Call for Papers

A Café in Space: The Anaïs Nin Literary Journal is seeking contributions for its 2017 issue.

Articles (both academic and non-academic) on Nin, Henry Miller, Lawrence Durrell, or anyone within Nin’s literary circle, are welcome. We also accept photo essays, poetry, short fiction, travelogues and book or event reviews.

Articles are generally around 2,500 words, but we are extremely flexible, depending on the theme.

All styles (Chicago, MLA, etc.) are welcome and will be modified to our house style.

Poetry and short fiction do not have to necessarily be about Nin per se, but should have a certain quality that evokes her spirit.

We do accept short erotica, but we ask that the style be somewhat in line with Nin’s.

You can contact us a with proposals or queries.CafeVol13-CoverLarge-1

A Café in Space: The Anaïs Nin Literary Journal, Vol. 13

As editor of this journal for the past 13 years, I can personally say that this is one of the most satisfying issues we’ve ever produced, with an excerpt from the forthcoming diary Trapeze, a memoir from one of Anaïs Nin’s lovers, powerful testimonies from women writers affected by Nin’s life and work, critical articles about Nin and those who affected her own work by talented scholars, an introduction to Trapeze by Benjamin Franklin V, poetry, short fiction, photographs and visual art.

CafeVol13-CoverLarge-1Anaïs Nin recounts her first weeks with Rupert Pole in 1947, Lanny Baldwin counters Nin’s account of her relationship with him in the only known memoir by one of the characters in her diary, Barbara Kraft offers an excerpt from her new memoir Henry Miller: The Last DaysJessica Gilbey explores the little-known relationship between Nin and her mother while Jean Owen tackles the father-daughter entanglement, Erin Dunbar discusses the affect Djuna Barnes had on her work, and Lana Fox delivers a moving account of how Nin came along at the right time as Lana was transitioning from a tragic beginning to a triumphant present.

Other contributors include Diana Raab, Marina Ferrer, Ellie Kissel, Chrissi Sepe, Danica Davidson, Colette Standish, David Wilde, Marc Widershien and Kennedy Gammage.

You can order A Café in Space, Vol. 13 in both print and digital issues by clicking here.

And stay tuned for the next Anaïs Nin Podcast, which will be dropped Feb. 21, 2016.

Anaïs Nin Podcast 10: Journaling as Healing with Diana Raab

Popular writer, poet and blogger Diana Raab discusses how Anaïs Nin and she have lived parallel lives, both beginning diaries at age ten after losing a loved one (Nin’s father abandoned the family for a young woman, Raab lost her grandmother to suicide). Both women kept diaries their entire lives, and both found them key tools for the creation of a world in which they could not only survive, but thrive.

Diana Raab

Diana Raab

Raab discovered Nin in her early teens, and then re-discovered her on a much deeper level some 25 years later around the time she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Raab was inspired to win an MFA and to turn her writing into art, resulting in a memoir (Regina’s Closet: Finding My Grandmother’s Secret Journal, 2007), two poetry collections (Dear Anaïs: My Life in Poems for You, 2008 and Lust, 2014) and several books on how writing can heal.

A strong advocate of journaling, Raab candidly discusses Nin’s influence on her work and art, and she reveals an upcoming event (January 29, 2016 at Antioch University in Santa Barbara) called “The Allure of Anaïs Nin,” featuring five speakers, three of whom knew Nin personally.

Run time: 14 minutes

To listen to the podcast on iTunes, click here.

To listen to the podcast without iTunes, click here.

Diana Raab can be found at

This podcast is sponsored by Sky Blue Press, publisher of a new print edition of The Quotable Anaïs Nin. QuotableANsmall



Call For Papers: A Cafe in Space, Volume 13

A Café in Space: The Anais Nin Literary Journal seeks contributions for its next issue, which debuts Feb. 21, 2016. See guidelines below:

Cafe121. Content must at least peripherally involve Anais Nin, Henry Miller, Lawrence Durrell, or members of their outer circle, including those who influenced their writing. Articles can be academic in nature, or more general, depending on topic.

2. Essays should be in the realm of 2,000-6,000 words, but we’re flexible depending upon topic.

3. We accept poetry as long as there is a correlation, at least in spirit, to Anais Nin.

4. We accept short erotic fiction if it is in the spirit of or inspired by Anais Nin.

5. We accept visual art, including photographs as long as it relates to Anais Nin et al.

6. Deadline for proposals is the end of August 2015. Deadline for final drafts is December 1, 2015.

Submissions, inquiries and proposals can be sent to skybluepress @ skybluepress . com

We will consider submissions for future issues of A Café in Space based on room, theme, or other factors.

