welcome to silver clouds magazine. we are a literary magazine made by girls for girls. our aim is to give girls a space to be published and find the light in everything.
what do we accept?
˚₊ · »-♡→ poetry
˚₊ · »-♡→ creative writing
˚₊ · »-♡→ book reviews
˚₊ · »-♡→ songs
˚₊ · »-♡→ music reviews
˚₊ · »-♡→ movie reviews
˚₊ · »-♡→ prose
what do we not accept?
˚₊ · »-♡→ nsfw
˚₊ · »-♡→ hate speech
˚₊ · »-♡→ pro ed/sh content
find our links here
stay tuned for more information about submissions, joining the team, and more.
This week I read ‘Martyr!’ By Kaveh Akbar, a fiction novel following Cyrus Shams, an Iranian American struggling with substance abuse, wasted potential, and what it means to be a ‘poet’. After both his parents have died he feels driven to find meaning within death, motivated both by the fear of having his life mean something, and the sense that following he must rectify his parents passing through a dramatic display of heroism.
‘Martyr!’ Is a wonderful read. It reiterates what so many books centering around writing have done before, displaying the author as a shut-in, hermit-esque creature that destroys itself in search for perfection, while highlighting a completely unique character, plot, and voice.
This book, like others, represents the struggles of not just authors, but humans. Our society, and even further our essence as a species, demands this drive towards betterment, a vision of what ‘should be’ hovering in front of us. This pushes us to trapeze the world in an attempt to pick the ‘right’ choices, correctly maneuver the metaphorical step ladder to reach greatness. As Cyrus says, “—looking at all the shattered fundament of his living and thinking “this will be useful, I’ll use all of this later”—as a writer there was always that.”(Akbar, p.246). A drive to collect, hoard experiences that may become ‘something’.
For the better half of this book, roughly 2/3rd’s, maybe more like 15/16th’s, that’s the viewpoint I assumed. Another tortured poet, another tragic backstory, another book where the protagonist struggles between booze and their self determined ‘purpose’. I felt inspired by the prose, the natural tone in which Akbar writes, but I had read this book before. That is until the final character, an artist called Orkideh, is introduced. When discussing painting she talks about it as a form of communication first, expression first, and the product of that second. “Creativity didn’t live in my brain any more than walking lived in my legs.” (Akbar, p.316). This perspective is so commonly lost, the finish line distracting us from watching our own feet, causing us to trip, fall, struggle, when we could instead follow the path we wish to rather than the path laid out for us.
Writing, creating, living, breathing, are all acts of creation. Every second we spend actively engaging with the world around us we are creators. There are no ‘off-duty’ moments in life, no breaks from our impacts, and yet despite this we never tire. We are beings of creation, it is time to harvest that. Create what you desire, let your heart guide you, your passion fuel you, and find eternal energy.
Sophia is an English major in Ashland, Oregon. With fall here she is attempting to tackle some disregarded knitting projects, write more, and read more books on park benches. She has a passion for writing, fashion, and the environment.
Curious about joining our team? This post is for you!
Are you infected with radical optimism? Want to join a community of people like you? Join Silver Clouds Magazine as a staff member! We review submissions on a rolling basis, and you can expect to hear back within a week or so.
REQUIRMENTS
(these are for all roles)
1. Must be 14+
2. Able to dedicated at least 1-2 hours weekly to the magazine.
3. Easily contactable
4. Must have a Discord account. That will be our primary means of communication.
5. Must be a team player
Every role has a meteorology-based nickname, but don't worry, you don't need to be a scientist to join.
Roles:
♡ Senior Forecasters - staff writers [3/8]
⟡ Your job will be to write one piece for each issue and write a least one piece a month for the blog. You will also need to write interview questions and come up with prompts for each issue.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Strong writing skills and creativity; must be comfortable writing across genres (articles, interviews, creative pieces).
❤︎ Open to feedback and revisions from the editorial team.
