Dear Friends and Readers,

When I first joined Glass Mountain in the Fall of 2019, I had only the vaguest familiarity with the concept of a literary journal, what we did, or why we did it. We published our final print volume the following spring, such a monumental shift for the organization that when I stepped in as Poetry Editor, I had truly no idea what to expect. To my joy, I have found that this work is as rewarding as it is exhausting, in ways that I couldn’t have anticipated. Sure, my email inbox is permanently haunted by Submittable notifications, but each fall I return with a renewed sense of purpose. 

This past May marked the fifteenth anniversary of the Boldface Conference. We endeavor to create spaces for the emerging writer to really shine, and Boldface is designed with that in mind. After trials and tribulations running this conference through the pandemic and in its aftermath, this was the first year that our entire staff was able to run and attend the conference in quite a while. To participate in workshops where everyone shares a passion for craft and imagination and, in many ways, collaboration, and to have the privilege of spending an entire week with fellow writers and lifelong learners is an experience that we are so proud to have been providing for fifteen whole years, and we cannot wait to see how the conference continues to grow. It is so difficult to forge a community in writing, which can feel solitary a majority of the time, and we are confident that the Boldface Conference is fostering that community. We can be certain, at least, that we on the staff feel that community and remain moved by it long after we break down the conference tables.

Some days, this feels like a thankless job. Others, someone comes up to thank you personally, and you’re struck momentarily with the realization that this matters. This made a real, tangible difference in one person’s life. In the same way, even through the sleepless nights and emergency meetings, the experience of editing Glass Mountain has been life-changing for everyone who has touched it, if only in the smallest of ways.

To say that I am proud of Volume 30 is a monumental understatement. I don’t know how to express the depth of gratitude and joy that Glass Mountain inspires; I can only hope that the love shows through. Countless hands have grazed this journal in one way or another over the course of this semester, beyond even the names included on our masthead. People from all over have inspired even more people to write, and those writers have inspired us to keep publishing and fostering a community for their works. There are those in our lives who encourage us to keep at it even on those thankless days. There are all of us on the staff, who are propelled by a mix of the love for literature and imposter syndrome (and sometimes, pizza at the all-staff meetings).

It always feels like a bit of a miracle to publish each issue, and that remains true for Volume 30. Thank you for reading the fruits of our (and our writers’ and artists’) labor. 

And finally, to Alfonso: When we stepped up last fall to share the role of Editor-in-Chief, I felt unprepared, but I was never worried. I never doubted your capability; working with you, I’ve also stopped doubting my own. Between your brilliance  and my tenacity, we’ve basically conquered the world (or at least Seattle’s downtown.) And though I don’t know what Glass Mountain looks like without you, I know that this has been an unforgettable privilege. Congratulations, my sweet friend. I am so proud of everything you are!