Winter Wheat arrives this week! Still deciding which workshops to attend? Check out one of these easy flowcharts that our interns made to help you decide!
Choose your own Winter Wheat adventure here: https://www.sharecanvas.io/p/winter-wheat-quiz
Or, view our suggested pathways here: https://www.sharecanvas.io/p/winter-wheat-pathways
Have we convinced you to attend yet? If so, you can still register here!
In continuing to highlight our guest readers for this year’s Winter Wheat festival, we asked Dave Essinger, our fiction reader for Saturday, November 8th, about his experiences as a writer and editor, and to share what he will be reading.
Essinger teaches creative writing at the University of Findlay in Ohio where he is also the editor of the literary magazine Slippery Elm. Essinger’s new post-apocalyptic novel This World and the Next was released in 2024 and in the interview that follows, he speaks to what it’s like to be writing about the end of the world when you feel like you’re in it and the problems of trying to publish work that’s too close to reality. Essinger also speaks to what he’s seeing as an editor and how to stand out for literary magazines and make the most of your submissions.
Essinger will be reading alongside poet Jonie McIntire on Saturday, November 8th, at 1:15 p.m. on Bowling Green State University’s campus. Don’t miss the chance to hear him read! Check out Winter Wheat’s schedule of events here. Additionally, you can read Essinger’s full bio here.
You share that you are a writer who remembers fallout drills in preparation of nuclear war as a child and that the world ending is a part of what influences your work. Your latest novel, This World and the Next, is a post-apocalyptic novel. Can you share how current events and experiences inspire you and your experiences imagining and writing about the world ending?
Well! As it happened, I was joking all along that I just needed to finish my post-apocalyptic novel before civilization actually ended. And then, I failed to do so: I completed the manuscript in March of 2020. It contains…a pandemic. Agents and editors everywhere said, sorry, the book read way too much like real life just then. Then it found a home in 2024, and I told my publisher I wanted to get it out before the election, because, haha, I wasn’t going to get burned a second time there! The published book contains some updates from the 2020 version and attributes the fall of civilization to sociopathic political leaders dismantling opposition, inciting false-flag unrest to stay in power, and appointing incompetent loyalists to positions of terrifying power. But don’t worry! It’s totally fiction. Not current events or anything. I was trying to be cautionary, not prophetic.
As the editor of Slippery Elm literary magazine at the University of Findlay, what are you noticing about trends in submissions right now? What can you share with writers who are submitting to literary magazines as an editor?
Like many magazines, we’re getting enormous numbers of submissions, of which we can accept maybe 3-4%. And as anyone who’s worked reading submissions will attest, it changes the way I write, as I imagine my own work crossing the desk of someone overwhelmed with writing that’s competent, and often really good—so, what separates good writing from unforgettable, and what stands out in a sea of very good work? My advice is always to read widely, know what’s out there, and stand out—make it easy on readers and editors who have difficult choices.
And…don’t take rejection too hard, because it’s a competitive but totally subjective process…maybe don’t pay out for contests unless you love the cause and get something back for your entry fee (every entrant for Slippery Elm gets a copy of the issue in the mail, for example)…and if you don’t feel like paying reading fees, we and many other journals take General submissions for free and are fine with simultaneous submissions. With so many writers writing, and so many journals out there, why not make some of those numbers work for you? If publication is the goal, it’s possible to submit widely without breaking the bank.
For those who haven’t attended Winter Wheat before, can you share about your experiences at Winter Wheat? How does it feel to be coming to Winter Wheat as a reader this year?
I haven’t been to every Winter Wheat…but almost! And I’m beyond thrilled to be invited as a reader this year—for the 25th anniversary, no less! Winter Wheat is a fantastic cultural contribution to northwest Ohio and the Midwest, and I’m always counseling students and friends to attend and propose panels and presentations because it’s friendly, free, and close to home. Among everything else, Winter Wheat is a wonderful resource for students and new writers, offering an approachable first writers’ conference experience without the cost and commitment of flying across the country. Winter Wheat has become a literary institution in the region, and should be on every writers’ calendar.
Can you share with us a little bit about what you will be reading?
Could be a game-day call—sometimes I like to ask an audience what they want to hear, throw out a couple choices—but likely picks include excerpts from my latest published novel This World and the Next with lots of foreshadowing from the Last Day before the end of the world, and scenes from my recently completed book Compassion Fatigue, featuring a burnt-out veterinarian whose son is implicated in an active-shooter incident. Cheery stuff either way, I know, but what can I say, our writing is a product of our times. Or at least mine is.
