photo by Hannah Robinson
When I set out to create CATFOX, I had just graduated college, I was employed by the same retail company I’d been with since I was 16, and my creative interests were so erratic I couldn’t pursue them properly. CATFOX immediately became my primary plan, because it was the only thing I knew I could accomplish in my first year post-graduation.
Just over two months later, I was asked to apply for a position as an English adjunct professor at the university I had graduated from. I was also asked to apply for an admin position. I was hired for both.
As you can imagine, the learning curve was steep. Every moment spent in front of my class was later relayed in my mind, over and over, until every error, awkward moment, and muddle of my speech was permanently etched into my anxious psyche. But it wasn’t all bad. Terrifying, yes. Challenging, yes. Bad, no.
In that time I also began working on a novel (see erratic creative interests), moved out of my childhood home and into an apartment, applied to graduate school, and got engaged.
My adult life was beginning. My anxiety was still my anxiety, and I had dishes to wash.
CATFOX remained uncompleted.
I have a tendency to start things without really knowing how to do them. I’d say that CATFOX was different, but it is blatantly obvious that isn’t true. Yet somehow, after nine months of winging it, I have a magazine.
To those who have submitted pieces, whether they are in this first issue or not, thank you, for believing in CATFOX. I do not underestimate the value of your art, and I hope that this platform can do it justice both now and in future editions.
It is your poetry, prose, photography, and illustrations that have kept this magazine from falling into the abyss.
I am so grateful.
All of my love,