Thanks for everyone’s kind thoughts and prayers! Surgery is tomorrow morning at 9 AM. Hopefully I’ll be back to blogging soon 🙂

A Week o’ Poems in Print

One of those rare weeks when serendipitously three poems appear in print…In the mail, the Fall 2004 (!!)
Diner appeared (which included not just my poem but two wonderful poems by Natasha Moni) as well as the new American Poetry Journal,which was chock-full of good poems, a lot of them by people whose names I recognized from online communities – Paul Guest, Steve Mueske, C.J. Sage, and Ilya Kaminsky. Wondering through Barnes and Nobles my husband picked up a copy of the Spring 2004 Puerto del Sol, which happened to be the issue my poem was in – as well as a great poem by J.P Dancing Bear, who publishes American Poetry Journal. (Eerie twilight zone music here.) It was strange to get these journals after all my recent weeks of not submitting very much.Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me to send poems out. I’ve been writing more, which feels good, anyway, but I’ve been having strange nightmares – possibly these things are connected?
To balance out the warm fuzzies, I also got four rejections on one day this week, which is always bracing – I’m feeling discouraged about my first book manuscript, which is still making the rounds, 19 months now. Especially after you shell out $20 a pop for a one-sheet winner announcement, you start to feel like the game is playing you, instead of the other way around. I’ve sent to a couple of publishing houses who publish without running contests (Gray Wolf, Carnegie Mellon University Press) but I should probably send to even more. Although, to counter-balance that, I’ve had really good responses from people on the poetry in my chapbook, which makes me think, maybe what I’m writing is worthwhile after all, that someone besides my mom, husband, and four best friends wants to read the weird stuff I write. I even have to order more copies for my next two readings! The surprising thing is that, after the chapbook came out in January, I had four different journals contact me about publishing work that was in the chapbook. Has this happened to other people? Hey, believe me, I’m not complaining, just curious.
Also, a quick report from ComicCon, which, yes, I went to and enjoyed immensely. (ComicCon, if you don’t know this from listening to the dialogue of the O.C., is a big comic book conference that tours big cities once a year, including Seattle.) I had a great time wafting through the crowds of girls in Goth getups and many, many young men in their twenties – I really enjoyed looking at all the work by the comic book artists, it was a little like going to a museum where everything is for sale and you can get it signed! The artist at Top Cow, Mike Choi, who does beautiful, baroque work was absolutely swamped with fans, and there was this booth where hopeful comic book artists could get people from Marvel to evaluate their work and tell them what they needed to do to get published in the industry. Wow, wouldn’t that be great if at AWP there were some top publishers and writers at a booth where you could walk up with your poems and they’d be like, “Yes, focus on blank, which is your strength, and cut out your adverbs, and then we’ll take a look at your manuscript!” Seriously, I thought it was a warm and supportive atmosphere for creative folks, and I recommend a visit for poets who need to channel their inner superhero. Also, to accompany my poem about Wonder Woman fighting Nazis (see “Wonder Womans Dream of the Amazon” in the American Poetry Journal and, of course, the chapbook, “Female Comic Book Superheroes”) I now have a huge poster of Wonder Woman fighting…Nazis! I mean, how great is that! I recommend Superhero posters for every poet’s writing nook. My husband’s getting it framed for me for Valentine’s Day. Isn’t it romantic…

The universe must be trying to cheer me up…

Got an acceptance from 32 Poems Magazine, one of my all-time favorite journals. Hooray!

Sorry I haven’t been posting here much – I’ve been depressed, what with the upcoming surgery (fifteen days now and counting) and I feel like I’m wearing a sign that says “Thank you, no, I won’t be able to have children after that. Nope. Not ever. No chance.” It’s been hard to pick out clothes from the closet in the morning, much less which poetry journal to submit to…(my poems are lined up and stamping their feet impatiently. Well, you’ll just have to wait!)

But last night at my writer’s group I read a poem I had written about this experience, and felt better, especially after all the kind comments from my friends. I was like, hrmph, maybe there’s something therapeutic about this poetry thing after all. And it’s good to have a group of writers you can trust to bring anything to.

I turned in my first new packet of poems, essays, etc to my new advisor, and I am nervous and hopes she likes them. Honestly, it’s like being in fourth grade – “I hope the teacher likes me/my poems!” Especially since I’ve been writing lately with my “neurotic” edge rather than my “funny” or “feminist” edge.

I have a reading this Saturday with my good friend and great poet, Natasha Moni, at this tiny coffee shop in a tiny town. Sometimes those readings feel the best, I don’t know, more intimate, more like the crowd is with you rather than there by chance and resenting it, you know? I’ve been going to and giving readings a lot lately, because of the new chapbook. It’s kind of weird to go out and be extroverted when you really want to curl up in a cave and grow thick fur.

