On Milestones and Sisyphean Boulders

This is a celebratory log, despite the titular allusion to the Greek underworld. It has finally happened, I've officially been published.

Today, the second issue of The Madrid Review was released, which marks my poetry debut (in Spanish). Three poems, that's all it is, but it's a fulfilment of bookish childhood dreams. Books and printed media have always seemed like such authoritative items, and it did not seem possible that the words I wrote could actually be printed inside "official" books. All the while, I was constantly creating magazines and books from colored construction paper, notebook pages, Word Documents and anything else I could get ahold of.

What makes October 2024 doubly special is that it was also my short fiction debut in English with The Good Life Review.

These milestones have been made possible by two amazing teams of editors who recently started their own literary magazines (The Madrid Review was founded just a few months ago), who don't make a profit and volunteer their time to foster the arts. It's inspiring to see them do this work, and it makes me think that one day I would like to do this too. For now, I will continue to write and do my best to support their work (go subscribe and follow!).

I've fulfilled a dream, and yet I've really struggled to celebrate.

Time for the boulder section of this masonry-themed post. Just at the moment I thought I had settled into Cyprus, life hit me like a ton of bricks. I spent almost half of October with a nasty cold, that left me feeling very behind. I became so focused on all the things I failed to do that little room was left for recognition of what I had worked so hard to accomplish. Two weeks of illness was followed by two weeks of mounting stress.

This week I've needed to snap out it, slow down again and go back to the basics.

I don't want writing, creating, learning, reading, to just be a constant race, always reaching for something that I imagine to be better. I want to be anchored in the present to observe and live where I am, rather than always focusing on that "next" destination. It's a privilege to be able to do so and ultimately, one day, there won't be a next destination.

« Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux ».

- Andrea