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The Review Review

Abstract

I signed up to be a part of The Review Review back in late January of this year. My first assignment arrived in a very comforting yellow envelope, my name handwritten—I was happy; I had been waiting for my first literary journal to arrive and the suspense of which one I’d receive incubated an anticipation I hadn’t felt since I was a kid waiting for magazines and letters to make it my way. I let the package sit on my desk and allowed it to coagulate some of the gravity in the room until I couldn’t resist any longer. When opened, I sighed in defeat. I recognized the symbol of the uppercase P, the 1/5th of the top cover dedicated to the title blocks, its proud etching: AT EMERSON COLLEGE. Ploughshares. This is the worst thing that could have happened to me.

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