On another note, I felt ashamed of myself for complaining earlier in my blog about what a pain it was to vote (I had some red-tape issues this year) after I saw the pictures of Iraqi women holding up purple fingers, who went out to vote even with threats of beheading and the chopping off of hands. Those women are way braver than I will ever know how to be. Seriously, not to be all corny and whatnot, but I was crying when I saw those pictures.

And, on a still less related note, if you haven’t already seen them, there’s a great series of essays up at the Academy of American Poets site, all by “younger” writers. http://www.poets.org/almanac/index.cfm

I just loved reading this stuff. Perhaps soon I will be able to write “manifestos” about poetry. I like debating topics like these. What are my responsibilities as a young writer to “make it new?” (Dana Levin.) Is personal narrative dead? Lord, I hope not. (Aaron Smith) And, after dissing Wordsworth and Whitman like a punk, I am humbled by reading the excellent use of each in essays by Tom Thompson and Richard Tayson. PS – Also read the spirited defense of MFA programs by Arielle Greenberg. Okay, though, seriously, read all of them. As much fun or more than reading the “letters” section of Poetry Magazine!

High-five me! Finally finished the first all-out terrible assignment I’ve been given in my MFA program: reading and writing an essay on Wordsworth’s Prelude to the Lyrical Ballads and Whitman’s Democratic Vistas. I had to keep punching myself to stay awake, much less make sense of these two essays. Maybe I’ve been away from academia too long to do this stuff anymore. I literally got angry at these two “fathers” of Romantic American literature as I wrote. What’s up with all Whitman’s “Lo’s!” and all those exclamation points? And could Wordsworth BE any more pompous? Anyway, I spat out as much summary and examination as I could and now I don’t have to do it anymore. I think I just don’t like people who are Transcendentalists. No offense meant, of course, to any transcendentalist readers.

On the plus side, I find I’ve been reading several members of my blog roll lately – I’ve just finished Suzanne Frickshorn’s Red Paper Flower, Paul Guest’s Resurrection of the Body and the Ruination of the World, and Rebecca Loudon’s Tarantella. All three were so much better and more enjoyable than so many other books that I’ve bought and read – Red Paper Flower was both lovely and punch-in-the-gut moving – Guests’ poems had the perfect combination of wit and sobriety, of pathos and merriment, and Tarantella was brilliantly fierce, lyricism with fangs. So, way to go, blogger/poets. It just goes to show that if you enjoy people’s blogs, you should definitely buy their books. Also, if I were the one handing out book prizes, these three collections would all be big winners.

Haven’t managed to write any new poetry since I’ve been home (almost a whole week now! Snert! Snick! and other sounds of anxiety) but I’ve sent out some batches. I received the standard rejection from Poetry in the mail today, which, for some reason, disappointed me more than it should have. I mean, we expect rejections from Poetry, don’t we? Now onto more homework assignments, all hopefully less painful that this first one.

Finally home from Pacific University’s second residency. Exhausted and kind of out of it and also surrounded by boxes in a new place, which has made me a little disoriented. Have a reading tomorrow night with some other excellent poets on Bainbridge Island, which should be fun. I’m going to read from my new chapbook.

Can’t even remember all the highlights of the trip – Marvin Bell and Glenn Moore’s workshop on reading poetry with jazz accompaniment which was a blast, the panel with all the poets (Dorianne Laux, Joseph Millar, Marvin Bell and Pattiann Rogers) on “What Makes a Poem Sexy,” and meeting all the new students were definitely up there on the list. Also, a quote from Pattiann Rogers: “Disney Has Ruined So Many Words.” I don’t even know exactly what that means, but it sounds like it would make a great poem.

I’m actually really looking forward to reading my book list this semester, which includes a ton of newer books, mostly by women, people like Dana Levin, Tony Hoagland, Marie Howe, Carol Ann Duffy, Denise Duhamel. I’ve also been made the editor-in-chief for the launch of the new MFA-based lit mag, to be named soon, which is exciting, but I’m trying to figure out how to balance school and the lit mag and volunteer work and paying work and health stuff – and oh yeah, all that writing and trying to get published stuff. I’m sure it will all work out. That, or I’ll collapse in nervous exhaustion. Either way 🙂

I need to catch up on my mail and reading – I’ve got three books waiting for reviews and a friend’s MS I promised to look through. Not too mention all the back episodes of Lost and Alias I’ve missed. One thing that was really funny about the students at the MFA program was how many of them share my geek interests – coding, X-Files, Buffy, video game addictions, etc. Weird.

