Blow Yourself Up is a story of first love across cities, spanning the decade that transformed the internet.

In the halls of an elite East Coast high school, Arjun and Payal fall in love as the world begins to tilt toward the digital. Over the next eight years, their trajectories diverge as sharply as the fractured internet itself. Payal ascends to the dizzying, dopamine-fueled heights of New York’s influencer economy, finding fame on Boost, a looping video app that is as rewarding as it is demanding. Meanwhile, in a cavernous office in Chicago, Arjun, a musician whose dreams have quieted, now cleans up the same platform’s debris, moderating the internet’s darkest videos. When a brutal act of political violence against a beloved musician goes viral, this rip in reality forces the pair to confront the motivations of the platforms they inhabit. A sharp exploration of creative ambition and the multifarious nature of identity, this is a story of love in the time of infinite scroll and a look at what we sacrifice to be seen.

Here is the cover, designed by Matt Avery:

Ankur Thakkar: This novel is a love story (and so, a ghost story), told from both characters’ perspectives, a will-they-won’t-they narrative spanning from the era of the first smartphones to when the internet scrambled our brains. It’s about making a creative life as the internet changed what creativity means. There aren’t obvious visuals for this story—rather, there are, but I wasn’t interested in them. The designer provided several great directions, but this figure immediately stood out. I couldn’t have dreamt it up myself, but it felt so right. There’s the tension between digital and analog life, of identities coming into being, and the undercurrent of yearning that guides both characters. I would have been equally drawn to the figure if it were stenciled on a wall, used as an album cover, or as a posthumous symbol. I’m so grateful to have this horny emo book reflected through Matt Avery’s palette.

Matt Avery: For this cover, we wanted to convey a few themes. The novel has two main characters that are very much online. But we didn’t want any overt references to social media or the internet. Another question was how to channel or play off the main title (without actually illustrating a “blow up”). The author and publisher provided a lot of promising suggestions and I was able to create or find a good number of options that felt like they resonated with the text. During that process, I remembered a couple figures I had drawn previously that I might be able to work with to suggest the characters’s grappling with identity—as well as their online experience. However, an expressed preference at the outset was for “no people/figures.” I understood why—and at the same time felt that by layering the drawings we wouldn’t depict a fixed identity and would provide a sufficiently open-ended reading. Are we seeing two people? One person transmogrifying? Or a digital will-o’-the-wisp? You’ll have to read the novel to (not) find out.

The post Exclusive Cover Reveal of “Blow Yourself Up” by Ankur Thakkar appeared first on Electric Literature.

This is my last fundraising letter to you as Executive Director. In my 10 years in this role, and 16 at Electric Literature, I have seen funding for the arts gutted. In 2025, we received $57,000 in grant funding, compared to $127,000 the previous year. This $70,000 reduction was a result of the Trump Administration dismantling the NEA and attacking artistic expression. As an indirect result, other funders have been spread thin and grant amounts have been broadly reduced. 

I wish we lived in a country where there was more federal, state, and organizational support for the arts. Maybe one day we will. In the meantime, it’s on all of us to step up. Last year, you did. Individual donations to Electric Literature went from $155,000 in 2024 to $215,000 in 2025—a $60,000 increase that nearly covered EL’s grant losses.

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned as Executive Director is to ask for what EL needs. This sounds simple, but for years I was inclined to ask for less—to ask for the amount that sounded palatable, or seemed achievable—and to make up the difference with debt and sacrifice. It took our community stepping up last year to teach me that getting what we need is possible.

Your support also taught me that caring for Electric Literature is not a responsibility I shouldered alone. As a nonprofit, Electric Literature does not belong to any one person; it belongs to all of us. To the staff, to the thousands of writers we publish and pay, and to the millions of readers who read their work for free every day.

Electric Literature is undergoing an exciting transition as I step away and other staff members take the reins. We’ve set a more ambitious goal for this spring fundraiser so that EL’s new leadership has the security to face whatever challenges lie ahead. Their vision for Electric Literature is fresh and inspiring and worthy of your investment. Together, we are strong, and the future of literature is bright.

I’m asking you, once more, to support this organization we all love before the April 15 deadline. We’re still over $20,000 away from our $35,000 target—maybe this goal is ambitious, but it’s what we need, so it’s what we’re asking for. Time is running out; please give generously.

Gratefully yours, 

Halimah Marcus
Executive Director

The post Electric Literature Belongs to All of Us appeared first on Electric Literature.

