radiant fracture

Posted by Athena Scalzi

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2026/09/10/the-big-idea-cristin-okeefe-aptowicz/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=62404

Some people climb the ladder to success, leaving others behind as they ascend the rungs alone, while others focus of strengthening the foundational base. And when they do move up, they turn back around and extend a hand to others, lifting everyone with them. This literary loyalty to peers is essential, and something author Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz feels strongly about. Read on to see how this kind of support led to the creation of her newest nonfiction novel, The Ballad of the Fugitive William Parker.

CRISTIN O’KEEFE APTOWICZ:

When people hear my husband and I are both writers, they often ask what we write. My stock answer: “He’s a science fiction writer and I’m a historical non-fiction writer. We’re a mixed marriage, but we make it work.” 

My husband and I met in the late 1990s. He, the slam champ from Austin and me, the slam champ from New York City. We used to tell people we met at a poetry slam, but it was far geekier than that. We met at a screening of a documentary about the poetry slam being shown at a National Poetry Slam at which we were both competitors—a true turducken of literary nerdiness. 

Yet I can truly point to that one 1998 National Poetry Slam event in Austin, TX, as a crossroads moment in my life—and not just because of our future marriage! It is due to an idea I later learned was called “Horizontal Loyalty.” 

I grew up in working class Philadelphia, in a neighborhood that was filled with second generation cops, third generation firefighters, and newly minted water department employees, like my dad. My desire to be a writer came early, but to tell these adults about my career aspirations was like telling them I wanted to be the Tooth Fairy: “A writer? Alright, kiddo! Good luck with that!” My family had no map for where I wanted to go, and no one in this neighborhood had one to hand over either.

When I made it into a collegiate writing program, I was dispirited to learn my teachers had impossible career origin stories. Inevitably, a family friend happened to be connected to the industry and a manuscript was placed in the right hands at the right time. From an outsider, it felt impossible to replicate: to whomth at my father’s wastewater treatment plant should I pass this historical nonfiction screenplay about a 19th century collector of medical oddities? My career felt ever further away.

But then I came across an alternate path to success that proved to be both comforting and extremely true: Horizontal Loyalty. 

Horizontal Loyalty doesn’t rely on someone higher up on the ladder of success to pull you up. Instead, it sees your success as being tied to connecting with peers doing similar work, and everyone rising together. And that’s how that 1998 National Poetry Slam became an incredible crossroads for my life.

That same National Poetry Slam, I met Derrick C. Brown, a poet and rock-and-roll singer from California, who would crash on my NYU dorm room floor while touring with his band (the fantastically named John Wilkes Kissing Booth). Derrick would go on to publish all eight of my poetry collections via the publishing company he founded (Write Bloody Publishing) and we’d embark on a dozen cross-country tours together. 

I also connected with Taylor Mali, a fellow NYC slam poet, with whom I’d go on to run a popular poetry slam series, NYC-Urbana, for the better part of a decade—delighting audiences at places like CBGBs and the Bowery Poetry Club, as we switched venues to keep up our growing crowds.

And yes, it was where I met my future husband, Ernie, who years after that first meeting offered to introduce me to his literary agent shortly after he sold his debut novel. I waved him off, saying, “But your book is fun science fiction, and mine is creepy historical nonfiction. I just don’t think she’d be interested…” Ernie placed his hands on my shoulders and said, “Cristin, if your friend who just sold their book to a major publishing house says they’d like to introduce you to their literary agent, you just say, ‘Thanks.’” 

I just said, “Thanks.” Cut to four years later, and the books our (now shared) agent helped sell—Ernie’s Ready Player One and my Dr Mütter’s Marvels—both landed on the New York Times best seller list at the same time. Such an unlikely journey for two slam poets who first shook hands at an Alamo Drafthouse over a decade and a half earlier, National Poetry Slam lanyards dangling from our necks. 

Horizontal Loyalty is not limited to writing—or even to the arts. It was a concept I saw in action again and again while researching my forthcoming historical nonfiction book, The Ballad of the Fugitive William Parker: A True Tale of Love, Murder, Treason, and Ordinary Folks Who Saved America. The book centers three groups of radical abolitionists—the wealthy free Black elite of Philadelphia, rural Quaker farmers, and fugitives from slavery who lived and worked in both areas—as they worked together to fight injustice. Those groups all had very different ideas how these goals could be achieved. For instance, a steadfast commitment to nonviolence was likely easier to maintain by a boycotting Quaker than a terrified fugitive witnessing a slave-catcher lurch for her infant daughter. Yet, they always had each other’s back. Every win collectively celebrated, and every loss weathered together. At a time when the current world feels fragmented and polarized, reading the stories of these different groups working together—messily, devotedly—gave me hope: Horizontal Loyalty at its finest. 

After we married, Ernie suggested I retire using the phrase “Horizontal Loyalty,” on the grounds people might read it differently these days. Which—fair. 

But I’ve stuck with it anyway, because when I get asked if I have any tips for writers just starting out, my answer always remains: “Horizontal Loyalty.” That idea that the path of your own success isn’t tied to some tastemaker in an ivory tower. It can be found with fellow writers in the thick of it alongside you. Folks whose work and attitude you respect: kind, generous writers, who see the best in situations. With them, every career joy doubles, and every career heartbreak halves. 

So, the next time you are doing something in your field that is as nerdy as a poetry slam documentary screening, look around. The keys to your future success might be sitting in the room with you, geeking out as hard as you are.

The Ballad of the Fugitive William Parker: Amazon|Barnes&Noble|Bookshop|Pocket Books

Author socials: Website|Instagram

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2026/09/10/the-big-idea-cristin-okeefe-aptowicz/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=62404