If you're in or near Bloomington, Indiana (and I don't think many, if any, of you are...) then come to one or more of these readings! I'll be there. :) Hey Jenni, Ishle's reading is the week you are here -- if you're not booked for that Monday night, wanna come?
1. On March 25th at 7pm, the Runcible Spoon Poetry Series will present "CELEBRATING WOMEN'S WORDS", CELEBRATING THE 25TH ANNIVERSARY OF WOMEN'S HISTORY MONTH With Alyce Miller, Jen Derosa, Chi Sherman, Jacqueline Jones LaMon & Sara Jane Stoner. The Runcible Spoon is at 412 East 6th Street, Bloomington, IN, (812) 334-3997. Come share your favorite women poets in the open-mic. Send questions to poetry@hartrock.net. This event is free and open to the public. The Runcible Spoon Poetry Series Calendar is at http://www.hartrock.net/spoonpoetry.net. In April, National Poetry Month, the Runcible Spoon Poetry series will host "Poetry Month Word Jam".Patricia Carolyn Coleman of Hart Rock, a member of the Indiana Holistic Health Network, hosts and produces this program with support from the Runcible Spoon.
2. Saturday, March 26
Poetry Reading
Barbara Hamby and David Kirby
Sponsored by the Creative Writing Program and the Department of English
University Club, Indiana Memorial Union
4:00 p.m.
3. Monday, April 4
Student Union Board Reading Series
Poetry Reading/Spoken Word Performance
Ishle Yi Park
Sponsored by Student Union Board,the Creative Writing Program,and the Asian Culture Center
Whittenberger Auditorium, Indiana Memorial Union
8:00 p.m.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Monday, March 21, 2005
Longevity
"Live a good, clean life and, every day, eat two vegetables that grow above the ground and one that grows underground." --Mina Faye Hiday, 107, on how to live a long life. (From today's Bloomington Herald-Times.)
**********
One thing I've discovered about myself is that often I like to write towards something. Either I'll have a last line or an image that I want to work towards, or I'll know about how long I think the poem wants to be, or (occasionally) I'll work in a traditional form, like a sonnet or a sestina. Okay, I only committed a sestina once. As well, sometimes I'll set intermediate goals -- knowing I want five-line stanzas gives me a set of turning points to work towards, or even just having a phrase or image in mind that I want to use somewhere in the poem.
So when I get stuck while first-drafting, sometimes it helps to just give myself a word -- any word, as long as it's reasonably specific and reasonably evocative -- and write towards that word. I keep a text file on my laptop called "Words to Use in Poems," and when I'm feeling stalled but don't want to put the poem away just yet, I'll open up that file and pick a word, any word, and start writing towards it. It sounds weird, but something about the combination of looking at a list of words chosen for their specificity and resonance & having that small goal to work towards very often "un-sticks" me. Maybe once you push yourself to see past the stuck place, you can work through it.
This is similar to an exercise I did in Maura Stanton's class as an undergrad (one that I know a lot of teachers use), in which she handed out a list of a couple dozen or so words and told us to write a poem incorporating at least x number of them (maybe it was ten?). The poem I wrote from that exercise is one I still kind of like, even though it's -- oh help -- twenty-three years old now. (Note to self: Never do the math. It's too depressing.)
Here's my current "Words to Use in Poems" list. Feel free to swipe some of them. I've already used a few.
Monochrome
The past has a smell
of musty gray basements,
stained linoleum
in windowless kitchens.
I told you once
memory meant nothing to me.
Now I'm not so sure.
I walked with you once in fog,
the air between us visible,
the distant coastline of your face
made faint by moving mist.
With each breath I faded
wanting to cloak myself in night,
invisible, three feet from you.
There was a time alone in snow,
the trees barbed-wire on linen,
I stood beneath your window
looking for dim light
listening for music.
Anything I might have heard
was obscured by falling whiteness,
white, and the damp smell of fog moving in.
I want to hold you like a photograph,
but you are speeding down a narrow tunnel
away from me, receding
faster than light, till only your outline
is visible, a silhouette on paper.
Memory curls in my mind
like black-and-white scraps,
their edges blurred, the smell of basements
and old kitchens, fog coming in,
seeping through barbed-wire,
too quick to be frozen
by shutter or light.
-A.H. 1982
published in Calapooya Collage, 1988
**********
One thing I've discovered about myself is that often I like to write towards something. Either I'll have a last line or an image that I want to work towards, or I'll know about how long I think the poem wants to be, or (occasionally) I'll work in a traditional form, like a sonnet or a sestina. Okay, I only committed a sestina once. As well, sometimes I'll set intermediate goals -- knowing I want five-line stanzas gives me a set of turning points to work towards, or even just having a phrase or image in mind that I want to use somewhere in the poem.
So when I get stuck while first-drafting, sometimes it helps to just give myself a word -- any word, as long as it's reasonably specific and reasonably evocative -- and write towards that word. I keep a text file on my laptop called "Words to Use in Poems," and when I'm feeling stalled but don't want to put the poem away just yet, I'll open up that file and pick a word, any word, and start writing towards it. It sounds weird, but something about the combination of looking at a list of words chosen for their specificity and resonance & having that small goal to work towards very often "un-sticks" me. Maybe once you push yourself to see past the stuck place, you can work through it.
This is similar to an exercise I did in Maura Stanton's class as an undergrad (one that I know a lot of teachers use), in which she handed out a list of a couple dozen or so words and told us to write a poem incorporating at least x number of them (maybe it was ten?). The poem I wrote from that exercise is one I still kind of like, even though it's -- oh help -- twenty-three years old now. (Note to self: Never do the math. It's too depressing.)
Here's my current "Words to Use in Poems" list. Feel free to swipe some of them. I've already used a few.
kindnessAnd oh, what the hell, here's the poem I wrote in Maura's class. Please bear in mind that I was what, twenty-one years old at the time. (The poem is older now than I was when I wrote it! Wow.) So be nice. :)
emulsion
crash
fragments
tether
luminiferous
marriage
glyph
spontaneous
miner
excavate
mural
unfasten
gratify
substrate
recuse
locomotive
headway
inhabit
ornery
Monochrome
The past has a smell
of musty gray basements,
stained linoleum
in windowless kitchens.
I told you once
memory meant nothing to me.
Now I'm not so sure.
I walked with you once in fog,
the air between us visible,
the distant coastline of your face
made faint by moving mist.
With each breath I faded
wanting to cloak myself in night,
invisible, three feet from you.
There was a time alone in snow,
the trees barbed-wire on linen,
I stood beneath your window
looking for dim light
listening for music.
Anything I might have heard
was obscured by falling whiteness,
white, and the damp smell of fog moving in.
I want to hold you like a photograph,
but you are speeding down a narrow tunnel
away from me, receding
faster than light, till only your outline
is visible, a silhouette on paper.
Memory curls in my mind
like black-and-white scraps,
their edges blurred, the smell of basements
and old kitchens, fog coming in,
seeping through barbed-wire,
too quick to be frozen
by shutter or light.
-A.H. 1982
published in Calapooya Collage, 1988
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Ashbery interview
I meant to post this link yesterday, but I frogot. NPR had a nice conversation with John Ashbery on Weekend Edition yesterday morning. You can listen to it here.
My poetry group is meeting this afternoon -- first time we have tried a Sunday afternoon; normally we meet on weekday evenings, but people's schedules are insane this month. I think Sunday afternoon is a nice time to meet, although I guess I have mixed feelings because Sunday afternoons are usually fairly productive writing times for me. It's always nice to get an opportunity to spend time with actual human beings on the weekend, though -- I don't always.