This year’s Final Four all featured cads in novels from the nineteenth century, which, in hindsight, may not be a coincidence. After all, cad is itself a nineteenth-century term that comes with a loaded set of social anxieties, gender norms, and moral codes of that era. In trying to be clever and, of course, punny, did we unintentionally bias the bracket from the start? It’s possible. Or these characters have endured precisely because they defined the archetype and gave rise to the cads that followed.

Either way, the Final Four ultimately brought us back to four defining figures of nineteenth-century cad lit: Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, George Wickham from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, Dorian Gray from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and Edward Rochester from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. Along the way, there were a few close calls. Dorian Gray eked by Lestat de Lioncourt from Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice by just 10 votes, and Edward Rochester managed to dispatch early favorite Nino Sarratore from Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels by 14 votes. 

In the semifinals, Heathcliff and Edward Rochester were eliminated, depriving us of any Brontë sisters in the final round and leaving a championship matchup between Dorian Gray and George Wickham.

And who won? In a close battle, with just 12 votes separating the two, the title of best (worst?) cad of them all goes to: George Wickham. Congratulations! And shame on you!

See below how the full bracket played out:

Thanks to everyone who joined in! We’re already looking forward to doing it again next year with another pun-based bracket.

The post Announcing the Winner of March Cadness appeared first on Electric Literature.

In my first letter as Electric Literature’s incoming Director of Operations and Fiction Editor, I am tempted to dazzle you with numbers. EL has such an impressive array of them—3.5 million readers! 300,000 social media followers! Upwards of 6,000 published writers!—and numbers are an easy way to quantify success.

But as I sit down to write, it isn’t the big numbers I want to talk about. They’re not why I’m here, and I don’t believe they’re what make Electric Lit special. The real numbers—the numbers that matter—are much smaller.

For me, the most important number is the smallest. Zero is the number EL is committed to protecting. It’s the number driving every fundraiser, and the number every donation supports.

Many other magazines charge readers, levy submission fees, or pay writers less (or not at all). Frankly, it would be easier for Electric Lit to do any one of those things. But without access points, without opportunities to read and fall in love with literature free of charge, our community suffers. It becomes less inclusive, less relevant, less exciting. Electric Literature was built on the dream of a vibrant literary ecosystem; by giving literature away for free, we ensure it remains vital and valued. 

Electric Literature must raise $35,000 by April 15 to cover our expenses, and we need to reach $10,000 by Monday to stay on track. I hope you’ll donate what you can, and I hope you’ll spread the word. Tell your friends! Share on social media. Fight for writers and readers and free access to literature. And, of course, keep reading.

Gratefully yours, 

Wynter K. Miller
Incoming Director of Operations and Fiction Editor

The post Electric Lit’s Smaller Numbers Tell a Larger Story appeared first on Electric Literature.

65 writers and artists (many of whom are EL contributors whose work you can find here, here, and here) capture early motherhood in scenes and revelations: a vulnerable, kaleidoscopic record of postpartum life.

In the early days with their first babies, two friends began comparing notes on what, exactly, was going on in their postpartum bodies and minds. What was a wake window? How could anyone function under the weight of so much love? All their new-mom friends were overwhelmed too. In search of the book they needed, editors Rebecca Knight and Julie Buntin invited 65 acclaimed writers and artists—Julia Phillips, Kirstin Valdez Quade, Liana Finck, Jenny Slate, Naima Coster, and more—to riff on shared concerns: burp volcanoes, career shifts, breastfeeding logs, partnership dynamics, minor victories and major insecurities. Here is a bedside table companion for every mother who has wondered how she’ll make it through the wilderness of early parenthood, and a window into her experience for the family and friends desperate to better care for their beloved moms-to-be. Brave, unexpected, and revelatory, Notes to New Mothers offers a new map of motherhood as both a singular and communal experience.

Here is the cover, designed by Sarahmay Wilkinson, with original artwork by Kristen Diederich:

Rebecca Knight: It took us a long time to find the right cover art for Notes to New Mothers because the structure of the book is so unusual. It’s a new form: a 60-writer chorus singing 582 tiny notes, in and out of harmony. It’s a juicy giftable item and an experimental, literary text. What kind of cover could cover both bases? It couldn’t be too literal (stock photo of pacifier stack) or too droopy (Mother’s-Day-Monet) or too floral or not floral enough or too feminine or too Gothic or too discouraging or too perky. We wanted it to be an accomplished aesthetic object in its own right, a soothing visual companion to house the warm community of voices inside. We wanted it to be elegant, energetic, timeless, simple, strong. We came up with a million almosts. And then, perusing the L.A. gallery LOBSTER CLUB’s 2026 Frieze Week group show, we discovered the work of painter Kristen Diederich.

