The Overlap Matters: Writers Room Student Stories 2018-2019

T HE O V E R L AP

M A T T E R S WRITERS

ROOM

STUDENT STORIES 2 0 1 8 - 2 0 1 9

Introduction There was something about the HOME Symposium set ups at Dornsife last year. Early morning every season: cool fall, brutal winter, rainy spring.

Knowing that inside Ryan Hall there was warmth waiting: the low lighting and faint music, the rattle of laughter in a group. A sense of ignition once we were all there. Writers Room folks doing what we do. Hanging up posters and paper lanterns, stringing lights, steadying ladders, setting tables, and scurrying around with friends. It never felt like work even though that was what we were doing.

And it wasn’t easy. We just learned the steps to the dance and loved to hear its call. The big events throughout the year were always special but the real treats were those small, early moments.

Showing up together. At the end, carrying something home with each of us.

Sometimes it’s hard to describe Writers Room to someone just coming in. In the stories and reflections that follow, we try anyway. It always comes back to these instances of shared space, time, and effort. We’d like to share them with you now.

TH, KH + LL November 2019

WRITERS LAUREN LOWE

BA English ’17 ArtistYear Fellow 2017-2018 Alumni Fellow 2018-2019

CALVIN KINIALE

BS Health Sciences ’19

AMY GOTTSEGEN

BS Computer Science ’19

MABEDI SENNANYANA BA Communication ’22

NICK VONK

BS Screenwriting/Playwriting ’21

TASH HAJO

BA English ’19 ArtistYear Fellow 2019-2020

BRIYANNA HYMMS BS Biology ’18

JASMINE JAMES

BA English ’18 ArtistYear Fellow 2018-2019

ALICIA DESIMONE BS Photography ’18

MALLIKA KODAVATIGANTI BS Biology ’21

DEVIN WELSH BA English ’20

KYLE HOWEY

BA English ’19 Alumni Fellow 2019-2020

Clockwise from top left: Devin Welsh with Dahmere Town during a camera workshop at Dornsife by Lauren Lowe (November 2018); Writers Room students celebrate the Anthology 5 release at Dornsife by Mark Dawkins (June 2019); rehearsal before the TRIPOD reading at the Free Library of Philadelphia by Lauren Lowe (May 2019); HOME Symposium: Neighborhood Histories Roundtable at Dornsife by Briyanna Hymms (October 2018); HOME Symposium set-up at Dornsife by Lauren Lowe (October 2018).

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Lauren Lowe I grew up at Writers Room. Grew up with. The program and I in tandem, adding layers each year for the last five years. I’ve both watched and nurtured this program as it has become a lot of different things. It has done the same for me too. When I started, Writers Room was in its first year. Monthly First Tuesday workshops at the Dornsife Center were the main strand of programming. I was 19. A sophomore, still trying to find a foothold at Drexel, some anchor in my life.

This became the place.

I’m 24 now. I’ve left home. I’m writing this from New York City, where I’m currently pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at NYU. It’s a dream I’ve held for so long—one I know I’m only now ready to realize because of everything I’ve learned at Writers Room. There’s been a lot in the last five years to get me here.

As a student, Writers Room formed the core of my undergraduate career. I participated in every workshop I could, attended readings and went on field trips, extending my education beyond the bounds of campus and into the wider city. I did independent study with our director, Rachel Wenrick, throughout my junior year. We didn’t have a space on campus yet—Joe Coffee doubled as my classroom and her office. It was my first opportunity to carve out time and space to flesh out writing I began in workshops. That experience led me into senior project the following year. Rachel became my mentor and I worked with her to build off the foundation we’d created, developing in discipline as a writer and a student. I wrote my capstone in what’s now Writers Room Studio—back when the walls were white with scuff marks and holes and all of the trim was maroon and there wasn’t any furniture, just boxes and trash left behind from the previous tenants and a broken clock stuck at 10:45. At the end of the year I had the longest manuscript I’d ever written and was awarded best senior project. Following graduation, I served as an ArtistYear Fellow, teaching creative writing at Paul Robeson High School in West Philadelphia.

Three of my students were writers-in-residence on TRIPOD, which was in its first year at Writers Room. I volunteered as program assistant on top of my teaching. And then, this past year, I was the inaugural Alumni Fellow, formalizing my position to coordinate the second iteration of TRIPOD and provide one last springboard as I applied to graduate school.