❤︎ Able to meet deadlines and submit polished work without heavy editing.
♡ Weather Broadcasters - graphic design [0/3]
⟡ Your job will be to design posts, issues, and covers. You will work with a team to create each issue and fit the aesthetic of Silver Clouds.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Must have a Canva account
❤︎ Experience creating visuals for social media preferred but not required.
❤︎ Able to work collaboratively to create cohesive issue designs and promotional graphics.
♡ Science Operations Officer - editors [1/2]
⟡ Your job will be to work closely with Alicia to review, choose and edit the submissions for each issue. You will be helping to organize the order of pieces, decide what makes the cut, pick out pieces to feature on Chillsubs, and basically keep the magazine organized.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Fluency in English
❤︎ Comfortable giving detailed feedback.
❤︎ Must have a Google account
❤︎ Must be able to track submissions and progress across multiple pieces.
❤︎ Experience with (or willingness to learn) using Google Docs and Sheets for editing and organizing content.
♡ Service Hydrologist - music curator [1/2]
⟡ Your job will be to create playlists for each issue, as well as find audios and music that can be used for posts.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Spotify is preferred, but if you don't have that, send me the list of songs.
❤︎ Must be able to find trending and viral audios in some way.
❤︎ Strong interest in music
♡ *NEW* Field Technician - columnist [0/4]
⟡ Your job will be similar to that of the staff writer, but instead, you will have a column to write for each issue. You can either pick a premade column or suggest your own.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
⠀❤︎ Able to meet deadlines and submit polished work without heavy editing.⠀
⠀❤︎ Able to develop a consistent column “voice” and write recurring pieces that fit your chosen theme or topic.
⠀❤︎ Able to write engaging, opinion-based or reflective pieces that connect with readers.
benefits of joining the team:
☆ Improve your writing, editing, design, or music curation skills through hands-on experience.
☆ Learn how a literary magazine operates, from submissions to publication.
☆ Connect with other young writers, artists, and editors in the literary community.
☆ Build your portfolio by contributing to a real literary magazine and blog.
☆ Potential to take on senior roles or special projects as the magazine grows.
☆ In the future, potentially receive payment or gifts.
this issue is deer reader: finding peace in childlike wonder.
think of what is was like being a kid, without a care in the world. for this issue, we want you to think about that, think about what the holiday season and winter was like in your childhood.
maybe you built a snowman, maybe you went sledding. wasn’t it wonderful?
we hope you can find peace and whimsy in this issue.
submissions must fall under one of our seven categories:
˚₊ · »-♡→ poetry
˚₊ · »-♡→ creative writing
˚₊ · »-♡→ book reviews
˚₊ · »-♡→ songs
˚₊ · »-♡→ music reviews
˚₊ · »-♡→ movie reviews
˚₊ · »-♡→ prose
you will be contacted between 1-2 weeks after submitting. as long as guidelines are followed and you keep your writing within the values and editorial standards of silver clouds, you will be published.
more information can be found in the google form <3
Curious about joining our team? This post is for you!
Are you infected with radical optimism? Want to join a community of people like you? Join Silver Clouds Magazine as a staff member!
We review submissions on a rolling basis, and you can expect to hear back within a week or so.
REQUIRMENTS
(these are for all roles)
1. Must be 14+
2. Able to dedicated at least 1-2 hours weekly to the magazine.
3. Easily contactable
4. Must have a Discord account. That will be our primary means of communication.
5. Must be a team player
Every role has a meteorology-based nickname, but don't worry, you don't need to be a scientist to join.
Roles:
♡ Senior Forecasters - staff writers [2/8]
⟡ Your job will be to write one piece for each issue and write a least one piece a month for the blog. You will also need to write interview questions and come up with prompts for each issue.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Strong writing skills and creativity; must be comfortable writing across genres (articles, interviews, creative pieces).
❤︎ Open to feedback and revisions from the editorial team.
