Writing Certificates > The Writer's Spotlight > Summer 2025
Summer Writer's Spotlight
In this Issue:
- Ask a Writer
- Recent Writing News: Students
- Recent Writing News: Instructors
- Features: Meg Serino, Stephanie Reents, and Lynne Reid
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Ask a Writer
Our writing advice column features questions from our community answered by Malena Watrous and other creative writing instructors.
A QUESTION ABOUT ANXIETY
As a teacher, I have written books for my students, reports, letters, speeches, you name it. I taught a writer’s workshop in my classes, and encouraged my students to believe that writing could save your life. When they had a problem or conflict with another student, we began resolution with 5 minutes of writing, helping to dissipate tension and give voice to whatever issue was beneath the surface of that emotion. When I’m writing for students, I can write all day long. But writing about my own life or for myself—just writing whatever is in my head—is terrifying. I worry that I have nothing to say, or that what I have to say is either too contentious or too mundane. When it comes to myself, I struggle to put words on the page. Is that true for anybody else?
- Anxious Writer
Dear A.W.,
In my own writing classes, I often encourage students to treat their first draft as a discovery draft. I love quoting the brilliant graphic novelist Lynda Barry, who says that it’s when we ask, “Is this good, or does it suck?” that the creative impulse shuts down. Writing can be joyful—if we suspend judgment for as long as possible. When it’s time to edit, evaluation is useful. Before that, it’s suffocating. When we stop critiquing every idea and surrender to the process, the work often turns out “good” precisely because we’ve let it take shape without second-guessing every line.
It sounds like you’re a fantastic teacher. In your workshops, I’m sure you’ve encouraged students to embrace the iterative process rather than fixating on the final product. But just as doctors can make terrible patients, teachers sometimes struggle on the other side of critique. Teaching demands control: guiding the process, moderating conflicts, offering feedback. Writing, on the other hand, requires relinquishing some of that control to allow for messy early drafts.
Julia Cameron’s practice of free-writing three “morning pages” a day can help shake loose insecurities and warm you up for more focused work—and they don’t have to happen in the morning. In your notebook, try speaking to yourself the way you would to an anxious student. You’d tell her she has plenty to say, more than she realizes. You’d remind her that writing is part of the discovery process, and to delight in the surprises that appear on the page.
For now, don’t worry about whether what you write is “good.” In fact, give yourself permission to write badly. Set small goals—filling a page, or writing for just 5–10 minutes a day. You’ll be surprised at how much you can generate, and you’ll be building a muscle that strengthens with use.
Finally, try to access your beginner’s mind. Picture yourself as the child you once were—one who would try things, mess up, and keep going. You wouldn’t criticize that child; you’d celebrate her bravery. Offer yourself that same grace. The less you evaluate too soon, the more discoveries you’ll make—and the more joy you’ll find in writing, which will keep you coming back to the page.
Do you have questions for our writing instructors? If so, feel free to submit them to continuingstudies@stanford.edu for possible inclusion in our next quarterly Spotlight.
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Student Writing News
- Richard G. Dennis published his novel, The Rumbling of the Waters, in April. The novel is the sequel to Fiume Restoral, published in 2024. Richard completed the Novel Writing Certificate in 2020 and is currently working on the third volume of the Restoral Trilogy.
- Brian Christopher Giddens is pleased to announce two recently published prose poems: "Home Made" and "Good Night, Jasper."
- Joanne Godley has been named the Naomi Long Madgett Poetry Award Winner in 2025 for her memoir in verse, How the Black Panthers Fell from the Sky. The manuscript reflects her experience as a teenager in the Black Panther Party, as well as her mature analysis of the Party’s dismantlement. The annual NLM Award includes publication of the winning manuscript and a prize of $500. Broadside Lotus Press will publish How the Black Panthers Fell from the Sky in February 2026.
- Karen Lynn Haberman’s story, “The Octopus’s Dilemma,” was the First Place Winner in the Murder Squad 25th Anniversary Competition.
- Elizabeth Kemp took Ellen Sussman's "Jumpstart Your Novel" course in April 2021, and is excited to share that the debut novel she was working on will be published (by Sibylline Press) on October 10, 2025. It's a domestic thriller called Tread Lightly—a stay-at-home mom with a past navigates a murder in Silicon Valley. Elizabeth wanted to share that, "This is my first novel, at age 55. It's never too late for a career pivot!"
