Rutvi Shah ’22 walked into Sloane Miller’s writing workshop at the Literary Arts Bridge for help finishing her creative writing homework. But when Miller, an author and improvisational comedian, began guiding Shah through a writing exercise using the principles of improv, Shah became skeptical. Miller recalls: “She asked me, ‘What does this have to do with my homework? I’m writing down these things, but what does this do for me?’ ”
Miller then decided that physics, rather than improv, might connect better with Shah. Just as energy changed form, the author explained, so could a piece of writing. Shah could repurpose her writing from the day’s workshop to finish the homework assignment. “Because of the advice she gave me, I was able to write the final piece for my class,” says Shah. She later emailed Miller that the piece got an A.
Dartmouth’s Literary Arts Bridge is little more than a year old, but the gathering place for writers already has created a sense of literary community that many alums never experienced when they were students. Tucked away off Lebanon Street next to Buddy T’s Grill & Sports Bar, the 2,400-square-foot collection of pale blue-green rooms has brought together students, authors, and publishers at events that foster lasting connections.
“In some ways, the ‘Bridge’ part is fairly literal,” says novelist Alexander Chee, a professor of English and creative writing and former chair of its advisory board. “It’s an attempt to create a space and an organization that makes connections possible.”
For decades, students have studied creative writing, attended readings, and participated in literary clubs. What the College lacked, several faculty and alums say, was a permanent place where writers could regularly interact.
It’s an attempt to create a space and an organization that makes connections possible.”
—Alexander Chee
“There are writers everywhere on campus, but we didn’t have a dedicated space to meet,” says novelist Peter Orner, an English and creative writing professor and a founding faculty member of the Bridge. “That’s a big deal in terms of visibility.”
Now, students can attend lunches, workshops, readings, mixers, and talks with novelists, poets, editors, and translators from the College and beyond.
Chee remembers the moment he knew the initiative would be a success. He arrived late to a talk he had organized with author and editor Adam Dalva. “I was very worried about it because it was the first one,” says Chee. “Then I arrived to see a table full of people all listening to Adam very intently. I was like, ‘I can leave and it still works.’ ”
Dalva even began giving individual critiques to students in attendance. “A student had just finished a manuscript and was trying to get it published,” says Faith Guttman ’27, who works at the Bridge with poet and program manager Laura Jean Gilloux, Adv’17. “Adam was giving her live feedback. It was amazing.”
For Gilloux, the moment everything clicked was when House of Sand and Fog author Andre Dubus III visited the Bridge shortly after its launch. “I remember him sitting at the head of the table facilitating this conversation about ‘Why are we writers? Why do we love to write?’ and answering whatever questions students had.”
Poet, author, and prof Matthew Olzmann, current chair of the advisory board, points to the Bridge’s modest size as an advantage for students. “They’re able to have casual conversations over lunch and get to know the authors and interact with them in a more personal manner than raising their hand in a giant audience during a post-reading Q&A.”
This spring—at an alumni publishing panel that featured Susan Barba ’97, Samantha Schnee ’92, and Christie Henry ’91—it wasn’t just creative writing students asking questions. Barba, an author and senior editor at New York Review Books, recalls telling a prelaw student that he could work in contracts or foreign rights and still remain in publishing. “When I said that, he gave a fist pump and was like, ‘Yes, okay, I can make my parents happy but still be in the world of books,’ ” she says.
Schnee, founding editor of Words Without Borders, says it would have been a “huge help” if the Bridge had existed when she was a student. Many alums such as Schnee had to discover hard truths about a writer’s life after they graduated. “Half of being a writer is doing the writing. The other half is the part no one talks about, which is sending your work out and getting rejected,” she says, quoting her former creative writing professor Cleopatra Mathis.
Orner says that a January talk with Pulitzer Prize nominee Andrew Leland created a moment of connection that might not have happened without the Bridge. Leland, whose memoir The Country of the Blind confronts his slow descent into blindness, met with 15 students to discuss his condition, retinitis pigmentosa. “Students were asking, ‘Literally, what do you see?’ and ‘How do you translate that onto the page?’ ” says Orner. “That was probably the most moving moment of this year that I’ve had.”
The Bridge has also linked Dartmouth with the Upper Valley literary community, hosting public events such as the “Writers Salon” series at the Top of the Hop. Novelist and poet Victoria Redel ’80, who participated in the series in May, says she connected with both students and community members after the event.
Looking ahead, Chee still sees students as the main focus of the Bridge. “I would love to see a panel of our student employees who graduated this year coming back to talk to us about what they’ve done,” he says.
Henry, director of Princeton University Press, says she wants to collaborate with the Bridge to create a publishing network that connects students with alumni in the industry. Meanwhile, other alums are undoubtedly racked with jealousy that they did not have the opportunity to experience the Bridge back when they were in college.
“This is something that was inevitable,” says Shah. “The Bridge feels like that manifestation of what should exist, and now it does.”
Evan E. Lambert is an essayist, journalist, and short fiction author who has written for People and BuzzFeed. He lives in Lima, Peru, and writes short stories for his Substack, Story a Day Anyway.