❤︎ Able to meet deadlines and submit polished work without heavy editing.
♡ Weather Broadcasters - graphic design [0/3]
⟡ Your job will be to design posts, issues, and covers. You will work with a team to create each issue and fit the aesthetic of Silver Clouds.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Must have a Canva account
❤︎ Experience creating visuals for social media preferred but not required.
❤︎ Able to work collaboratively to create cohesive issue designs and promotional graphics.
♡ Science Operations Officer - editors [1/2]
⟡ Your job will be to work closely with Alicia to review, choose and edit the submissions for each issue. You will be helping to organize the order of pieces, decide what makes the cut, pick out pieces to feature on Chillsubs, and basically keep the magazine organized.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Fluency in English
❤︎ Comfortable giving detailed feedback.
❤︎ Must have a Google account
❤︎ Must be able to track submissions and progress across multiple pieces.
❤︎ Experience with (or willingness to learn) using Google Docs and Sheets for editing and organizing content.
♡ Service Hydrologist - music curator [1/2]
⟡ Your job will be to create playlists for each issue, as well as find audios and music that can be used for posts.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Spotify is preferred, but if you don't have that, send me the list of songs.
❤︎ Must be able to find trending and viral audios in some way.
Curious about joining our team? This post is for you!
Are you infected with radical optimism? Want to join a community of people like you? Join Silver Clouds Magazine as a staff member!
We review submissions on a rolling basis, and you can expect to hear back within a week or so.
REQUIRMENTS
(these are for all roles)
1. Must be 15+
2. Able to dedicated at least 1-2 hours weekly to the magazine.
3. Easily contactable
4. Must have a Discord account. That will be our primary means of communication.
5. Must be a team player
Every role has a meteorology-based nickname, but don't worry, you don't need to be a scientist to join.
Roles:
♡ Senior Forecasters - staff writers [1/8]
⟡ Your job will be to write one piece for each issue and write a least one piece a month for the blog. You will also need to write interview questions and come up with prompts for each issue.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Strong writing skills and creativity; must be comfortable writing across genres (articles, interviews, creative pieces).
❤︎ Open to feedback and revisions from the editorial team.
❤︎ Able to meet deadlines and submit polished work without heavy editing.
♡ Weather Broadcasters - graphic design [0/3]
⟡ Your job will be to design posts, issues, and covers. You will work with a team to create each issue and fit the aesthetic of Silver Clouds.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Must have a Canva account
❤︎ Experience creating visuals for social media preferred but not required.
❤︎ Able to work collaboratively to create cohesive issue designs and promotional graphics.
♡ Science Operations Officer - editors [0/2]
⟡ Your job will be to work closely with Alicia to review, choose and edit the submissions for each issue. You will be helping to organize the order of pieces, decide what makes the cut, pick out pieces to feature on Chillsubs, and basically keep the magazine organized.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Fluency in English
❤︎ Comfortable giving detailed feedback.
❤︎ Must have a Google account
❤︎ Must be able to track submissions and progress across multiple pieces.
❤︎ Experience with (or willingness to learn) using Google Docs and Sheets for editing and organizing content.
♡ Service Hydrologist - music curator [1/2]
⟡ Your job will be to create playlists for each issue, as well as find audios and music that can be used for posts.
⟡ Role-Specific Requirements:
❤︎ Spotify is preferred, but if you don't have that, send me the list of songs.
❤︎ Must be able to find trending and viral audios in some way.
The Editor Who Couldn’t See Straight By Myeisha Essex
Originally published in Paradigm
There was a time when my life was fueled by pure newsroom adrenaline. I was the Senior Editor overseeing the evening assignment desk at one of the nation’s top entertainment news organizations. My shift was 2 p.m. to 11 p.m., Sunday through Thursday. It was prime time for breaking stories, red carpet madness, and celebrity Instagram drama. I was a 30-year-old news editor and I loved everything about my job. I walked in the office everyday feeling like Sanaa Lathan’s Brown Sugar character, Sydney Shaw, who was likely inspired by Danyel Smith, who served as VIBE’s editor-in-chief in the 1990s. I managed a team of writers, making quick editorial decisions on everything from Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s royal exit to the rose ceremony drama on the latest episode of “The Bachelor.” I was fast and I was good.
