Hello, Miracle readers!
Welcome to the second of our Miracle Team features. Today we will be meeting Poetry Editor Kieran Rundle.
Interview
Questions by Elizabeth Gibson
EG: Could you briefly introduce yourself?
KR: Hi! I’m Kieran Rundle and I’m a high school student from Virginia.
I work on our high school’s Literary Art Magazine’s staff and also have begun to run my own magazine, Sincerely Magazine.
EG: What sort of writing do you do?
KR: I mainly write dark poetry and short fiction stories.
EG: What does writing mean to you?
KR: Writing means everything to me, it is how I breathe and I think. It is the connection between my thoughts and my reality and everything in between. Writing has become a second nature in my every day life and process. It has such power to sway readers into emotions, thoughts, ideas, and produce even more.
EG: How did you get into writing?
KR: I’ve been writing since before I could hold a pencil. It’s just always been a part of who I am.
EG: Who or what inspires you?
KR: Everything around me inspires me, the people, settings, conversations, the world is full of inspiration if we only know how to look for it.
EG: What are your current projects?
KR: I’m currently working on a one-act script for a new play competition in October with the Virginia Theater Association.
EG: What are your plans for the future?
KR: I plan on continuing my magazine work through high school and college, studying either writing or science.
EG: What advice do you have for writers?
KR: Keep writing and editing, the more you work and practice both of those skills the better your writing and editing skills will become. Don’t skip through the editing process either, that’s the biggest part of writing.
EG: What do you look for in submissions?
KR: As a poetry editor I usually look for a unique central theme or idea that is carried through the entire poem, along with nice rhythm or flow that is consistent with the word usage.
A sample of Kieran's work
The Girl on the Rock The sun slunk back across the bleeding sky. It cast a rusty shine over rocks piled high. The formation was suspended above the trees in the wood. The girl sat on the tippy top as high up as she could. Her happy laughter sang across the cinnamon light as she watched the autumn day turn into a chilly blue night. Back in the fading forest she heard her family call, but she turned up her cheeks and embraced the bright fall. Out over the tall rocks the woods rustled, untamed. Crimson, sunburst, pomegranate the colors grew like flames. They spread out of the greens with starbursts of hues. The girl breathed it all in and then out she blew. Then with a final look she turned to go back, to climb down the rock to where her family sat. She heard them call out again and made to reply but the only noise she made was a delicate sigh. She had a little more to go before reaching the land. Her hand held rock but her foot slipped on sand. Her scream shrilled out shattering hope’s light. Her foot dangled uselessly and her hand held her from plight. The girl screeched again as her fingers began to slip. She tried to scrabble upward but could not get a grip. In what seemed an infinity her palm began to slide. It could no longer hold the rock, the moon released the tide. She wafted down backwards, her eyes wide on the sky. The clouds seemed to stare and whisper goodbye. The girl heard her family running to the rock. But she could not speak, nor could she stop. The forest, like a vulture, closed in around her head. She fell to earth like a moonbeam, but hit the ground, dead.