I still want to blog about writing groups in general. Having started one, which stayed active for about 15 years (!), and having joined another shortly after the 25th anniversary of its founding, I have a lot of thoughts about what works & doesn't work, and how to keep a group relatively sane. (In fact Source, the group I founded, once led a two-day workshop on "how to start and nourish a women's writers' group," sponsored by the Kentucky Foundation for Women. I wonder if the group that arose from that workshop is still meeting.) But ... later for that post, as I want to get a bit of reading and maybe a little writing done before I head out for my meeting.
P.S. Welcome to the Equinox! Hooray for Spring!
My poetry group is meeting this afternoon -- first time we have tried a Sunday afternoon; normally we meet on weekday evenings, but people's schedules are insane this month. I think Sunday afternoon is a nice time to meet, although I guess I have mixed feelings because Sunday afternoons are usually fairly productive writing times for me. It's always nice to get an opportunity to spend time with actual human beings on the weekend, though -- I don't always.
I still want to blog about writing groups in general. Having started one, which stayed active for about 15 years (!), and having joined another shortly after the 25th anniversary of its founding, I have a lot of thoughts about what works & doesn't work, and how to keep a group relatively sane. (In fact Source, the group I founded, once led a two-day workshop on "how to start and nourish a women's writers' group," sponsored by the Kentucky Foundation for Women. I wonder if the group that arose from that workshop is still meeting.) But ... later for that post, as I want to get a bit of reading and maybe a little writing done before I head out for my meeting.
P.S. Welcome to the Equinox! Hooray for Spring!
Saturday, March 19, 2005
National Book Critics Circle
Adrienne Rich has won the NBCC award for poetry for The School Among the Ruins. Hooray! Marilynne Robinson won for fiction. And no, Bob Dylan did not win for biography/autobiography. Here's a story from CNN.com -- rather inexplicably found in the "Showbiz" section -- poetry is showbiz now? Cool! I guess because CNN doesn't have a Books section, unlike the Boston Globe.
I would have also been happy to see D.A. Powell win for poetry, but I'm delighted that Rich got it, though I haven't read her newest book yet. Her work has meant so very much to me over the years.
I would have also been happy to see D.A. Powell win for poetry, but I'm delighted that Rich got it, though I haven't read her newest book yet. Her work has meant so very much to me over the years.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Walk softly and carry a big meme, or, Tales of a broken boomerang
Emily passed me the damn stick. And just when I was getting ready to forgive her for having the same first name as my evil ex. Hehehe.
Okay, here goes:
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Some piece of crap by Ann Coulter, because if I'm gonna burn I may as well deserve it.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
True Confessions time here: Harriet (Mo's ex) from Alison Bechdel's brilliant comic strip Dykes to Watch Out For made me quite tingly for a while.
And I suppose Bruce Springsteen is pretty fictional in a way.
The last book you bought is:
Name All the Animals by Alison Smith
The last book you read:
The Actual Moon, The Actual Stars by Chris Forhan
What are you currently reading?
Voluntary Servitude by Mark Wunderlich
Long Life by Mary Oliver
Poets Teaching Poets: Self and the World ed. by Gregory Orr and Ellen Bryant Voigt
The Joy Harjo-edited issue of Ploughshares
Hawaii by James Michener
and too damn many blogs...
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
You've gotta be kidding... I take more than five books for a two hour plane flight!
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
Erin, whose blog I only recently started reading, because I'm curious
Christine, because her poems scare me (in a good way) and because she was the first person who ever commented on this blog
Holly, because she's one of the people I would most like to meet up with to drink drinks and talk poetry (and non-poetry), and in an effort to move this damn stick thing over to livejournal :)
Okay, here goes:
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Some piece of crap by Ann Coulter, because if I'm gonna burn I may as well deserve it.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
True Confessions time here: Harriet (Mo's ex) from Alison Bechdel's brilliant comic strip Dykes to Watch Out For made me quite tingly for a while.
And I suppose Bruce Springsteen is pretty fictional in a way.
The last book you bought is:
Name All the Animals by Alison Smith
The last book you read:
The Actual Moon, The Actual Stars by Chris Forhan
What are you currently reading?
Voluntary Servitude by Mark Wunderlich
Long Life by Mary Oliver
Poets Teaching Poets: Self and the World ed. by Gregory Orr and Ellen Bryant Voigt
The Joy Harjo-edited issue of Ploughshares
Hawaii by James Michener
and too damn many blogs...
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
You've gotta be kidding... I take more than five books for a two hour plane flight!
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
Erin, whose blog I only recently started reading, because I'm curious
Christine, because her poems scare me (in a good way) and because she was the first person who ever commented on this blog
Holly, because she's one of the people I would most like to meet up with to drink drinks and talk poetry (and non-poetry), and in an effort to move this damn stick thing over to livejournal :)
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Provincetown plans
Well, I guess I've just irrevocably committed myself to D.A. Powell's workshop in Provincetown this summer -- just made housing reservations and scorched my credit card with the P-town standard 50% deposit. Ouch! The place I'll be staying is more expensive than I'd hoped to find, but I have a little mini-suite with a kitchenette, table, loveseat, etc. as well as wifi and A/C (I admit that I am a wuss about humid heat and despite the lovely sea breezes, there are days in P-town when A/C is awfully welcome). Admiral's Landing is nice enough to give a 10% discount to FAWC students, and it is less than a block from FAWC. (Big yellow house -- I'm pretty sure I remember seeing it and thinking it looked nice.)
The workshop is in the afternoons; I wish it were in the morning, even though I'm not a morning person, because afternoon is better for being a beach-bum or going out whale watching -- especially since I'm out of shape enough that hoofing it from that side of town to Herring Cove is a bit more than I want to do, so I rely on the shuttle bus -- which means that if I go in the morning, I have to be vigilant to make sure I get back in time for class. That's OK though. I'll still make it out to the beach a few times, I'm certain -- plus I'll have most of the day on Sunday before the workshop begins.
Why, yes, I plan things months and months in advance and have been accused of overplanning and obsessing over details. I don't care. It's part of what I love about vacations -- the planning and preparation and daydreaming about how wonderful it's all going to be. And despite the fact that I really have no business spending this much money, I think my little suite will be a sweet (hehe, sorry) place to spend the week. And with a kitchenette, I can buy pasta and sandwich fixings and stuff like that, and not go out for dinner every night -- that will save some money. Although it is REQUIRED that I go to the Lobster Pot at least once. God, their clam chowder is orgasmic. Also I have to go to Cafe Heaven once for brunch, for sure.
The workshop is "Vision and Revision" which sounds like what my writing needs. And here's my little studio, the Starboard.
Oh god, how I love Provincetown. I know that the economy has not been kind to it, and gentrification has made it all but impossible for anyone who isn't rich to even think about moving there. But as soon as I get off the ferry and all the couples of assorted genders holding hands, and the drag queens on rollerblades, and the middle-aged hetero couples from some square state with their eyes wide wondering what they've gone and gotten themselves into this time, and the artists and the writers and the few remaining descendants of the Portuguese fishing families who settled the town, and the Dolphin Fleet whale-watch boats docked at Macmillan Wharf, and dogs running along Town Beach and kites flying and rainbow crap everywhere you look ... I feel like I've come home.
In June of '01 when I went for a week (thanks to a generous financial gift from my mom when I finished my MLS), I remember walking home (er, back to my B&B, that is) from Chaser's late one night, where I'd heard terrific music & poetry by Doria Roberts, Alix Olsen and Pamela Means, and the streets were dark and quiet and a young guy in his early twenties sailed past on his bicycle calling out to everyone and no one, "I love this town!" And that, my friends, is how I feel.
