The Catch
Summer 2025 Newsletter
Introduction
For the summer edition of The Catch, we are excited to continue share and celebrate our newest release, Uprooted. Also included are interviews with past contributors, Dani Kuntz, Venya Gushchin, Michelle Ott, and Clint Martin.
Volume 3, Issue 5: Uprooted
We have released a new issue! Uprooted, Vol. 3, Issue 5, explores
An Interview with Dani Kuntz
Talon: We, the editors, have our own interpretations and readings of the contributions we receive. But we are always fascinated with hearing the author’s intentions. What was your “purpose” behind this piece, if any?
Kuntz: My purpose behind “Self-Diagnosis” has two parts to it. First, I wanted to reference our modern tendency to self-diagnose, whether it’s aspects of our mental or physical health. This is mainly due to the internet which has made it so easy to access information such as the Diagnostic Statistical Manual and WebMD. Even if we identify with certain symptoms, that does not mean we have a certain disease or syndrome. That brings me to the second part, where I wanted to highlight my own mental health struggles which do indeed align with certain symptoms of borderline personality disorder, though none of my therapists have diagnosed me with it. I am aware that I likely do not have BPD, and I thought it important to highlight how symptoms in the DSM-5 can be widely applicable, so it may not be the best tool for aiding in the treatment of mental disorders.
Talon: What sparked the idea for this contribution, and how did you know that you had some good dough to work with when the idea came to you?
Kuntz: The idea for “Self-Diagnosis” came from an exercise that Cathy Linh Che gave students in her poetry workshop. I’m familiar with the golden shovel form, but I have not necessarily written a lot of golden shovels. I do, however, love prompts and exercises. I often find my best work comes in response to them. If I remember correctly, there were two prompts: one was to write a golden shovel, and another to write a poem using an informational work. I love to challenge myself, so I chose to combine them. Mental health tends to be on my mind, especially at a writing residency (imposter syndrome, etc.). Once I discovered I could find a free, full PDF of the DSM-5 online, I knew what I’d write about.
Talon: What was the writing process like for this piece? Did it come easily, or was it more challenging?
Kuntz: Building off my response above, once I knew what I’d write, this poem was generated in twenty minutes or so, with almost no changes to form what you see today. I hope I don’t sound trite in saying this, as it is the truth. The quality of writing that comes from a simple prompt can be amazing!
Talon: Our editors and readers are always asking that same old question: how do you push through “writer’s block”? How do you keep going when you are at a loss for words?
Kuntz: Always a good question. I am currently in a low-residency MFA program which means, of course, I must generate a lot of writing. I’m thankful for it because otherwise it may be hard to find the time alongside to write alongside my teaching job. There are certainly nights where I am pulling blank papers out of the top hat that is my mind. In that case, I look to my email inbox which usually has some writing prompts from the Substacks I subscribe to, such as Write or Die, or Lit Mag News, or Chill Subs’ Sub Club; or I’ll think back to recent events in my life, whatever has affected me emotionally to some degree, and go from there. I tell myself the point is to get something on the page even if it is a little cringeworthy or not the highest quality.
Talon: At Talon, we value the careful and precise decisions behind word choice, shape, and structure. What elements are you particularly proud of for this piece?
Kuntz: This may sound funny, but I am particularly proud of my use of the word “affective” in this poem—not just because some struggle with effect vs. affect, but because the word affective, “relating to moods, feelings, and attitudes,” is so interesting and important to me and my work. I also love the tone that I use in this poem, speaking directly to the reader in a self-assured, matter-of-fact way: “Mood changes. That’s what it does.” I often feel the opposite of self-assured, so it’s nice to put on that hat as the speaker in the poem. I’m also proud of myself for including the “e.g.” part of the quote in the golden shovel’s structure and using it to leave readers with the tragedy of my personal experience.
Talon: Does this piece align with any of your past work, or do you plan on exploring these topics and themes in the future?