Off to unpack and then sleep as long as possible. Hopefully I will recover my ability to write cogently after that.

Happy 2005. Let’s hope there are fewer wars and natural disasters in this twelve-month cycle. For those who want to help victims, check out a local group that does a good job of actually delivering aid to victims: http://www.nwmedicalteams.org/ Also, if you are employed by “the man,” see if your company matches donations, that makes your dollar stretch even further.

Onto less serious matter: Music. I am in love with the soundtrack of Garden State (the movie also impressed me) – especially “New Slang” by the Shins, and a rediscovered favorite, Simon+Garfunkel’s “Only Living Boy in New York.” More soundtracks? Don’t hate me, but The OC Soundtrack (Mix 1) was my favorite album of the year. Hey, you’d be surprised by the indie cred on this collection. I just loved everything on it (except for Phantom Planet’s “California” – that gets annoying if you listen to the chorus over and over.) I wish Rufus Wainwright’s “California” had been on it – that song is genius. And Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah.” Both these songs were featured in the first couple of episodes, but aren’t on there.

I also have to admit a certain excitement about the beginning of the new season of “Alias” – my current “Buffy” substitute. It is supposedly much better than last season. This is really the only television I watch religiously these days, unless you count “The Daily Show.”

In the middle of my move and packing up for school. My brain is fried and I feel unable to focus on anything for more than five minutes. This could also be because I am recovering (slowly) from the flu. Our new place is walking distance from a library and a grocery store. I haven’t lived anywhere that was “walking distance” to anything since I lived in Cincinnati.

Feeling very grateful right now for many things. Good friends, kind acquaintances. One special thing to be thankful for? A very nice note from Rhino, announcing they had accepted a poem for their Spring 2005 issue, which I received on New Year’s Eve. I’ll take an acceptance over champagne any day 🙂

New year’s resolution? To have better health. And to appreciate stretches of non-acute-illness or injury more. I am also resolving to tackle some health-related topics in my magazine writing, which have mostly been limited to food or technology. I read so damn much health research for my own stuff, someone else should benefit from it without having to dig through doctor’s journals and academic papers etc. Will send queries after I’m done with graduate residency.

One exciting thing: I have started working on a second poetry manuscript. It feels good to work with some new subject matter, try out some new styles. Yes, I know the first one hasn’t gotten published yet. But fussing with it anymore feels wrong. I don’t write much in the middle of a move – like many Taurus-types, I’m happy when my routine and domecile are firmly established – but I am collecting and tinkering, which still feels like good work.

Also: I rarely find something in American Poetry Review that is absolutely essential reading, but the new issue’s essay on Ecclesiastes by Alicia Ostriker was not only stunning in its intelligence and compassion, but gave me a feeling of…dare I say it…hope? faith? in the powers behind the universe. Good reading for those who, like me, turn on the news only to be deluged with spiritual angst.

Poetry finds you where it can…so here I was going over all these new poetry books I got for Christmas, and then I noticed this book Silverfish Review Press sent me (for just the cost of postage!) when I entered their book contest. It’s called “Dime Store Erotics” by Ann Townsend, and it kicks. Do you know that thing where you’re reading a poem and you could swear you or some future (better) version of you wrote it? That’s what happened to me with that book. Check out the poem “Mall Life.” Great, funny, sad, weird stuff. Plus, any poet who writes about her childhood obsession with the musical “Jesus Christ Superstar” gets my respect. Anyway, now I have found another publisher to love and respect. How many can there be?

My new graduate residency and my move “off the island” are drawing ever nearer, which means everything, everything is in boxes. We still put up a Christmas tree and ordered a little ham, because dang it, I want to celebrate even if we are in the middle of chaos. Haven’t been writing much but have been hopping around playing Dance Dance Revolution in a sadly obsessive way.

I’ve been rearranging the poems in my first book MS and decided to rename my MS for a new set of submissions to various contests from “A Thousand Tongues” to “Becoming the Villainess.” Perhaps less poetic but more indicative of the post-feminist, pop-culture/mythology-oriented themes. Hey, time for a vote: Is Villainess a real word? And who likes the new title better than the old one? Leave a comment if you have any strong feelings about any of this.

In merry old Seattle, the lights on the houses are bright, the moon is shrouded in fog, and Santa is just waiting to drop a winning-contest announcement on my house at midnight on Christmas Eve. It could happen, right? Yesterday Santa brought me two rejections. I must have been naughty instead of nice.

Best holiday wishes for everyone out there. May happy elves bring you new shoes.