The workshop is in the afternoons; I wish it were in the morning, even though I'm not a morning person, because afternoon is better for being a beach-bum or going out whale watching -- especially since I'm out of shape enough that hoofing it from that side of town to Herring Cove is a bit more than I want to do, so I rely on the shuttle bus -- which means that if I go in the morning, I have to be vigilant to make sure I get back in time for class. That's OK though. I'll still make it out to the beach a few times, I'm certain -- plus I'll have most of the day on Sunday before the workshop begins.
Why, yes, I plan things months and months in advance and have been accused of overplanning and obsessing over details. I don't care. It's part of what I love about vacations -- the planning and preparation and daydreaming about how wonderful it's all going to be. And despite the fact that I really have no business spending this much money, I think my little suite will be a sweet (hehe, sorry) place to spend the week. And with a kitchenette, I can buy pasta and sandwich fixings and stuff like that, and not go out for dinner every night -- that will save some money. Although it is REQUIRED that I go to the Lobster Pot at least once. God, their clam chowder is orgasmic. Also I have to go to Cafe Heaven once for brunch, for sure.
The workshop is "Vision and Revision" which sounds like what my writing needs. And here's my little studio, the Starboard.
Oh god, how I love Provincetown. I know that the economy has not been kind to it, and gentrification has made it all but impossible for anyone who isn't rich to even think about moving there. But as soon as I get off the ferry and all the couples of assorted genders holding hands, and the drag queens on rollerblades, and the middle-aged hetero couples from some square state with their eyes wide wondering what they've gone and gotten themselves into this time, and the artists and the writers and the few remaining descendants of the Portuguese fishing families who settled the town, and the Dolphin Fleet whale-watch boats docked at Macmillan Wharf, and dogs running along Town Beach and kites flying and rainbow crap everywhere you look ... I feel like I've come home.
In June of '01 when I went for a week (thanks to a generous financial gift from my mom when I finished my MLS), I remember walking home (er, back to my B&B, that is) from Chaser's late one night, where I'd heard terrific music & poetry by Doria Roberts, Alix Olsen and Pamela Means, and the streets were dark and quiet and a young guy in his early twenties sailed past on his bicycle calling out to everyone and no one, "I love this town!" And that, my friends, is how I feel.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Radio and journaling
Just had a call from Jenny Kander, who hosts a couple of local poetry radio shows -- sometimes she reads poems on a particular theme or by a particular poet, and sometimes she has local poets come in to read. She has a weekly show on WFIU (our NPR station) and a daily one on WFHB (community radio), as well as sharing revolving-host duties with several other people for a different weekly WFHB show. I've been on all of these shows at least once. Anyway, she's asked me to come in and record one or two shows for WFIU -- I haven't been on that show for a couple of years, so it will be nice to do it again. I don't record till May, and I'm not sure when it will air, but one can listen online, so I'll be sure to post when I have details in case anyone wants to hear my Midwestern twang. Hee.
Jenny's also getting a group together in a couple weeks to spend some time talking about journaling. I'll probably be the only one there who keeps any sort of online journal or blog, so I want to represent that perspective a bit. I'd love to hear some input from fellow bloggers. Do you think of your blog as a journal of sorts? Do you keep a paper (or electronic) journal in addition to your blog? If so, how does the content differ? Do you use your journal, your blog, both, or neither to generate new writing (as in poetry/essays/fiction/whatever)? What made you decide to start blogging, and what have you gained from it? Do you ever feel a sense of discomfort at making parts of your life quite so public? Are there (and I'm assuming this answer will be "yes" for everyone) parts of your life that you choose not to disclose online? How do you decide where to draw that line?
Any input would be warmly welcomed! I'm thinking that the whole concept of keeping a blog or online journal of any kind will be a fairly new one for many in the group, so I'm trying to anticipate some of their questions & concerns -- and I'm interested in these issues myself.
Jenny's also getting a group together in a couple weeks to spend some time talking about journaling. I'll probably be the only one there who keeps any sort of online journal or blog, so I want to represent that perspective a bit. I'd love to hear some input from fellow bloggers. Do you think of your blog as a journal of sorts? Do you keep a paper (or electronic) journal in addition to your blog? If so, how does the content differ? Do you use your journal, your blog, both, or neither to generate new writing (as in poetry/essays/fiction/whatever)? What made you decide to start blogging, and what have you gained from it? Do you ever feel a sense of discomfort at making parts of your life quite so public? Are there (and I'm assuming this answer will be "yes" for everyone) parts of your life that you choose not to disclose online? How do you decide where to draw that line?
Any input would be warmly welcomed! I'm thinking that the whole concept of keeping a blog or online journal of any kind will be a fairly new one for many in the group, so I'm trying to anticipate some of their questions & concerns -- and I'm interested in these issues myself.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Revision's target
Today I went to Target for deodorant and paper towels, and of course left with a cart full of stuff, some of which I actually needed. I splurged on a new pillow, one of those "Memory Foam" ones. This is the super-duper premium comfy-cozy kind; the package says it has "Memory Clusters" in it.
I am highly amused by the idea of sleeping on memory clusters. I wonder whether I'll wake up and suddenly remember the name of that little blonde-haired girl I used to follow around in kindergarten, or the quadratic equation, or the names of all the saints?
**********
Before Target, I went to Panera for a dutch apple/raisin bagel (toasted, with plain cream cheese), too much coffee, and some writing. I often go there to work, and take a book or two, my journal, and some poems to revise. I never know whether I'm going to use the time writing, journaling, reading, revising, or what -- but the time is almost always productive. There must be something in those dutch apple/raisin bagels, or in the view through those particular windows. Anyway, I wrote a page or so in my journal, then pulled out the poems and got to work. I didn't do anything major (no C. Dale Young-style syllabic squishification -- yet!) but I cut out a lot of fat and sharpened a lot of edges. I think overall I worked on ten or twelve poems, a couple of which feel more or less finished now. A good afternoon's work. And good timing, too -- got a batch of poems back rejected this morning, and between those and the newly-revised ones and maybe a few others, maybe I can get two batches shipped back out in the next couple of days.
I love my job, but I love my occasional days off even more.
**********
Poems revised today (some more than others): Wing, Seeing the Crab, Interstellar Static, The Difference, Before the Snow, Blood, Deuce, Sugar Hits the Highway, Sugar Visits the Wine Bar, The Known Dangers, Winter Travel.
**********
I've been debating whether to post unpublished poems in this blog. On my livejournal, I always post them as "locked" posts that only people on my friends list can read. I'm not so concerned about somebody plagiarizing me -- if they want to do that, there's better stuff out there they can steal! -- but more about the ongoing debate as to whether work that's posted publicly on the Web counts as having been published (self-published, obviously, but still). I notice that a number of poet-bloggers do post work-in-progress. I think that I may start posting them but then deleting them after a certain period of time, maybe a week or so. That gives people the chance to read & comment if they are so moved, and then once I decide the poem sucks and is in desperate need of revision, I can take it down and work on it and maybe send it out.
So. First up is one I originally drafted back in 2002. For the past couple of years I've pulled it out every so often, wanting to revise it, and have always ended up putting it away in frustration. Last night I got it out again, stared at it for a while, then made a big blue X through the original first section. It felt so satisfying. Then I took out a bunch of words from the other two sections, too. Now, of course, I don't know whether it makes sense without the first section, but I think even if it doesn't it's a stronger poem than it was. I'm taking this one to my poetry group on Sunday, too.
Two Houses
[poem deleted 04-06-2005; comment here if you didn't see it and want to]
I am highly amused by the idea of sleeping on memory clusters. I wonder whether I'll wake up and suddenly remember the name of that little blonde-haired girl I used to follow around in kindergarten, or the quadratic equation, or the names of all the saints?
