The Time Is Now

“I was born on the banks of the Rukarara, but I have no memory of it. My memories come from my mother and her inconsolable nostalgia.” In the first pages of Scholastique Mukasonga’s Murmurs From the Hills: Rwandan Tales, translated from the French by Mark Polizzotti and published by Archipelago Books in November, the author recounts a genre-defying collection of stories reminiscent of an oral history. Blending mythology and memoir, the stories recount the horrors of the Rwandan civil war and genocide along with other memories lived and passed down by family members. In this hybrid form of storytelling, Mukasonga creates a retelling of history—and therefore a retelling of the present and the future—with contributions from a complex range of voices with layered knowledge. Write a lyric essay that braids some of your early memories with stories passed down from your ancestors. Allow yourself the freedom to invent your own mythologies.

A coffee grinder, the soul of a man who drowned to death, a board game, a house, angels, God, mushrooms, and trees are all characters in Olga Tokarczuk’s third novel, Primeval and Other Times, first published in Polish in 1996 and forthcoming in a new edition, translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones, in December from Riverhead Books. The narrative chronicles the universe of a fictional village called Primeval through short vignettes of different characters, both human and nonhuman, over the course of three generations during the twentieth century. In “The Time of Misia’s Grinder,” Tokarczuk writes: “Perhaps coffee grinders are the axis of reality, around which everything turns and unwinds, perhaps they are more important for the world than people.” Write a collection of vignettes about diverse characters that collaboratively reveal a microcosm of points of view in a specific time and place. What objects will give voice to the philosophical and existential questions you wish to explore?

In Matt Longabucco’s collection The Hummingbird, published by Nightboat Books in October, the poet’s attention flits from subject to subject with sharp observations of mundane goings-on, attending to contemporary life in all its forms. In one section of the title poem, Longabucco moves swiftly from the natural environment to the objects of workday technology: “big ant / scales my power cord / achieves the plug / prepares to mount the keyboard / I give it a decisive flick / we’re both surprised when an instant later / it’s flat against the windowpane / six feet away, intact and unharmed….” Compose a poem that revels in the unbroken interconnectedness of energies and emotions that are revealed when you pay close attention to the vividness of your immediate surroundings. How might the world around you generate a sense of openness and abundance when you find ways to intertwine a multitude of its everyday offerings?

In the anthologies What My Mother and I Don’t Talk About (Simon & Schuster, 2019) and What My Father and I Don’t Talk About (Simon & Schuster, 2025), editor Michele Filgate collected over a dozen essays by authors writing about their struggles in communicating with parental figures. Write your own essay about something you have always felt like you could never talk about with your mother, father, or other guardian. What were the barriers to honesty, and what do you imagine could or would have helped you break your silence? Was it more about what you didn’t want to say or what you perhaps didn’t want to hear back in response? You might bring in your personal reflections about honesty and vulnerability in other relationships to shed insight on your parent-child dynamic.

“I often use the metaphor of Perseus and the head of Medusa when I speak of science fiction. Instead of looking into the face of truth, you look over your shoulder into the bronze surface of a reflecting shield. Then you reach back with your sword and cut off the head of Medusa,” said Ray Bradbury in a 1970s interview published in the Paris Review’s Art of Fiction series in 2010 about the ways in which science fiction seems to look into the future, but is in reality a reflection of what has already happened. Write a science fiction story that explores an urgent contemporary issue through the “reflection” of an imagined future. Consider Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, which examines the very real issues of book burning and censorship through a firefighter in futuristic dystopia. Think carefully about how you twist a serious subject by placing it in an extreme, far-off premise.

In Sophie Klahr’s second poetry collection, Two Open Doors in a Field (The Backwaters Press, 2023), the sequence “Like Nebraska” consists of each poem beginning with a simile. Examples include: “She listens like a horse…,” “He speaks like a slow evening…,” “She rustles like a stream…,” and “He drinks like the faithful….” This week, taking inspiration from this repeated format, compose your own short series of poems that revolves around the relationship between two people, alternating beginnings in the same way. What are the main themes in this relationship you wish to explore? You might consider gesturing to a palpable arc, or ebb and flow, of the duo’s inner thoughts as the sequence progresses and shifting the imagery and tone throughout to illuminate a narrative.

In a 1988 issue of the Yale Review, an essay titled “Making Contact: Encounters With Readers” by Annie Dillard, who passed away earlier this month, consists of a series of short segments recalling the letters, notes, and items she had received from readers who felt compelled to write to her. Dillard recounts readers who sent her missives about their lives, short stories they had written, existential questions, religious objects, medical journal articles, a marriage proposal, pamphlets about God, dead insects, and numerous bits of ephemera. Taking inspiration from this form, think about memorable things that you have received in the mail or in person over the years. Compose a chronicle of people who have given you these letters or objects, and write short reflections that explore both the content and the context of these interactions. How might the collection reveal something about the role you play in others’ existences?

As part of the marketing campaign for the recent sci-fi thriller film The Last House, in which a family must figure out how to survive after being sealed inside their home due to a mysterious menace taking over the outside world, Netflix constructed a tiny living space inside an advertising billboard thirty feet above Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles where an actor was “trapped” inside for several days. The stunt attracted passersby who interacted with the actor and visited him daily. Write a short story that revolves around the deployment of a publicity stunt connected to a storyline for a new film, book, or amusement park ride. You might decide to take the point of view of a confused onlooker or the performer within the stunt. Allow yourself to play around with layers of artifice and performance, and mix the real with the surreal.

“The swallows screech at dawn / Birds which day from night divide // We are quick shuttles / Weaving the blurred thread of mystery // Dusk is our element / Brushing the edge of a moment,” writes Blaže Koneski in his poem “Swallows,” translated from the Macedonian by Kristian Josifoski and published in the May 2026 issue of Poetry magazine. Swallows have long been known for their close relationship to humans—the way they build their nests on the sides of buildings and bridges, their anticipated annual migrations as harbingers of spring and autumn, and as a symbol of resilience for sailors through long journeys and homecomings. Write a poem that draws upon the physical traits and behavior of swallows, or another common bird, weaving in symbolism and connections to your own relationship to the natural progression and patterns of passing time.

What books do you turn to when you need a bit of consolation? Comfort reads are books that readers return to again and again; knowledge of the trajectory of the story providing a bit of a warm and fuzzy feeling and relief from stress or melancholy. Whether you’re feeling downtrodden because of a dreary time of year, a recent crisis, an illness, or general distress, a comfort read—even if just reading a few pages or excerpts—is liable to restore cheer from its well-worn familiarity. Write a personal essay about some of your favorite comfort reads, whether novels, poetry collections, memoirs, graphic novels, or even children’s picture books. Recount your earliest reading of the book and other times when you have turned to it again. Even if you have found different things to value in subsequent readings, what are the reliable elements that continue to provide an uplifting feeling?