“I can’t commit to starting a blank notebook for fear of ‘messing up.’ And I bring that anxiety to my writing; I spend more of my time questioning whether the words I’m using are the right ones, or even that the story is worth telling, than anything else. When I created my first piece of blackout poetry in Sarah Gerard’s craft class a few years ago, it just felt different. Each word was an opportunity, and even though I could only choose one way to organize them on each page, that didn’t fill me with dread.

I've returned to blackout poetry during quarantine to turn the frustration of the news into a means of self-soothing, plucking words from an article and toying with their meaning. When I can’t concentrate enough to cook a real meal, much less sit down to a draft of an essay, I can still take a Sharpie to The New Yorker while binging British mystery shows and to return to wordplay as a puzzle.”

Joanna Bettelheim is currently living in New York City with her calico cat and most loyal reader, Moonpie. Her work has previously appeared in Under the Gum Tree, Exposition Review's Flash 405, Breadcrumbs Magazine, no. 2 magazine, and Mom Egg Review. She can be found on Twitter and Instagram @thewelllostmind.