During award show season, it felt like all the days blurred together, and I was at the center of it all with my eyes glued to a dozen tabs on two computer screens, phone buzzing nonstop, digging through legal documents, editing copy and mind juggling five stories at once. Ten to twelve-hour days in the office were common, but I never complained. This was my dream. I was a big-time news editor in Los Angeles with my name on the masthead. And when our team won Emmys for Outstanding Entertainment News Program in 2018, 2020, and 2021, I could finally say the dream had come true.
Except there was one problem. I could barely see it. Literally. The lines between my dream job and my health were blurring faster than a Robin Thicke song.
What most people didn’t know is I was doing all of this with a severe vision impairment. I have keratoconus. It’s a progressive eye disease where your cornea (the clear front part of your eye) thins and bulges into a cone shape, making your vision look like a world smeared in Vaseline. In my case, the condition had progressed too far for glasses to correct. My mother used to say, “You know she’s blind without her contacts on!” The politically correct term is low vision, but let’s just say I’m legally not allowed to drive without my contact lenses. And at work, I could see three versions of the same word and none of them were clear. Without my lenses, I lived in a watercolor painting with thousands of halos and extremely bad lighting.
My lenses are not your average drugstore brand. They’re scleral lenses, which are large, custom-made, computer-lathed contact lenses that cover most of your eye’s surface. Each one costs about $1,000 per eye, including the cost of the fitting. And if you lose it, scratch it, crack it, or drop it down the drain (which has happened more times than I care to admit), that’s another $1000. Thankfully, my insurance covered 50 percent of the cost, which made my out-of-pocket fees around $500 per eye.
When you have keratoconus, contact lenses are not optional. They are a medical necessity. But wearing a thick piece of plastic over your eyes for hours each day is not natural and it comes with consequences. For me, that means recurrent corneal abrasions, which are basically paper cuts on the surface of my eyes. They can happen from wearing my lenses too long, taking them out incorrectly, or when a tiny speck of uninvited dust gets trapped underneath. The cornea is
one of the most pain-sensitive parts of the human body, and when it’s injured, it feels like sandpaper scraping across your eye while someone shines a bright light directly into your skull. The pain is a true ten out of ten. Until it heals, I cannot wear my lenses, which means waiting anywhere from a day to a full week before I can see clearly again.
So what do I do on those days? I stay home. Curtains drawn. Eyes closed. Lubricating drops and Advil on deck for the headache. And if anyone from work calls, all I can say is: “My eyes are down.”
Those “eye down” days became frequent enough that HR required doctor’s notes for every absence. In the newsroom world, frequent absences are not acceptable. News doesn’t stop, and the unspoken rule is you don’t either. Managing a newsroom is like a choreographed dance, and if someone fills in for you long enough, especially as an editor, the team will learn how to do the moves without you.
Still, no amount of hustle could fix what was happening with my eyes. Every time I went back to my doctor hoping for a miracle, he’d sigh and say, “You’re working with a poor foundation, Myeisha. You just have to learn to manage it.” Then one day, he looked me straight in my eyes and said, “Maybe you should think about starting your own business, so you can manage your off days better.”
I was furious. Did he know how hard I’d worked to get here? How many unpaid internships, cold red carpet interviews, fact-checked stories, midnight deadlines and how much student loan debt it took to earn that title? I’d written, edited, and produced thousands of pieces. I wasn’t about to give it all up because my corneas decided to act up.
But in August 2021, reality came for me anyway. I caught COVID. And while my body fought the virus, both of my eyes developed deep abrasions. I couldn’t see. At all. Within one week, I lost my vision, smell, and taste. It forced me to lay down.
