Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Marcel Proust in bed, from Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Reset your timer with third year MFA in Fiction / Nonfiction student Alex Vara for a bike ride through strange worlds.

Where do you write?

I write lying in my Murphy bed. I live in a small studio, hence the Murphy bed. I started writing in bed last fall after Luis suggested to our workshop to find a place to write where we feel supported. I thought, What’s more supportive than my bed? It was great for this school year but lately, my body has been rebelling. Too much of anything isn’t good. 

Stand, sit or other?

Lately, I write mostly lying on my back in bed with my knees up to support my laptop, and a pillow or two under my head.

What is your writing practice?

I always wish for a more rhythmic writing practice but something that has been helping recently are pomodoros: timed writing sessions. Elissa Bassist introduced me to them in her Humor Writing Master class my first year. I set my timer for 20 minutes (Bassist suggested 25 but that was far too long for me;) and I tell myself “20 minutes, that’s nothing,” and I write or stare at my computer for twenty minutes. By the end of the first pomodoro, I usually want to reset the timer and do another. It’s a trick that gets me writing. I need to trick myself to write. 

What are your favorite procrastinations?

I have many. Some of my latest favorites are scrolling through StreetEasy apartment hunting, watching performances from The Voice (I became a fan during lockdown last Spring), or silly videos of animals or babies on Instagram. Here’s a one of my latest favorites:

https://www.instagram.com/p/CMhAcB_JRto/

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

During this thesis semester, I’ve read mostly history books but during winter break, I binge listened to the audiobooks of The Handmaid’s Tale, The Testaments, and The Hunger Games Series. After taking Shelley Jackson’s Strange Worlds, Strange Words seminar in the fall, and finding myself oddly comforted by the dystopian lit we were reading, all I wanted to read/listen to were stories about dystopian worlds. They’re both distracting and feel more relatable during the pandemic. I’m excited to get back to dystopian novels post thesis. 

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

It’s not a new skill but a new love. I bought a bike in the fall, a shining silver single speed, and I’ve become a bit obsessed. Love riding around the city adventuring to new places. 

What is your dream writing space?

A porch in Brooksville, Maine, a small town on the coast. I moved to New York for the program from Brooksville. It’s is one of my favorite places in the world. Summer in Maine is pure magic. There’s a reason it’s called Vacationland. I wasn’t able to visit last summer due to the pandemic but plan to drive up after graduation. I can’t wait to write outside, barefoot, and with a cup of coffee looking out on this view.

Alex Vara is a third year Fiction/Nonfiction student originally from Mill Valley, CA. She’s the host of TNS After Hours, a WriteOn Fellow, and public speaking teacher. She’s damn sad to be graduating. And she could use some more biking buddies. 

Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Marcel Proust in bed, from Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Get comfy and lost in existential thoughts with second year MFA in Nonfiction student Tidenek Haileselassie.

Where do you write?

I’ve been meaning to get a desk for months now, but I just never got around to it, so I write/read in bed.

Stand, sit or other?

I write sitting up in bed, with a comfy pillow or two behind my back. If I can’t bring myself to write it helps to get up and take a walk. I often come back from a long walk feeling more motivated and energized, feeling like I can do anything. Mind you, this feeling doesn’t necessarily translate to actually sitting down and writing, but it puts me in the space to write and be more productive.

What is your writing practice?

Currently I don’t have a disciplined writing practice. I write when there’s a deadline and when I have the presence of mind to do so.

What are your favorite procrastinations?

I like browsing Reddit and YouTube. My favorite thing to do on Reddit is browse questions that people post on groups like r/TooAfraidToAsk and r/NoDumbQuestions, and seeing the (mostly) surprisingly wholesome responses. I also love discovering and exploring new artists on YouTube through their songs, music videos and interviews. A few artists that I recently discovered this way are Tems, Amaarae, L.A.X. and Ayra Starr—all Afrobeat/alternative R&B artists that I would 100% recommend. Apart from that, I enjoy listening to podcasts and audiobooks, being outside, eating and cooking/experimenting with food, and getting lost in random existential thoughts like, “What if I hadn’t been born human or myself, but something/someone else?” 

