From Issue I, First Times

Our writers, ranging in age from fifteen to eighteen, examine the idea of first times in a myriad of ways: a boy’s first swim (and first rebellion), a traveler’s first romance with a city, a teenager’s first (and hopefully last) encounter with an inanimate object, the first torturous heartbreak, and the first time a young woman has to reconcile her tragic past with her hopeful future. These pieces, seemingly discordant, embrace the uncertainty of first times with arms open.

Lilun Magazine itself stands with its arms open. This, after all, is our first time publishing a magazine and we were subsequently humbled and enriched by each step. 82 emails and many meetings later, we are thrilled with where this first time has led us. It is our sincerest hope that this issue begins to chip away at the habitual and postures our readers toward first times, regardless of age.

Love,

Jordan

From Issue 2, Doubt

At its best, doubt keeps us from making mistakes. At its worst, doubt keeps us from doing exactly what we want to do. When in doubt, the theme of our second issue, pushes readers, writers, and thinkers into that uncomfortable space between doing something and not doing.

Mandy Chen stops us in our tracks with When In Doubt, Check the Weather. Ilse Stacklie-Vogt takes us on a run up a mountain, around words, through Blavet’s Sonata No. 4 in her poem Give In. Knox Cornell doubts the strength of a relationship in I Don’t Know What I’m Doing (haven’t we all been there?) and Amber Page sheds doubt like skin in her poem My Bright Side. These pieces, unlike a bad friend, do not offer up pithy maxims. They invite you to sit with them in that space of doing and not doing, the space of doubt. Without a doubt, we are in awe of these pieces and the young writers who created them.

When in doubt, read.

When in doubt, write.

When in doubt, know that you are not alone.

Love,

Jordan

From Issue 5, How To

When we decided on the theme of “how to” for this issue, we weren’t sure how our writers would interpret it. Would there be manuals? Step-by-step guides on how to change a tire, how to dress for success, or how to know you’re dating the right person? I’ve read articles or listicles like that. I’m sure you have too. They over-promise and under-deliver and, even worse, can make us feel bad for our own processes and choices as we move through life.

I have the privilege of working with teenagers in my career; unlike me at that age, they seem aware that life is not really about following a how-to guide, and that there are more unknowns than there are knowns. To illustrate this point, I remember first learning about binary oppositions in college. My literature professor explained that the breaking down of binary oppositions–good and evil, knowledge and ignorance, joy and sadness–was the job of a reader. This blew my mind.

But when I share this information with my students, who are younger than I was when I first heard it, their minds are not blown. They already have an understanding that life is a spectrum.How to exist somewhere in the spectrum is their daily lot.

Needless to say, our authors went outside of that prevailing box–the how-to manual–and into a deeper realm. The questions they grapple with range from how to claim your identity, how to let grief wash over you, and how (not) to care for something you love and admire. We sincerely hope you enjoy this issue. We do.

Love,

Jordan