By writers of HIRAETH- special theme edition

painting by Stephanie Frostad

We writers keep sculpting words to unearth those hidden poems and stories.

That’s what writers and poets did with the prompt Hiraeth.

The special theme edition is live on the website of Literary Impulse. Do have a look.

Each story on Literary Impulse goes through a serious copy edit which includes writing suggestions and an exchange of views with writers on the craft. This time the selected authors were kind enough to share their feedback on their experience of the same. Please go through them:

Radha Kapadia— Working with Literary Impulse has been one of a kind experience. The editors have been supportive throughout the process. With me still being at the beginner stage of my writing career, I’ve received due guidance from the editors and I’m grateful for that. Looking forward to work again with team Li

Sanka Rathnabarana—It has been an exciting journey working with the Editorial at Literary Impulse. A well put together a publication with a unique perspective on writing content and a group of dedicated editors who seek to propel its writers. The editors have a genuine interest in the writer’s work and are helpful in a myriad of ways including providing good suggestions and guidance.

Kim— What a pleasure it has been to collaborate with Literary Impulse through the editorial process preparing my story for this book. The changes suggested were thoughtful and it was a collaborative relationship throughout. Literary Impulse has great respect for their writers. I look forward to future collaborations.

Gayle Kurtzer-Meyers— It has been my pleasure to work with the staff of Literary Impulse. The team is helpful, and genuinely cares about their writers. I recommend all writers to review their guidelines and give yourself the opportunity to work with editors that have such integrity.

Aimée Gramblin — The editorial team of Literary Impulse is supportive and inspiring. They brought my essay “Hiraeth — Missing Wales” to an elevated realization with feedback on form and detail that tightened the whole piece. The team is a pleasure to work with in both its creativity and innovation.

Paroma Sen — Working with the Literary Impulse team has been an experience in professionalism and astuteness. The team’s editorial insights were helpful, and the journey so far has been very gratifying. It is obvious that the members of the team complement each other in skillset, collaboratively delivering a great experience.

RH — Working with Literary Impulse has been a fantastic experience. The editors are conscientious, friendly and professional. I would (and have) recommended Literary Impulse as a place for writers to publish their work. It is always an enjoyable publishing journey.

Do follow us on social media where we keep updating posts about the other happenings of Literary Impulse. Stay safe in your part of the world and keep writing. And yes, submissions for the December Edition are closed. We are accepting for upcoming Spring edition now.

Rahul (EICLiterary Impulse),Somsubhra BanerjeePriyanka Srivastava

A Treasure Trove of Incantation

Painting by Haynes King (Barbados Island, Barbados, 1831 — London, United Kingdom, 1904)

“We live and breathe words. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading the writers’ words, what they wrote, how they were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way they saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way they thought, hoped, felt, dreamt.” Says Cassandra Clare in one of her novels Clockwork Prince in the Infernal Devices trilogy.

But I wonder, do writers always feel lost or lonely? Is that composing a room of artwork really needs and looks for?

As a writer and poet, I feel in a way, we illustrate an alchemical elixir through each piece of our soul and seek what moves us. There are the days when a crowded coffee shop feels like a home, other times it’s the unaccompanied street in the starlit night where the moon guides us to the same. Writing is always beyond our soul, and we let it absorb us like an effortless intake of breath but at the same time, it seems like treading on this precarious path where you don’t know whether your writings will speak to someone or will it be seen as beautiful as from your perspective.

From the nuts and bolts of imbuing fragments of the art of everyday world into amusing scribbles of mindfulness, we always try to seek solace to dwell into, yet it's the stories that find us. The fact that what we bring on a blank page lies so much in what we’ve lived or born with, in the sense of what we’ve been keeping hidden inside, just like that moon-keeping a part of him always hidden away from us, till our artistic headspace finds a place of comfort to let it all out.

Our stories are stuck dead on the page unless we weave it with our threads of linguistic colors, to paint that musing of our sense, of being lost, in an abode of stories we live and the metaphors we are. For now, my words speak in silence but the story keeps growing with the melancholic emptiness that lingers within.

But I still wonder, do all sad people write, or if it’s the sadness that keeps the fire warm and let the words bubble up?

Dearest Sylvia, 

Google says it's your birthday. Happy Birthday. I rarely write letters, not to the living at least, which is melancholic, but I think you are too dead to care for yet another fan mail. Is that insensitive? To whom? 

I know you loved letters because any internet rabbit hole about you invariably ends up on one of your letters, or your suicide.  Artists have the most romanticised deaths,  don't you think?  One could counter with the romance around their lives. Are the deaths romantic because of the art around it,  or the art is considered art because of the romantic death? I think it has to be former,  because too many die, and there's not much romance in putting a bullet through your head, or your head through an oven. It has to be the art then. 

Your critics argue that The Bell Jar and Ariel were received the way they were because you died.  Regret,  accordingly,  made you one of the most iconic poets of the 20th Century. Makes sense,  doesn't it,  a century so riddled with war could only appreciate art as a regret? In a preposterously delinquent manner of speaking, thus, I am thankful you died then. 

If it's any counter to the said critique,  I read and loved The Bell Jar before I knew about your father,  your husband,  or your child, definitely months before I read about the oven. I am not a big fan of Ariel though. Blackberries speaks to my brain better. I wish I had the offers you got in The Applicant, not to marry,  but it would have been great to have a talking doll which isn't living. 

My best friend doesn't like my thoughts on you, or largely on deaths. He doesn't know much about either except what internet tell him,  and Internet talks about the romantic part? Death.  I hate that appropriation of you. 

Because on most days when the sky is too blue,  I hide in the crotch of your fig tree. 

Yet another fan,