Somewhere between the DayQuil, Tylenol, and tears, I fell into a deep meditation. I had a vision (pun intended) of myself still writing and editing, but on my own terms. It was like a sacred, divine reminder: even if I walked away from my job, my craft would still be mine. My talent didn’t depend on my title, and the stories I told didn’t depend on the company I worked for.
When I finally healed, I turned in my two weeks’ notice.
Of course, reality sets in fast. Keratoconus is like a kid; it doesn’t care if you’re a freelancer or full-time staffer, it still requires attention and expensive, ongoing care. You’re supposed to replace your lenses at least once a year, sometimes every six months, because your corneas can change shape like clay in a sculptor’s hands. A lens that fit in March might be useless by December.
Thankfully, Dr. E – the same doctor who first suggested I start my own business – did something I’ll never forget. As I transitioned out of my corporate job and figured out how to rebuild financially, he told me to stay in touch. He gave me his personal email and said, “Reach out whenever you need me.”
I’m shedding a tear as I write this because that simple act of compassion meant everything. It was care. Real care. The kind that doesn’t stop when the appointment ends.
Today, I’ve evolved out of my entertainment news era. I’m now the communications director at a nonprofit that advocates for women’s health and well-being, and I’m working on my memoir. I’m still a writer and editor with a progressive corneal eye disease. How about that for an oxymoron?
There are so many things people take for granted: clean water, deep breaths, a bed to call your own, and waking up to see the world clearly without help. Because here’s the truth: good eye care in America is expensive. Seeing clearly is treated like a luxury when it should be a basic human right. I often think about the people with low vision who don’t have a Dr. E, or the insurance, or the flexibility to rest when their “eyes are down.”
The headlines I wrote used to be about everyone else’s lives. These days, I’m just grateful to still be writing my own story – contacts, eye drops, solution and sunglasses in hand. I know it’s in my willingness to keep showing up, to keep writing, that makes a good story... even when everything looks a little blurry.
Myeisha Essex is an Emmy-award winning journalist, writer and wellness advocate based in Los Angeles. She enjoys writing about the health and well-being of Black women and girls, spirituality, and helping women come home to themselves: fully, softly and without apology.
When I was younger, I thought beauty was a checklist.
Light skin. Thin waist. Sharp jawline. Delicate nose. Hair that fell just right. Eyebrows that curved like a painting. I didn’t have any of those. Or at least, I didn’t think I did.
I grew up with a mirror that never reflected what I wanted to see. My eyes always found flaws faster than features. I’d pinch my waist, tug at my skin, brush my hair until it hurt, and still feel like I was chasing something that didn’t belong to me. I wished my skin were lighter, my face prettier, my eyebrows thinner, my body smaller. Every wish began with I wish I looked like… and ended with the quiet ache of not being enough.
I learned early that beauty had a shape, and I wasn’t the right outline. The girls around me seemed effortlessly graceful - like they knew a secret I hadn’t been told. I thought if I learned to dress a certain way; to shrink, to smooth, to perfect, I’d finally belong. But no matter how close I got, there was always another standard waiting. Another thing to fix.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
I began to live half a step away from myself - always adjusting, always performing, always trying to deserve the body I had been born into.
And though nobody told me outright that my worth was conditional, I heard it anyway - in beauty tutorials and movie frames, in whispered advice about “fixing” this or “lightening that”.
It is strange how early we are taught that our reflection is a project, not a presence.
How we are taught to see our bodies as before-and-after pictures, even when no transformation follows.
I spent years learning the language of self-erasure.
Years trying to translate myself into someone paler, smaller, quieter. And even then, I never arrived.
There’s a kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to edit yourself into existence.
A soft, constant ache behind the ribs that whispers, if only. If only I were thinner.
If only my skin looked smoother in the sunlight.
If only my hair obeyed the brush.
If only I had been born beautiful,
But beauty, I had been told, was a destination - one you reached through suffering.
