In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—Samantha M. Sorenson
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—Samantha M. Sorenson
Your work, “How to Eat an Elephant” creatively blends the idea of consuming both information and food. Can you talk about what sparked you to write this piece?
The journey of writing “How to Eat an Elephant” began when I started working toward recovery for my eating disorder. I found myself interested in exploring how deep the mindset of my particular relationship with food went and what other areas of my life that mindset was also influencing—turned out most of my life was driven from the same need for control and the same feelings of always being out of control. Much like moving into recovery is a slow process, so was the drafting of this essay—“How to Eat an Elephant” went through many iterations over the course of five years as I wrestled with the realities I have put on the page.
When did you start writing? What is your process for beginning a piece? How do you edit that work?
I started writing at eleven years old, although literary nonfiction came into my life much later. All of my work stems directly from curiosity and obsessions and a love for language. Though a paradox, I write what is on my mind to discover what is on my mind. One of the joys of crafting essays is the not knowing—not knowing what a piece wants to be or where it will end up. In my experience, it is only once a piece reveals itself to you that you can really start to think about revision. My revision process is different for everything I write, but it always begins by getting feedback from trusted readers and ends by scrupulously going line-by-line and word-by-word through the piece until I am satisfied. By that time, I have read my work out loud dozens of times over, and there is still always room for improvement.
Are there other phrases, like “how to eat an elephant,” that have stayed with you and had a profound effect on other areas of your life?
Yes, and perhaps I will write about those at some point as well. For now they flitter across my consciousness at the most inopportune times.
What themes does your work circle back to, if any?
I find that my work circles back to the human body a lot, as I mention in “How to Eat an Elephant.” We only experience the world through our individual bodies, and every body has limitations, biases, desires, etc. that I find fascinating.
What authors or texts inspire you? What are some of your favorite books?
Since my reading habits (like so many of my other habits, see “How to Eat an Elephant”) are on the obsessive side, my favorite books are constantly changing. Five of my favorite reads from 2024 were Sex with a Brain Injury: On Concussions and Recovery by Annie Liontas, On Women by Susan Sontag, One Long River of Song by Brian Doyle (edited by David James Duncan), Holy American Burnout by Sean Enfield, and Let Me Count the Ways by Tomás Q. Morin. I found each of these works inspiring in their own right—both for my writing and my life, and I highly recommend them.
What are you currently writing or working on?
I am currently working on a collection of essays centered on relationships and censorship. I am interested in the way we censor language, experience, thoughts, and behavior, as well as how we ourselves become censored through illness, injury, disability, and grief. My current project explores these themes by looking at the dynamics and motivations in my personal relationships over time.
Samantha M. Sorenson is pursuing her MFA in creative nonfiction at Brigham Young University. She currently serves as the managing editor for Fourth Genre. Her work has appeared in Under the Sun.
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—Albert Abonado
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—Albert Abonado
Your two poems, “Romance” and “Beatitude for an Inventory of Roadkill,” are beautiful works of reclamation and loss. Where did the creation of “Romance” start?
I spend my summers helping out at my family’s blueberry farm. Each morning, a hummingbird would visit me at the stand, zipping around the petunias that hung over the stand. Sometimes, the blue bird would hover curiously close to my face, but most of the time, it would zip in and out among the flowers. I often begin a poem with a “what if?” premise, and see where the poem takes me. After watching that hummingbird every day, I asked myself what if two people decided to live as hummingbirds? It’s not the strangest or wildest idea, but I thought it would be interesting to see how a poem like that develops.
Humor is a gem in poetry, and you capture it with the phrase “hummingbird farts.” It greatly juxtaposes the previous two lines that mention “cancer” and “the end of history.” What was the impetus to lighten the poem at this point?
In this poem, I think humor is a useful way to speak to the desires of the speaker and their partner. The speaker’s list of concerns grows larger and more abstract as it progresses until it reaches a point where the poem needs to return to a grounded space. What’s more human and intimate than farting beside a loved one? Also, farts are just funny and not enough poems feature farts.
