The Power of Intention
On the page and in life.
Welcome back to Keep Writing. We’re enjoying the mildest of winters here in Alaska, which spells delight for our seasonal affective disorders and dread for our warming planet. Of course, the winter darkness remains no matter the temperatures, and it continues to test the mettle of even the most stalwart among us. But soon—in precious few days!—it will begin its annual retreat by way of the solstice. Celebrate by helping yourself to the holiday cookie potluck in the corner and, if you’re new here, consider taking a merry stroll through our archives as you tuck into your cookies. Don’t forget the milk!
The gift-giving season is upon us, which always brings with it many uses of the phrase “made with love.” It’s a phrase that often inspires eye-rolls and scowls from the cynical and miserly among us. (You’re telling me they put love in that gluten-free flour mix? What are they cooking in that red mill of Bob’s, anyway?)
But the truth is that I do think things can be “made with love,” or at least made with care and attention—both of which are forms of love in their own right.
When we bake a cake for someone—when we carefully measure our ingredients and choose a winning flavor and forbid ourselves from eating half the frosting—we are, in a very real way, baking with love. When we package up a warm casserole for the grieving, we do it with care and hope in our hearts. When we make things for others, we pay closer attention to the stitches or the seams or the brushstrokes.
I wonder if what we really mean when we say “made with love” is “made with intention,” which is one of the purest expressions of love there is. And if we can bake or knit or whittle with intention, of course we can write with it as well.
We think a lot about how to dazzle our readers: How to hook them, thrill them, keep them reading long until after they should have gone to bed. But even more important is the general act of caring for our readers.
A great writer is first and foremost a great host. They usher you in, whisk away your coats, and make you feel immediately at home in a new-to-you place. They guide you around, make introductions, fill your glass, and put you thoroughly at ease. You forget any reservations and anxieties you had about coming; you quickly lose yourself in the evening. You leave nourished and inspired and, hopefully, longing for another invite someday soon.
Like anything in life, we can sense a host’s intention in throwing a get-together. And intention is often what divides the decent hosts from the truly great ones. Throwing a party to impress your friends does not make you a great host; it makes you a lavish one. (See: Jay Gatsby.) And a host who genuinely wants invitees to have a lovely time in each other’s company will outshine a Gatsby every time.
A writer who tries to Impress with too many twists or intricate turns of phrase will equally leave readers cold. But this is far from the only intention pitfall a writer can stumble into.
One big one is writing for revenge. Sure, maybe we can get back at an ex or a family member who wronged us, but these drafts usually feel prickly and uncomfortable instead of thoughtful and nuanced.
The same goes for working through trauma: While writing is one of the most powerful tools in our arsenal to process events from the past, it’s generally something we need to do in private before we start writing about these events for an audience. (We should seek therapy before seeking publication, in other words.)
Writing with jealousy. Writing to humblebrag. Writing something we feel we ought to be writing instead of something we want to be writing. Readers are brilliantly intuitive; they can sense our intentions even before we may recognize them ourselves. There’s no hiding an intention on the page. Every sentence we write bears the invisible weight of it.
So no, not everything we write can be “written with love”—some of the best pieces are written from a place of sorrow or fury—but we can be mindful of our readers and our intentions when we write. If we’re writing solely for ourselves for whatever reason (insecurity, jealousy, hurt, etc.), we may want to take a moment and reconsider our intention for this piece. Because it’s a beautiful thing to write for ourselves: To seek meaning, to find out what we believe, to process things that have happened to us. But if we’re seeking publication, we should try to remember who else is in the room with us as well as what simple gifts they might like to receive in this moment.
Invite them in. Take their jackets. Fill their glasses. See if you can make them feel at home—with any luck, if you greet them with a warm heart and good intentions, they’ll probably want to kick off their shoes and stay awhile.
Until next month—
Keep writing,
Nicki
Calls for submissions
Spotlight Pick: Rattle: Food poems
Ploughshares: Essays about underappreciated or overlooked writers
Parsec Ink Press: Speculative stories and poems about women anti-heroes
Spotlight Pick
Rattle: Food poems
Rattle’s summer 2025 issue will be dedicated to food poems. Any style or length is fair game, but all submitted poems must be “written about food in some way.” Send up to four poems. Payment for print publication is $200/poem and a one-year subscription to Rattle.
Deadline: Jan. 15
Swamp Ape Review: Submissions on “resistance”
Florida Atlantic University’s Swamp Ape Review, a literary journal produced by the university’s MFA program, will be producing a zine themed around “resistance” in addition to its standard 2025 issue. Send up to five poems or up to 6,000 words of fiction, nonfiction, or hybrid prose. No submission fees, no payments that I can find. Submit to the issue here.
Deadline: Jan. 3
Ploughshares: Essays about underappreciated or overlooked writers
For their Look2 essay series, Ploughshares is accepting queries for essays about underappreciated writers that “take stock of a writer’s entire oeuvre with the goal of bringing critical attention to the neglected writer and his or her relevance to a contemporary audience.” Send a cover letter as well as a 1- to 2-page query that contains “some details about the subject, how you plan to organize your discussion, and why you are particularly suited to write the piece.” No submission fees. Payment is $45/printed page ($90 minimum, $450 maximum).
Deadline: Jan. 15
Flash Frog: “The Blue Frog” annual flash fiction contest
Every January, Flash Frog hosts a themed flash fiction contest in celebration of the journal’s anniversary. The theme for 2025 is “Voice.” Editors explain: “We want those voice-driven pieces, the ones where the character is splayed open on the page simply by how they tell their story. The ones where the narrative voice pulls us in and doesn’t let go. We want those unconventional point-of-views (2nd person? 1st person plural? Yes!) We want those unreliable narrators. We want those breathless long run-on sentences, those choppy staccato fragments (grammar be damned!). We want those stories that are just begging to be read aloud! And as always, we are open to your interpretation of the theme and love to be surprised!” Max word limit: 1,000 words. The guest judge for 2025 is Gina Chung. A total of $700 is awarded in prize money, including a $500 prize for first place. The finalists will be announced in early February and the winners announced by the end of February.
Deadline: Jan. 31
The Passionfruit Review: “Love and Loss” poetry contest
“Love and loss go hand in hand: nothing lasts forever, and to love anything – or anyone – is to know that love will be lost one day. Countless poets have grappled with these themes throughout history. We want your take on poems that deal with love or loss (or both),” write the editors of The Passionfruit Review. First prize for this poetry contest is £400, second prize is £75, and third prize is £25. Twelve additional runners-up will be selected by judge Sheila E. Murphy for publication. Send poems up to 40 lines. Results will be announced by the end of Feb. Entry fee is £3, but submitters can contact editors if the fee prohibits them from entering.
Deadline: Jan. 31
Parsec Ink Press: Speculative stories and poems about women anti-heroes
For its 22nd annual triangulation anthology, Parsec Ink Press welcomes “speculative stories and poems about women who are anti-heroes,” editors write. “Send us your stories about shady ladies: women and female-presenting characters breaking the rules, defying social norms, and getting up to no good!” Send stories up to 5,000 words, although editors admit the “sweet spot” for fiction is 3,000 words. Send poems of any length, although editors do prefer poems under 100 lines. Decisions will be made by March 30. Payment is $.25/line for poetry and $.03/word for prose, with a $5.50 minimum payout for each.
Deadline: Jan. 31
Guffawed at “What are they cooking in that red mill of Bob’s, anyway?”
Intention is so important, in life and in writing. Overall, lovely piece as always!