**********
Before Target, I went to Panera for a dutch apple/raisin bagel (toasted, with plain cream cheese), too much coffee, and some writing. I often go there to work, and take a book or two, my journal, and some poems to revise. I never know whether I'm going to use the time writing, journaling, reading, revising, or what -- but the time is almost always productive. There must be something in those dutch apple/raisin bagels, or in the view through those particular windows. Anyway, I wrote a page or so in my journal, then pulled out the poems and got to work. I didn't do anything major (no C. Dale Young-style syllabic squishification -- yet!) but I cut out a lot of fat and sharpened a lot of edges. I think overall I worked on ten or twelve poems, a couple of which feel more or less finished now. A good afternoon's work. And good timing, too -- got a batch of poems back rejected this morning, and between those and the newly-revised ones and maybe a few others, maybe I can get two batches shipped back out in the next couple of days.
I love my job, but I love my occasional days off even more.
**********
Poems revised today (some more than others): Wing, Seeing the Crab, Interstellar Static, The Difference, Before the Snow, Blood, Deuce, Sugar Hits the Highway, Sugar Visits the Wine Bar, The Known Dangers, Winter Travel.
**********
I've been debating whether to post unpublished poems in this blog. On my livejournal, I always post them as "locked" posts that only people on my friends list can read. I'm not so concerned about somebody plagiarizing me -- if they want to do that, there's better stuff out there they can steal! -- but more about the ongoing debate as to whether work that's posted publicly on the Web counts as having been published (self-published, obviously, but still). I notice that a number of poet-bloggers do post work-in-progress. I think that I may start posting them but then deleting them after a certain period of time, maybe a week or so. That gives people the chance to read & comment if they are so moved, and then once I decide the poem sucks and is in desperate need of revision, I can take it down and work on it and maybe send it out.
So. First up is one I originally drafted back in 2002. For the past couple of years I've pulled it out every so often, wanting to revise it, and have always ended up putting it away in frustration. Last night I got it out again, stared at it for a while, then made a big blue X through the original first section. It felt so satisfying. Then I took out a bunch of words from the other two sections, too. Now, of course, I don't know whether it makes sense without the first section, but I think even if it doesn't it's a stronger poem than it was. I'm taking this one to my poetry group on Sunday, too.
Two Houses
[poem deleted 04-06-2005; comment here if you didn't see it and want to]
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Teachers and groups
I've been reading D.A. Powell this weekend, with an eye to what I hope to be able to learn from him when I take his workshop in Provincetown this coming June. His work is very different from mine (to put it mildly) -- but I think that's good, to try to learn not only from people whose work is similar to your own. If I only sat around reading Mary Oliver and Ellen Bass all day (not that my work is as good as theirs! --but I work in a language similar to theirs) and only studied with that sort of poet, I think my work would be pretty one-sided and I'd never try to risk stepping out of my own comfort zone. Cathy Bowman's work is very different from mine, too, and I learned a ton in her class a couple of years ago. As a teacher, she's good at reading her students' poems for themselves, not trying to impose her own voice upon them but understanding what the poems are trying to do and working to help the students figure out how to get them there. At the same time, she encouraged us to play, to take risks, to experiment outside the voices we were accustomed to using -- and that was so good for me. (She also had us read widely, and a lot of the work we did in class arose from the reading we did -- which was wonderful; some of my undergrad creative writing coursework was a bit too student-manuscript-based, although I didn't realize at the time that this was a gap in my education.)
At the same time, I've learned a lot from poets whose voice is more similar to my own -- Roger Mitchell, who's a terrific teacher (and his most recent book, Delicate Bait, is incredible); and Michael Carey, with whom I took a week-long summer workshop some years ago at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. Michael's not very well-known outside of Iowa, I guess, but he was exactly the teacher I needed at that time -- I somehow came away from his workshop both firmly convinced that I had some talent (and that takes some doing, as I'm usually pretty insecure about my own strengths and talents) and also utterly terrified of the responsibility that comes with having talent. If that makes any sense at all. I remember walking through the streets of Iowa City after my individual conference with him simultaneously feeling like I was walking on air & feeling like throwing up. It was a wonderful, terrible, powerful thing.
I think part of the problem with writers' groups (and I'm very pro-writers' group, don't get me wrong, I love them) is that there's a real tendency to gather with writers whose voices and experiences are similar to your own. It's easy to find yourself in a group that encourages sameness, that never pushes you outside your comfort zone. This risk increases when you've been with the group for a long time, two or three or four years or more -- the other members can begin to have expectations of your work, can feel like they know your voice, and if you risk something very different, it gets critiqued by the usual, comfortable standards. For example if you have a group that tends towards a fairly traditional lyric/narrative voice, and you bring in a piece that disrupts that, the critique may tend towards "I don't understand this" or "What is happening here, I can't follow the story." And you may come away thinking your poem fails -- and, well, maybe it does fail, early experiments in a different/risky voice often do, but reading the poem from the point of view of your previous body of work may not help you understand why it fails. The group can easily become a way to reward sameness, familiarity, comfort. And that's not helpful at all.
And so while I love my writing group, I am really looking forward to "Vision and Revision" with D.A. Powell this summer. I hope I get real uncomfortable for a bit. I hope he scares the crap out of me. No, better still -- I hope I scare the crap out of myself.
At the same time, I've learned a lot from poets whose voice is more similar to my own -- Roger Mitchell, who's a terrific teacher (and his most recent book, Delicate Bait, is incredible); and Michael Carey, with whom I took a week-long summer workshop some years ago at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. Michael's not very well-known outside of Iowa, I guess, but he was exactly the teacher I needed at that time -- I somehow came away from his workshop both firmly convinced that I had some talent (and that takes some doing, as I'm usually pretty insecure about my own strengths and talents) and also utterly terrified of the responsibility that comes with having talent. If that makes any sense at all. I remember walking through the streets of Iowa City after my individual conference with him simultaneously feeling like I was walking on air & feeling like throwing up. It was a wonderful, terrible, powerful thing.
I think part of the problem with writers' groups (and I'm very pro-writers' group, don't get me wrong, I love them) is that there's a real tendency to gather with writers whose voices and experiences are similar to your own. It's easy to find yourself in a group that encourages sameness, that never pushes you outside your comfort zone. This risk increases when you've been with the group for a long time, two or three or four years or more -- the other members can begin to have expectations of your work, can feel like they know your voice, and if you risk something very different, it gets critiqued by the usual, comfortable standards. For example if you have a group that tends towards a fairly traditional lyric/narrative voice, and you bring in a piece that disrupts that, the critique may tend towards "I don't understand this" or "What is happening here, I can't follow the story." And you may come away thinking your poem fails -- and, well, maybe it does fail, early experiments in a different/risky voice often do, but reading the poem from the point of view of your previous body of work may not help you understand why it fails. The group can easily become a way to reward sameness, familiarity, comfort. And that's not helpful at all.
And so while I love my writing group, I am really looking forward to "Vision and Revision" with D.A. Powell this summer. I hope I get real uncomfortable for a bit. I hope he scares the crap out of me. No, better still -- I hope I scare the crap out of myself.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Spring break
I want to make a post about writers' groups, about which I have a lot of thoughts/opinions/experiences, but I've just been so tired this week (still recuperating -- there was an article on the front page of today's paper about how everyone in town is sick and they don't think it's the flu, but it's definitely more severe than the usual common cold). Maybe over the weekend.