Diederich’s paintings and our book are devoted to polyphony. She too is building up her images from the innumerable contributions of small strokes. Her instincts as a colorist, and as an abstract scribe of the natural world, are as various, understated, rapturous, and surprising as the prose stylings of our disparate, acclaimed writers. Looking at a Diederich painting is an invitation to investigate, to think and look again, all while relishing in the physical, the sumptuous. We came full circle with the project when we learned that Kristen attributes her painting practice to her own mother, also a painter, who found a way to combine creative output and childrearing. This is the very balance our contributors are in the midst of calibrating. We have been giddy about our cover ever since Kristen agreed to come on board. Norton’s Design Director Sarahmay Wilkinson, herself a new mother, created the cover with expert composition and iconic typography, all while tending to her own young son. We can’t imagine a fuller, finer, or more fitting artwork to invite readers into Notes to New Mothers.

Julie Buntin: Rebecca has captured exactly how I feel about Kristen’s artwork and how it evokes our book! I’ll just add that in addition to suggesting, via the swirls and blooms of color, the polyphony of the contents, the painting evokes such a tangible sense of transformation—the way the pink seems to be an almost reconfigured version of the green, the interrupting red, the moody, textural slashes of blue. For me, it speaks, in some nonverbal and very true-feeling way, to the murky, vibrant, and wildly complex early postpartum period.

Rebecca and I worked on this book together for years, and even when it was just an inkling, our vision for it was that however we collected these voices, the object—the book itself—would have to be distinct and beautiful. Something you’d want to put on your bedside table, that you’d be drawn to pick up even when dead tired, that would offer some sensory respite from all the glop and goo of newborn life. I have very precise memories of a book I read to both my children as tiny babies—one they loved—that had this gargantuan dust jacket that was always slipping off or getting folded up or in the wrong place, one more tiny thing I had to track and take care of. One day, it got half stuck under my nursing chair and partially ripped when I tried to pull it out, bending over my infant, which made her cry—and then I was crying, because what if I’d hurt her, and also why was the fucking dust jacket never where it was supposed to be? And wasn’t that my fault somehow? Those days are tough. Notes to New Mothers will have no dust jacket. The tactility of Kristen’s painting will work so brilliantly as paper-over-board, and Sarahmay’s sensitive way of setting off the type means that no amount of baby drool or sticky fingerprints or spilt milk will obscure the title. The book can take it, just as the mother can (even if she thinks she sometimes can’t).

Sarahmay Wilkinson: It was such a pleasure to collaborate with authors Rebecca Knight and Julie Buntin in the creative process for their cover. It was important to our team to create something intimate and elevated while also lasting and durable; a gift that would live happily on a new parent’s chaotic nightstand. Kristen Diederich’s painting brought a sense of tenderness, atmosphere, and complexity that felt exactly right for the project. As a new-ish mum, I devoured this book, but really, truly, anyone who has ever been born should read this book.

Kristen Diederich: While painting, I often recall all the times I must have been held as a child, how these levels of care are linked and inseparable from the creative process, which itself is an act of mothering an idea into the world. In my case, these aspects of care are reflected in the image itself through the materiality of paint and mark making.

Growing up surrounded by creative women—a grandmother who crafted with her hands, an aunt who was a literature and theater teacher, and a mother, Tammy, who is a committed painter—gave rise to my interest in the arts.

For the past 10 years, I have been writing a single, continuous poem whose lines become titles for my paintings—among them, “Fuchsia is Slain by Observable Facts,” an abstract landscape of saturated pinks, blues, and greens, floral elements rising and dissolving through layers of glaze. I was delighted that this painting was chosen for this project because the story of my art practice is so deeply linked to my own mother.

The post Exclusive Cover Reveal of “Notes to New Mothers” edited by Rebecca Knight and Julie Buntin appeared first on Electric Literature.

When I was a college senior, I used to sit in my favorite coffee shop, hook my laptop up to the free wifi, and pretend I was an editor at Electric Literature. This is a true story.

Now, as EL’s incoming Deputy Editor, remembering my slightly delusional daydreams makes me feel mildly embarrassed, but more importantly, extremely proud that all these years later I get to be a part of an organization I’ve admired for so long. (Not to mention impressed by my younger self’s impeccable literary taste!)

