Launch Sequence Activated! Apologist 2026
New Year, New Rules, New Art!
(Not that I take the art I love seriously… no joke, this is me teaching an Editing and Publishing class. It was very important to me that day that I represent Chas Tenenbaum. For what it’s worth— it’s been a rough year.)
The last pop quiz I’ll ever give! When I started The Apologist, I went into it with—
(A) The desire to use a real-life example to teach my Editing & Publishing class;
(B) A need for a place to put my theory about Lana Del Rey’s cultural effect being similar to that of John Milton’s in the ways she mythologizes the American experience;
(C) The thought that nothing in my life was going to change;
(D) The best intentions;
(E) Clearly, all of the above.
But things were on the verge of changing in ways I couldn’t predict, even though I would be the actor who threw a spanner in the works. I taught creative writing and composition for more than fifteen years: it’s all I’ve done since I was 23 years old. And I loved it. Most people who have followed me on a social media platform know, my identity was very much tied to two things: who I was in the classroom and the wonderful students I met along the way, and being from Dallas. Last year, though, a lot of things happened, as Hemingway described going broke, “slowly and then all at once.” I had a confluence of things happen at work that made me know I needed to make a change for my health, but— and if you know me, this won’t be a shock— a large cultural event seemed to run parallel to my personal epiphanies.
Luka Dončić was traded from the Dallas Mavericks to the Lakers.
I made a lot of jokes about it, but honestly, it broke my heart. I’m all Dallas, all the time, because though I Tex-patriated to the Midwest to go to school and teach, I identify very much as “Texan woman.” I’ve called myself a Texan-American. My brashness? Just a Dallas thing. My approach to multiculturalism? A benefit of the Garland suburb I’m from. Somehow feeling like a winner even when my season is 7-9-1? Yeah, that’s clearly a Dallas thing, because when you are from there, you feel like you win, just for being part of the team.
And Luka was my guy.
I was furious. “Fire Nico,” etc. etc. (My students actually learned how to punctuate “Dončić” correctly.) I joked that my hometown traded my fandom to LA. And then I realized… part of me felt like I was also on the cusp of being ‘traded,’ whatever that means in a smaller life. And then, in no surprise at all, Luka started thriving. Immediately. And he was also heartbroken and open about it. He cried watching the tribute video in Dallas before he curb-stomped them and dropped 40 points.
(Still, rewatching this, I tear up: this vulnerability is rarely seen in life, much less in sports, and I am both profoundly moved and still a little sad)
When I quit, I was wearing my Dončić Lakers jersey.
In Dallas sports this year, I’ve lost a “jersey” player on every team: Luka, Micah Parsons, even El Bombi (who sure, had a down year, but was MY GUY. Dad actually took me and Grace to see him on his rookie year, when the team wasn’t great but he had so much potential: watching him help to win the World Series before his injury a few years later was so powerful). What does that mean? Why does it matter for you, the reader?
I want to be the jersey player in my own life. And everything in my life was screaming at me that to do that, I had to be willing to move on from old ‘identities.’ Metaphorically, there needed to be a new team name on the front, and I needed to be proud of my own name on the back. I had to interrogate myself. In great news, I started running a few years back, and you can’t run without becoming a skilled self-conversationalist: I learned so much about myself when I was in my head. One of the things I learned was that I was fading into the background of my life. I wasn’t taking time to write or be creative. I wasn’t taking time to catch up with friends or family. I’ve told people I want to be the OK Go of writing— I certainly wasn’t allowing myself that kind of playfulness or inventiveness.
So I traded myself to the Lakers.
OK, kidding. I quit my job as a tenured Associate Professor in Creative Writing and started, well, writing.
(My last day. My Luka jersey. Teaching the very important “epic highs and lows of high school football” scene from Riverdale just one more time.)
What that means for me? That’s all still in the works. I hope it’s in the works forever. I hope I’ve started a journey that just keeps winding and changing, and I can keep learning and juking and having occasional nights where I cry but drop insane stat lines. It means that I am excited to experiment. I’ve done several things that I haven’t ever had the chance to before: I co-wrote a song with Darren Garvey, I wrote a small prompt for the Writer’s Chronicle, I’ve begun ambitious projects.
(Seriously, I co-wrote this. THANK YOU DARREN!)
What that means for The Apologist? Well, actually a lot. I realized that because I was trying to use this as a teaching tool, it was something rigid, which is the quickest way for me to drift away from it. And… it doesn’t need to be a teaching tool anymore. It doesn’t need to be ANYTHING I don’t want it to be. So I’m relaunching the magazine with a few new rules:
— No more publishing schedule. When I get a piece I love, I’m posting it. That means I might only post every six months; it could mean I post six days in a row. I’m completely comfortable with that.
— Rolling submissions and acceptances.
— I will make decisions on each piece as they come in (email me at theapologistzine@gmail.com) within two weeks. If you haven’t heard from me by then, it’s a pass, and I encourage you to share it with other journals! (Also, please submit simultaneously. I know it’s hard out there for a writer.)
What kind of content do I want? Still pop culture. I’m going to link back to the brilliant essays that generous writers gave me the fortune of publishing last year. If you have a pop culture obsession that you think is important either globally or personally, you’re probably right. You should write it down and send it to me. Think it’s desperately important that we re-evaluate Buffy the Vampire Slayer in today’s political landscape? Sure, why not. Want to just talk about NUMB3RS? Me too. Did you also read Matt Serafini’s Feeders and lose your mind a little? Want to talk about how the internet is its own character in a horror story? Please, I am begging you, put it in an essay for me! I will make it look nice.
The most important thing to me is that you have fun while writing it. I had a brilliant time working with the writers I worked with last year, and I hope to work with more of you in 2026. I’m updating the guidelines to reflect my new “publish a good essay when the right one comes in” ethos, and if you’re wondering the kinds of things I like, it’s WIDE-RANGING— here are the links to last year’s pieces. I look forward to reading your work!
Lana Del Rey Isn’t Real, But Her Version of America Is— Katie Darby Mullins
Lucky You: The National Meets Ross Gay— Aaron Burch
Anti-Nihilism, Tenacity, & Sonic the Hedgehog— Justin Sceszny
Poems About Pivotal Women by A.M. Hayden
Lost in Space(s): The Internal Wars of Liminal Characters— Briane Willis and Dawn Adepoju