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

Lately I’ve been gravitating to books on faith, spirituality and mindfulness—books like “The Sin of Certainty” by Pete Enns, on the role of doubt in faith, and “Wherever You Go There You Are” by Jon Kabat-Zinn, on mindfulness and meditation.

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

I don’t know if you could call this a skill, but I think the uncertainty of the pandemic has led to me being less rigid and more at peace with ambiguity and uncertainty—or if not at peace, at least I’ve come to accept these things more. I’ve also learned to make really good fuul (a traditionally middle eastern/North African dish that we also have in Ethiopia), and have discovered that marinara sauce was *made* to be paired with eggs—especially sunny side up with a soft, jammy yolk. Seriously. Try it and let me know.  

What is your dream writing space?

I actually like writing on my bed and don’t think I’ll get a desk after all. I think the only way it could be better is if I had a comfy outdoor writing space (with shelter from the rain and sun)—something like what you see here.

Tidenek is a second-year fiction and creative nonfiction student and WriteOn fellow. She lives between New York and Denver, enjoys exploring the places she calls home, and accidentally discovering things when lost. 

Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Marcel Proust in bed, from Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Get your Freedom on and join Luis Jaramillo, director of the Creative Writing Program for some fresh sour dough bread and a bay view that is East of Eden.

Where do you write?

I write in the living room/kitchen part of my one-bedroom apartment. The coffee pot and the refrigerator are a few steps away from the couch. The room is bright, and I like looking out the windows when I need a break. 

Stand, sit or other?

I write on the couch, with my back against the armrest, and my legs stretched out in front of me. It’s a supremely lazy position, and one that provides maximum physical support for my body. One problem is that as the morning progresses, I slip further and further down, ending up with my head resting on the armrest, my laptop propped up on my belly. Not good. When I’m done writing for the day, the couch turns into my New School office. 

What is your writing practice?

I write every morning for at least an hour, often longer, but never for more than 4 hours. If I’m generating new work, I usually have a word count I’m shooting for, usually 500-1000 words. I tend to get up early, 6 or 7ish. I make coffee and have breakfast while I look at the internet. This browsing is a real problem. The only way I can actually get anything done is to turn on Freedom, a program that blocks internet access. Once Freedom is activated, I feel such relief. You’d think I’d learn my lesson, but then I go through the same tedious struggle every morning. 

What are your favorite procrastinations?

Looking at the news online. Shopping online. Doing “research” online. Looking at real estate online. 

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

Over the winter break I read all of Alan Hollinghurst’s books, one after another. Hollinghurst’s prose is so good that it makes the rest of the world temporarily go away. I recently reread East of Eden. I’d forgotten what a wild book it is--Steinbeck breaks all sorts of rules having to do with structure and voice. I love to be reminded that you can do whatever you want as a writer. 

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

Like lots of other people, I learned how to make sourdough bread. It’s a two day process made up of a lot of simple steps: feeding the starter, making the dough, babysitting the dough while it rises, putting the dough in the fridge to rise very slowly overnight, and then baking the bread. The day the dough rises, my timer goes off every half hour, and that gets me up off the couch regularly.  

What is your dream writing space?

Speaking of John Steinbeck, The New York Times just published an article about the house Steinbeck bought in Sag Harbor in the 1950s. The house is now for sale for $17.9 million, a bit outside my price range. I wonder if the owners would just sell me the writing shack? 

Luis Jaramillo is the author of The Doctor’s Wife, winner of the Dzanc Books Short Story Collection Contest, an Oprah Book of the Week, and one of NPR’s Best Books of 2012. Luis’s fiction and nonfiction has also appeared in Tin House, Lit Hub and the Chattahoochee Review, among many other publications. He is the Director of Creative Writing at The New School. 

Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Marcel Proust in bed, from Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Join second year MFA in fiction John Kazanjian on a park bench to honor all the ways we love, feel, create, and blossom.

Where do you write?

I feel untethered in terms of creative spaces. I think that any place can become an arena for producing art. I’ve often felt most connected to my work on airplanes or park benches—and once at a gas station along Pacific Coast Highway, north of Los Angeles. However, I do keep a desk facing a window that overlooks the Queensboro Bridge. If I can’t be in transit, then it helps to look at perpetual motion. 

