It has taken me a while to formulate coherent thoughts about my reaction to the recent, horrific event on a college campus in Utah. As a traditionally and independently published author and the owner of a very small press, I’m not surprised to see writers, and the publishing industry in general, reacting to it as well.

Without overgeneralizing, I think it’s safe to say that many writers tend to be somewhat sensitive, solitary creatures much of the time as we create art from our imaginations, our hearts, our souls, and our gut instincts. I believe the act of writing is often an effort toward deep connection with readers. Whichever genres and categories we embrace, our work can be a powerful form of conversation, a give-and-take between writer and reader that can expand thinking on both sides while challenging assumptions and illuminating previously unconsidered ideas. (It is largely due to this belief that the tagline for the press is “Books. Elevated.”)

Wherever we creative types fall on the ideological or political spectrum, I like to think most of us can agree that killing other people because of their words and beliefs is wrong—full stop. Perhaps this is naïve. Regardless, it’s been incredibly disheartening to see writers and others I’ve admired in the publishing industry for years (sometimes decades) appear to celebrate (or, at the very least, attempt to rationalize) the shocking act that took place on September 10, 2025.

I’ve spent the past few years working with brilliant authors from all over the world who have contributed to the flash fiction anthologies published by Altitude Press. While it would not be surprising to learn that we all have widely varying worldviews, it has never occurred to me to issue some sort of purity test of an author’s beliefs before accepting a story for publication. Having been on the receiving end of this treatment myself as an author in recent years, the thought of ever doing so as an editor is, frankly, dreadful. As long as the work submitted for one of our anthologies stands on its own craft-wise and proves to be a good fit for the overall anthology theme, I firmly believe that the exchange between author and editor should be based, first and foremost, on the writing itself and on the willingness of both parties to collaborate in making the story as strong as it can be. So far, this philosophy has worked out pretty well.

I have grown to admire and become friends with many of our anthology authors, an outcome for which I am grateful (see my above reference to the often-solitary nature of our kind). Though we don’t generally interact in person due to geographical distance, I feel a kinship with these wordsmiths who not only find solace and joy in written expression, as I do, but who have shown themselves, through their work, to be courageous, open-hearted human beings who use their talent and passion to contribute to one of the oldest pastimes enjoyed by our species: storytelling.

It is because of this kinship, and the great honor we share as writers to be able to pen works with the potential to reach a multitude of readers, that I implore my friends and colleagues in the writing and publishing universe—indeed, all artists—to appeal to the highest and most noble creative spirit within, however each of us might define that for ourselves. I ask each of us to engage in the literary conversation with good faith, knowing that our readers might not share our same views (and that it’s not necessary for them to) as we welcome the opportunity for all of us to enjoy expanded imagination and, ultimately, expanded humanity as lovers of the written word.

Even if it is naïve, this is exactly what I will strive to do more than ever moving forward as a writer, an editor, a friend, and a human being in our imperfect, tumultuous world. I hope you’ll join me.

~Nicole McInnes/September 15, 2025