Volume 2, Issue 6 (2023) Fall 2022

From the Editors

We’re excited to be publishing our sixth issue of Floodwall, the studentrun literary magazine at the University of North Dakota. For three years, Floodwall has been—if you’ll let us have just one wall pun—a loadbearing wall in our campus literary community. Our vision has always been to represent the creative voices and original expression that occurs across our campus community. And in a fall semester that seems busier than ever, it’s an immense honor for us to support writing and art in all their forms.

When we’re asked what kind of work we publish, we often point to the mission statement on our website, or the editors’ notes on the first f ive issues of volume two. We highlight how important it is to represent the voices of writers at UND, and we emphasize how important it is to spotlight and inspire those creators. But that’s also what makes publications like Floodwall special—we have the privilege of showcasing the work of writers as our community adapts and changes. Which means that Floodwall isn’t limited by a “brand” or a marketing strategy or a set of traditions (even if we have started to commit to the iconic look of our covers!). We get to grow and morph and adapt alongside all of you who are reading these pages and sharing your work. And we’re all thrilled to be going on this journey with you, dear readers.

And that might even be a recurring theme you’ll find in this fall’s pages. The writers and artists sharing work in this issue have a clear sense of adventure and a hope for new beginnings: we thought that Emilia Adkinson’s photograph of a railroad trestle, with its tunnel-like opening and its airy vibe, is the perfect entry point to the explorations you’ll find in our newest issue of Floodwall.

What other journeys are in store? Oh, plenty more. An experimental warp-drive plunges a canny crew of space explorers into an adventure at the fringes of time and space. A meditation on ghosts revels in the ways that we are all haunted. Text messages between English majors snark over the torturous requirements of papers but promise friendship and an emergency Shrek screening. A guitarist lit on a grassy knoll invites us to share in the brightness and hope of nature. And other poems, stories, and essays in this volume push us to unwind on blissful nights, or speak in defense of those with chronic illnesses, or let us meditate on our ideals and our visions of reality.

We’re grateful to all of the writers who have shared their work with Floodwall. We couldn’t go on this journey without them. And now we hope you’ll flip the page and explore the marvelous work in this issue.