To better understand A Café in Space, we recommend purchasing a recent issue on Amazon or any other electronic vendor before submitting. Print copies can be ordered from

–Paul Herron, Editor, Sky Blue Press

Anaïs Nin’s Childhood Writings: The Storm

During a rainy period in June of 1916, Anaïs Nin, then 13 years of age, recorded the following in her diary (translated from the French in Linotte):

Thursday, June 8, 1916

It has rained without stopping all day today. Since I couldn’t go for a walk, I studied all my lessons, and then I began to look out the window. The rain kept falling and the drops fell ceaselessly with little “floc floc” sounds. Floc! Floc! the rain continued and this time I looked at the sky. The sky was full of clouds and that made me feel a little sad because it seemed to me those clouds were made expressly for me, as if to announce the clouds in my future life. Then I put those thoughts aside and left the window.

Sunday, June 11, 1916

Yesterday and today it has rained all day and we didn’t go to Riverside as we usually do. Saturday I spent the day sewing, reading, writing and thinking…

After Mass [this morning], I came home to breakfast and I spent the morning helping Maman. Then we had lunch and Maman took us to the cinema. After seeing 3 very nice films, we came home; it was 6. We had a little cold supper of sandwiches, cake and milk. That is how we spent Sunday.

Now I am thinking of tomorrow, Monday, and with sadness I see the school doors opening just enough to let us in, then closing on our dear freedom. Next come serious lessons, punishments, long stern faces, and above all the big blackboard with little chalk marks that dance before my eyes like little demons that are there just to torture the brain and tire the eyes. Then all that disappears and I sit here sadly, looking at the clock. 10 ½ hours separate me from the studies that I like but fear because of the teachers who scold and are so hard to please.  (Linotte, pp. 129, 130-131)

Cover of Compagnon de L'oublie June 1916

Cover of Le Compagnon de L'oublie June 1916

To help her escape from the mundane and sometimes menacing daily life, young Anaïs absorbed herself in a monthly “magazine” entitled Le Compagnon de L’oublie. In her June 1916 “issue,” one of her works was a poem entitled “La Tempête” (“The Storm”), perhaps inspired by the long melancholy period of rain she wrote about in her diary. A translation appears below:


The Storm

In the country, the trees bend

Under the weight of the rain

That is falling in huge drops, under the name cheater,

For it brings a second night.

The sky clears, illuminating the earth for a second,

And then frightens the sleeping birds

With a great clap of thunder, and like bitter tears

The drops of rain become noisily mixed with those already fallen.

Nature, frightened, hides under the rustling leaves,

The flowers close under this brutal dew

And the soaked earth boasts of bearing this squall alone.

The birds, flapping their wings, lift themselves up

And murmur softly, “The Storm.”


On the sea, the holy anger becomes rage,

The waves beat furiously,

Sharing the sky’s fury.

The gloomy wind blows and beats the sails with a clamor,

While the ocean, in a supreme effort,

Hesitating and becoming one great wave,

A new voice conjuring,

In its sad and plaintive timbre,

A new force among the other cries,

And while the terrified seabirds seek a hiding place

In the depths of the few rocks along the coast,

The seamen in their crumbling boats

Shake their heads, saying, “Here is The Storm.”


And God contemplates His work,

A smile appearing in his white beard,

Seeing the fear,

In his black columns, becoming white,

And while the weather continues shuddering,

God says to Himself softly,

“Poor Man! He cannot see

Anything in my greatness.

Blind, undisciplined! Poor Man!

It’s a storm!”

Copyright The Anais Nin Trust; translation copyright Sky Blue Press. All rights reserved.


Daisy Aldan’s poem for Anaïs Nin

Daisy Aldan, longtime friend and collaborator with Anaïs Nin, wrote this moving poem in Anaïs’s memory after she’d succumbed to a long battle with cancer in 1977. This poem is taken from Aldan’s volume Collected Poems of Daisy Aldan. The poem, read by Aldan at a memorial for Nin in 1977, was also included in ANAIS: An International Journal, Vol. 10, edited by Gunther Stuhlmann, and in Anaïs Nin: A Book of Mirrors, edited by Paul Herron. Aldan remarked, “I was with her a few days before she died, and for this I am grateful. Although in great pain, although she knew she was dying, she was noble, with thoughts of others—of helping particular young writer friends. The dignity and beauty emanating from her startled me, and I experienced a kind of illumination around her as she lay in bed. Among her last words to me were that she was trying to establish a ‘a circle of good’ in the midst of much ugliness in the life of our time. She was a remarkable human beingANAIS: An International Journal, Vol. 10, 77.

For Anaïs
d. January 14, 1977 at

in the obscurity of the room
illumination: you and phosphorescent death

your voice
usurped by the wizard

our hands meeting
eloquent final

your embrace took me with you
a moment into the source of dream
where you were returning

phosphor / ash to gold
raying upward
from the Sea

wound-up bone
prepares to explode

a coiled-in moment
prepares for sunburst

a fluttering
you awake into radiance

You die
but you advance
as wings of light
move in the expanse
of sky

Unique as compassion.
in the air we breathe
we meet the light
you begin to shed
toward us

We had not dreamed that gone
you would be accessible
in the place
of intangible light
as new dimension

For crossing
you had to become bone/
cross: And that flame bore you beyond
the gravity of ground: joined
you to the light.

Daisy Aldan, all rights reserved