- John W. Maly's debut novel, Juris Ex Machina, has been named the 2025 American Fiction Award winner in the Science Fiction category by American Book Fest.
- Bob Rehm’s short story, "Spring," was published in Litbreak Magazine's July edition. Bob has taken six Stanford Continuing Studies creative writing courses and gives credit to, "my instructors and three fellow SCS writers who helped me revise the story over several iterations following the end of class. I couldn't have done it without them!"
- Manjula Waldrom is excited to announce that her novel, Love Partitioned, has been made into an Audible book. Manjula shared with us that the story was recorded by, "a professional actress from the theater world in Sydney, Caroline George, who has given an evocative dimension not possible in print."
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Instructor Writing News
David Gorin’s poetry chapbook, To a Distant Country, was selected by Jennifer Chang for the Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship and is coming out next month. He will be launching it at the Brooklyn Book Festival on September 19. 
Shann Ray has written a poetry craft book based on the lectures for the two poetry classes he teaches for Stanford Continuing Studies, and the book was accepted for publication by the University of Nebraska Press. 
Rose Whitmore’s novel Exiled will be published 2027. Fun fact: Rose Whitmore took a novel writing workshop through Continuing Studies back in 2007, before receiving a Stegner Fellowship. Some of the seeds for her forthcoming novel were planted in that class! Rose also has a personal essay in the summer issue of the Missouri Review. ^Back to top
Features: Meg Serino, Stephanie Reents, and Lynne Reid
This summer, we have three feature pieces to share with you!
Meg Serino
Meg Serino, who completed our Novel Writing Certificate, published her first novel, Annapurna. We asked Meg to write about any aspect of the writing or publishing journey that she cared to share with fellow students and readers, and she chose to write a wonderful short essay on the stress of asking for blurbs.
When my agent called with the news that he sold my book, I was at our local seafood store buying salmon. I left the store (without the salmon) and sat in the car with the motor off. I couldn’t believe it—was this really happening?Indeed it was. I was so happy and excited. I didn’t know what to expect but I didn’t care. I was getting published and I couldn’t have been more grateful.
What followed was a year of rereading and revising and copyedits. All stuff I loved. There were meetings about the book cover and meetings about the edits and meetings about the timeline. All good. Some of it wasn’t exactly fun—the author questionnaire, for example—but who cared? My book was getting published! Some of it made me queasy: the social media posts and podcast interviews and blogs. But to be fair, none of that was unexpected. I knew (sort of) what the publishing landscape looked like. But what I didn’t expect was that I’d need to ask authors to write the blurbs that appear on the back of a book or that grace its first few pages. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d be the one to ask. I’m embarrassed to admit I thought the publisher or editor worked that out. But no, it would be me.
This filled me with fear. How could I possibly ask an author to take the time not only to read my book, but to support it? An author who had plenty of books that she actually wanted to read, plus her own writing, plus a possible job or two on top of that a family, a life that would be interrupted and infringed upon by presumptuous me, asking, basically, to help sell my book that probably sucked compared to anything they would ever write, or for that matter read, in their entire lives. It felt icky.
Also, the only authors I (barely) “knew” were ones who taught at workshops I’d taken or from my MFA program. But friends? No. I’m a pretty quiet person, shy, and have always (and still) feel that a published author is akin to a movie star. I become positively knock-kneed in their presence. Which is to say I never became chummy with any of my extremely talented instructors, much as I would have loved to.
I sat down and wrote a list of potential authors that I might contact. Authors with whom I had worked and from whom I had learned. Authors I admired. Authors whose own books and writing might somehow (but not likely) resonate with my own. And it was a good, healthy list. And I felt somewhat hopeful. Surely one or two might agree to read my book and say something halfway decent? But, of course, there was no surely. The word surely, in my head, meant please.
I began writing a draft of a please-blurb-my-book email. This took almost six weeks. Everything I wrote I deleted. Did I sound too apologetic in my request? Too pathetic? Too deferential? Not, dare I say, deferential enough? Was I rambling? Incoherent? I cared very much about what these authors (and most people, to be fair) thought of me and I also truly understood what a big ask I was asking.
Finally, I clicked “send” and did all the things: I closed my eyes. I inhaled deeply. I told myself I wouldn’t hear from anyone for days, maybe weeks. Maybe never. Except that wasn’t what happened. What happened was that within minutes I heard from one of the authors that she was thrilled for me and yes, YES, she would be happy to blurb my book.