Next week is spring break on campus, and I'm taking a couple of vacation days to give myself a nice long weekend. I have a lot of plans for my four days: enjoy some of my favorite local writing/coffee spots without the usual swarms of students; move around some bookshelves and try to find space for a new set (go figure, a poet/librarian who owns Way Too Many Books!); put together a chapbook manuscript for the midwest contest I linked here a few days ago -- either revise "Breach" or put together an entirely new one; do a lot of reading (I wandered up to the 9th floor of the main library yesterday -- the PS's, for those who know Library of Congress call numbers -- and came home with six volumes of poetry, LIKE I NEED MORE BOOKS IN MY HOUSE *ahem*); do some writing including some revisions; maybejustmaybe start on the book manuscript I've allegedly been working on for a while now (hey, I have a title and some ideas about thematic progression -- shouldn't it put itself together just from that?); and some assorted housecleaning, errands, take the cat to the vet, et cetera.
That's a lot for four measly days. Sigh.
Anyway, watch this space for my Thoughts On Writing Groups in the next few days.
Next week is spring break on campus, and I'm taking a couple of vacation days to give myself a nice long weekend. I have a lot of plans for my four days: enjoy some of my favorite local writing/coffee spots without the usual swarms of students; move around some bookshelves and try to find space for a new set (go figure, a poet/librarian who owns Way Too Many Books!); put together a chapbook manuscript for the midwest contest I linked here a few days ago -- either revise "Breach" or put together an entirely new one; do a lot of reading (I wandered up to the 9th floor of the main library yesterday -- the PS's, for those who know Library of Congress call numbers -- and came home with six volumes of poetry, LIKE I NEED MORE BOOKS IN MY HOUSE *ahem*); do some writing including some revisions; maybejustmaybe start on the book manuscript I've allegedly been working on for a while now (hey, I have a title and some ideas about thematic progression -- shouldn't it put itself together just from that?); and some assorted housecleaning, errands, take the cat to the vet, et cetera.
That's a lot for four measly days. Sigh.
Anyway, watch this space for my Thoughts On Writing Groups in the next few days.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Some random thoughts on blogging
Although I took another sick day from work today (mainly because the combination of congestion, occasional out-of-breath coughing fits, and cold medicine left me dizzy enough that I was a bit afraid to drive), I'm feeling much better now. Thanks to all who have sent good wishes. This cold has kicked my butt more than said butt has been kicked in years.
Some random thoughts on blogs and blogging:
1. There are a heck of a lot of "serious" poets out there. This is not news to me, but reading a bunch of blogs drives the point home a bit. Sometimes this is a comforting thing, feeling like I'm part of a pretty big community. Sometimes, though, it makes me wonder why I bother -- what I have to add that's anywhere near unique. It's the same feeling I get sometimes when wandering through a bookstore: wow, look at all these amazing books -- why on earth do I want to add to this overpopulation? Isn't it amazing how many different ways one can find to try to sabotage oneself? In the end, I think, time spent reading/blogging at least helps keep poetry forefront in my mind, which is probably a good thing.
2. On a related note, I've decided that the temptation to spend time reading blogs rather than reading poems, or (now here's a novel concept) actually writing, is very much like what happens in a writing group when you catch yourselves spending more time socializing than working. The problem arises only because so many writers are just darned interesting people to hang out with, whether virtually or in person, so it's kind of a lovely problem to have -- but I need to regain some discipline and get more "real work" done, even if it does mean tearing myself away from this and other online communities a bit.
3. I'm pitifully un-well-read. It amazes me how many people can practically quote entire poems by a wide range of poets, as well as speaking intelligently and in-depth about them; sometimes I feel like even when I've read a book and paid attention to it, it just doesn't stick in my brain somehow. I think writing about what you read helps, as does discussing what you read with others who've also just read the same work, and this is one reason I'm attracted to MFA programs. When I think about doing an MFA, it's probably only half about the writing -- I also love the thought of being dragged into reading stuff I might never have approached otherwise, and having the opportunity to write about/discuss what I read. I know, I could write mini-reviews of books I've read here on this blog, but it's not the same. I loved the reading I did in Cathy Bowman's class a couple of years ago -- including work that would have completely scared me off had I tried it on my own, like Stephanie Strickland's, which I ended up enjoying a great deal. (What does this have to do with blogging? Oh, not much, I guess, except that every now and then I read someone's blog and they mention a poet or a poem and I find myself envying how they're able to talk about that.)
4. I love reading about others' reactions to rejections and acceptances. In my little local poetry community, most of my writer friends don't put much effort into sending stuff out and trying to get published. I'm not sure why it's so much more important to me than it is to them, and I'm not sure it's entirely healthy for it to be so important to me, but there you have it. Anyway, I enjoy hearing from those who are also in the business of getting their work "out there" and this is a community I've found only online.
5. That said, in many ways I think Livejournal is better for community building. I like how it handles comments -- if you choose to have comments emailed to you, you are also notified when someone responds to a comment you've posted on someone else's journal, which is nice; I also like how it threads comments. And there are several communities within LJ that I enjoy. "Communities" are like group blogs; you can join (sometimes you have to be approved to join, and sometimes you just sign up) and then post to that community/blog. One of the LJ communities I like is "greatpoets," which is solely for the posting of poems selected by community members (not their own work). Sometimes the poems chosen reflect the demographics of LJ (a lot of people in their late teens/early twenties), but I've run across a lot of really cool poems there. Another fairly new one is "submit2005," in which people post about their experiences with sending out their writing -- acceptances, rejections, frustrations, questions. I know the popular stereotype of Livejournal is that it's all teenage angst and drama, but I have a number of talented, interesting writers (and other people) on my friends list.
That's enough random thoughts for one evening. Now it's time to put my money where my mouth is (or where my typing is, I guess) and settle in to do some reading. After I finish my chicken soup, that is.
Some random thoughts on blogs and blogging:
1. There are a heck of a lot of "serious" poets out there. This is not news to me, but reading a bunch of blogs drives the point home a bit. Sometimes this is a comforting thing, feeling like I'm part of a pretty big community. Sometimes, though, it makes me wonder why I bother -- what I have to add that's anywhere near unique. It's the same feeling I get sometimes when wandering through a bookstore: wow, look at all these amazing books -- why on earth do I want to add to this overpopulation? Isn't it amazing how many different ways one can find to try to sabotage oneself? In the end, I think, time spent reading/blogging at least helps keep poetry forefront in my mind, which is probably a good thing.
2. On a related note, I've decided that the temptation to spend time reading blogs rather than reading poems, or (now here's a novel concept) actually writing, is very much like what happens in a writing group when you catch yourselves spending more time socializing than working. The problem arises only because so many writers are just darned interesting people to hang out with, whether virtually or in person, so it's kind of a lovely problem to have -- but I need to regain some discipline and get more "real work" done, even if it does mean tearing myself away from this and other online communities a bit.
3. I'm pitifully un-well-read. It amazes me how many people can practically quote entire poems by a wide range of poets, as well as speaking intelligently and in-depth about them; sometimes I feel like even when I've read a book and paid attention to it, it just doesn't stick in my brain somehow. I think writing about what you read helps, as does discussing what you read with others who've also just read the same work, and this is one reason I'm attracted to MFA programs. When I think about doing an MFA, it's probably only half about the writing -- I also love the thought of being dragged into reading stuff I might never have approached otherwise, and having the opportunity to write about/discuss what I read. I know, I could write mini-reviews of books I've read here on this blog, but it's not the same. I loved the reading I did in Cathy Bowman's class a couple of years ago -- including work that would have completely scared me off had I tried it on my own, like Stephanie Strickland's, which I ended up enjoying a great deal. (What does this have to do with blogging? Oh, not much, I guess, except that every now and then I read someone's blog and they mention a poet or a poem and I find myself envying how they're able to talk about that.)
4. I love reading about others' reactions to rejections and acceptances. In my little local poetry community, most of my writer friends don't put much effort into sending stuff out and trying to get published. I'm not sure why it's so much more important to me than it is to them, and I'm not sure it's entirely healthy for it to be so important to me, but there you have it. Anyway, I enjoy hearing from those who are also in the business of getting their work "out there" and this is a community I've found only online.
