From the Editor

I hope that these struggles, predominantly human, though also maternal, will widen readers’ horizons—especially the horizon of empathy, which can never be too broad.

I love my three children with a fierceness I can’t describe, but raising them has been demanding, exhausting, thankless, and draining. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone who wasn’t all-in.

What I know after nearly ten years is that Literary Mama is in itself a gem. As you spin it slowly in the sunshine, it sparkles and shifts, and some new facet is revealed with each new poem, essay, story, review, or profile we publish, with each new editor who shines their own light upon it.

So much of our anxiety stems from love, and the desire to be the scaffolding for the lives of those we love. But I want to remind us that we, as mothers, are also finite. We cannot hold up the world indefinitely without it breaking our backs.

As our Editor-in-Chief, Amanda Jaros, wrote in last year’s letter, “the work of mother writers has never been more important.” We hope you will support us in any way that you are able.

As the November days darken, one bright light is the staff of Literary Mama.

I’m proud that our latest issue is still doing what our founders set out to do: revealing and honoring the many faces of motherhood.

At each stage of development, we say goodbye to some difficult or delightful aspect of our children and look forward, with mixed excitement and trepidation, to what comes next.

As mothers, we must learn to embrace each moment, while also letting go of our children at every turn.

What makes literature good? What’s the difference between something that’s of value to me and something that could be of value to somebody else?

I frequently find myself gritting my teeth, just trying to get through a period of time–the work day, a stage in my children’s development, an entire political regime.