But this is only half of the story, leaving out its center of gravity—the people and the relationships we share. I want to tell you every detail about every person and every interaction I’ve ever had with them. I know I can’t. This is where craft dissolves. Where my composure loosens. Where my writing reduces to lists and fragments.

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Offering quiet hellos and soft smiles (too shy to open up and talk) / receiving full grins in return My voice shaking at the first Anthology release at Dornsife My neighbors telling me after that I did a great job (not believing them for a second) Listening to Carol and Jordan and Victoria read / the rhythm in their words Understanding that Rachel wouldn’t let me hide / always showing up because of it Always trying to get away with not reading at the end of workshop Always failing: every time Kiki called on me with a knowing smile Sitting on the floor of the studio with Rachel + copies of my drafts spread in front of us Devin’s bright white Chucks at the NEA kick-off Standing on tables hanging lights in the studio Muffy and Rachel directing higher higher not that high okay to the left not that far little lower perfect!

Feigning exasperation at their need for precision Walking to Joe with Tash + doing it enough times it turns into ritual Talking about nothing / telling each other everything Kyle’s worry from London: I don’t want anyone to think I don’t still care (there was never any mistaking) Swapping basketball stories with Mark Dawk and Norman Cain Watching my own students work with the people who helped raise me Calvin making time to ask how I’m doing on his way to the back library to do some reading Yusha + Lowell riding their longboards across the city to get here Learning that Brenda changed a piece of Amy’s life on a walk down Lancaster Ave when Amy writes the moment back to her and reads it aloud Every single ice, Acme, pizza, bagel, coffee, donut run with Rachel before an event Spending so much of the time together laughing Heartbroken the summer after ArtistYear, asking Carol for advice: How do you do this?

All of us taking turns to check in with one another: texts, emails, FaceTime, phone calls Where are you? Be here.

How many times we’ve stuck it out for each other How many early morning set ups / All the dancing and all the laughing in between / How many late afternoon and evening break downs How many days I left the studio after the bookstore closed, after the sun set, with Wenrick, feeling so tired but full Our presence together propping up all the long hours, emerging onto the sidewalk with sighs, turning in unison in the direction of the car, not needing to say aloud: Let’s go home.

Patrice saying: we are not taught how to let go.

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These quiet moments feel just as important to share as the rest of what I’ve done here because it has always been the people who give Writers Room its transformative power.

The people make the place.

If I’m grateful for anything in the last five years, it’s that I got to be here when they were, when all this was brand new, and we made this place together.

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Calvin Kiniale

Writers Room and TRIPOD was an essential, formative experience during my time at Drexel University. Here, I learnt to take perspective, engage meaningfully with my community of fellow students and local residents of Philadelphia, and to acknowledge some of the things that give meaning to our lives. Writers Room taught me to view things beyond the myopic and intensely focused scope that I had been attuned to all my life, and that which was so emphasized even in my education at Drexel.

I grew up in Kenya, a developing country in East Africa. Life here is a challenge in fundamentally different ways from what it is in the United States. As such, I was encouraged from an early age to make a hard line decision about what I wanted to become in life and to stick with that decision. Therefore, at the age of 12 I chose to become a doctor because I fancied the circulatory system of the heart in my biology class. From then on, I was subjected to an intense curriculum that emphasized academic excellence, and not much else. But a life of service was perhaps much more than this; a fact that began to unravel with my time at Drexel and culminated with my participation at Writers Room and in TRIPOD. Moving to the United States for college presented an array of choices. I submitted myself to the temptation, with the hope that my aspirations would hold true and that my motivations would still direct me to the noble profession of medicine.

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Being a writer-in-residence during TRIPOD was such a litmus test that showed me that a life of medicine to me was bigger than a competent understanding of medical facts—it was an exploration of the soul of medicine; an exploration of what makes us human.

TRIPOD has been a lens through which I have peeked into the lives that I hope to dedicate my service to. I have learnt to listen to stories and sift out meaning from these interactions. I have internalized the importance of community. Ultimately, I hope that this experience has taught me to care more, and above all to be physician second, and human first.

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Amy Gottsegen I’ve always been better at the things you do with other people—I remember taking piano lessons as a kid and dreading having to practice because it meant being inside and alone rather than outside playing with my neighbors. I think that’s part of the reason that the photography aspect of the TRIPOD project came easier to me. I think part of growing up is learning how to be a good friend—how to put intentionality into your relationships—and I’ve realized in the last few years that taking pictures of someone is a nice, small way to tell someone they’re beautiful and you value your time with them. In TRIPOD, photography gave me a way to say that to Keyssh and Brenda even when I didn’t know how to say it.

