Editor’s Note

Issue eighteen reminds me of a college student embodied. A homesick, lonely being, taking

some misguided steps to what was thought to be a thrilling direction, before returning to the

place they started. Our issue is soothing, contemplative, sad, satirical, and warm all in the same

breath. Our cover “Cows in Big Sur” represents the need to rest at once.

It also reminds me a lot of what West 10th has meant to me over the years. I discovered West

10th at seventeen, when I was applying to NYU. It became a place that I would envision finding

home in—the biggest dream of all being my desire to one day run it myself. I forgot all about it

until, at eighteen, I sent in a vignette during an all-nighter, with an hour to spare, leading me to

become a contributor. At nineteen, I became a poetry editor. I was wildly intimidated by all the

others; I felt so timid and young and sticky. At twenty, I became a prose editor, where I began to

work with Sam Earley, our now managing editor. Together, we advocated for one of our first

creative nonfiction pieces; this year, our prose section is almost completely made up of them. In

a flash, I became managing editor mid–editing cycle, training for what would become twenty-

one: editor-in-chief. After five years of harboring under-the-radar hopeful feelings, It had

happened.

I want to say thank you to Sam. You are the practical to my over-the-top. You advocate for

innovation; keeping pieces we love and modifying them to fit our magazine like our wonderful

“Echoes from a Bunch of Bronx Kids.” Fighting for your life out there, crafting a million emails,

handling a million panicked phone calls, and spending many long nights discussing ways we

could make our magazine better. There’s no way to thank you Sam. This edition wouldn’t be

what it was without your support, ambition, and of course, enduringly dry humor.

This issue would be barren without the editors who spent many long nights evaluating

submissions, and our event and social teams who spread the word. To our prose editors, thank

you for reading all those pages! You’re troopers! To our poetry editors, you saw the vision

immediately! You’re crazy skilled! To our art editors, our team is small and mighty, but here we

are, with some of our first drawings and physical art in years, thanks to your never-ending

advocacy for your section. To our event team, Alex and Ife, your team work will not be forgotten.

And to our socials and web team, thank you for the reawakening of our Instagram!

I would like to thank the Creative Writing Program and its faculty for its support of its wonderful

West 10th. Joanna Yas, our faculty advisor, has been an advocate of our literary community and

is possibly the most impressive individual one could meet. I am grateful to our executive editors,

Matthew Rohrer and Darin Strauss, both of whom I’ve had the privilege to study under; thank

you for impacting writers’ lives at NYU. I will continue to write because of you both. Thank you

to Deborah Landau, director of the Creative Writing Program, who keeps us all together, and

Jerome Murphy, whose efforts never go unnoticed whether it’s our student emails or creative

writing events.

In this issue, we feature guest poet Matthew Rohrer and interviewee August Thompson. Rohrer’s

poetry never fails to think outside of the box, just as he pushes his students to do. Thompson’s

Anyone’s Ghost is not only a Best Book of 2024 by Amazon, but also a part of our NYU fabric.

Thompson’s history as both an undergrad and creative writing MFA showcases the resilience to

return to his college home. A different type of homesickness.

To our contributors, thanks for letting us into your houses, minds, and relationships! Whether

this whole writing or art thing is your hobby or your future career, keep storytelling. Without you

we would have no West 10th.

Lastly, a thank you to my parents, Carl and Nicole Stanzione. Not a lot of math lovers let their

kids pursue the literary field. You’re inspirational and amazing. Thank you for your faith in me.

Lauren Stanzione