The Landline is a monthly digital publication delivered weekly that honors our storytelling lineage.

Here we tell stories that are informed by our past, firmly planted in the now, and guided by our imagination of the future. This is a space for truth-tellers, curious wanderers, wounded optimists, wild creatives, and anyone who feels perpetually in transition.

Each week, we’ll bring you features, interviews, audio conversations, and profiles that examine the world around us from a multi-generational lens

The author and all-around storyteller recently settled in Austin (after jaunts in New York and California and a childhood spent in the South), and currently splits her days between consulting, volunteering at her kids’ school, putting the finishing touches on her first poetry collection, preparing to launch a new venture, and watching the latest cult documentary (or Living Single reruns…

“Tiffany's literary work is a raw and authentic exploration of heavy topics that are masterfully unpacked, allowing us, the readers, to find ourselves in a lighter place. Her book, inspired by song lyrics and packed with poems, prose, and untold stories, is a testament to her strength, character and the invaluable role her mother and grandmother played in shaping her identity. Tiffany Rose's motivation and courage to share her abuse experience through her writing is bold and inspiring.” —Roberto Gérman, Host of Our Classroom Podcast

feature: 'Pack Light' Examines Justice, Virginity and the Sexual Abuse No One Talks About

interview (audio): Talk About the Muck But Make It Poetry

guest writer: 7 Quick and Dirty Tips for Cringe-Free Self-Publishing

—WYHST (now The Landline)

“From Brooklyn to Boston, Atlanta to California, this group of mothers sounded off in a variety of inspiring ways. While their answers are expectedly diverse, we think most can agree with Austin-based writer, poet, and mother Tiffany Rose Smith’s summation: “Black motherhood has always been and continues to be a beautifully divine, liberating, and revolutionary act.”

“…and we’d stay in our bodies. we’d search for the warmth and go there. we’d trust it. and from the safety and solidarity in the warm space, we’d tell the truth about the ways we feel, the things we cannot live with. and that truth would become farewells to the pieces and parts we need to cast out to sea or set fire to. we’d watch them fade away and walk hand and hand through as many necessary deaths to get us closer to the life we love. the life we want to stay here for, together.”