It’s not by chance that EL was the literary magazine I set my sights on. With my limited cash going straight to books for class (and, way, way too much coffee), I was starved for contemporary literature I could access for free. Electric Literature offered me exactly that: strange, wonderful stories that, true to EL’s mission, were exciting, relevant, and inclusive—an education in literature that went beyond what I was getting in my classes. And I was able to read those stories because of supporters like you, who ensured that people like me could access Electric Literature’s digital pages without fees or paywalls.

Back then, I needed free literature. Now, I get to provide it. Back then, I wondered if I would ever be paid for my writing. Now, I get to ensure that each of our writers is compensated for their work.

By donating to our spring fundraiser, you help ensure that readers like you, my college self, and millions of others maintain free access to our extraordinary and growing archive of short stories, poetry, creative nonfiction, graphic narratives, cultural criticism, and insightful coverage of forthcoming books—all written by contributors who are paid for the work they do.

Donate today to help us keep literature accessible for everyone. You never know—your donation might just allow an over-caffeinated college student with big aspirations to read her way into her dream job.

Gratefully yours,

Katie Henken Robinson
Senior Editor and incoming Deputy Editor

The post Becoming Electric Lit’s Deputy Editor Is My Dream Job. Reading Got Me Here appeared first on Electric Literature.

Okay, we’ll admit it: We’re running out of puns. For this one, we had to reach back—way back—to the 19th century, when cad was a popular term to describe a dishonorable man who uses charm and seduction in pursuit of selfish ends, often leaving wrecked relationships in his wake. While cad may feel dated or unfamiliar, the archetype is not. The cad has never really gone away; he’s just changed names. From Don Juan to player to fuckboy, literature has always been populated by these disreputable men.

What remains true about the cad is that he is narratively irresistible. He generates plot, accelerating conflict, stoking desire, and inviting humiliation. He is, for better or worse, the engine of many books. And yet, what often makes this archetype so compelling is not his bad behavior, but his slow unraveling—the moment the mask slips and he is exposed for what he is: a cad!

For this competition, we’ve gathered the worst cads across literary history: the smooth talkers, the liars, the self-mythologizers. You can start making your picks on Monday, 3/30 at 12 PM Eastern on our Instagram stories. Check out the bracket below and download it here to fill out your picks, then follow along to see if your (least?) favorite cad wins!

Below is a sneak peek of the Round One match-ups, featuring 32 of the best cad novels out there, ranging from classics to contemporary takes on the cad.

Scroll through the match-ups below to see which cads will be up against each other in Round One:

The post Help Us Crown Literature’s Ultimate Cad appeared first on Electric Literature.

Both/And: Essays By Trans and Gender Nonconforming Writers of Color, edited by incoming Executive Director and Publisher Denne Michele Norris, is a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award in transgender non-fiction.

This book, the first essay collection centering trans writers of color to be published by a major press, is a groundbreaking response to continuous attacks on the trans community. It’s been hailed as a “beacon of hope” (Publisher’s Weekly, starred review), and widely praised for its authenticity, quality of writing, and broad range of stories. And now it’s receiving awards recognition. 

We couldn’t be more proud that Both/And is Electric Lit’s first book. On Tuesday, we launched our spring fundraising campaign, nearly a year after walking away from our NEA funding, largely because of the Trump administration’s repugnant policies on gender identity and diversity. And yet, our work, and our community, continues to thrive. As EL looks to the future, we remain committed to elevating the stories of those most marginalized among us. Your support goes a long way towards protecting that vision. 

The post Both/And Is a Finalist for a Lambda Literary Award! appeared first on Electric Literature.

After years of caring full-time for the children of the rich and the famous, our narrator has been struck, finally, with baby fever. Over a drink with sympathetic friends, she lists all the reasons why she wants to have a baby, beginning with a story about the intoxicating, abusive relationship with an ex-wife that she barely survived. She ponders how to fill the gaping void left in the wake of such horrific domestic violence. What’s the next most violent thing a woman can do to herself? she asks. Have a baby.

Soon, her story opens other doors to the past—the seemingly idyllic childhood she spent under her father’s roof; the mentorship, and judgment, of female writers whose children she has reared; and the man, her first love, who now seems to be offering her a second chance. Each unraveling thread reveals the complex tangle of thrill and pain, tradition and progress that has led her to this moment, this calling. Is it time for her to become a mother?

K Chiucarello’s stunningly original debut novel explores the brutality of gendered violence, including the gossip that polices women’s choices and the conventions that determine which women have the right to tell their story, and how. With wit, candor, and unprecedented nuance, Nanny Nanny upends every expectation of a book about motherhood, queering the biological clock and subverting narrative bounds.