So I learned to endure the small violences: the crash diets, the mirror stares, the long hours spent cataloguing flaws.
I thought the pain was proof of effort.
That the closer I came to breaking, the closer I came to being seen.
Then one day, the world fell quiet.
It wasn’t a dramatic awakening, no cinematic moment of self-love. It was just morning.
The light entered my room in stripes.
The air smelled like rain.
I had been crying the night before - another spiral of self-loathing, another night of wishing to be someone else.
But that morning, I couldn’t muster the same exhaustion.
Instead, I walked outside, still heavy with last night’s grief, and sat on the steps.
Everything around me was still.
And for the first time in years, I didn’t think about how I looked. I simply existed.
And somehow, that felt like relief.
After that morning, I started to notice things - tiny repetitions that seemed to echo truer than symmetry ever could.
The patterns of veins on a leaf mirrored the lines on my palm.
The waves in my hair echoed the ripples in a puddle after rain.
The soft shadow under my chin looked exactly like the crescent of the moon I saw that night.
Everything seemed to belong to the same rhythm - imperfections and all. I started to realise that nature didn’t care for perfection.
It cared for continuity.
A flower doesn’t apologise for wilting.
A tree doesn’t shrink because another grows taller.
The ocean doesn’t need to explain its weight to anyone - it was beautiful simply because it moved.
And maybe I could be, too.
Patterns became proof that beauty was never a singular moment - it was movement.
It was repetition.
It was the quiet persistence of existing despite everything that tells you not to.
I found a strange kind of grace in it.
The moon waxes and wanes and still finds its way back to fullness. The sea retreats, but it always returns.
Every morning, light finds me again - even when I forget to look for it. Maybe I didn’t need to fix myself. Maybe I just needed to notice myself.
I started to see the patterns in my own body, too.
The soft curve of my stomach that rises and falls with each breath. The quiet scars that have healed without my asking.
Even the darkness of my skin - it shifts with the seasons, glows differently in summer light, deepens like soil.
Once, I used to wish it away. Now, I trace it like a story.
My body, I realised, had never been the problem.
It had only ever been waiting for me to look at it with gentleness.
There’s something miraculous about patterns once you start seeing them. They teach you patience.
They remind you that change is not destruction - it’s rhythm. When I look at nature, I see patterns of persistence.
When I look at people, I see patterns of resilience.
And when I finally look at myself, I see a pattern of survival. Every time I had hated myself, I had still shown up.
Every time I had cried in front of a mirror, I had still wiped the tears away.
Every time I thought I couldn’t bear my own reflection, I had still gone on living.
Isn’t that its own kind of beauty?
Sometimes, I go back to that younger version of me - the girl standing before the mirror, tugging at her skin, whispering, please, just let me be pretty.
I wish I could reach through time and tell her this:
You are not unfinished.
You are not wrong.
You are simply becoming.
And one day, you’ll see it.
You’ll see how the world bends to hold you,
How the sunlight doesn’t discriminate,
How your body has always been part of the pattern -
The rhythm, the pulse, the story.
Because beauty, I’ve learned, is not the symmetry of a face or the fairness of skin.
It is the repetition of life itself.
It’s the way the earth breathes after rain.
The way laughter lingers after sadness.
The way you wake up every morning, still here, still trying, still learning to love yourself.
Beauty is not perfection - it’s endurance made tender. It’s the pattern you create when you choose to stay.
And perhaps Paradigm is just that:
The moment you realise that beauty was never something to find. It was the rhythm you were already living in -
The one pulsing beneath your skin,
The one you’d been too busy to notice,
The one that had been waiting, all this time,
For you to come home.
Nithila has basically been performing since she could walk - theatre has been her second home since she was three, and it’s probably where her love for stories began. When she’s not writing or getting lost in a book, you’ll probably find her baking something new, working out to clear her head, or spiraling over a new Stray Kids comeback (bias? bangchan obviously).