I could have cried. I did, in fact, tear up. The gratitude and relief I felt was enormous. Mostly gratitude. I couldn’t believe it. This crazy-busy, extremely prolific and well-known author was happy for me and would blurb my book. What else was there?
What else turned out to be many more happy yesses. The generosity of these authors was staggering to me. Of course, there were a couple I never heard from. That was okay! They were busy! One author—whom I’d never met but admired deeply—emailed to tell me she would be happy to blurb my book if the timing worked out. Ultimately it didn’t, but we have stayed in touch; she is a kind and gracious person. Two authors—again, those I’d never met—sent lovely emails explaining they were taking a break from blurbing but wished me well. The fact that they took the time to respond, and in such a thoughtful and compassionate way, meant a great deal to me.
Which is all to say that if I am ever in a position to blurb a book, I will do so. I will do it happily and with thanks to the authors who were so enthusiastic in their yesses to my requests and so gentle in their nos. I know the angst that may accompany emails requesting blurbs and I am here to alleviate that, to the best of my ability.
Stephanie Reents
Next, we are thrilled to share an essay by our instructor Stephanie Reents, whose debut novel We Loved to Run comes out this August.
My debut novel, We Loved to Run, will be published at the end of August, but the seeds of it came from a short story that I wrote more than twenty years ago in my first workshop in my MFA program at University of Arizona. I lucked out and wound up in a class taught by Barbara Kingsolver, who lived in Tucson at the time, and occasionally taught classes for the program. So many of the craft tidbits she offered have stayed with me—like, for example, thinking about flashbacks as blocks of ice. Take a mallet to them, Kingsolver advised, shatter them and then sprinkle shards of your flashback (or exposition) throughout your foregrounded narrative. This allows you to keep your story moving forward while providing important background information. Another nugget of Kingsolver wisdom that I have shared with scores of my own students: writing is not a competition; there’s room for everyone to win.
This perspective—the long view of writing as a non-competitive endeavor—has been important to me both throughout my writing career and in the process of drafting and finishing my debut novel. I’m not a fast writer—I’ve published just three books since I finished graduate school in 2001 (with one of them being a tiny book of just 30,000 words!). I know many writers who have been a lot more productive than I have—in terms of putting books out into the world—and some who have been less productive…but it doesn’t matter. It’s not a race. Kingsolver’s advice has helped me accept the writer I am.
My novel is actually all about competition. Set at a small New England college in the early 90s, it’s about a women’s cross country team with its heart set on winning the Division Three Championship and everything the runners are willing to do and sacrifice to reach that goal. As I recall, I turned in the story version—titled “Into the Woods”—late in the semester of Kingsolver’s class. It was probably my third story submission, and I’m pretty sure my creative energy was waning, but in process of scrambling to meet the deadline, I discovered the communal voice of the team, or the “we” point of view, one of my favorite aspects of the novel I finally published. The story had plenty of problems—a brilliant writer named Eli scribbled, “YOU NEED TO FIND A PLOT!” on the final page. I returned to the story of my women’s cross country team a year later, this time because I was taking a screen writing class and needed to finish the first act of a screen play in a single weekend. That version has thankfully disappeared.
In a world where writing is not a competition, where a lot of writers are following their own training schedules and drafting at their own paces, it was possible for me to resurrect my story more than fifteen years later, listen to Eli’s advice (gosh darn it, he was right!), and start moving forward again, asking myself more pointed questions about the plot and considering whether I could come up with enough material to write a whole novel about a women’s cross country team. Eventually, after logging lots and lots of writing miles, which meant sometimes plodding, sometimes sprinting, but usually cruising at a conversational pace, the way I preferred to run back when I still ran, I finished my novel.
Inspired by Barbara Kingsolver, here’s my advice about sustaining a writing life: Chart your own path. Find a pace that works for you. Make a finish line that you are eager to cross. And hang on to your old drafts!
Lynne Reid
I Am a Writer:
I love to watch a black fine point pen
Glide across the quadrille pages of my Moleskin notebook
Words tumbling like tiles in a Bingo spinner
Thoughts dashing recklessly through my mind
Snippets, synonyms, sentences
In the last five weeks I’ve discovered/recovered
That I love to write – fiction, non-fiction, poetry
Form is irrelevant; the act of writing frees, rewards
Calms, clarifies, makes me feel alive, brings me joy
So, as my 75th birthday present to myself
I’ll have a quill tattooed on my forearm
To remind me that I am a writer
