Interview with 2020 Poetry Prize Judge E.J. Koh
This year’s Cream City Review Summer Prize in Poetry will be judged by the poet and memoirist E.J. Koh. In this micro-interview conducted by Editor-in-Chief, Su Cho, E.J. discusses moments of surprise during her writing process, what makes a poem memorable, and what...
read more![Interview with 2020 Fiction Prize Judge Lucy Tan](https://uwm.edu/creamcityreview/wp-content/uploads/sites/421/2019/07/Interview-v1.png)
Interview with 2020 Fiction Prize Judge Lucy Tan
This year’s Cream City Review Summer Prize in Fiction will be judged by award-winning novelist and short-story writer Lucy Tan. In this micro-interview conducted by Fiction Editor Jessie Roy, Lucy weighs in on class and power in fiction, how “things” shape our...
read more![2020 Cream City Live! Reading by Marlin M. Jenkins](https://uwm.edu/creamcityreview/wp-content/uploads/sites/421/2020/04/CCR-Live-Blog-Banner-1080x170.jpg)
2020 Cream City Live! Reading by Marlin M. Jenkins
Even though we had to cancel our annual Cream City Live! Reading, we wish to continue this tradition by bringing the event to you in the form of online blog posts and videos featuring our brilliant cast of writers. Our first reader is the talented Marlin M. Jenkins!
read more![“An Excess of Grossness” by Emmy Newman](https://uwm.edu/creamcityreview/wp-content/uploads/sites/421/2019/07/Blog-v3.png)
“An Excess of Grossness” by Emmy Newman
I never want to stop being interested in imagining what my phalanges look like under all this skin, how mushrooms grow in cow shit, what led sea cucumbers to vomit their intestines in self-defense, what brains look like under microscopes. I ask the reader to bodily identify with themselves in the end, with our own human grossness, and I ask them to recognize how amazing that is.
read more![“Thoughts from a Writing Challenge” by Lisa Low](https://uwm.edu/creamcityreview/wp-content/uploads/sites/421/2019/07/Blog-v3.png)
“Thoughts from a Writing Challenge” by Lisa Low
Most days are unspectacular, but on the worst days, nothing is in my fingers. Or in my brain. I don’t like anything I’ve written, so I repeatedly type and backspace the way I tell my students not to do during in-class writing activities. I click through old poems nostalgically as if to harness the magic of a moment when something sprang forth out of nothing. I feel like I’ll never write something good again. It’s as if negative self-talk itself will produce the poem…
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