Spring on the Way, Writing Through Hard Times

Early blooms of cherry, with nearly full moon

Spring on the Way

Well, like you, I woke up this morning to the news that Trump had, for some unknown reason (and without congressional approval) started a war with Iran. (Not than I’ve been a big fan of Iran’s hardline and repressive religious conservative government, but this move may put even worse people in charge, not to mention encourage more terrorism…I hope not.) Another reason to feel your country is out of control, in the hands of people too stupid to do their jobs? And didn’t Trump run on a “no foreign wars?” platform? And of course this rocks the stock market and boosts the price of gasoline. This is on top of skyrocketing inflation that Trump lied about not existing in his looong, meandering and completely false SOTU address.

But also, today, the sun was shining, some signs of spring, like these branches of cherry with the rising moon. Glenn and I went to the bookstore, walked on the water in Kirkland. I spent almost all day on Friday doing various tests for cancer in my thyroid, liver, testing my immune system problems, and it was tiring and discouraging, so I needed a whole day to recover before I could get out and about. One thing about chronic illness that people who are healthy may not know is the amount of time, energy and money is really takes. We had to prepay $500 for those tests, too, and we are not overflowing with money right now—which always makes me think about those who do NOT have good insurance. Are there always reasons for hope? Yes. Are there also days that feel like they drain all hope from you? Also yes.

Female Anna’s Hummingbird

Writing Through Hard Times

I have a few friends bringing out books soon, and they have told me how they struggle to continue to write, to even dare to post about their new books, or do readings, or any normal things.

I feel this pressure and anxiety as well—how do you write through the most stressful times I’ve ever experienced in my life? How relevant does poetry (or AWP, or a new book) feel in the face of women losing their rights to thier bodies, facing a new war, facing threats to our voting rights? Can women in particular be expected to just go about business as usual? How can we deal with personal crises on top of political stress?

February sunshine, me

I try to spend time noticing nature, spending time reading, trying to deal with each crisis as it comes and just do the best I can. Friends are also a huge support. And can poetry save a country, save women’s rights to vote or use birth control, help us heal our own bodies or those of our loved one? Writers are storytellers, and storytellers have an important roll to help people remember moments in lives, in history. If the American mythology seems to be teetering on the edge of insanity right now, how can we set that right? Can writing our own versions of mythology sound a note of hope, of justice, or reason? I hope so. I certainly don’t think it helps the world for artist to silence themselves in the face of so much uncertainty. Reading books about apocalypses helped me process the anxiety of the nuclear war threat of the eighties as a kid—perhaps something you’re writing right now will do the same for some other person? Speaking your truth—whatever that is—seems more important in a world where false information spreads like wildfire and hate tries to suppress everything kind, joyful, empowering. Is what you and I have to say about our daily lives, our work, our love lives, our disappointments and hopes important right now? I would argue, perhaps even more important than we know.

Missing AWP? Me too. Celebrating Wins, New Glasses, and Quail

Alysa Liu jumping for joy and silver and bronze winning skaters clapping

Missing AWP? Me too. Celebrating Wins, New Glasses, and Quail

Look at this picture from the gold medal winner for women’s figure skating, and her celebratory leap in the air. And if you haven’t done it yet, watch Alysa Liu’s gold-medal winning skate—I promise even if you don’t like skating, it will inspire joy. If they don’t cut it, you can see how afterwards she curses as she celebrates, as well as hugging the bronze medalist and swinging her around in a spontaneous hug. It reminded me of the poetry world, how we need to celebrate our wins with this much joy, and the wins of our friends and colleagues.

On that note, AWP. I’m not going to be there this year, as I am instead taking a trip home to Cincinnati to visit my father, who is ill, and family. Which is not to say, I will not miss seeing my friends. But AWP can be a lot even for completely healthy young people, much less people with disabilities and illnesses that tend to flare up under stress. And right now, I have to prioritize family, and if I only have so much strength, energy, and money for travel, I’m going to choose home over a conference. If you’re going, I hope you have a wonderful time, and post lots of pictures.

Me with new glasses at Island Books

I did have good news from my yearly eye exam (a must for all folks with MS)—my optic nerve was looking less damaged than last year. I also got a replacement for my reading glasses which were snapped in half, and my regular glasses, which I had somehow gotten allergic to—polymers not a good match for me, apparently. (?)

I also had good news from my poet friend, Kelli Russell Agodon—she got her first poem in the March issue of Poetry, “Trying to Sext My Partner, Who Replies ‘I Can’t Get My Camera to Work.'” It’s not up on their web site yet, but I got my issue and so Charlotte the literary kitten and I had so much fun reading it.

Besides the women’s figure skating, I also enjoyed the US women’s hockey team win—five of them are Seattle Torrent hockey players!

I also had a visit from a whole covey of quail, one of my favorite birds.

