Dearest RWW Community —

This letter is difficult to write during a time of such great fear and suffering. Witnessing the atrocities across this country and worldwide has been paralyzing. And yet, I remind myself that writing is a form of resistance, and taking space from writing can be a form of self-care.

Many RWW students, faculty, and alumni have connections to the state of Minnesota. I, myself, grew up there and still have many friends and family in the area. This past winter, observing the images and stories coming out of my home state was a confusing internal paradox of rage and pride. For me, attending public school in Minneapolis meant crafting puppets with In the Heart of the Beast Theater for peace parades, folding 1,000 paper cranes in memory of Sadako Sasaki, and learning protest ballads such as “Big Yellow Taxi” and “Imagine” in homeroom, so it’s no surprise to me that the city of Minneapolis and its residents have been formally nominated for the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize. To quote Marcia Howard, vice president of the Minnesota Federation of Teachers, “They hate us because we don’t hate each other.” While Minneapolis has its own history of racism and xenophobia, at this moment, Minnesotans are giving us a roadmap to healing, progress, and community.

Throughout this issue, there is reflection on what it means to be a member of the RWW community. First, we revisit Matt Young’s craft talk, "Constraint Is Freedom,” from summer residency. Then, alumna Erin Coughlin Hollowell shares her experience as executive director of the Storyknife Writers Retreat in Homer, Alaska, where one of our current students, Kellie Richardson, completed her Outside Experience. Keana Aguila Labra and Travis Timmons also reflect on their Outside Experiences. Finally, we celebrate the publications, announcements, and literary citizenship of our students, faculty, and alumni.

At this dark moment in history, I am grateful to be in community with you.

Kerry J Heckman
Editor