Stand, sit or other?

My best ideas come from standing in the shower or walking outside. But I do sit to write.

What is your writing practice?

The most important part of my practice is a strong and varied engagement with the world. Getting out and being active is paramount. For me, writing means actively bridging the external and internal realms in meaningful ways, striving to create a single space for life and creativity. For producing new work, I find that I am most productive when I’m in an emotional state of mind. I tend to get there with music. I’ve got a playlist of my favorite sad songs and pieces. The trick is generating work before emotions become a touch too overwhelming. For revising, I think recreating the most likely setting in which the work will be read is important, removing music and other mood-altering elements.

What are your favorite procrastinations?

Since I consider pretty much any activity to be part of my writing practice, I don’t know that I’d call anything procrastination. But when I’m not putting words on a page, I’m usually composing and recording music, practicing an instrument, or listening to albums on vinyl. I’ll also stop whatever I’m doing at any moment if one of my cats wants to play. Paws before prose.

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

I wish a book, or an author could have this effect on me! I connect more with single works than I do with authors as personalities or mentors-in-absentia. But once I’ve experienced a book, I rarely go back. For me, there are too many literary instances to explore in a tragically insufficient amount of time. And I’m comfortable being ungrounded. Although, I do often think back on Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke when I am feeling particularly lost. There’s a special line that he writes to the struggling poet and sometimes it helps to pretend that he’s writing to me. “I would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.”

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

I’ve learned to be gentle with myself. In essence, I think human beings are beautiful, and the harshness of this world will move us in unfavorable ways. But neither loss, nor struggle, nor existential dread should inspire us to side with that harshness. I’ve learned that honoring the ways we love, feel, and create will allow us to blossom, even in this philosophical winter.

What is your dream writing space?

Right now, I think I’d feel most inspired on a park bench somewhere, surrounded by sunshine and flowers. Maybe there could be a pond and a little bridge with a high arch. I’d like a place where I could take off my headphones and replace my music with the sound of rustling trees and the soft chatter of happy people.

John Kazanjian is a writer and book critic living in New York. His work has been published in Rain Taxi, The Brooklyn Rail, Entropy Magazine, PANK, The Rupture, JMWW, and elsewhere. Find him at: www.johnkazanjian.com

The AWP conference, March 3 - 7, is virtual this year. Instead of having to choose between the panels we can't miss and miss the panels we wish we could attend, the virtual cloud conference allows us to go to ALL our selected panels and not miss a thing.

View the schedule of events here and make sure to check out these panels and readings by The New School Creative Writing Faculty and Alumni:

Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Marcel Proust in bed, from Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Second year MFA student in poetry Aekta Khubchandani makes poems that float, flow, and spill a blue breath to the page.

Where do you write?

I believe in odd numbers so I have three writing spots in my apartment. My desk, Freddy and chair, Fernando are a great couple. And together, they’ve helped me churn out some good writing. They’re usually bathing in indirect sunlight and are by a big window. 

The second spot is on the blue rug by the bedside. It’s also where I drink my morning coffee/chai and where I read the most. I can see the clouds clearly from here, moving and becoming another cloud. This is my favorite spot to write. 

Thirdly, the bed. The mattress is so comfortable, it gives my vulnerability all the space it needs. 

Stand, sit or other?

Oh, I’d choose dancing. Or movement. If I can move like how water moves-- every molecule free and flowing, that’ll be a good day to die. 

What is your writing practice?

My current writing practice is to read a lot until I feel something immensely and then pour myself over the page or screen. I’ve been listening to a lot of Bill Evans and that’s making my poems float. I tune into Bill’s music even when I’m cooking. And oh my, the food is delicious! There’s also a 3 (yes, odd number I know!) hour sound healing meditation that I’ve been indulging in. 

What are your favorite procrastinations?

I already feel guilty of procrastinating. I don’t think I procrastinate as much as I should? My coping mechanism involves productivity. But procrastinations-- walking by the waterfront, working out/dancing, watching dance videos (contemporary, hip-hop, ballet), films-- a lot of films this year and cleaning. I clean as if I’m cleaning my mind. It’s spotless, more breathing space, clear air, and finally the sound of good sleep. 