Here is the cover, designed by Vivian Lopez Rowe with art by Julie Blackmon:

K Chiucarello: Even before I sold Nanny Nanny to Ecco, my editor, Deborah Ghim, and I talked about cover ideas. We are both very visual people and we wanted our mutual tastes to guide the editing process. I remember referencing Helen DeWitt’s The Last Samurai, Fernanda Melchor’s Hurricane Season, Joy Williams’ Harrow—sparse covers where something was askew but the title read as grounded, assertive, nearly screaming. After we officially moved into editing, I created a mood board of original art work for more inspiration.

There was a lot of Robin F. Williams, Caroline Walker, Louise Giovanelli, Vanessa Baird, Rosalind Nashashibi, Genieve Figgis pinned—visual artists that focus a lot on gender performance and/or domestic labor. Something that Deborah and I spoke about often was that we didn’t want the cover to tip over into horror in any type of way, which became a difficult line to tread when pulling images.

When Julie Blackmon’s “Patio” landed it felt like the singular solution. In the expert hands of Vivian Lopez Rowe, our brilliant cover designer, Blackmon’s photograph perfectly encapsulates the world of NANNY NANNY. It was the lone photograph of the cover options but there was something nearly Kubrick-esque drawing me into the final product: the symmetry of the title, the geometry of the home, the flat perspective. There’s a lot of mirroring that happens in the novel—hetero versus queer relationships, city versus rural landscapes, the narrator’s ex-wife versus the children that the narrator nannies, etc. The little girl looking at an image of herself in the great hopes of finding an adult or something comforting inside, seeking out but being trapped in your own image or making, it spoke to the most major themes of the novel. The adult in the photograph that is reading a magazine entitled NEW YOU, the spiraled hose, the off-centered fire ablaze were little cherries on top.

Vivian Lopez Row: The publishing team and I agreed that we wanted the cover to depict motherhood, but not in a way that glamorized it or was idealistic about it. Early on I looked at paintings—to match the story, the women in them looked overwhelmed and exhausted. I then looked at photography and found the perfect cover image by Julie Blackmon. Her work blends the mundane and surreal moments of domesticity. This particular image, “Patio,” has a nostalgia that can relate to the main character’s childhood or her time as a nanny. It also shows a very real moment of exhausted distraction; even as a fire on the grill is blazing unattended, it’s like she has gotten used to the chaos in her life. For type, I went bold. I really wanted a contrast to the quieter elements of the cover image and to work with the fire to heighten the drama.

The post Exclusive Cover Reveal of “Nanny Nanny” by K Chiucarello appeared first on Electric Literature.

This is my first opportunity to write to you as the incoming Executive Director and Publisher. While I’ve had two months to get used to the idea, I’m still adjusting to the weight of the responsibility I will soon carry. One thing is for certain: It’s an honor to be trusted with stewarding Electric Literature’s future. As outgoing Executive Director Halimah Marcus wrote in her resignation letter, “There is no other publication like Electric Literature, and its value in the literary landscape cannot be overstated.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. I have loved serving as Editor-in-Chief, and I’m excited for what lies ahead.

In the seventeen years since EL was founded, we’ve accomplished so much. We’ve introduced talented emerging writers to millions of readers. We’ve been awarded competitive grants and won prestigious prizes. We’ve published our first book! And through it all, we’ve remained committed to publishing writers from all backgrounds at a time when many communities are under attack. None of that will change; if anything, we are doubling down on our commitment to free speech, creative excellence, and providing a home for stories told by our most marginalized voices. 

But make no mistake; as successful as we’ve been, there is more work to be done. My long-term vision for Electric Literature is expansive. I plan to grow our reach and influence by every measure, while maintaining our sharp, independent spirit. 

During this time of transition, your support is more vital than ever. As we embark on building EL’s future, we must raise $35,000 to fund our next chapter. My goals for the organization extend far beyond our current moment. We have always been innovators, and I have every intention of continuing to push literature—and the publishing industry—forward. Every gift, no matter how small, will go a long way towards ensuring Electric Literature’s continued success. Help us find and champion new voices. Help us connect hungry readers with great writers. And as we turn a crucial page, remember this: Our very bright future begins with you. 

Gratefully yours,

Denne Michele Norris 
Editor-in-Chief and incoming Executive Director + Publisher

The post Help Us Write Electric Literature’s Next Chapter appeared first on Electric Literature.