Winter Wheat is coming! We are now accepting proposals for our writing festival, to be held November 6-8, 2025, at Bowling Green State University.
What is Winter Wheat?
Winter Wheat has been a site of community and conversation for writers of all backgrounds—undergraduate and graduate students, faculty, and community members. Our festival is free and open to the public with workshops focused on craft and generating new writing, as well as readings, a book fair, and an open mic on Saturday night for anyone who wants to read their work. In the past, the festival has included flash contests, DND sessions, and other unique experiences, which are traditions we hope to continue.
This year, Winter Wheat is celebrating its 25th year, and with this celebration, we hope to highlight all that the festival has done and continues to do to help writers thrive as a community. Much like our name implies, we hope to plant the seeds to produce writings for future harvest. Workshops are meant to spark creativity, get pen to paper, and leave you feeling energized to write in new ways. To read more about Winter Wheat, check out our staff member Garrett Miller’s personal essay here.
What are we looking for in proposals?
Winter Wheat’s workshops are generative in nature, but we are also excited about proposals that are collaborative, playful, informative, and unique! In 2024, we held workshops that walked through the Marine Lab, crafted DND character sheets, and cut up and carved out collage poetry. We want your workshop proposals for guiding writers through the publishing industry, but we also want to hear about that niche genre interest of yours focusing on ghost stories in space; your funky, weird thoughts about how to get through a plot hole or find the perfect word; or how to craft a character that’s convincing by meditation or goat yoga or eating too many Doritos.
We are accepting proposal submissions until September 24th which you can submit here, and all are invited to register beginning on October 3rd. If you have any questions, you can reach Hannah Goss, 2025 Winter Wheat Coordinator, at winterwheat@bgsu.edu. We hope to see you there!
Interviewed by Elly Salah & Jamie Manias
Jacqueline (she/her) was interviewed for an hour in the early afternoon on September 26th, 2024. This interview occurred in East Hall at Bowling Green State University, just a few hours before Jacqueline read at Prout Chapel for our reading series. We were thrilled to sit down with Vogtman and talk behind the scenes of life as a writer. This interview is split into two parts; the second part will be posted next week.
Jacqueline Vogtman received the New Jersey State Council on the Arts Fellowship, awarded earlier this year, 2024. Jacqueline graduated from BGSU’s MFA program in 2010. She currently teaches composition at Mercer County Community College in New Jersey. Vogtman’s short story collection, Girl Country, won the 2021 Dzanc Books Short Story Collection Prize and was published by Dzanc Books in May 2023. Vogtman’s book Girl Country is available for purchase with the following link: https://www.dzancbooks.org/all-titles/p/girl-country
Interviewer:
You were recently in the woods as part of your fellowship. Could you tell us a little bit more about that experience?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I used some of my fellowship funds to book a cabin in the woods for a week as a DIY writing retreat. I went alone, with my dog, to this nice, little cabin. What was really amazing was returning to a solitude that I hadn’t experienced in so long. I normally dedicate so much time to being a mother, caring for family, and my students. The silence and the solitude were really refreshing, and they helped me have headspace to think through my novel and begin working on it.
The first part of my writing process is on paper: brainstorms, scribbles, mapping things out. I did some of that, and then I was able to begin actually writing. I did a decent amount while there. Being out in nature is inspiring to me. I took a lot of walks while there. I find walking to be meditative and a good way to let ideas flow. The combination of solitude, silence, and just being surrounded by nature helped me get started on this novel.
Interviewer:
Has it always been your natural inclination to go to secluded spaces or natural spaces when you’re in the writing process?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Absolutely! For me, it’s helpful to have a private space to write; I’ve never been one to do my best work in a crowded coffee shop. I find so much inspiration in nature, being surrounded by woods, or being in the countryside, even in a suburban backyard visited by birds and deer. These are things that help my creative process.
Interviewer:
Can you tell us more about the moment you realized that you had a collection of short stories that would eventually be Girl Country?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I can’t recall an exact moment—but after writing several of the stories, I realized that they were all fitting together thematically and that my short story “Girl Country” was kind of the thematic thread holding them together. From there, I was writing new stories with these themes in mind—that they’d all somehow have something to do with girlhood, womanhood, motherhood, the body, nature, magic, and finding light in the darkness.