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

Aren’t we all a bit mad, which is why we’re here-- writing? Two of my most interesting reads this year have been: Crush by Richard Siken and Sea and Fog by Etel Adnan. How can writing/they be SO gorgeous.

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

I founded Poetry Plant Project, over last summer when the pandemic hit us. I’m soon going to finish a year of teaching-- so that happened. The rest is the same-- cooking, eating, working out, you know how the list goes. 

What is your dream writing space?

I want a water library-- blue books (all shades of blue and purple) that have water in them. Of course, genre no bar. It could be poetry, fiction, cnf, research papers, picture books, illustrations, photo books, everything under the sun, that you can think of. 

And here’s a word bank for imagination:

water, space, light, blue, breath, books

Aekta Khubchandani is a writer, and poet from Bombay. She is the founder of Poetry Plant Project, a safe and inclusive space to nourish poems. She is matriculating her MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry) from The New School, New York. Her fiction “Love in Bengali Dialect”, the winner of Pigeon Pages Fiction contest, is nominated for Best American Short Fiction. Her poems were awarded the winner of honorable mention by Paul Violi Prize. Her work has been long-listed for Toto Funds the Arts (TFA) twice in 2017 & 2018. Her work is published in Epiphany, Jaggery Lit, VAYAVYA, The Aerogram and elsewhere. She has performed spoken word poetry in India, Bhutan, and New York. Her newsletter, The Clementine Letter, is now available through subscription. She lives with her plants Gulabo and Kit-Kat in Newport.

Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Ben Franklin in a bathtub, from Marcel Proust in bed to Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Second year MFA student in nonfiction Azka Anwar serves up slivers of memory, birdsong, and chocolate chip cookies.

Where do you write?

My greatest accomplishment of the last year was managing to squeeze a desk into my shoebox-sized bedroom. Once the pandemic hit and writing (or pretending to) in cute cafés was no longer an option, I realized pretty quickly that I needed a work space that wasn't my bed (writing in bed only ever ends in untimely naps for me). My desk is where I write now, and I've lined it with all the essentials for a productive writing day: brightly colored pens, a scented candle, and a jar of almonds (every Pakistani mom’s snack recommendation of choice). 

Stand, sit or other?

Sit (or slouch, or sometimes, hunch over and cry…)

What is your writing practice?

Refuse to write until two days before a deadline. Just kidding. I don't like to know what a piece is going to be about until I've started writing it, so my essays usually begin with an image, or a phrase, or a sliver of a memory. Which means that I'm a very, very slow writer—the first draft is just the story discovering itself, and that process is always at least a little terrifying (but illuminating and rewarding, ultimately). I also need the right music to get into the writing headspace—'dark academia' playlists on YouTube work very well (and Taylor Swift's folklore is even better). 

What are your favorite procrastinations ?

South Korean variety shows. Unearned breaks to bake Pillsbury's chocolate chip cookies. And one of the more productive ones is to read books by better writers than myself (ha). Nothing inspires me to write like reading great writing, naturally—right now I'm reading Rebecca Solnit's Recollections of my Nonexistence and hoping that by doing so I can absorb some of her talent. One dreams. 

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

Anything by Brian Doyle. He's perhaps the first writer who made me feel like the (small, seemingly mundane) subjects I gravitate towards could make for stirring, important nonfiction. His Epiphanies column in The American Scholar is where I go when I need to be reminded of the things that are most essential to me: paying attention, taking my time, letting myself be moved by language. (For the uninitiated, I recommend starting with Joyas Voladoras.)

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

Positioning my mask just so, so it won't fog up my glasses. Managing to somehow kill every houseplant I acquire, no matter how low maintenance. And one I'm quite proud of: learning to make a traditional Eid breakfast without my mother's (in person) supervision. 

What is your dream writing space?

My own library with floor to ceiling bookshelves, because I never got over Belle's. With a fireplace, of course, and a hot chocolate-dispenser in some corner. Faint birdsong coming in from the gardens outside the window, and the presence of a muse who refuses to leave my side. Amen. 

