Shouting into the void

A note from Editor-in-Chief Kaitlyn Andrews-Rice

There’s an old adage that goes something like “If you forget to Instagram your all-inclusive Fiji vacation, did it really happen?”

I don’t know. Did you laze about in a cabana? Did someone feed you papaya from a silver platter? Did you drink coconut rum and smile even though it tasted like sunscreen?

Only you can answer that. I’ve never vacationed in Fiji.

Here’s a writing prompt: Insert “writing” for “all-inclusive Fiji vacation” and “Twitter” for “Instagram.”

If you forget to tweet your writing, did it really happen?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Sometimes publishing (and writing) can feel like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon (sans Instagram), like shouting into the void, hoping someone, something answers back, like standing at the door to a cool club as your friends pass by in hip jeans and you’re hanging around in a weird robe.

Every writer I know struggles with a combination of wanting to be heard and wanting to hide under the bed (preferably with wine). We are the oddest group of introvert/extroverts the world has ever known. When you toil away on a story, a poem, a memoir for weeks, months, years, it’s only natural to want others to know what you accomplished, to share in the joy of that final comma, that final period.

That’s the joy we’re focusing on this month at Split Lip 3.0.

Going forward, Split Lip will try to lessen the void with a less-is-more vibe. Every month we’ll be bringing you one quality flash, short story, poem, and memoir. Plus one music-related interview/review or other miscellany. It’s a little something we like to call the Split Lip one, two, punch.

This month’s punch, with work from Dylan Brie Ducey, Joshua Shaw, Elizabeth Knapp, and Liz Declan, is one part fear, two parts dare, pinch of hero, sprinkle of dark, dash of light.

I hope you find it as intoxicating as we do.

—KAR