Interviewer:
Is nature integral to your writing? How do you not go crazy being alone in the woods for so long?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I’m definitely inspired by nature. I feel like I am at home in the woods. I have more of a fertile imagination when I’m out there. I know some people thrive in a city but that doesn’t do it for me. It was nice being alone in the woods because I constantly have stuff to do: teaching, mothering. I like stepping away from all that to be alone in silence. Silence makes me the opposite of crazy. Silence gave me clarity for the first time in a long time.
Interviewer:
I can see how that would be a relief. How do you feel about being back at BGSU? We read in one recent interview that your cohort had great rapport.
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yes! It feels surreal being here. On the one hand, everything looks the same. On the other, things feel different. It’s all such a long time ago but feels like yesterday. I would say some of the best years of my life were at BGSU.
I don’t know if everyone feels this way, but when I came here and met everyone, I felt like I was finally meeting my people. When I was growing up, I felt like a bit of a weirdo. Probably a lot of writers do, so getting to the MFA and meeting people who are on the same wavelength and interested in the same things was eye opening. I finally found myself.
Interviewer:
That’s awesome. Do you keep in touch with your cohort?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yeah, I made some great relationships. Now, we’re all sort of scattered around the country. It’s nice because we still have those connections. This past summer, a few of us had a mini workshop via Zoom because we’re all in different parts of the country. It was so nice to reconnect. I felt like I lost my writing community after leaving the MFA.
Interviewer:
We are scared to graduate! Thank you for the wise words. So you live in New Jersey now. How did you go about making a literary community where you are?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
The sad and short answer is I haven’t really. I find a lot of inspiration in non-writing communities and through my kid. She’s a kid, you know? Kids are imaginative. For my own adult writing community, I don’t really have one aside from sporadic mini workshops with my old BG friends. I don’t want to sell myself short though. I advise a creative writing club on campus where I teach. Obviously, the club is more focused on students, but it still gives me a sense of being a part of that world.
I was also the editor of this literary journal called the Kelsey Review that has been running for a really long time. We focus specifically on the county. It’s not a national literary journal; it’s for people in Mercer County, NJ to submit their work. I felt lucky when I got the job as Editor-in-Chief. That’s another writing community I was a part of. It was really nice to see work from the community.
Interviewer:
So you were the Editor-in-Chief of the Kelsey Review, you aren’t anymore? Do you still have a role on the masthead?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yeah, I recently handed it over. I’m no longer the editor. Some of my colleagues took over. I was the Editor-in-Chief for nine years. That was nice. But at this point, my main involvement is helping the new editors transition into their roles.
Interviewer:
How did you make that decision to give it up?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
It was difficult. On one hand, it was such a nice part of my job that was a refreshing break from grading research papers. It was also very time-consuming, and there was a lot of red tape, working with the administration on money things. I don’t have a head for money. I don’t want to. I don’t want anything to do with money.
Running the Kelsey Review took a lot of time and headspace. At times, it became stressful. That all played a part in my decision to move on. I also wanted to step away from helping others publish, so I could focus on my own work. After publishing Girl Country, I am working on a novel now. I want to focus on that now.
Interviewer:
When you were in the MFA, was your thesis a short story collection?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Yes. I worked on short stories. Actually, three of the short stories from thesis ended up in the book. I wrote a whole thesis here. At the time, I was happy with it. When I left Bowling Green, I tried submitting the manuscript to a few places.
I wasn’t very aggressive about it. It wasn’t picked up. As time went on, I was not super happy with it. I basically put the whole project aside for a long time. Years later, I sat down and wrote a few, new stories that are in the book. One day, I realized that I have a collection here. I looked back at my thesis; some of my short stories fit into the new collection. It was a matter of taking those three old stories and somehow fitting them into the collection.
Interviewer:
Did you ever consider taking your thesis in a novel direction?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Not really. I didn’t feel ready to write a novel. It’s such a different beast than a short story collection. I didn’t feel ready, and I wasn’t that interested at the time.
Interviewer:
What changed to make you feel that you’re ready to write a novel?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
I finished this project of short stories, Girl Country. I figured I’d written all the short stories that I wanted to write. Sure, I still have ideas jotted down for a few new ones. But I’m not as interested in writing them right now. I want to try something new, the novel. I’ve had these thoughts of a novel for so long. Maybe there’s some maturity that’s happened like I can handle it now. Back then, the novel felt like a beast.