Azka Anwar is a second-year nonfiction student from Pakistan and an editorial fellow at Guernica and Teachers & Writers Magazine. She lives in Brooklyn with a dead cactus that she refuses to throw away.

Writing spaces are as varied as the individuals who occupy them. The range of “space” we enter for our writing practice is a wide, wild field from tidy to random, from Maya Angelou in a sparse hotel room to Ben Franklin in a bathtub, from Marcel Proust in bed to Jane Austen at the kitchen table to you: what does your writing space look like? Second year MFA student in fiction Wilbert Turner III invites us to pull up a storage tub and go mobile.

Where do you write?

Almost exclusively in my bedroom. Before the Pandemic this meant at a rickety black desk in Flushing, but now I’m back at home in South Philly. I don’t have a desk in my room, so I’ve stacked two bins and placed my laptop atop them. I enjoy the near absolute solitude of it. When I used to write in public or in a family room, someone invariable would start trying to strike up a conversation, and honestly, I can’t deal with the distraction. I should however give honorable mention to the notes app on my phone, where I jot down thoughts and sentences pretty much daily, and nobody ever bothers me while doing it. Probably because they assume I’m texting. Go figure. 

Stand, sit or other?

I’m almost always sitting when the actual act of typing or writing is done. But I’ve found that the best way for me to overcome writer’s block is to go for walks (with my trusty notes app in hand!) When I lived in Queens I would head out of my apartment at all times of the night, ostensibly for snack runs but really because my brain works best when I can get my blood flowing. Now with the Pandemic and being in Philly, I’ve restricted myself to masked walks and only during the daytime. And now that it’s cold out, I’ve restricted myself even further to pacing in my room or hopping on my twenty-five year old stationary bike. 

What is your writing practice?

It always starts with music. I have eleven playlists on Spotify designed specifically for me to listen to while writing (not to mention over 170 other playlists I’ve created over the years). Some of them are six years old, others are barely six months old. They range from movie soundtrack songs to hip-hop to some of the biggest pop hits of the past few decades. Maybe twenty percent of the songs are instrumentals, but usually I’m listening to a song with words while writing. Each playlist is a bit different and inspires a different set of moods while I’m writing. If I don’t have music, I’m probably not accomplishing much. Once I select my playlist, I usually open my novel-in-progress on Google Docs, and pick up where I last left off. For the most part I’m a chronological writer and reviser, unless I’m struck with writer’s block. Although I’ve often found that writer’s block in one section of the novel is writer’s block in every section, and I either need to go for one of my walks or consult the notes app. Now, I would be remiss not to mention at least a few foibles of my writing practice: I’m an incessant word count checker. I probably check my total word count every forty-five words written or deleted. I don’t really know why, but I suppose the ever shifting number comforts me somehow. I also tend to be heavy on the dialogue and light on the interiority, and while I’ve worked on achieving a sense of balance, I’ll always love a good zinger that can be felt by both the audience and other characters.

What are your favorite procrastinations ?

I’m actually obsessed with YouTube million dollar property tours done by either Architectural Digest or Ryan Serhant. I discovered both YouTube channels about a month before the Pandemic and they’ve truly carried me through it thus far. I could watch and rewatch either for a couple hours everyday (and often do). I’m also a big fan of a few writing podcasts like Between the Covers which is the official Tin House pod, or The Maris Review. Other than that you can probably find me watching Game of Thrones (only seasons 1-6), The Crown (Yes even the seasons without Princess Diana) or surfing the greatest social media app in existence: Twitter.

We live in interesting times, which book/author keeps you sane/grounded?

This was probably the most difficult question to answer. Back at the beginning of the Pandemic, it was undoubtedly Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado which I was actually fortunate enough to have borrowed from our inimitable classmate Kate Tooley. But I’ve since returned that book and had to find other literary worlds. If I had to pick just one author it would probably be James Baldwin and the book would probably be his first novel, Go Tell It On The Mountain. There are other works of Baldwin’s that are more well known by the general public (The Fire Next Time, Giovanni’s Room), but Go Tell It On The Mountain speaks to levels of profound hope and disillusionment that I really feel at the core of my being. Plus I love the ways in which it jumps between POV’s and how its a bildungsroman that gives its characters satisfying endings, even if they’re not happy ones.

