Thirty West Newsletter - June 2025
A Westie Summer, Glass Labyrinth, and Dream Stories
Westie Summer Affirmations
In:
-Being more communal
-Nurturing our roots
-Uphold literary excellence
-Affirming legacy during tough times
Out:
-Sole focus on $$
-Working until burnout
-Worrying about failures
-Dishonest clout chasing
Isn’t it a wild thought that half the year is already gone? I figured it’s time to recenter our values. The bugs of negativity bite us all, and sometimes, for no reason at all. This simple task helps navigate the direction of the press. We have yet another beautiful book coming out at the end of the month, and some well-needed time off will be happening this summer. The team and I are grateful for making it this far in indie literature. One month closer to the illustrious 10th Anniversary. As the sizzle commences, please enjoy the newsletter. There’s so much to cover and a surprise at the end! H.A.G.S.
-Josh, editor-in-chief
New Book Alert
From the author of Stories for When the Wolves Arrive and Out of Love in Spring, comes a unique “choose a pathway” poetry collection. Flip through the pages in a guided sequence by the author and follow alternate pathways to the conclusion. Whether it’s your first venture into the Glass Labyrinth, or fourth, Spencer’s ephemeral poetry and storytelling contain many surprises and sublime charm. A rising poet not to be missed.
Fans of previous books like The Fountain, Little Feasts, and Turmeric & Sugar, rejoice! The gorgeous artwork and cover design are done by Carolyn Brandt once again.
Early Praise for Glass Labyrinth
“Spencer’s work is an ethereal meditation on loneliness, grief, and the relentless swirl of life. The ‘choose-your-own-adventure’ format adds nuance to the dreamy feel of the prose. Phrases landed within my consciousness and left ripples.”
—Beth Cato, two-time Rhysling Award winner and author of A Thousand Recipes for Revenge
“In this, her phenomenal third collection of poems, Spencer's indelible voice serves as a guide on a journey that invites us readers along the way to excavate the intricacies of memory. She weaves her verse with seductive, stringent image and flavor; each reading yields discoveries, unveiling the unconscious modes by which we access our creative capacity for healing.”
—Sonya Wohletz, author of One Row After/Bir Sıra Sonra
“Glass Labyrinth embodies the nuanced and questioning life of its writer. Each poem is something enticingly new, each page another adventure into a world of hopes and dreams. Spencer explores experience and possibility with every word, turning a life of chaotic multitudes into a quaint and curious collection. Her poetry reflects powerful simplicities as though they were moonlight on water—a fun and unforgettable read.”
—Caidan Walker, Editor-in-Chief of Lucky Lizard Journal
Want to hear how Hailey approached crafting such an inimitable book? What was the catalyst of choosing between one of a few options? Read this guest essay in Drip Lit Mag and get your preorder locked in below.
Afterimages News
Aside from a special Father’s Day essay (an emotional one for sure), we finally have our Dream Stories going live. Thank you to Michael McSweeney for selecting these dreamy tales. Spontaneous drops will occur throughout the month, but typically around 1 PM EST on any given day.
Hey, why not? In the spirit of spontaneity, here’s the first Dream Story!
The House Between Lanes
Twelve lanes of concrete stretch infinite in both directions. Cars blur past at impossible speeds. Rain hammers down. The house doesn't belong here.
White picket fence slicing through lane markings, chimney smoke rising against sheets of rain. Windows glow amber in storm-dark sky. It doesn't belong here.
Motorway barriers twist around foundations like metal serpents guarding or imprisoning. Grass grows between asphalt cracks. It doesn't belong here.
Dad and Grandad stand in the front yard between exit ramps and merging lanes. Their faces were streaked with rain or tears. They don't belong here.
I step toward the first lane, toward them. Traffic parts like water around a stone. The smell of sea salt mingles with petrol. I don't belong here.
A massive truck materializes from nowhere, its grille a metal maw, headlights blinding. One centimeter from oblivion. It doesn't belong here.
I stumble backward to safety, to separation. Grandad's mouth forms words I cannot hear. Dad reaches out across the uncrossable distance. I don't belong here.
I try again. And again. The house ages. Dad's hair grays. Grandad's shoulders stoop. Years pass in minutes, lifetimes in hours. We don't belong here.
The barriers multiply. The rain never stops. The truck always comes. I never cross. The smell of grass and sea grows stronger. Nothing belongs here.
Five hours of sleep becomes an eternity of trying to reach them. I wake sobbing, fingers already dialing, desperate to know they aren't trapped where they don't belong.
Abby Pullan is a 21-year-old working-class Yorkshire girl from Huddersfield and the first in her family to go to university. Her poetry explores loss, dislocation, and the surreal. Instagram: @abbypullanx
Extra Bits
It’s the 6th “Gotcha Day” of our 2nd Editpurr-in-Chief, Grey! Under his feline tenure, he has overseen 51 titles.
The Blooming chapbooks are in their 2nd print run.
Bring a Blanket 18, which is also the 2nd anniversary, is happening in Philly on 6/21.
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