Last week, the 2026 Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) Conference & Bookfair in Baltimore welcomed 10,500 attendees. As one of those attendees, I did my due diligence as a visitor to Charm City by googling “Literary Landmarks Baltimore” and “Best places to eat Baltimore” while waiting in the registration line on day one. As one does.
As I scooted along in line, trying to stay warm, I learned that Edgar Allan Poe died in Baltimore, mysteriously, at the age of 40. In the early morning hours of October 7, 1849, Poe was found delirious in the street, wearing someone else’s clothing, utterly disheveled, near what is now called the “Horse You Came In On Saloon” in Fells Point. Four days he remained in the hospital, supposedly shouting for someone named “Reynolds” and repeating, “Lord, help my poor soul.” Although this “Reynolds” was never identified, nor was the owner of the mystery clothing, Poe was quietly buried right there in Baltimore, with only a handful of people attending.
Now, however, Poe has a monument in town, his home on Amity St. is a historical landmark, and his grave is marked and festooned with gifts and offerings. You need reservations in advance to get in. There are bus tours, catacomb tours, and guided tours. You name it. I bought a ticket for the one day I had free to play tourist. Just me, no bus. Catacombs? No thanks.
Poe might have written, “And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—,” but the other 10,499 attendees of AWP and I seemingly loved the same thing: Writing.
One of my favorite panels at AWP was titled “Democratizing Writing: First Gen Perspectives on Class, Access, and Academia.” In it, we discussed access and class-based barriers in academia, the often unspoken rules that first-generation students must decipher, and we also shared tools, strategies, and resources to support first-generation students across academic institutions.
We discussed questions like: What does it mean to be ‘first’ in creative writing spaces? What are the unspoken rules of academia that first-gen writers are expected to just know? What does a truly access-centered classroom or mentorship model look like? What practical tools and collective models support first-gen writing students? Unlike Poe’s attire just before his death, or the identity of “Reynolds,” these questions need not remain mysterious. The answers are already unfurling before us.
One panelist, Allison Pitnii Davis, author of the poetry collection Line Study of a Motel Clerk and the novella Business, and a 2025 NEA recipient who works as a visiting assistant Profesor of Poetry at Ohio State, shared how she learned how to be a “good professor” by working as a clerk at her family’s “Trucker Motel” business. She shared stories of learning early on how to make every guest feel comfortable upon arrival. How to make sure they felt safe in her care at the motel; how to answer every question regardless of how many times she had answered that question before. She learned tips and tricks to ensure proper enunciation of names because names are important enough to get right every time. Another panelist, Joy Priest, the author of Horsepower and winner of the Donald Hall Prize for Poetry, shared about working graveyard shifts as a janitor and overcoming active addiction while getting her MFA on a full scholarship. She is currently on the faculty of the University of Pittsburgh’s MFA program and the Center for African American Poetry & Poetics. Her second collection of poems is forthcoming from Duke University Press in 2027. We need those poems just as much as we need Poe’s.
On my pre-reserved day to visit Poe’s home and monument, I put my borrowed coat back on, got in an Uber, and made my way to someone else’s home. Poe’s home was unremarkable. It is sturdy, brick-built, and compact. With one small desk and one small bed, it seemed Poe was quite studious. My impression was that Poe – like the rest of us – was called to do what he felt was important, and so he just got down to it.
I thought of our HSI designation. Of the funds lovingly donated for our Headwinds scholars, of the quiet and steady work of Dr. Jesse Miranda and the Center for Hispanic Leadership. Today, we get to make our students feel seen, safe, and heard. We get to say their names correctly and hold the door open for them so we can answer every question, every time, and then we get to hold that door open for the next student, too.
The next morning, as I headed back to the convention center for a whole day of learning how to “Rehumanize the Writing Classroom” in the time of A.I, when I found myself a little bit turned around, outside in the cold, in a city away from home, wearing a coat I borrowed from a friend so I could be warm enough in the weather, I took a cue from our old friend Poe, whispering “Lord, help my poor soul” all along the way, snaking into a building full of others with the same desire. Then we just got right down to it.