What is your new skill learned during the shutdowns of the Pandemic

Well I’ve been learning the piano based on a phone app and some YouTube tutorials, but since I’ve only recently ascended to comfortably playing intermediate songs, I’m actually going to say the best skill I’ve learned is podcasting. Over the past couple of months, a fellow student (Jake Steinberg) and I have started up a pop culture podcast called Viewer Digression. We talk about all sorts of topics, from movies, to TV, to books (And in our upcoming episode I give a very special shoutout to Jane Austen and Pride & Prejudice). I think it’s undoubtedly helped me become a better writer, because I’m constantly analyzing why something works (or why it doesn’t). We’re also running social media accounts for the pod, so I’m learning a few things there as well. 

What is your dream writing space?

Like I said I’m a mostly solitary writer so my dreaming writing space would be my own private library. I could have access to all my greatest inspirations, a nice view with a little sunlight, and I’d probably keep a stereo system in there for good measure. I’m not really one for vinyls, but if I’m being honest I’d probably have one of those just for the aesthetic. All that being said, I’d probably settle for a writing space with an actual desk for now.  

Wilbert Turner III is a writer from South Philadelphia. You can find him tweeting @wil_to_win, podcasting at Viewer Digression or blogging at Halfheartedwisdoms.com

Today we are excited to announce the titles on the 2020 National Book Awards Finalists including our own Kacen Callendar, Writing For Children and Young Adults MFA 2014. Congratulations Kacen!

For Fiction:

Rumaan Alam, “Leave the World Behind”
Ecco / Harper Collins

Lydia Millet, "A Children’s Bible" 
W. W. Norton & Company

Deesha Philyaw, "The Secret Life of Church Ladies" 
West Virginia University Press

Douglas Stuart, "Shuggie Bain" 
Grove Press / Grove Atlantic

Charles Yu, "Interior Chinatown" 
Pantheon Books / Penguin Random House

For Nonfiction:

Les Payne and Tamara Payne, "The Dead Are Arising: The Life of Malcolm X"
Liveright / W. W. Norton & Company

Claudio Saunt, "Unworthy Republic: The Dispossession of Native Americans and the Road to Indian Territory" 
W. W. Norton & Company

Jenn Shapland, "My Autobiography of Carson McCullers" 
Tin House Books

Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, "The Undocumented Americans" One World / Penguin Random House

Jerald Walker, "How to Make a Slave and Other Essays" Mad Creek Books / The Ohio State University Press

For Poetry:

Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, "A Treatise on Stars" 
New Directions

Tommye Blount, "Fantasia for the Man in Blue" 
Four Way Books

Don Mee Choi , "DMZ Colony" 
Wave Books

Anthony Cody, "Borderland Apocrypha" 
Omnidawn Publishing

Natalie Diaz, "Postcolonial Love Poem" 
Graywolf Press

For Translated Literature:

Anja Kampmann, "High as the Waters Rise"
Translated by Anne Posten
Catapult

Jonas Hassen Khemiri, "The Family Clause" Translated by Alice Menzies 
Farrar, Straus and Giroux / Macmillan Publishers

Yu Miri, "Tokyo Ueno Station" Translated by Morgan Giles 
Riverhead Books / Penguin Random House

Pilar Quintana, "The Bitch" Translated by Lisa Dillman 
World Editions

Adania Shibli, "Minor Detail" Translated by Elisabeth Jaquette 
New Directions

Young People's Literature:

Kacen Callender, "King and the Dragonflies"
Scholastic Press / Scholastic Inc.

Traci Chee, "We Are Not Free" 
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Candice Iloh, "Every Body Looking" 
Dutton Books for Young Readers / Penguin Random House

Victoria Jamieson and Omar Mohamed, "When Stars Are Scattered" Dial Books for Young Readers / Penguin Random House

Gavriel Savit, "The Way Back" Knopf Books for Young Readers / Penguin Random House