Kuntz: I have written about mental health directly and indirectly in my past work. Meanwhile, in my current drafts lie poems and prose that more directly touch on mental health, such as a short piece about a recent psychotic break from the point of view of my cat, called “Psychosis: A House Cat Story.” In the past few weeks, I have also written a poem in the form of a Google info card about the medication “Lurasidone,” an antipsychotic which I was recently prescribed to take the edge off my two SSRIs. Mental health is one of the most important issues to me, and the lack thereof has always been present in my life, so I look forward to writing and talking more about it in the future.
Talon: Are there any other projects you would like to promote here?
Kuntz: I’d like to promote my first manuscript, from which “Self-Diagnosis” is taken. It is a poetry-memoir hybrid work currently in the editing stage with its title TBA. Currently, I am looking to get in contact with publishers who may be interested in the manuscript.
An Interview with Venya Gushchin
Talon: We, the editors, have our own interpretations and readings of the contributions we receive. But we are always fascinated with hearing the author’s intentions. What was your “purpose” behind this piece, if any?
Gushchin: This is a difficult question for me to answer because as a graduate student I am committed to the “death of the author,” the idea that an author’s intentions shouldn’t overdetermine the way we read a text. But to add my two cents to the matter, my text explores the relationship/tension between cyclical and linear time, between continuity and rupture on the level of seasons and politics. Every spring imagines itself as a new beginning even though it references all the springs which came before it, just like every revolution repeats revolutionary gestures from the past. As a text inspired by traditions of minimalist art, it is a kind of mantra, combining, on the level of form, both repetition and variance to produce a meditative state. Most of my texts are meant for oral performance, but I think due to this one’s reliance on homophones (morning vs. mourning) and homographs (appropriate (v.) vs. appropriate (adj.)), it is probably best for the page. Yet, there is still a sense of motion or performance within stillness, within the text as it is on the page, created by the repetitions; this is my piece’s central organizing tension.
Talon: What sparked the idea for this contribution, and how did you know that you had some good dough to work with when the idea came to you?
Gushchin: I wrote this piece in the spring of 2024 as part of a series of such “column” texts. They came to me almost incessantly; there was a time that I could not help but write in this form(at): lines broken up into three columns with minimalist/restrained diction, lots of repetitions that nonetheless produce difference. While I was writing these “column” poems, I was working on a dissertation chapter on the 20th-century Russian poet Nikolai Zabolotsky, a member of the avant-gardist collective OBERIU, whose debut collection is also titled Columns (1929). There is little actual connection between my poems and Zabolotsky’s grotesque vision of early Soviet life. Moreover, my chapter is about late Zabolotsky, primarily focused on the more traditionalist voice he developed after spending eight years in the GULAG system. However, I like to think that Zabolotsky’s central device, the so-called “collision of verbal meanings,” has something to do with the way my text exploits inexact repetitions of a limited vocabulary to create a sense of motion in stillness. Also, his late meditative tone is definitely reflected in this piece. This is the first one of my “column” texts that has been published, and I hope to edit and publish a few more of them. I don’t know if I would want to put out a full chapbook of them (though this would be nice, albeit superficial nod to Zabolotsky), but perhaps a smaller cycle within a chapbook.
Talon: What was the writing process like for this piece? Did it come easily, or was it more challenging?
Gushchin: This piece came to me in one sitting, and I submitted it unedited from the way it first came to me. Other “column” texts will most likely require more revision prior to publication. At the time it was difficult for me not to write in these “columns,” even though I had to apply myself to other genres. The most significant revisions actually came from the editors of The Talon Review, (thank you!) who suggested removing all of the punctuation I had originally included so as to allow the text to generate more meanings. You can hear my original punctuation in the way that I read the text aloud (oral performance forces you to make decisions about what is a sentence or a clause etc.), but I genuinely believe that my reading of the text is just one version, and does not capture all of the possibilities contained on the page. So, thank you once again to the editors of Talon Review for making many texts out of my singular text!
Talon: Our editors and readers are always asking that same old question: how do you push through “writer’s block”? How do you keep going when you are at a loss for words?