There’s a tenderness within the violence of “Beatitude for an Inventory of Roadkill.” What was the inspiration for this piece? When did the splits between the lines come into the formatting?
Summertime, I’m frequently traveling through rural areas where roads are often littered with every variety of roadkill. Death is a frequent visitor to my poems and this seemed like rich material to explore. I’ve tried different versions of this poem before, and it probably wasn’t until several revisions of the poem when I started experimenting with the spaces within the lines, playing with the fragmentation and the violence the absence imposes on the lines. The spaces also presented new exit and entry points within the poem, allowing me to pivot to new thematic territory.
The line, “How else should we discuss the countless silences / that gash us” is such a thoughtful way to bind this animal with human suffering. Can you talk about that theme within this text?
Maybe my poems are just a way for me to be more comfortable with mortality? The poem, I feel, wants to confront this daily reminder of mortality, that we are as susceptible, as vulnerable as any animal, that their suffering cannot be disentangled from our own. Death here is a fact, an inevitability, and it operates on its own time. This can make one feel helpless and small. Something gentle and generous feels necessary in the face of that, a declaration that we do not suffer alone, and this offers some small comfort.
What themes do you find recurring in your writing?
As I mentioned before, mortality and loss make frequent appearances in my writing. I’m often exploring and unpacking my sense of identity, my American-ness and Filipino-ness, and the experience of that hybridity. As a lapsed Catholic, the language of ritual and faith, that appetite for the spiritual, continues to inform my writing, seen in a poem like “Beatitude for an Inventory of Roadkill.” But all of these things intersect, mortality and faith, faith and cultural identity, loss and America.
What books and authors influence your work? What titles do you return to?
I often return to writers like Li-Young Lee or James Tate or Denise Duhamel. I deeply admire poets who can juggle tones. It always feels like magic to read work by writers like Chen Chen or Matthew Olzmann. More recent books that have been important to me include Poem Bitten by a Man by Brian Teare, Obit by Victoria Chang, and frank:sonnets by Diane Seuss.
What projects are you working on now?
I am finishing up my time as the artist in residence at SUNY Oswego where I worked on poems that interrogate the idea of naming, responding to name-based prompts provided by people within the Oswego community. That has been a delightful challenge. It was a project adjacent to the new manuscript, which is still in the very very early stages. I hope to have a clearer vision of the book within the next year or so.
Albert Abonado is the author of the poetry collection JAW (Sundress Publications 2020) and the forthcoming Field Guide for Accidents (Beacon Press 2024), selected by Mahogany Browne for the National Poetry Series. He has received fellowships from the New York Foundation for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Arts. His writing has appeared in the Bennington Review, Colorado Review, Poetry Northwest, Zone 3, and others. He lives and teaches in Rochester, New York.
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—MICHAEL CHANG
In The Field: Conversations With Our Contributors—MICHAEL CHANG
Your poem, “Orchestra Maneuvers in the Dark,” creates an overlapping conversation and giving of information. Where did the inspiration for this poem come from?
The starting point for all of my work is vibes. I wanted a poem that felt tropical, but not in a cliched way. So I introduced opposing forces like the coats and the old fashioneds. I also wanted to bring in a political slant (Cuba, China, Global South), subtly. Other elements in the poem include bits of an interview I did with my friend Robbie Myers, who was the Editor-in-Chief of ELLE Magazine for many years.
The word “orchestral” lends itself to the layered nature of your piece. What is your revision process like within the ephemera of these phrases?
It’s strange to acknowledge this, but I’m very concerned with sound. I don’t think a lot of poets are. That’s why you see so much clunky poetry out there, particularly with poems that end on a weird note (usually a THUD!). In my own work I first get what I want to say onto the page, the bones of it. Then I tinker with how phrases weave and flow, delete or move things around based on whether they glide. The end product has to be smooth, neat (not “with a bow” per se but close to that). The reader has to be satisfied.