It’s funny that for one of our first writing assignments together, which was to write about a part of ourselves that we like, I chose my voice. I was thinking in the musical sense—singing and even humming have always been the easiest way for me to express what I need to, get out what I need to calm myself down, etc. Maybe I hexed myself, because it was my voice as a writer that I had a hard time locating this year. Part of it was that I felt it marked me out as different— Keyssh writes with the intensity and rhythm of a philosopher-rapper, Brenda with the subtlety of an experienced writer. I didn’t know how I could fit in that; I wanted to blend in somehow. But more than that I think I needed to just set aside more time by myself to write.

I wonder how other members of TRIPOD would describe the experience. I would always emphasize intergenerationality, university-community crossover, and creative placemaking, which I’ve taken to mean ‘inventing a shared (physical, temporal, emotional, linguistic, spiritual) space for people who aren’t supposed to share space through the arts.’ I hate that so much of the applied side of my major—algorithms applied to people—is about slicing and dicing ourselves into the hegemonic “demographic groups,” reifying divides that are literally ripping us apart, degrading our humanity. What if my demographic group is writers? Or communitybuilders?

I’m so glad, so fulfilled, that Writers Room gave me a place at Drexel to be human, to be in community, and to think about what that means with people in love with each other.

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Mabedi Sennanyana

It was the day of my co-op interview at Writers Room, and of course I was really nervous. I sat at the edge of my seat at the Dragon Shop Lounge, frantically paging through my notes for my interview with Rachel. I waited for the then grey Writers Room doors to open so that I could start my interview. When they finally opened, I was thrust into what I can only call a Pintrest dream, with photographs pinned to cork boards, abstract paper lamps and of course Rachel’s warm smile. It was from meeting her and the rest of the Writers Room team that day, that I realized that I had found my home. I think, that is why to this day, one of my favorite things to do at Writers Room is give the “WR Spiel Tour,” because that is how my fruitful journey at Writers Room began. Giving the tour always turned my not so good days into great days. There was something magical about seeing a ‘stranger’ walk into the studio feeling completely perplexed by the space and leaving feeling like they found a new home—all from making them feel welcome by smiling and showing them around.

Writers Room taught me the importance of working with heart, humility and consideration for others. From offering some coffee and donuts to the security guards during an event at Dornsife to supporting someone to bring their ideas to life. I remember when Rachel and Lauren asked me to work on bringing a student, Donnie’s idea to life. She fell in love with the typewriter at the studio and expressed interest in having an event to showcase it. This idea then became a successful Valentine’s Day event called Just My Type. I was tasked to work with Donnie to coordinate the event.

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The thought of putting it all together was nerve-wracking at first because this was the first event I was responsible for coordinating. However, the nerves melted away once I realized, Wow Rachel and Lauren believe in me and my skills so much that they trust me with this major event. That’s the thing about working at Writers Room: there is so much positivity, and opportunity to learn and showcase your talents. There is such a strong support system here and everyone is always willing to go above and beyond for each other because we are a family.

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Going on the road for site visits with Rachel, was also amazing, especially the day we had to do numerous visits to prepare for the 2019 Conference for Community Writing (CCW). From Chestnut Street Caterers, Academy of Natural Sciences, the Dornsife Center and the Free Library of Philadelphia—I learnt a lot from those site visits. Some aha moments I jotted down were working your network and making do with what you have.

I watched Rachel ‘finesse’ her way through negotiating, brainstorming and collaborating with people in a way I have never seen anyone do before. She asked the right questions and sought advice from our potential partners. I saw this especially when we met with Adam, an official at the Free Library. He would come up with an idea and Rachel would 2.0 it—she would try to break the mold and push the envelope and Adam loved it. It was like seeing two great, innovative, avantgarde thinkers in perfect synchronization. I like that Rachel doesn’t think she is a know-it-all like some bosses—she is humble and recognizes that it’s okay to ask for advice or help from someone who knows better about a particular field and give credit where it is due. This is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life, that and the importance of believing in my ideas, no matter how crazy and seemingly impossible they are to other people.

