accounts.
A few words from Allison
When asked about the inspiration for her story, Allison reflects on her first year of graduate school and how adversity has impacted her life. Here are some behind the scenes insights from Allison:
The Process of “What Remains”: Adversity as a Whetstone for Authenticity
“What Remains” is my first publication with Inked in Gray and the second short story that I have published, the first being “Wounded Birds” with Down in the Dirt, a literary magazine from Scars Publication. “What Remains” is dear to my heart and I am thrilled that it has found its final resting place with Inked in Gray. In reflecting on the creation of the piece, I am excited to share some of the stars that aligned to bring this story to life.
Last autumn was my first semester as a graduate student at Harvard pursuing my Master of Liberal Arts in Creative Writing and Literature. I was accepted one week before classes began, and I was left dazed and starstruck on the doorstep of my first classes. By some stroke of good fortune, I found myself in an introductory course with author Dr. Elisabeth Sharp McKetta, and a class focused on writing the short story with Professor Lindsay Mitchell. Over the course of the semester, I was drawn into the enchantment of short story telling as we read authors such as Karen Russell, Mary Gaitskill, and T.C. Boyle. One of the stories with irresistible intrigue was Lesley Bannatyne’s “A Corpse Walks into a Bar.” My colleagues and I were fortunate enough to have the author meet with our class virtually and since then Lesley and I have continued the conversation via e-mail. Dr. McKetta’s class has proven her adage “authors help authors” to be not only true, but also one of the most beautiful aspects of the writing community.
In my case, I was lucky enough to meet a role model who is the loveliest person and will extend a helping hand to any aspiring writer on their journey, no matter how many steps they have taken. In reading her work, I began considering the macabre idea of what might motivate animation after death to keep a person tied to this earth longer than is natural. I was also fortunate enough to have a classmate just as enthralled with Bannatyne’s work as myself, and we became fast friends as well as peer editors. However, inspiration does not just strike with the positives in life, and adversity has proven to be one of the most precise tools in my repertoire.
Unfortunately, there has been quite a bit of loss in my own life. Most prominently, I lost my own father very suddenly and unexpectedly at the end of 2018. Our relationship could not be more dissimilar than that of the father and daughter in “What Remains,” but the image of my mother discovering him is something that haunted me for a long time. This story allowed me to explore some of my own fears and fantasies about that moment. Additionally, about two weeks after the first iteration of this piece was written, my grandfather passed away. When I went with my family to view the body, it was the first time I had personally seen someone who was no longer alive. It was difficult to return to this piece after that, but when I did there was a grittier authenticity, and I chose to lean into that experience.
My general process with writing involves an intersection of discipline, disability, and divine intervention. The first part of this requires showing up daily even if it feels like that day isn’t going to be the inspiration driven catharsis of other moments in writing. Writing every day provides a foundational framework, even when my brain feels like a blank canvas lying next to a dry palette. I adhere to a specific time quota for my daily writing. Using time for accountability gives me greater flexibility as a writer rather than using word or page count, especially with many of the invisible disabilities that impact me on a daily basis. I cannot always control how well my fingers or voice will work, but I can control the time and effort that I put into my writing.
After a traumatic brain injury a decade ago, I have an acquired synesthesia so my senses are braided together. Initially, the damage was so severe that I was knocked back to the 2nd grade reading level at age 20. Now, enhanced sounds, colors, and sensations blend and bend my perception of reality to reflect a sort of prismatic access to language across the senses. Where my senses used to feel tangled in one big Gordian knot, I now enjoy multifaceted, observational awareness. It has taken practice at a keyboard differentiating the constantly rotating shapes of “p” and “b” and “d,” but today my synesthesia is one of the biggest assets in my authorial arsenal.
There are times that this flow state for writing comes more naturally in the way that many describe a muse striking. For me this includes moments of an image, a color, or a word lodging in my brain. Usually there will be a line, maybe two, that chase their tails, or each other, around my head. This morning there was a competition between “ekphrastic” and “prestidigitation.” I feel a tug in my chest, and I know it is one string in much bigger skein of yarn that can be untangled and rewoven to communicate there is more here.
Typically, this occurs mid-shower, or at some other inopportune time; I hasten to rinse out the shampoo and spend the next four hours typing like a madwoman wrapped in my robe on the couch. These moments are what make me excited to write. I find that when my fingers hit the keys of my computer (my preferred medium for writing prose these days) the words fall out of my fingertips.
I would be remiss not to include the two people who have been integral to my writing process. First, my mother, who put the ball in motion after my father died and I felt like many of my disabilities were always hindrances rather than also occasional gifts. She asked me very simply, “So when are you just going to start writing full time?” It was this external affirmation, permission even, to be who I am and use my (dis)abilities to do what I love to do even when walking a path unknown. Now I write stories about characters with obstacles like mine, whether it is fibromyalgia or type 1 diabetes, or the many parts of me that I felt I needed to treat or ignore and now use to my advantage, like my synesthesia. On the other end is my best friend, my husband. A high school English and Latin teacher, he is one of my biggest supports and a wonderful writer in his own right. Important for me: a fantastic editor. He is someone I trust to be ruthless with my work because he knows how much a piece means to me and that I truly want to improve it to make an impact. He is one of my greatest sources of inspiration taking on the mantle of an inter-abled marriage as well as informal, in-house editing services.
When I made the decision to embark on a career in writing at age 29 with a B.A. and M.A. in psychology, I worried about the major life transitions ahead. Whether it was worth it, or if it would even work out for me with my unique set of medical challenges. What I have come to learn is that in prioritizing my health, I prioritize my writing and vice versa. So, if you are reading this and thinking that the moment has passed you by . . . that perhaps your chance came and went . . . that you don’t have the capacity to do that thing that motivates the tug in your heart saying there is more here . . . there is more. You are more. The flow states come and go. Life’s ups and downs continue to make our worlds go round. But. It is our decision how we choose to let them impact us, our choices, and our gifts.