You use brackets as stage directions, in a sense. Is this a common tactic you use in your writing? When did you develop this practice?
I’ve done it in maybe one or two other poems. I was writing a poem that was more overtly sexy or physical, and imagined how my favorite actors would “do the scene” although they didn’t appear in that poem at all. I landed on “[breathily]” and was pretty pleased with that.
I love the opening phrase, “doctor-patient confidentiality but totally public.” What do you look for in an opening?
I like something that grabs your attention immediately, that pulls you into the world of the poem before you realize what’s happening. The tension in that line is really cool. I love operating in contradictions.
You’ve written several poetry collections, including Boyfriend Perspective (Really Serious Literature), Almanac of Useless Talents (CLASH Books), and Synthetic Jungle (Northwestern University Press). When building a collection, what do you look for?
My latest are two named TOY SOLDIERS, a full-length and a chap, from Action, Spectacle and Abode Press respectively. Forthcoming are THINGS A BRIGHT BOY CAN DO, from Coach House, and HEROES, from Temz Review/845 Press.
In my head I always start “projects” (bad word, but good shorthand) with the cover image in mind, what a prospective cover would look like.
For example: I walked by a gallery in Tribeca right before they were closing for the day and they were doing a show on Peter Hujar’s portraits. There I saw for the first time the image that now graces the cover of my chap-length TOY SOLDIERS (Christopher Street Pier #2 (Crossed Legs)). I knew I had to have it. I thought it would be a reach but the Peter Hujar Archive was very supportive and kind. So I guess it is that kind of manic energy when I totally obsess (another bad word) over something and the poems organically extend from or build off that.
Do you find that you return to similar themes in your writing? If so, what are they?
No. I don’t think so. I guess if you wanted to talk about it at a remove, a 30,000-foot level, then sure, maybe. But you would be able to say the same about most art.
I think my writing has a clear point of view. It’s a natural reflection of my views (political or otherwise), how I see the world, how I move about in that space.
My work also celebrates the people I care about, my muses, their beauty, how much they mean to me.
What literary works and authors do you draw inspiration from?
I’ve been reading a lot of translated poetry to train my brain to think differently.
What are you writing currently?
Because I’ve been reading so much non-English poetry, I’ve been writing shorter poems (what I call “smol”, poems under 14 lines, usually 10 lines or so). These days, less is more.
MICHAEL CHANG (they/them) is the author of Synthetic Jungle (Northwestern University Press, 2023), Toy Soldiers (Action, Spectacle, 2024), and Things a Bright Boy Can Do (Coach House Books, 2025). They edit poetry at Fence.
A Conversation with Joni Tevis—WSR Contributing Nonfiction Editor
A Conversation with Joni Tevis—WSR Contributing Nonfiction Editor
Water~Stone Review is a collaborative project of students, faculty, and staff at Hamline University Creative Writing Programs. In addition to working with our faculty, and to fulfill a larger initiative of providing a place for new/emerging and underrepresented voices at Water~Stone Review, we now have rotating contributing editor
This is a wonderful opportunity for our graduate student assistant editors to collaborate with renown writers in order to expand our reach and further innovation. Past Contributing Editors include Sun Yung Shin, Keith Lesmeister, Sean Hill, Carolyn Holbrook, Mona Power, Kao Kalia Yang, and Ed Bok Lee.
In this post we introduce Vol. 28 Contributing Nonfiction Editor, Joni Tevis.
Welcome! We’re so excited that you are our CNF Contributing Editor for Volume 28. The topics you explore in your work are varied. What is your writing process like when selecting and beginning a new piece?
It always starts with a moment of attraction to something small, but visceral. I know it when I sense it.
As a professor, what do you hope to impart to your students?
Pay attention! Pay attention to your life. Pay attention to the details that life throws at you every single day. Pay attention to what you read and how you react to it; you can always use that to work on your own writing. And be kind to yourself.
What draws you in when reading a nonfiction piece?
A sense of voice. I like to feel that someone is speaking directly to me. And I like to learn something from a piece of nonfiction that I didn’t know.