Valentine’s Day and Artist Dates, Birds in the Cold, Melancholy, AI and Voting Rights

Me at Roq La Rue with two paintings by Dewi Plass at their Spectacle du Petite show

Valentine’s Day and Artist Dates

Hello there my friends. I hope you had a good week. I am smiling in the picture at left but have felt heavy and a little melancholy all week. James Van Der Beek passed away from cancer, and that seemed strange, as he was four years younger than me, with a lot of little kids—didn’t seem fair, though I realize these days “fair” doesn’t go as far as it used to. I felt a little under the weather—MS acting up, sinus problems—and the whole “GOP wants to take away women’s voting rights”—and that the “Save America (from women)” act passed the House already, terrible betrayers of democracy.

So I didn’t have the highest hopes for Valentine’s Day, but we took the arduous trip downtown and back to attend the Spectacle du Petite show at Roq La Rue, which features a ton of wonderful artists including my current art crush, Dewi Plass, whose works Glenn photographed me with. Below are some of the pieces, including the fennec fox piece, for you to enjoy. However, I recommend a visit to the show! Glenn also took me to a downtown bookstore, so I could peruse lit mags and magazines not available to me on the East side. The whole thing wore me out, but I was happy I went. Glenn made duck and strawberry cupcakes, and we had dinner at home, which was lovely. (I also received two rejections—one book, one lit mag—on Valentine’s Day, which seems like a slap in the face. Not cool, places that reject on V-Day. It’s a hard day for a lot of people! Geeze!)

Birds in the Cold, AI, and more on Voting Rights

The depressing new reliance on AI—and how it’s using up water resources and making electricity more expensive for all of us and does very little good and a lot of ill—was perfectly captured in this cartoon.

Glenn was reading Margaret Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale, which I hadn’t read in a long time (though I read the sequels more recently), and I was reminded of how women in that novel became property—first their voting rights revoked, then their access to their own bank accounts and credit cards. The “Save America” act will make it so women who have different names than their birth certificates cannot vote, legally. This includes me. It made me so mad I looked at changing my name back—but it involved a lot of paperwork. I have a passport, but most American women do not. That said, it’s time to get a passport if you don’t already have one, as it is still “acceptable” proof that women aren’t fake voters, apparently. Anyway, if they come for my bank account or credit cards, I’m out. I did find it funny that the Appalachian area was not part of the new fundamentalist, authoritarian government of Gilead, even in that book. Those are my people!

Below are some birds I caught in the brief sunshine when they came out to get a snack, we’re supposed to have four days of cold slushy snow/rain coming up, which is super fun, for both us and the birds. I’m so ready for spring to be here already—I even spent a few minutes gardening in the last week, getting it ready.

So how are you doing, my friends? I am feeling too discouraged to do much writing or submitting. I don’t think I’m processing the “family member with terminal cancer” as well as I think I should, too—feeling the pre-grief and trying to figure out how I’m going to get well enough to visit—Cincinnati is a rough trip, very few handicapped-friendly (and mold-unfriendly) places to stay, and I always get sick when I visit. I feel a little overwhelmed with my own health stuff (at least two biopsies in the near future for me, blech, which I keep putting off until I’m a little well-er, which seems to not be happening fast) to deal with bad news, Olympic controversies, governmental evil, maybe the need to escape the entire country…and a radical feminist and disability-activist book that doesn’t seem to be getting traction with the “right” publishers. If this isn’t the right time for this kind of art, I don’t know when it will be—when this awful government has not only cancelled the NEA but also all art? I don’t know, kids. I am holding on to small beauties—birds out my window, art on the walls and in my mind, books and poetry (mostly other people’s). What are you holding onto?

Superbowls and Sunshine, Witchy Poets, Wordclouds and Titling, Changing Perspectives and Losing Control

Glenn and I in sunshine in Woodinville

Superbowls and Sunshine

After last week’s relentless roll out of bad news, this week seemed a little better. Maybe because it was a little sunnier. Maybe because I was so consumed doing research for a family member who was laid off (employment law!) and another family member dealing with cancer, I didn’t turn on the news even one time. Maybe because I watched some Olympian kids doing amazing things on YouTube (I hate watching our network coverage, but I love being able to watch individuals and teams doing their breathtaking best at such things as snowboarding or doing quad jumps in ice skates). Maybe I went to a couple of things that helped my perspective, physically and mentally, and maybe because my team just won the Super Bowl (Go Hawks!)

The music at the Super Bowl I expected to like—Bad Bunny, Brandi Carlile, Green Day—but the game was so satisfying to watch it was hard to look away. All the touchdowns were in the last 12 minutes of the game! The Patriots didn’t score a point until the fourth quarter. Almost no one got badly hurt (I don’t like seeing kids get hurt, even when they’re getting paid big bucks. They’re so young!) I enjoyed watching the game more than the commercials, shocker.

I went to my yearly eye exam and had a pleasant surprise—my optic nerve appeared to have healed since the previous exam, which almost never happens with MS. Oh, my eyesight’s still terrible, and glasses cost way too much (sticker shock every time I buy glasses), but that was good news.

