At PVLSE’s first anniversary dinner, Dr. Thorpe, the founder of the Inkwell Writing of Shanghai, shared a few words with the PVLSE team. Along with the seniors’ section, we would like to also share this special speech with you.
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Sometimes I wonder about writers would look like if we were looked at as animals by archeologists in the distant future or alien explorers attempting to catalogue life on this little pale dot that we call earth. What would they say? To make the question more interesting, let us assume that they narrow down the sample group to only the editors of PVLSE. What would these alien archeologists have to say about the species of human called “writer?”
1. Surely this species is hardworking, putting in long hours editing, revising, layout.
2. Surely this species is industrious and inventive, creating a youth magazine where there previously was nothing.
3. It is obviously a very curious species in that it actively seeks out to do things that both them and their advisors have never done.
4. They are resourceful, developing core resources and frameworks where none previously existed.
At the same time, though, they might be considered a little strange as a species as well.
5. They enjoy receiving the pain of pushing themselves far past the meger expectations of their advisors and publishing more than any of us ever thought.
6. They enjoy giving pain as Eric messages me. in the middle of the day and ever so reminds me once again to do something small that I promised to do.
7. They are tribal in nature as they form a miniture tribe of nature and are perhaps only two or three issues away from getting group PVLSE tattoos.
8. They are an aggressive species, that does not keep to themselves, requires constant feeding of submissions, and is known to actively ask you if you have written anything later that you would be interested in publishing.
9. That they are finally a giving species, sharing more links for their work than a google results page, everytime I check my moments, they are working hard to celebrate the work of yet another writer.
I came to the conclusion that writers students are a strange species. At least PVLSE editors for sure.
While observing all of this, I realized two big things. First, is that it is all writing. Writing is both the linguistic pacing and the late-night meetings, the constant revision, and the three-hour interview. It is both the last-minute sonnet and the waiting for a writer’s email. After a year of watching you all work, I find that there is little that cannot be considered part of the writing process.
What is also part of the writing process is collaboration. It’s finding people that you care about and encouraging them to do better, work harder, and push them to go places that they would have never gone by themselves. So tonight, among all the awards that we are giving out tonight, I wanted to talk for a moment about your advisor, Ms. Patti McAlpine. Ms. McAlpine first told me that she wanted to form a group for high school writers what felt like many years ago. When she told me about this idea, I knew that I wanted it, but I had more questions than I had answers. Where were we going to meet? Who in the world could we convince to join this project? How could we ensure the safety of their students? Who in the world would entrust me with their children? What could we teach them? Ms. McAlpine, in her normal way, dismissed all my concerns and ensured me that everything would turn out all right because if I have learned anything from Ms. McAlpine it is that things generally do turn out okay. I know you students will miss her, but I have been good friends with her for almost four years, and she is one of the few people left that I built Inkwell with. She was always a voice of experience and motherly concern among our circle of writers, and as we started a brand new workshop in the middle of covid, we took a little breath and hoped that things would turn out all right. I’ll miss you, Patti. More than I can express, and I wish you all the luck one writer can wish for another. As just a small token of my thanks, I have a small gift to help you remember the mountain that you helped to build.
This next year, Paige will be helping out, and I certainly look forward to working with her and renewing my commitment to making PVLSE the publication that I know it can be.
In addition to Patti, I should also address the student editors of PVLSE. When I first finally met the editors of PVLSE, it was more of a cross-examination than a meeting. I got asked some of the most awkward and challenging questions that I’ve ever been asked in a profile. I did my best to answer though, and I become familiar with the rigorous standards that would become a standard for PVLSE.
When people ask me to describe PVLSE, I’m never quite sure what to say. First people are shy about the name. Asking me for details about P-V-LSE, and they ask me why it’s spelled that way, and I can only tell them that the title will be the only misspelling in the entire issue. Other than that, those kids are on top of it.
When I finally get to speak about PVLSE, I can only describe it as a magic trick, a invention of what happens when you mix too much youthful energy with not enough caution. But for me, that’s where the magic of PVLSE is. While most people busy themselves with talking about starting a magazine, you all actually did it. The Roman writer Seneca said that the one thing that all fools have in common is that they are always promising to start really living tomorrow, and there are no fools in this room. Only those that understand that a mistake is also a learning opportunity, and that every publication is an improvement upon the cultural silence that exists in much of the world, and that instead of taking center stage yourself, you had the patience and courage to promote others.
In the future, I hope to see PVLSE continue to grow with the rest of Inkwell because there are so many directions that this can go. In a country that counts things in billions, we live in a land of large, numbers, and there is always more to do. More students that need our support, more students who need a voice, more students who need to feel listened to, if only for a moment, about the something that moved their heart.
Finally, if I have learned anything about you all, then it is that I never guess what will happen or where your work will go. Anything is possible each time you sit down at the page. So as your advisor, I will leave you with a hope rather than more advice—I hope that your work will continue to be a lighthouse. It does not need to actively find anyone or anything to save. Instead, it can shine brightly as a sign for others to follow, but more important, it will be that small piece of yourself that you let burst into light.
Thank you. It’s been an honor to work with all of you.
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