Gushchin: I get terrible “writer’s block.” I often have to abandon a piece before returning to it. This distance and renewed perspective usually allow me to figure what the text needs to be complete. Switching genres also helps to clear my head. As a graduate student and a frequent reviewer of contemporary poetry (see my work in Full Stop) and Russophone film (see my work in KinoKultura), there is always other writing that needs to be done.
Talon: At Talon, we value the careful and precise decisions behind word choice, shape, and structure. What elements are you particularly proud of for this piece?
Gushchin: What I focus on as a poet is primarily sound play, paronomasia (puns), and the various quirks of the language I am working in. In this piece, I am proud of my homographs and homophones, my play with repetition as a paradoxically generative device.
Talon: Does this piece align with any of your past work, or do you plan on exploring these topics and themes in the future?
Gushchin: The opposition between cyclical and linear time is something that informs a lot of my poetry. While the two should not be seen as a binary opposition, they consistently are positioned as such in our culture. As a child of immigrants from the former Soviet Union (specifically Russia), I feel the late twentieth-century “end of history,” with its resignation to neoliberal capitalism as “the way things are,” as the context I am pushing off/away from, but also the context that is deeply ingrained in the way I was raised (the phrase “end of history” shows up an embarrassing amount in my poems). Undeniably, we are in many ways “back in history,” and not in a good way, given the reemergence of fascism globally. Yet even liberatory projects are often nostalgic. The tension between cyclical and linear time in my work is my way of working out my feelings about the present lack of imagination, including my own.
Talon: Are there any other projects you would like to promote here?
Gushchin: I am putting together my debut chapbook, tentatively called in your acknowledgments. I’ve begun submitting that manuscript, hoping it will get picked up. In addition to being a poet, I am a literary translator, primarily working with Russophone poetry. Currently, I am working closely with the Kalmyk poet Dordzhi Dzhaldzhireev to publish a translation of his debut collection in English. Dordzhi is one of the most innovative voices writing in Russian today. We just had some translations come out in Exchanges.
Author Bio:
Michelle Ott is a queer poet and writer from the Mid-Atlantic. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from American University in 2023, where she served as a contributing writer for the university's MFA student-run blog, CafeMFA. Her poetry has been featured in BOOTH Magazine, Stone Poetry Quarterly, and Impostor: A Poetry Journal, among others, and has been nominated for 2025 Best of the Net award. She currently lives in Washington, D.C.
Title of Contribution: Soul Studies
Talon: We, the editors, have our own interpretations and readings of the contributions we receive. But we are always fascinated with hearing the author’s intentions. What was your “purpose” behind this piece, if any?
Contributor: The intention of this piece is to explore the idea of what it means to be loved—how the act of loving and being loved blurs the lines between the self and the object of that love. So many of the things that make up my identity are things that I learned from or shared with the people in my life that I loved, regardless of whether they’re still in my life in the same capacity in which I once loved them. How am I to pick apart which parts of me are truly “me,” and which parts of me are borrowed from others? Is there truly a difference once the act of loving has been committed? If to be loved is to be changed, then I am who I am because I have loved and been loved. There is no pure “blank slate” of myself to return to, and to try and separate out which parts of me belong to only myself is, frankly and inevitably, futile.
Talon: What sparked the idea for this contribution, and how did you know that you had some good dough to work with when the idea came to you?
Contributor: I read The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir earlier this year, and instantly was fascinated and obsessed with its underlying themes of love as violence, as consumption, as enmeshment. I was particularly struck by a quote in the third book in the series, Nona the Ninth, in which the character Paul says, “It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away.” This idea that loving someone leaves an indelible, irreversible mark on them stuck with me, and I found comfort in the idea that love is not this tangible thing that can be given and taken away at will by the lover, but a state of being that continually shapes a person. You can’t “unlove” someone you once loved; you may stop loving them, but you can never change the fact that you loved them once before. The longer I sat with that concept, the more I wanted to pick it apart and examine the components—which is the exact opposite conclusion I came to about what it means to be loved.
Talon: What was the writing process like for this piece? Did it come easily, or was it more challenging?