Afterwards, I stopped by Island Books (near my eye doctor on Mercer Island) and gawked at their amazing collection of typewriters, and we went for a walk in the park, where there was some kind of pickle ball tournament going on. Mercer Island is different from Woodinville. The dogs look more expensive, for one thing.

One good thing about exploring parts of town you don’t go to very often is it feels like everything is an adventure—new bookstores, new parks, etc! I really should do it more often. In February, Seattleites really have to take advantage of any sunny warm days—it was sixty degrees on this particular day, and so bright—it really did do my spirit and body good.

Witchy Poets

Me after a new haircut

I attended a talk on Sylvia Plath and Mysticism and Witches by someone who is publishing a book on the subject. Almost everyone in the Zoom room had a Dr. before their name (except me), but I felt so comfortable during the talk—after all, I’ve been studying Plath for over thirty years, before it was cool! The talk itself really inspired my thinking about witchy poets, too. And about whether or not I should go get that darn PhD, health issues be darned. I really could use more intellectual stimulation—after all, I might have limitations in my body, but my mind gets really bored with limitations.

How to Choose a Title?

This also caused me to take another look at the relative witchiness of the manuscript I’m currently circulating to publishers. Here’s a Wordcloud that indicates the main mood of the book.  I think at this time, in this country, it’s an appropriate mood. I did work with changing the manuscript’s title again. How do you land on your titles when you’re sending out your books? Do you fiddle with them, adjusting them to what you think a particular publisher might like, or do you just stick with one until it’s taken? I’m afraid I am a fiddler. But it is good to step back and look at a manuscript as a whole and ask—what story is this book telling? What characters are central? What are the general vibes? Are there too many books out there with a certain title already?

I like anything that puts my work in a different light, that helps me think of it in a different way. This week the only television I watched was the Super Bowl and snippets of the Olympics. I spent more time in natural light and walking around outside. I didn’t do much on social media. I did some self-care (if haircuts and eye doctors can be considered that.) I barely looked at e-mail. If you read those sentences, it might seem obvious to you that all those things might lighten one’s mood and help one’s mental health. But it’s one thing to talk about going outside when it’s freezing cold and raining (or snow-and-iced-in, like the East Coast) and another thing to do it—and again, one thing to talk about being only minimally on social media or watching television, and another to stay away from both. Even with serious problems—in one’s own life, in the world around them—we can’t be in control of everything. We sometimes can’t be in control of things we think we should be—our own jobs, our own bodies, our own families, our own countries. We need to care for our own souls and bodies the way we would a friend or family member’s, though it’s always easy to brush that off. Anyway, I’m wishing you all a better week, a new perspective, and good news from unexpected sources.

Happy February! Snow Moons, Unusual Birds, Cancer Scares and Big Birthdays, the Power of Community and More

Snow Moon

Happy February! Snow Moons, Unusual Birds, Cancer Scares, and Big Birthdays

I hope you have a good February in front of you. The Snow Moon, unfortunately, brought a lot of snow to a lot of parts of the country—Nashville, Mississippi—that definitely were not prepared for it. Lots of power outages and downed trees. I remember 20 years ago these kinds of cold snaps were unusual for Virginia and DC, but with the strange climate changes, they’re no longer “once every 20 years” storms.

My little brother Mike and me

You might have noticed I didn’t post last week. I was a little down. Besides the dismal goings-on in Minnesota, a member of my family has been diagnosed with cancer. I myself have another cancer scare—should be old hat by now, and it’s just my thyroid this time—and another member of the family was laid off. It’s been cold and damp here—old-fashioned London winter weather, though it definitely is worse in other parts of the country so we can’t really complain. We have had a celebration or two as well—my little brother turned 50 (which means I must be older than 50 now? Dang!), and we’ve had several unusual bird visitors, probably due to the cold. A possible immature golden or bald eagle over the house, a couple of quail—and a small bird of prey—maybe a falcon or sharp-shinned hawk. Not perfect captures, but I hope they entertain you, anyway.

The Power of Community and More

This last couple of weeks has also reminded me of the power of community. In Minnesota, community protests have meant a little boy released from ICE detention, a change of leadership of ICE in town, and even friendly National Guardsmen handing out hot chocolate to cold members of the community. I hope this means that ICE will back down (Trump noticing his poll numbers shrinking, too, no doubt helps), and we’ll have no more horrendous human rights offenses or trying to take away Constitutional rights (freedom of speech and assembly, the right to due process for all on American ground, the right to bear arms, which the GOP is usually quite quick to defend, and birthright citizenship). People are making a lot of noise—and though sometimes it feels like nothing is being accomplished, if enough Americans make enough noise, occasionally we can change things for the better.

In my own life, a gathering of poets reminded me of the small, good things we can do for each other. I noticed that in encouraging each other, there is power—more success that seems to follow meeting together. That has been the case in my own writing life—and at least, things are more fun to celebrate (and commiserate) in a group. And the scary things of life don’t seem quite as scary.