Interviewer:
Is the novel not a beast now?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
It still is just not as big of a beast. I think it will always be a beast. With a novel, it’s so big. There is more structure, more to plot out. In general, there’s lots of pieces to put together with the novel. And that was the most challenging part.
Interviewer:
Have you heard the hypothetical: would you rather fight like ten horses, or thirty duck-sized horses, or one horse-sized duck? Would you say that is accurate to short stories versus a novel?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
Oh, I haven’t heard of that. It’s an interesting hypothetical to be sure. Short stories are more of a fight with a bunch of duck-sized horses, while novels are more of a fight with a horse-sized duck. A huge duck is one solid thing. So that feels right.
Short stories feel more manageable. Arranging the collection was putting pieces where I wanted them. Right now, I’m still in the thick of the novel, and there are lots of pieces. I’m trying to figure out how to create and mold the huge duck.
Interviewer
That’s awesome. It’s interesting how a writer’s voice changes over time. I’m at the stage now where I’ll look back at my previous writing and not like what I was writing a few months ago. Does that stage end?
Jacqueline Vogtman:
You mean that feeling where you’ll look back on something you wrote like six months ago and go “Oh that’s such utter shit?”
Interviewer
Haha. Yes.
Jacqueline Vogtman:
It has changed a little for me. There’s always going to be shitty first drafts. It’s always going to be messy in the beginning. I think what I write now, like even the stories that I wrote for this collection, a lot of them came not fully formed. Obviously, there had to be a lot of revision, but I didn’t look back on them six months later and think “Oh god that’s so awful I’m so ashamed I don’t want to show this to anyone.” That does change. As you navigate this steep growth curve, it sort of levels out. Again, the first things you write are going to be messy for the most part, and once in a while, you’ll get a gem that just comes out and it’s like “oh my god I wrote this almost perfect thing and I don’t even have to do much to it”. That’s very very rare, but it might happen.
Interviewer
Thank you for your time.
The final part of this interview will be posted on Wednesday, 11/21/2024.
By Jane Wageman
Photo Caption: “Drone view of similar houses, driveways, and yards in the Utah suburbs.” by Blake Wheeler, Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons.
Mid-American Review fiction staff selected “The Unbearable” by Brianna Barnes for publication in Volume XLIII, Number 1, forthcoming.
Life has become increasingly unbearable for Judy, the protagonist of Brianna Barnes’ story—but reading about her existential crisis is anything but.
Our staff loved the psychological complexity of Judy’s character, whose actions are often nonsensical—and yet make perfect sense within the framework of her own skewed logic.
Judy is on a first-name basis with the agents at Poison Control, which she regularly calls while drunk to inquire about the effects of consuming certain toxins. She trolls the website FriendlyNeighborhood.com, posting under the pseudonym Carl Rogers and trying to get a rise out of the neighbors whom she lives alongside but rarely speaks to. She acts with certainty—even as she continually questions her relation to the world around her.
The story begins in the aftermath of a forest fire, which has forced a bear into the surrounding suburbs. Judy, encountering her neighbors’ comments about this online, finds herself intentionally stoking their concerns about the animal. As she reacts to the bear-sightings, the story delves into her thoughts on consciousness and her place in an indifferent world. Walking through the trees’ charred remains in the opening scene, Judy notes: “The fact that. . . she was fully surrounded by a resplendent and unrepeatable beauty did not mean she was being loved by the forest or by nature or by some capital ‘G’ God; she was just as unloved as ever within a beauty which preceded her and did not need her, a wilderness, after all.”
“The Unbearable” has a lonely, haunting quality in such scenes—but they are set alongside moments of sharp, critical humor that left many of us laughing to ourselves as we read. Ironic and funny portrayals of suburbia are sprinkled throughout the story: the particular smells and patrons of an organic grocery store, conversations between neighbors about recycling protocols in an online forum, and a description of Judy’s home, Pleasant Meadows, as “a suburb with profound rural pretenses, hyperbolic nature street names, and paranoid inhabitants.”
As the story follows Judy’s growing sense of her own “nonsubjecthood,” it builds to an ending that feels both surprising and inevitable—one that you certainly won’t forget.