Contributor: I wrote this piece during a week in June of this year that I spent at the Juniper Summer Writing Institute, in a workshop led by the wonderful Ari Banias. Both Ari and my fellow writers in the workshop encouraged me to “get weird” with my poetry that week—that is, do something totally out of the norm from what I usually write. I don’t consider myself a strict formalist, but I’d never really experimented with spacing and formatting like I ended up doing with this poem. My peers read an earlier draft of this poem that was in a more organized form and encouraged me to play with the line spacing, and since I was already in such a creative and supportive environment, taking that leap was fun and exciting rather than daunting and challenging.
Talon: Our editors and readers are always asking that same old question: how do you push through “writer’s block”? How do you keep going when you are at a loss for words?
Contributor: Man, I wish I knew! If I had some secret, foolproof way to push through writer’s block, I’d be selling courses about it by now. I’m someone whose creative energy comes in bursts; I can go months without writing a single thing, and then suddenly, I’ll get a huge bout of inspiration and spend hours upon hours writing. It’s never consistent or predictable when I’ll get “the big burst,” and in those periods of not-writing, it’s easy to be hard on myself about my lack of production. But I often find comfort in something one of my thesis advisors, Kyle Dargan, told me during a workshop session in graduate school: even when you’re not writing, you’re still doing the work. You are still engaging with art, with stories, with the world, and in those periods of downtime, you’re gathering new ideas and allowing them to develop inside you. So, my advice would be to turn to the world around you: read widely and outside of your usual genres, engage with storytelling in different forms and media, experience all kinds of art and allow it to capture your full attention. Something will inevitably spark that next idea or inspire you to take your current work in a new direction—and make sure to be kind to yourself in those periods of rest and recovery.
Talon: At Talon, we value the careful and precise decisions behind word choice, shape, and structure. What elements are you particularly proud of for this piece?
Contributor: I’m particularly proud of the way the line spacing and the continually decreasing indentation work to underscore the content of the poem and enhance the meaning of it metatextually. I have a background in science; I studied chemistry in college before I decided to pursue my writing, and when meditating on the idea of this poem, I kept coming back to this image of my research lab days, separating out different chemical compounds produced during a reaction. That’s where the phrase “a silica-packed column” comes from—to separate out different compounds, I would take this long, glass column apparatus and pack it with silica dust, saturate it with a solvent (often methanol), and then allow the reaction product to filter through. As it passed through the column, you could see the striations in the silica dust where the different compounds would separate themselves based on their molecular weight. I wanted to recreate the opposite of that effect within the poem, so instead of starting with a tightly packed stanza that gradually separated out with more and more space between the lines, I started with very spaced-out, discrete stanzas that came closer together the more the boundaries between “me” and “others” blurred within the text. I’m always excited when I can connect my poetry back to my scientific background—as well as give a reader a new, fun party fact to drop at their next book club.
Talon: Does this piece align with any of your past work, or do you plan on exploring these topics and themes in the future?
Contributor: A lot of my past work is self-reflective and semi-autobiographical like this poem is. Most of the poems that made up my MFA thesis (and that have since become the draft of my first full-length collection) are written from my experience and perspective, and focus on themes of identity, worth, and belonging. I think this is the first time I’ve approached these topics from a perspective of love rather than a perspective grief and pain, though—and I’m certainly interested in continuing to explore this angle!
Talon: Are there any other projects you would like to promote here?
Contributor: I’m hoping to release my first collection of full-length poetry in the near(ish) future! You can find updates on my upcoming work and projects on my website at www.michelle-ott.com, or on my Instagram @chellexlouise_.
An Interview with Michelle Ott
Author Bio: Clint Martin lives sometimes in Kentucky and sometimes in Iowa. His work has appeared in various places such as Sycamore Review, The Write Launch, and Motherwell Magazine. When not writing or teaching or walking their yellow dog, Clint enjoys transcendental meditation and identifying the birds visiting the backyard.
Title of Contribution: “Coffeed to Death”
Audio Recording Link attachment (optional): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-BXL5AxNH3W3ypx2re_gRTJCVaCshmBI/view?usp=sharing