5. That said, in many ways I think Livejournal is better for community building. I like how it handles comments -- if you choose to have comments emailed to you, you are also notified when someone responds to a comment you've posted on someone else's journal, which is nice; I also like how it threads comments. And there are several communities within LJ that I enjoy. "Communities" are like group blogs; you can join (sometimes you have to be approved to join, and sometimes you just sign up) and then post to that community/blog. One of the LJ communities I like is "greatpoets," which is solely for the posting of poems selected by community members (not their own work). Sometimes the poems chosen reflect the demographics of LJ (a lot of people in their late teens/early twenties), but I've run across a lot of really cool poems there. Another fairly new one is "submit2005," in which people post about their experiences with sending out their writing -- acceptances, rejections, frustrations, questions. I know the popular stereotype of Livejournal is that it's all teenage angst and drama, but I have a number of talented, interesting writers (and other people) on my friends list.
That's enough random thoughts for one evening. Now it's time to put my money where my mouth is (or where my typing is, I guess) and settle in to do some reading. After I finish my chicken soup, that is.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Flyover Country
Still sick -- nothing serious, just the same miserable cold that approximately 83% of everyone I know has got. This morning at work all 3 of us -- me, my boss, and the student working the morning shift on the desk -- were sniffling and coughing in some kind of a weird disharmony.
At last, a contest for those of us in flyover country -- the Laurel Review/Green Tower Press Midwest Chapbook Series Award! I shouldn't even link this here, as the last thing I need is more competition. :) But the entry fee is only 10 bucks and includes a year's subscription to the Laurel Review, which is a good deal in my book. And although there's no cash prize as such, you get 100 copies of your chapbook and you get invited to do a reading with a $500 honorarium. (And within reasonable driving distance for me, so I wouldn't have to blow much of the honorarium on travel expenses.) I guess this weekend I'm hauling out the chapbook manuscript and working on it again. If I can clear enough space in my snot-filled head for a coherent thought or two, that is.
Achoo.
At last, a contest for those of us in flyover country -- the Laurel Review/Green Tower Press Midwest Chapbook Series Award! I shouldn't even link this here, as the last thing I need is more competition. :) But the entry fee is only 10 bucks and includes a year's subscription to the Laurel Review, which is a good deal in my book. And although there's no cash prize as such, you get 100 copies of your chapbook and you get invited to do a reading with a $500 honorarium. (And within reasonable driving distance for me, so I wouldn't have to blow much of the honorarium on travel expenses.) I guess this weekend I'm hauling out the chapbook manuscript and working on it again. If I can clear enough space in my snot-filled head for a coherent thought or two, that is.
Achoo.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Whine-of-the-Month Club
I'm sick, and I'm such a wuss about being sick -- today was my second day off work, and judging from the sound of my cough, I may stay home tomorrow too. Or maybe I'll go in just to get some sympathy. I'm sure I can just sit in my office and cough, and everyone will leave me alone because -- one listen and they'll be afraid to come any closer. I believe I may be hacking up some less-than-vital internal organs here. Ew.
Not much to say tonight. I'm feeling frustrated in general; I've felt too muzzy-headed to do much reading the past couple of days, and certainly no writing; I have a bunch of poems out -- some since September or October -- and at this point I'd be happy to get rejections, just to get things moving again; I keep doing math in my head and thinking longingly of low-residency MFA programs and deciding I'd be crazy to take out some $25K in student loans in my mid-forties when I have very little saved for retirement as it is, even though I think one of those programs would be awfully good for my writing. Because I'm just not good enough right now, not as good as I want to be. And maybe if I had more discipline and could make myself sit at my desk and read & write for three hours a night without the carrot/stick of an MFA hanging over my head, I'd improve. But so often I think what I need is a mentor, and that's pretty hard to come by outside of a formal program of some sort. And how am I supposed to know whether I even have the potential to get any better, to get as good as I want to be? That's where the external validation of an MFA might be nice.
My poetry group is nice, but we just work on fixing each individual poem in front of us, tinkering and editing, and it's helpful at a certain level, but I need to learn how to step back and look at my work as a whole, how to make the next poem better and how to take risks, how to (say it!) put together a book manuscript. And how to get it out there, yes, and get it published -- because I want that, I admit it, uncool as that may be. I don't need to work on my poems, I need to work on my poetry.
Maybe D.A. Powell's workshop in June will help with that. Maybe a summer workshop every year or two is all I need. And I can afford that, sort of. It's not like I want an MFA so I can get a job -- I already have a master's degree that can get me a job. (A second master's would help me get some librarian positions, though.) There's nothing magic about an MFA that instantly makes you a better writer. I do think it would be very good for me, but surely it's not the only way for me to go. It had better not be, because I just plain bloody can't afford it.
And how do you know if you're ready -- and if you're good enough -- to put together a book ms.? I suppose I should just sit down and do it and see what happens, but I wish I understood the process. I mean, I sort of do, but I don't think I really do, you know?
Apparently "intense self-doubt and frustration" is one of the symptoms of the common cold. This, too, shall pass. I already had some chicken soup today, so sleep is my next stop.
Not much to say tonight. I'm feeling frustrated in general; I've felt too muzzy-headed to do much reading the past couple of days, and certainly no writing; I have a bunch of poems out -- some since September or October -- and at this point I'd be happy to get rejections, just to get things moving again; I keep doing math in my head and thinking longingly of low-residency MFA programs and deciding I'd be crazy to take out some $25K in student loans in my mid-forties when I have very little saved for retirement as it is, even though I think one of those programs would be awfully good for my writing. Because I'm just not good enough right now, not as good as I want to be. And maybe if I had more discipline and could make myself sit at my desk and read & write for three hours a night without the carrot/stick of an MFA hanging over my head, I'd improve. But so often I think what I need is a mentor, and that's pretty hard to come by outside of a formal program of some sort. And how am I supposed to know whether I even have the potential to get any better, to get as good as I want to be? That's where the external validation of an MFA might be nice.
My poetry group is nice, but we just work on fixing each individual poem in front of us, tinkering and editing, and it's helpful at a certain level, but I need to learn how to step back and look at my work as a whole, how to make the next poem better and how to take risks, how to (say it!) put together a book manuscript. And how to get it out there, yes, and get it published -- because I want that, I admit it, uncool as that may be. I don't need to work on my poems, I need to work on my poetry.
Maybe D.A. Powell's workshop in June will help with that. Maybe a summer workshop every year or two is all I need. And I can afford that, sort of. It's not like I want an MFA so I can get a job -- I already have a master's degree that can get me a job. (A second master's would help me get some librarian positions, though.) There's nothing magic about an MFA that instantly makes you a better writer. I do think it would be very good for me, but surely it's not the only way for me to go. It had better not be, because I just plain bloody can't afford it.
And how do you know if you're ready -- and if you're good enough -- to put together a book ms.? I suppose I should just sit down and do it and see what happens, but I wish I understood the process. I mean, I sort of do, but I don't think I really do, you know?
Apparently "intense self-doubt and frustration" is one of the symptoms of the common cold. This, too, shall pass. I already had some chicken soup today, so sleep is my next stop.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Ten poems
David Koehn over at The Great American Pinup made an interesting post a few days ago (followed by a follow-up post) about coming up with a mini-anthology of ten poems that somehow (and here I'm putting my own spin on it, I'm sure) represents you, and the sort of poetry you want to write, and your own aesthetics. Not necessarily your all-time favorite poems, or the ones you think are the all-time greatest poems, but just ten poems for who and where you are right now.