Thought the last blog entry was just too darn depressing to leave up much longer, so I will chime in from Cincinnati, Ohio, where I am visiting my parents, in-laws, several brothers and friends, and various pets. The pizza here is very good, I don’t know that Cincinnati in general is at the top of many culinary scales, but for pizza, they’re up there. I think I have eaten pizza for dinner three nights in a row. Pepperoni, fig and proscuitto, apple and apricot, some veggie-combo, and one which was some disgusting combination of pineapple, bacon and onion, which I really can’t recommend. I have also been staying up til six or seven in the morning every night, which may be b/c of the time change, but also because my brothers and their friends are genuinely fun to hang out with. PS Watching a bunch of twenty-something guys try to be manly while outdoing each other at the game “Dance Dance Revolution,” esp. after they’ve drunk a lot of whiskey, is very, very entertaining. One of them was a nuclear physicist. There’s just something extra funny about that.

While I’ve been gone, one of my good friends (also a poet) as been watching my house and cats and very kindly e-mailing me when any poetry news comes in. Only poets can accurately ascertain which mail may be of interest to other poets. So, while it’s been mostly rejections, at least I don’t have to worry that I’m missing some incredibly important time-sensitive poetry-related correspondence, like some famous poet writing that I’ve won a book contest but if I don’t get back to them within 48 hours the prize will go to someone else, not that that is likely, but it’s the kind of insane thinking that I’ve succumbed to on other trips. Thanks N!

The trip has been good and making me realize how much time I normally spend by myself, since we are staying at my parents house and my brothers are staying too and various people drop by all the time, and there is very little alone time. The guys are all playing video games as I write which gives me a little break. I consider myself very social, but since I’ve become a freelancer I usually spend about six hours a day alone working. I guess that’s a lot, and I’ve gotten used to it, even though I thought I would miss the social interaction of either the office or a “regular” grad school program (I’m going low-res.) It has really boosted my writing productivity, which just proves the old theorem – solitary time=more poetry. I did manage to sneak in a poem tonight, which was good. And snuck in some visits to some other poet-blogs, for fun. Now, back to the Xbox madness.

Received three rejections this week, and am trying to face up to the fact that I have to have some serious female surgery when I get back from my holiday trip home to Cinci this year. For some reason, though I have never really been a particularly maternal type, facing up to not being able to have kids someday has really gotten to me. I know this because every poem I write lately has to do with women who can’t have kids. I can’t get this one Bible verse out of my head. It’s about a woman, Hannah, who is upset, nearly crazy, over the fact that she hasn’t had kids yet, and her husband says “Why is your heart grieved? Am I not more to you than ten sons?” So I have to write a poem about that. There are a lot of assumptions about women who don’t have kids – that they are selfish, that they spend all their time on themselves, that they aren’t whole. I went to get my nails done yesterday and the girl there was saying, “Oh, you’d be such a great mother – why don’t you have kids?” And I was like, “Hmm, I don’t think you really want to know all the icky scientific details that would answer that question.”

Also, my mother was really sick yesterday, she had to go to urgent care and they diagnosed her with kidney stones. It’s her birthday today, and that was her body’s very special birthday present. Hmph. Sometimes I think we women would be better off if we were just little floating brains attached to attractive and fashionable clothes. OK, that’s a weird image. I apologize.

Okay, here’s a problem only a poet would have. I have a poetry reading on the 20th of January and the 20th of February, and since the surgery takes a few weeks to recover from, I was like, how can I best fit this surgery in so it doesn’t affect the readings? Typical shallow me.

I remember doing a report on the female reproductive system with my best friend in 6th grade. We giggled the whole way through it. At 21 she had a twenty-pound cyst removed from her ovaries, and now I am facing getting the works removed. Guess we should have paid more attention to the “what can go wrong” portion of that report.

Sorry to be a downer this week. I am sure I will have more cheerful news soon. It’s raining and cold outside, typical Seattle Christmas weather, that makes me not want to leave the house. On the plus side, I did get the opportunity to watch Zorro, Lara Croft Tomb Raider, and The Mummy all in a row last night. What I should have been doing was finishing a book review and a profile of a chef for Seattle Woman Magazine. Glenn started packing up the house yesterday for our move. So we are going home to Cinci, coming back, packing up the house, celebrating Christmas, starting the move on the weekend of the new year, then I go to my residency in Forest Grove, and when I come back, we’ll be in the new place. Then, the surgery. A very exciting upcoming month and a half, that’s for sure. I should check my horoscope. It might say, the stars see travel, gifts, educational opportunity and a horrible hospital stay in your future. Also, my complaint? How come horoscopes never predict death? Surely someone with that particular sign dies every day. I guess the Onion’s horoscopes predict something like that.