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Editors' Preface
Instead of writing this issue's editors' preface in a single voice, we decided to delve into our own sources of creative inspiration and allow our readers to hear the parallels and contradictions in our responses to the question: "What drives you to create?" We also asked our contributors this same question, and you can find their responses in their contributor bios. In addition, we've previewed some of the pieces in this issue that, as one of our editors put it during an editorial discussion, made us say, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t publish that!”
Brenna Cariker
I think this is a question that will never have a definitive answer, but mostly I’d say it’s because life goes by fast and it’s easy to forget, and I don’t want to forget. I want to savor every small speck in an iris, every whisker from a kitten, every leaf that falls on those perfect fall days, the ones where the clouds are huge, white, and puffy. I want to forever feel the feelings of first kisses and laughs on long car drives. And not only do I want to wrap myself up in these things, I want to reach out to others with what I create and maybe, just maybe change their outlook. The pieces I love and chose to be in Flumes are the ones that whisk me far away and drown me in feelings and visuals. They remind me why I love life and connect me to everything else alive in the world.
Sandra Gatewood-DeLoach
I write for many reasons, but mostly because the story or poem feels that it needs to be said. As a young girl growing up in a small town in North Texas, I listened to the silly stories that my dad used to tell. He never knew a stranger and could make anyone laugh. As an adult, I realize that I’m just like my dad with the exception that I put my stories on paper. He was my inspiration and, now that he’s gone, I write for my children in hopes that their children will read them.
So many of the pieces that were submitted appealed to me and my sense of being, but Kendra Davis’s “Finding my Prince” spoke to my heart. This reaches to the young girl I was so long ago, “To turn wishes into pumpkins, and mice into men” and epitomizes the woman that I became, “Stand still and have faith, although midnight will come…”.