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Nick Vonk One of the biggest mistakes I’ve made at Drexel was not taking the leap of faith through the Writers Room threshold earlier. The first time I passed by the studio, I kept walking. As a freshman Screenwriting/Playwriting student, I felt that it wasn’t my place, that I couldn’t belong to group of “writers” yet—I thought pomp and pretentiousness lay beyond the door.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. The day I gritted my teeth, told myself, I’m a writer, and walked into Writers Room, I learned two things: 1. Anybody can be a writer. If you put words on paper, you are a writer.

2. This place is awesome.

Writers Room is a team that runs amazing events for and with the coolest people in the area, it’s a place that provides a platform for communication between the various communities that are mixing more and more as Drexel expands, and it’s a collection of people that work extremely hard to better their neighborhoods in a myriad of ways. And it’s just a room. It’s a place to escape the busy world and immerse yourself in those things you promise yourself you’ll do when you have the time, but never actually get to—the reading, writing, conversing, breathing, and unwinding that can keep you sane when the stress creeps in a little too far.

Over the past two years, I’ve been working on carving out my place in Philadelphia, and Writers Room is a cornerstone of what I can confidently call my new home. It is a wonderful place that should be explored by all, and if you’re nervous about going in, do what I did— walk in and ask the nearest person “Where am I?”

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Tash Hajo

I remember the first Writers Room workshop I attended where I knew less than three people and shied away in a corner. Someone wearing a buttoned down denim shirt pulled out a chair and patted on it so that I would sit down and participate. Her hair tied back, her sleeves rolled up. It was Lauren Lowe doing what she always does—watching, working, welcoming. I wrote something about yellow socks.

I continued going to these workshops. I saw people like Rachel Wenrick and Kirsten Kaschock guide and inspire a whole room. I heard Norman Cain and Victoria Huggins Peurifoy share their stories and writing. Full mic drop every time. I met Kyle Howey and Devin Welsh, who taught me what it really meant to show up. I learned from Lauren what it looked like to always be there. These people continued to meet me with open arms, even if mine were crossed at first. It was a space where I had genuine interactions that I couldn’t have anywhere else. I was constantly reminded how special it all was.

One of my last Writers Room readings was part of the TRIPOD project. I stood facing the people I’d grown close to and read: “[Writers Room] sees my layers and recognizes me as a body of moving pieces…it’s allowed me to be all of me.” I could never describe what this group means to me. I don’t think there are enough words. There are a few lessons I’ve learned, though, that I’ll carry with me wherever I end up going.

The first is that it truly does take a village. Over time, this village will become family.

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Next, connecting happens in the most unassuming moments. For Writers Room, knots of friendship were often tightened through emptied cups of coffee, workshop set ups/break downs, and time spent in the studio. It means a lot to show up and even more to stick around.

Finally, the overlap matters. Finding parallels makes us feel closer to the spaces we’re in and the people we share them with. Embrace the threads that can be woven together.

I feel lucky to have been a part of Writers Room during my time as a student.

Even though I graduated this past June I know, from the work we’ve done and relationships we’ve deepened, that it’s never really over. Writers Room and the people inside will always be there to welcome us back home.

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Briyanna Hymms How do I explain That this section of my life Has helped me grow the most I’ve met Tash Hajo Who started off like me But was brave enough To break away I’ve met Lauren Lowe Who forever encouraged me And never let me slide when I wanted to; I see an older sister I never had I’ve met Rachel Wenrick Who opened my eyes To all the change needed to be made And all the work that needed to be done To ever get anywhere I’ve met Jasmine James Who picked my brains And talked me into a friendship I know will last a lifetime —even if we pick it up from wherever we leave off I’ve met Devin Welsh Who helped me share Words I didn’t know how to For fear of taking up space

Because kindness is just who she is —and I hope to be as much of a glow I’ve met Kyle Howey Who draws as fervently As I do I wish we were friends sooner I’ve met Kirsten Kaschock and Valerie Fox Who believed in my work And saw opportunities I didn’t see for myself —I’m published thanks to them and Rachel I’ve met in part Alicia DeSimone, Calvin Kiniale and Amy Gottsegen Who have things going for them But I got too busy to get to know And I’ve met me —or at least a different version of me For the first time I’d not think to call myself outgoing Welcoming yet commanding Friendly with no reason than to just be Taking up space because I can Because what goes on behind the scenes Is that I grew friendships in people I met by chance And that in turn Has helped me grow

I’ve met Mabedi Sennanyana Who smiled at me without reservations On the first day we met

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It’s been a year since I graduated and I don’t realize the passage of time like I used to.