I thought it would be hard to do, but once I started thinking about it, my list of ten came fairly easily, and it's kind of interesting to step back and look at what I selected. Here they are, in no particular order:
Sylvia Plath, "Ariel"
Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God's Grandeur"
Adrienne Rich, "Twenty-One Love Poems" (which is probably cheating, but)
Adrienne Rich, "Dreamwood"
Mary Oliver, "Wild Geese"
Ellen Bass, "3 A.M. Feeding"
Joy Harjo, "Eagle Poem"
Li-Young Lee, "From Blossoms"
Mark Doty, "Lost in the Stars"
Olga Broumas, "Artemis"
Stanley Kunitz's "The Layers" was on the list until I recounted and realized it was eleven, even with cheating and counting Rich's "Twenty-One" as one. And if I don't hurry up and post this entry immediately, I'm going to start thinking of others and then I shall have to gnash my teeth and moan and wail.
What would your list of ten poems look like?
I thought it would be hard to do, but once I started thinking about it, my list of ten came fairly easily, and it's kind of interesting to step back and look at what I selected. Here they are, in no particular order:
Sylvia Plath, "Ariel"
Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God's Grandeur"
Adrienne Rich, "Twenty-One Love Poems" (which is probably cheating, but)
Adrienne Rich, "Dreamwood"
Mary Oliver, "Wild Geese"
Ellen Bass, "3 A.M. Feeding"
Joy Harjo, "Eagle Poem"
Li-Young Lee, "From Blossoms"
Mark Doty, "Lost in the Stars"
Olga Broumas, "Artemis"
Stanley Kunitz's "The Layers" was on the list until I recounted and realized it was eleven, even with cheating and counting Rich's "Twenty-One" as one. And if I don't hurry up and post this entry immediately, I'm going to start thinking of others and then I shall have to gnash my teeth and moan and wail.
What would your list of ten poems look like?
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Karma
I believe in karma. I've always felt strongly that if I want to get my work published and get people to read it, I've gotta get out there and buy books and journals and support the poets who are putting their work out there.
So I think I'm making a rather belated New Year's resolution, which is to do something concrete in support of poetry at least once every two weeks -- buy a book, subscribe to a journal, go to a reading. I thought about making it "every week" instead, but I have so many damn books in this house already, I don't need to be giving myself excuses to buy more. :) But every two weeks -- well, that won't be hard, but making it a commitment in so many words feels like a good thing to do.
I made up for lost time tonight -- between online purchases and envelopes filled with checks ready to be mailed out tomorrow, I've purchased one book, subscribed to two journals, and taken out a membership at the Writers' Center of Indiana . That last one may not do me a whole lot of good, as the vast majority of their activity takes place in Indianapolis and it's not usually possible for me to get up there except on weekends, but at least I'll get their newsletter. And a couple of weeks ago I did go to the Yusef Komunyakaa/Susie Ibarra performance, which was just phenomenal. Oh! And earlier this month I helped organize a local reading to benefit tsunami survivors, and I bought two of the books that had been donated by poets (the ones I bought were by Kyle Dargan and Joseph Kerschbaum). So, uh, I guess I didn't so much need to worry about making up for lost time. And "every two weeks" is really not going to require changing my behavior much at all. But ... making the commitment does feel good. Now let's hope some karma comes back in my direction, hm?
In other news, the Oscars just finished. I watched, even though I've only seen one of the movies that was nominated for anything. Why was Sean Penn wearing roadkill on his head?
So I think I'm making a rather belated New Year's resolution, which is to do something concrete in support of poetry at least once every two weeks -- buy a book, subscribe to a journal, go to a reading. I thought about making it "every week" instead, but I have so many damn books in this house already, I don't need to be giving myself excuses to buy more. :) But every two weeks -- well, that won't be hard, but making it a commitment in so many words feels like a good thing to do.
I made up for lost time tonight -- between online purchases and envelopes filled with checks ready to be mailed out tomorrow, I've purchased one book, subscribed to two journals, and taken out a membership at the Writers' Center of Indiana . That last one may not do me a whole lot of good, as the vast majority of their activity takes place in Indianapolis and it's not usually possible for me to get up there except on weekends, but at least I'll get their newsletter. And a couple of weeks ago I did go to the Yusef Komunyakaa/Susie Ibarra performance, which was just phenomenal. Oh! And earlier this month I helped organize a local reading to benefit tsunami survivors, and I bought two of the books that had been donated by poets (the ones I bought were by Kyle Dargan and Joseph Kerschbaum). So, uh, I guess I didn't so much need to worry about making up for lost time. And "every two weeks" is really not going to require changing my behavior much at all. But ... making the commitment does feel good. Now let's hope some karma comes back in my direction, hm?
In other news, the Oscars just finished. I watched, even though I've only seen one of the movies that was nominated for anything. Why was Sean Penn wearing roadkill on his head?
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Location, Location, Location
I spent a very pleasant couple of hours today in my study, reading and writing. The study is barely usable in the winter, as it's hardly insulated at all and has windows along two walls (high windows, wider than they are tall) -- so excavating the desk and starting to work in there again makes it feel like spring, even though it's incredibly cluttered in there. (Also a bit stinky, as there is a corner of carpet that various cats have decided to pee on over the years. Sigh.)
When I read at my desk in my study, I feel like I'm able to give the book a quality of attention that's difficult to find if I'm sitting in the living room, or at Panera or the Runcible Spoon or in the food court at work or any of the other places I often read. I think it's because the TV and the laptop -- my chief sources of distraction -- are far enough away to be a little bit "out of sight, out of mind." I don't think I necessarily write differently in my study than anywhere else, but giving someone else's poems my full attention almost always leads to writing, so I'm usually able to be fairly productive when I'm in that room.
When I took Cathy Bowman's class, I went to Panera at least once a week -- usually on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon -- and spent time reading and writing there. I still go there occasionally, every 2-3 weeks or so. I almost always sit in one of the tables right by the window, where I can look out at the sky and the parking lot. I watch the clouds, and the birds, and the people going in and out of Panera and Noodle Town next door. Another place I like to go for sitting & reading & writing is the Monroe County Public Library; when I go there, I almost always sit in the comfortable chairs in the corner of the building where the big windows are, overlooking the corner of Kirkwood and Grant. My study has windows too, as I've mentioned, and whenever I'm in there I find myself gazing out them a lot. It occurs to me that all of my favorite writing places have windows, and that looking out the window feels important to me in connection with writing -- being able to shift my focus, physically, from the nearness of the page to a more distant gaze.
Last time I was in Provincetown, I found myself drawn to a certain porch-type spot overlooking the town beach & the harbor; I'd sit there at a picnic table and write for a while most days. Although I was outside, I looked up from the page often and gazed out over the water at the harbor and the wharf. The shift in focus, again.
Where do you most like to write?
When I read at my desk in my study, I feel like I'm able to give the book a quality of attention that's difficult to find if I'm sitting in the living room, or at Panera or the Runcible Spoon or in the food court at work or any of the other places I often read. I think it's because the TV and the laptop -- my chief sources of distraction -- are far enough away to be a little bit "out of sight, out of mind." I don't think I necessarily write differently in my study than anywhere else, but giving someone else's poems my full attention almost always leads to writing, so I'm usually able to be fairly productive when I'm in that room.
When I took Cathy Bowman's class, I went to Panera at least once a week -- usually on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon -- and spent time reading and writing there. I still go there occasionally, every 2-3 weeks or so. I almost always sit in one of the tables right by the window, where I can look out at the sky and the parking lot. I watch the clouds, and the birds, and the people going in and out of Panera and Noodle Town next door. Another place I like to go for sitting & reading & writing is the Monroe County Public Library; when I go there, I almost always sit in the comfortable chairs in the corner of the building where the big windows are, overlooking the corner of Kirkwood and Grant. My study has windows too, as I've mentioned, and whenever I'm in there I find myself gazing out them a lot. It occurs to me that all of my favorite writing places have windows, and that looking out the window feels important to me in connection with writing -- being able to shift my focus, physically, from the nearness of the page to a more distant gaze.