What are you currently writing or working on?
I’m revising a book of essays about living in epic times. This is a challenging moment, but we can learn from others—Big Mama Thornton and Janis Joplin, Robert Hirohata and Red Adair (the oil rig firefighter who put out blazes so ferocious they could be seen from space). We can do this work together, day by day by day.
A Conversation with Jose Hernandez Diaz—WSR Contributing Poetry Editor
A Conversation with Jose Hernandez Diaz—WSR Contributing Poetry Editor
Water~Stone Review is a collaborative project of students, faculty, and staff at Hamline University Creative Writing Programs. In addition to working with our faculty, and to fulfill a larger initiative of providing a place for new/emerging and underrepresented voices at Water~Stone Review, we now have rotating contributing editor
This is a wonderful opportunity for our graduate student assistant editors to collaborate with renown writers in order to expand our reach and further innovation. Past Contributing Editors include Sun Yung Shin, Keith Lesmeister, Sean Hill, Carolyn Holbrook, Mona Power, Kao Kalia Yang, and Ed Bok Lee.
In this post we introduce Vol. 28 Contributing Poetry Editor, Jose Hernandez Diaz.
Welcome! We’re thrilled to have you as a Contributing Poetry Editor for Volume 28, after publishing your poem, “Ni de aquí, ni de allá: ni de la pinche luna” two years ago. What is your writing and editing process like when you’re in creation-mode?
Lately I have been teaching generative workshops with my students. Therefore, I have been responding to the prompts as well alongside my students. My philosophy is just to get the words out there in the initial inspiration without overthinking and then go back and edit until I am satisfied with it. After that, over the next couple of weeks, there might be additional minimal edits as well and then it is ready to submit.
As a professor at the University of Tennessee, what are some important writing techniques you impart to your students?
Get rid of the pressure with initial creation by acknowledging that it is a first draft. It likely won’t be perfect. Like building a house, first get out the foundation and then add the fine details later.
I also encourage them to think about the shape and form of their work. Oftentimes we are saying the right thing, evocative things, however, it is just not the most flattering line break or form. Like going to a job interview and saying the right things but dressed in flip flops and a t-shirt.
So, I encourage them to think about line break and form… as well as more is not always more. Sometimes brevity and condensed aesthetic can aid the mystery and intrigue of a poem. Lastly, specificity of imagery can oftentimes lead to immediacy, texture and pull a reader in.
When reading, what makes a piece of poetry stand out?
Maybe an exciting title, striking imagery, captivating voice, exquisite sounds, haunting storyline or imagery, emotional connection, intellectual stimulation, mystery, visceral fortitude.
What projects are you working on now?
I have a new manuscript, “New Year’s Eve at the Museum of Somber Paintings” that I am fine-tuning and submitting. Also, I have about 45 new poems that I will eventually organize into another manuscript.
I am enjoying teaching undergrads at the University of Tennessee as a Visiting Writer. Watching a lot of college football. Go Vols, Bears and Trojans. Dodgers playoff baseball is heating up. Ready for the Lakers new season. Trying to spread love, positivity and hope.
Jose Hernandez Diaz is a 2017 NEA Poetry Fellow. He is the author of The Fire Eater (Texas Review Press, 2020) Bad Mexican, Bad American (Acre Books, 2024) The Parachutist (Sundress Publications, 2025) and Portrait of the Artist as a Brown Man (Red Hen Press, 2025). He has been published in The American Poetry Review, The Yale Review, The London Magazine, Poetry Wales, The Iowa Review, Huizache, The Missouri Review, The Nation, Poetry, The Progressive, Poets.org, The Southern Review, and in The Best American Nonrequired Reading. He has taught creative writing at the University of California at Riverside and online for Hugo House, Lighthouse Writers Workshops, and The Writer’s Center. He has been the Poet in Residence at the Carolyn Moore Writers House with Portland Community College. Currently, he is the Visiting Writer in Residence at the University of Tennessee.