There are fewer milestones now. The only comfort I have is the people familiar to me.

I find that I have a hard time breaking out of my comfort zone. Once I’m there, I’d like it to stay that way. Change is scary but to be scared is only human; I’ll give myself that pass.

But to wish it be one way forever can be detrimental to growing. A conversation I had with Lauren comes to mind, about plants and growing things. I said something about my having a way with plants isn’t about natural talent for it—because who really knows what to do with something with its own agenda—but about the amount of time and care someone puts into seeing the plant pull through with its full potential.

Most of who we end up meeting are by chance, it’s just the matter of how long we want them to remain in our lives. Living is a series of choices that each individual is responsible for making. I think that is the essence of this poem, that I am choosing to keep this set of people in my life, for companionship, for relationships and for connection.

I read people like I read books. Some people are light reads. Others are dissertations.

Most fall in between. I’m not an expert but I’d like to think that I chose good company.

They say you can glean something about a person by the company they keep. And maybe I say that because I fervently want to be considered a good person. Writing about their influence on me has been easy. Writing about things beyond influence, how it’s shaped my character, is still to be determined. I mention what I admire and appreciate in these people and I do it because I don’t do it enough.

To be honest, I don’t know how to end this—what’s really an ongoing analysis.

I just know that I want to see the goodness in people and that’s because I found a group of people who see the good in me.

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Jasmine James

Working with Writers Room has colored my career path. I ran away from being a teacher and was even resistant to accepting my desire to study English at Drexel when I became involved with the program. I hadn’t yet found a place where I felt completely myself or supported. Writers Room helped me see how sharing my story and my struggles through writing and talking with others could ignite true personal growth.

Imagine you’re questioning your place in the world, your self-worth—you might be feeling this way right now. As I write this, I’m remembering the head space I was in when I walked into my first workshop at the Dornsife Center. Nervous…uneasy. I don’t exactly remember what compelled me to take up Rachel on her offer to join her and other strangers on a Saturday morning since I’m not really the “voluntary group activity” type. I tend to run in the opposite direction; however, once I got there, I felt a sort of release leave my body.

We were working with photos of loved ones and engaging in short writing prompts as we prepared to visit an art exhibit downtown. I happened to sit next to an older woman from a few blocks away and we quickly clicked. She acknowledged my laid-back demeanor and talked to me about my photo until I loosened up a little more to ask her some questions myself. She was Irish Catholic and surely raised in a typical American Irish Catholic family: with tons of siblings. She talked about what her experience growing up in West Philly with her siblings was like and how different her neighborhood seemed to be becoming. I thumbed her photo while she talked, imagining her childhood and starting to think about

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my own newfound relationship with West Philly as a Drexel student. We were fast friends for that day and towards the end of the workshop as we shared and showcased our work, she let me know how delightful it was to meet me. I thanked her for sharing her work with me.

This is when I realized the importance of searching for stories untold; Writers Room made me realize the significance of not only telling one’s story but expressing your voice with different types of people. As Drexel students, we connect with the very members of the West Philly community that we tend to be separated from due to structure of the university. We’re building a bridge through writing and photography, finding commonalities across generations and shifting geographies. Immersing myself in Writers Room has given me the desire to help others find and solidify their voice, to help other young people work through their journey by learning to trust others with their stories.

I owe everything to Writers Room and if you’re reading this, I hope you find yourself a new home with them as well. As I’m closing out my first year post-postgraduation, I know that I’ll be present with new opportunities, trudging through new professional and academic experiences. But through it all, I certainly know that Writers Room is a place that once you’re in, you’ll never want to say goodbye.

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Alicia DeSimone I wish I had discovered Writers Room earlier in my college career. I was swept in with open arms and cared for even though nobody knew me yet. Through Writers Room I was given an opportunity to meet my neighbors, learn more about my friends, explore my community, and be pushed to create meaningful work. Even though I was not as present in the Writers Room studio and meetings after I graduated, I was always welcomed back with warmth and excitement.

Being in the first TRIPOD group was both an honor and a challenge, and I wouldn’t change that experience for the world. I was able to practice teaching photography, yes, but I was also able to practice listening, learning, and tolerance. We wrote, reflected, and photographed together. On paper that might not seem groundbreaking; but the ability to be open and vulnerable and critical with such passionate and intelligent individuals is a priceless gift. I’m a better person because of these people and experiences.