Last time I was in Provincetown, I found myself drawn to a certain porch-type spot overlooking the town beach & the harbor; I'd sit there at a picnic table and write for a while most days. Although I was outside, I looked up from the page often and gazed out over the water at the harbor and the wharf. The shift in focus, again.
Where do you most like to write?
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Vacation plans and getaways
So I've scheduled two vacation days during the week of Spring Break -- the Monday and Tuesday of that week. I have all kinds of good intentions about taking one day to do some major housecleaning, taking an afternoon to do my taxes, and spending the rest of the time reading & writing like crazy. In reality, I'll probably spend half of it parked in front of the TV feeling burned-out and exhausted. But at least I have good intentions.
Some months ago, I had the idea that I would take a long weekend in the spring sometime and rent a cabin in the woods -- maybe The Book Log Cabin in Brown County -- and show up with a pile of books and a pile of paper, and do nothing but write, and maybe finally get my book manuscript together (you know, the one my bio notes have claimed I'm working on for the past two years or so). But if I'm going to Provincetown to do D.A. Powell's revision workshop in June, I probably can't afford to rent a cabin for two or three nights on top of that. Especially since the Fine Arts Work Center housing is extra-tight this year (they're renovating the facility), so I'm waitlisted for their housing with no real hope of getting in, and will have to spring for a B&B for that week. Not cheap. (Note to self: better get on the stick about making reservations somewhere, too -- and soon.)
The long weekend of writing in the woods still sounds delicious, though. Maybe next year.
Some months ago, I had the idea that I would take a long weekend in the spring sometime and rent a cabin in the woods -- maybe The Book Log Cabin in Brown County -- and show up with a pile of books and a pile of paper, and do nothing but write, and maybe finally get my book manuscript together (you know, the one my bio notes have claimed I'm working on for the past two years or so). But if I'm going to Provincetown to do D.A. Powell's revision workshop in June, I probably can't afford to rent a cabin for two or three nights on top of that. Especially since the Fine Arts Work Center housing is extra-tight this year (they're renovating the facility), so I'm waitlisted for their housing with no real hope of getting in, and will have to spring for a B&B for that week. Not cheap. (Note to self: better get on the stick about making reservations somewhere, too -- and soon.)
The long weekend of writing in the woods still sounds delicious, though. Maybe next year.
Monday, February 21, 2005
NEA Fellowships in Poetry
I don't know any of this year's NEA Poetry Fellows well, but have met a couple of them -- I had a weekend workshop with Kathleen Peirce at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival a few years back (okay, maybe more than a few -- it was about 1991 or 1992, I guess), and Kevin Young is on faculty here at IU & was a guest one day in the class I took with Cathy Bowman a couple years ago. Here's the list, from http://www.nea.gov/grants/recent/05grants/Lit.html:
Adams, Mary Baker, David A. Blumenthal, Michael Braden, Allen Cassells, Cyrus Cording, Robert K. Daniels, James R. Davis, Jon E. Dawidoff, Sally Dharmaraj, Ramola Donovan, Matt Fairchild, B.H. Fick, Marlon Lee Flenniken, Kathleen Fraser, Gregory Fulton, Alice Glazner, Gregory A. Harms, James K. Hayes, Terrance A. Held, Grey Hirshfield, Jane Hong, Cathy Isles, John A. | Jess, Tyehimba Johnson, Kimberly Kasischke, Laura K. Kennedy, Sarah J. Kimbrell, James Lee, Karen An-hwei Lemon, Alex Long, Robert Hill Mathys, Ted McDonough, Jill Pankey, Eric Peirce, Kathleen Randall, Belle Reece, Mark Spencer Siken, Richard Singer, Sean Smith, Young Smith-Soto, Mark Teig, Michael Thomson, Jeffrey James Wunderlich, Mark C. Young, Kevin L. |
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Awwww damn.
The local news (WTHR in Indianapolis) reported this a few minutes ago, and it's just starting to show up online -- Hunter S. Thompson shot himself to death tonight.
I wasn't a huge fan of his or anything, but ... shit.
I wasn't a huge fan of his or anything, but ... shit.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Working the split shift
I'm thinking of moving some of my blogging activity over here, while still maintaining my livejournal account. Not so much to create a separation between my writing life and my "personal" life, because I think such separations are usually fallacious, but more to reinforce in my own mind the possibilities of this medium for actual, dare I say it, intellectual work. I'm not sure, though.
(I will keep the posting of unpublished, in-process poems over at livejournal and they will still be posted as friends-only posts. Anyone reading this is more than welcome to create a livejournal account, then comment on one of my posts over there and I will add you to my friends list so that you can read those. Not that they are deathlessly brilliant, but, you know. )
Have pretty much decided that I am going to go ahead and do D.A. Powell's workshop on "Vision and Revision" at the Fine Arts Work Center in June, rather than wait around to see whether I get accepted into Marie Howe's advanced workshop the following week. Mainly, I wouldn't find out until mid-May whether I got into Howe's workshop, and I need more lead time than that to make housing and travel plans. (There isn't really another workshop I'm interested in the same week as Howe's, unfortunately; also, that's 4th of July week, which -- while it would be fun to be in Provincetown that week, for sure! -- would complicate travel and housing.)
I do know that revision has been much on my mind lately. I feel like I don't understand the process well at all. I can tinker with poems, I can futz around with line breaks and change words here and there and try to take out tired language, but there's a revision process that goes much deeper than that -- re-visioning, re-seeing the poem -- and I don't quite understand how to get there. So Powell's workshop would probably be very good for me.
I've had quite a string of rejections lately without any acceptances, so although I still have a lot of poems out there to various journals, I'm teetering dangerously on the edge of a nasty bout of "who am I kidding, I'm not that good, why am I bothering with this." I can't force the acceptances to come (other than continuing to get stuff out there, and to write as well as I can & send out good poems) so I need to find some other way to counteract this little patch of self-doubt. Ideas?
(I will keep the posting of unpublished, in-process poems over at livejournal and they will still be posted as friends-only posts. Anyone reading this is more than welcome to create a livejournal account, then comment on one of my posts over there and I will add you to my friends list so that you can read those. Not that they are deathlessly brilliant, but, you know. )
Have pretty much decided that I am going to go ahead and do D.A. Powell's workshop on "Vision and Revision" at the Fine Arts Work Center in June, rather than wait around to see whether I get accepted into Marie Howe's advanced workshop the following week. Mainly, I wouldn't find out until mid-May whether I got into Howe's workshop, and I need more lead time than that to make housing and travel plans. (There isn't really another workshop I'm interested in the same week as Howe's, unfortunately; also, that's 4th of July week, which -- while it would be fun to be in Provincetown that week, for sure! -- would complicate travel and housing.)
I do know that revision has been much on my mind lately. I feel like I don't understand the process well at all. I can tinker with poems, I can futz around with line breaks and change words here and there and try to take out tired language, but there's a revision process that goes much deeper than that -- re-visioning, re-seeing the poem -- and I don't quite understand how to get there. So Powell's workshop would probably be very good for me.
I've had quite a string of rejections lately without any acceptances, so although I still have a lot of poems out there to various journals, I'm teetering dangerously on the edge of a nasty bout of "who am I kidding, I'm not that good, why am I bothering with this." I can't force the acceptances to come (other than continuing to get stuff out there, and to write as well as I can & send out good poems) so I need to find some other way to counteract this little patch of self-doubt. Ideas?
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