Why I Wasn’t Ready to Go to AWP This Year

By Zach Semel

The day before I hopped on a cheap Las Vegas flight to Seattle, I apologized to one of my creative writing students. This student had sent me a beautiful lyric essay about mental illness and belonging, and I had torn it to shreds, dotting it with highlights and comments like a vengeful graffiti artist. I had marked countless moments where rather than describing a symptom or its roots or its meaning for the narrator, my student had written a quick, vague sum-up line. But as I ...