Overall, Writers Room is whatever I needed it to be. Some days it was a quiet place for me to get my head on straight again. Other days, it was a photo studio. A gallery. A collective.

A study. A home. But one thing remains the same: everyone is safe within those walls and next to those people.

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Mallika Kodavatiganti

I first heard about Writers Room when their studio in MacAlister Hall opened in the fall of 2017. As a freshman eager to learn more about Drexel, it was on my list of places to check out, but unfortunately, I soon forgot about it. While scrolling through Instagram recently, I came across their page, and I decided to give them a follow. I soon found myself frequently going back to their page and looking forward to posts about their workshops and projects.

I was attracted to their deep involvement with the community—not just on Drexel’s campus, but throughout West Philly, and I knew I wanted to be a part of this group.

I didn’t know what to expect when I first walked into the studio. Artsy photographers who were too hipster for me? An exclusive group of writers, who spoke like they were reading poetry? I was pleasantly surprised. A few people were working in the back room, laughing, relaxing, and having a good time with each other. I remember shyly walking up to them and expressing my interest in the Writers Room. Immediately, everyone perked up and was eager to tell me more. I was welcomed into the group very quickly, and I soon became involved with the work they do.

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As a biology major, I’ve primarily been exposed to genes and cells throughout my time here at Drexel. As interesting as those were, I felt that I was missing a human connection to what I was learning—this is what keeps bringing me back to Writers Room. They are involved with research projects, but there is so much passion and care that they bring into their work. There is a genuine relationship between everyone, whether they’ve known each other for years, months, or minutes.

Being surrounded by these creative, thoughtful individuals of all generations, backgrounds, and ethnicities has allowed me to experience an energy that I rarely get to be around in my day-to-day routine.

You don’t have to be a writer, a photographer, or an activist to be a part of Writers Room. At a basic level, what we try to do is learn more about the people who live around us and figure out ways to help each other. All you really have to be is another human.

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Devin Welsh I’ve been with Writers Room since my freshman year Welcome Week, and as I write this, I’m starting my senior year. Crazy! Getting involved was something that I didn’t do in high school—I just kept my head down, went to classes, did my homework, and graduated. And that’s all I really remember from that time; it was nothing extraordinary. Because of that, I made a promise to myself to do the complete opposite when I came to Drexel. Part of that promise was simply saying yes to a lot of things outside of my itty-bitty comfort zone.

During Welcome Week, after having gone to a bunch of events that sounded interesting, I met Rachel, the founding director of Writers Room, and she invited me to a celebration for the NEA Big Read at the Dornsife Center. High school Devin would’ve found a way to squeak out of something like that because it was new and scary and I hadn’t read the book, and dozens of other anxiety-laden reasons that made sense at the time. But I ignored all of those and said yes! Even though I found myself a nervous onlooker at a spectacular party, I looked around (too anxious to actually initiate conversations) and had this overwhelming feeling that I might’ve found my people.

After my commitment to shed my comfort zone and put myself out there, I started meeting people I never would’ve otherwise and began forging relationships with people who have made all the difference in my time here at Drexel. My new Writers Room family not only gave me a strong sense of community on campus (which is harder to find than you might think), but it expanded my narrow worldview leftover from my time spent growing up in a bubble, and gave me the opportunity to create really incredible things alongside those really incredible people. And this relationship-building is still happening as my third year with Writers Room is coming to a close.

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This past summer my Writers Room crew and I took a trip down to Baltimore to share the work that we do together. What started out as simply saying yes to presenting at the Council of Writing Program Administrators Conference turned into a chance to bond with someone I’ve known from my first year here, Ms. Brenda, a kind soul and Philly-native, and someone I just spent the last year working with, Yusha J., an inspiring young man with an eye for artistry.

From that trip I’ll forever remember sitting by the waters-edge after our presentation and sharing the moment with one another, watching Yusha wave to the folks on the water taxi and watching Ms. Brenda sway in the sunshine and breeze to music that flowed out of nearby restaurant; sharing laughs with each other about how the Baltimore Harbor doesn’t smell quite like the Schuylkill that we so affectionately love here in Philly; sharing food and stories as we wrapped up our trip.

It’s the memories like these ones that make me proud to be a member of Writers Room and that make me want to welcome you into our growing family. I’m looking forward to hearing your stories and sharing laughs with you.

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Kyle Howey

Dear student, whoever you may be: I’ve been down a road of my own, on a path maybe similar to yours in some way, and that’s something wonderful. I never expected to find myself at school, nor dreamed to become someone other or better than myself, because I don’t think that’s what all this is about.

I often try to understand things in terms of an appropriate balance between needs and desires. And as a student, it can be difficult to recognize or remember what that means in a context of learning. It can be a paradoxical situation in which you feel like both a valuable individual and an invaluable streak in the university tally. But that is also just another prospect of balance.

I believe that what I’ve gained from being a member of Writers Room was never anything explicitly gained but rather meaningfully and intentionally equivocal. It was never mine alone, but a Room for me to be a true part of, more so than a temporary inhabitant. What I gained was the opportunity to see, and practice seeing, myself and others. Awareness.

When I think of where I’ve been and where I’ve gone, the following words come to mind:

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Guidance. What I’ve both needed and desired.

Confidence. What I’ve never felt I fully had but always knew I needed.

Writing. What I almost lost.

Creating. What I’ve always known.

Sharing. What I’ve learned to need.

Reminding. What we all know we need.

Remaining. What we do with our time.

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To the student who may eventually know all of these or none: You are all things your own. You shuffle out of bed each morning in attendance of the everchanging world—a type of Room you want to see yourself a part of in some way.

Be uncompromisingly true to yourself.

That’s not to say Writers Room is meant for stubborn hearts and fated recluses.

Here, I think uncompromising means to be diligently aware of the self. These are experiences made with you, by you, and for you. Everything in this Room includes you. Just like nothing in this world happens without you. You are meaningful outright, but it is recognized only in taking place.

Well, this is the place. Please feel welcome. These doors open toward you.

Sincerely, Kyle

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Clockwise from top left: HOME Symposium set-up at Dornsife by Kirsten Kaschock (October 2018); illustration and poem at the studio by Briyanna Hymms (September 2018); Devin and Lauren Lowe finishing break down after a camera workshop at Dornsife by Briyanna Hymms (November 2018); TRIPOD weekly meeting at the studio by Lauren Lowe (October 2018); field trip to ICA Philly by Rebecca Arthur (March 2019); meeting at the studio to discuss TRIPOD by Kirsten Kaschock (January 2019); TRIPOD reading at the Free Library of Philadelphia by Briyanna Hymms (May 2019).

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Photo Credits p. 5 Tash Hajo p. 6 (top) Briyanna Hymms p. 6 (bottom) Lauren Lowe p. 10 (top) Rachel Wenrick p. 10 (bottom left) Devin Welsh p. 10 (bottom right) Kyle Howey p. 13 Tash Hajo p. 14 Dejah Jade p. 15 Lauren Lowe p. 16 (top) Brenda Bailey p. 16 (bottom) Lauren Lowe p. 18 Kyle Howey p. 19 (top) Dejah Jade p. 19 (bottom) Lauren Lowe p. 21 Rebecca Arthur p. 22 Lauren Lowe p. 24 Lauren Lowe p. 25 (top) Devin Welsh p. 25 (bottom) Lauren Lowe p. 26 (top) Dejah Jade

p. 26 (bottom) Lauren Lowe p. 29 Lauren Lowe p. 30 Tash Hajo p. 31 (left) Rebecca Arthur p. 31 (right) Briyanna Hymms p. 32 (top) Dejah Jade p. 32 (bottom left) Mabedi Sennanyana p. 32 (bottom right) Lauren Lowe p. 34 Devin Welsh p. 35 Lauren Lowe p. 36 (top) Lauren Lowe p. 36 (bottom left) Rachel Wenrick p. 36 (bottom right) Lauren Lowe p. 39 Lauren Lowe p. 40 Lauren Lowe p. 41 (left) Devin Welsh p. 41 (right) Kyle Howey p. 43 (top) Victoria Huggins Peurifoy p. 43 (bottom) Lauren Lowe

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Writers Room is a university-community literary arts program engaged in creative placemaking and art for social justice. We are a diverse intergenerational collective of students/alumni, faculty/ staff, and neighborhood residents whose work demonstrates a desire for collaborative opportunities in our joint communities. writersroomdrexel.org

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We start with story.