Seeing Poets, Learning to Adjust, Seasonal Change

Open Books reading night – Oliver and Su, Rick Barot, Billie Swift, Lena Khalaf Tuffaha

Seeing Poets

Last Friday on a blustery cold night, an old friend, Oliver de la Paz, long of the Northwest but now of Massachusetts, came to town to read from his new book, Boy in the Labyrinth, and he was reading with a poet I’d wanted to meet whose work I admired, Su Hwang, who also has a new book, Bodega. So I went out and had fun listening to poetry, talking about books and poetry, and visiting with friends.

Sylvia with Open Books haul

I also  came home with a new stack of books from Open Books (and got to peek at a first-edition Adrienne Rich Yale Younger Poet Prize book, signed)!

Sylvia is posing with them here – it’s Oliver and Su’s new books, plus Elisa Gabbert’s The Word Pretty, Billie Swift’s new chapbook Everything Here, and Rain Taxi. Already knew I would love the books, but the bad weather and cold made it easy to give myself time to read.

 

 

Last lilac with changing leaves, my garden

Learning to Adjust

Unfortunately, after having fun seeing people, I also seem to have come home with a new upper respiratory virus, so I spent most of the blustery week with a fever in bed. I even took Tylenol (which for me, is like, heavy-duty medicine!)

I feel like there is an adjustment period during this time of year, doing from the more mild long nights of summer into the short, dark, wet evenings of fall, and you have to care for yourself appropriately, You change your diet (soup!), your sleeping patterns (more!) the way you dress (getting out boots, sweaters, even winter coats.) You drink hot cider and hot chocolate and hot coffee, you watch shows you probably would give me a miss if was nice outside, you reorganize drawers and closets so you can get to your boots and cardigans.

Changing Leaves

As I move into my mid-forties, I also notice I have to adjust to life as a middle aged person. College students don’t always get my references to Kurt Cobain (or even Heath Ledger.) I need to wear moisturizer every day now. It takes me a little longer to bounce back after a night out. Old fillings fall out of my teeth. Teeth give you more trouble and are literally a budget item. (I swear I spend more on teeth than I do on clothes, which stinks!)

There’s also an adjustment period after being diagnosed with something like MS. You have to learn how to care for yourself with a new c0ndition, even if it’s not really new, just newly diagnosed. Once again, you learn that a night out means at least one down day, maybe two or three. It takes longer to recover from illnesses. I need to rest more, and if I don’t, my body makes sure I do it by giving me unpleasant reminders. So I’m working on increasing patience for my body, resilience from hard times, bad moods, and viruses, or even “normal” symptoms of MS that might not seem normal to me. Not yet. Recovering from rejections also takes me a couple of days now. They don’t stop me from writing, though.

A Book Birthday for PR for Poets

My alumni magazine/newsletter contacted me for a picture of myself with my latest book, PR for Poets, and I realized I hadn’t yet celebrated this book’s birthday, which actually occurred this spring. So here’s a picture of me, as requested, holding my book with a backdrop of glowing glass pumpkins (very seasonal, no?) Anyway, if you have a new book coming out and you have questions about how to promote it without 1. going broke or 2. having a breakdown, please check out this book. Order yourself a copy, or order a copy for your library, and recommend it to friends. It really is a helpful book (I promise!)

Wishing you a happy adjustment period to the new time, the new season, the new changes in your life. May your patience and resilience be greater than mine. Remember to enjoy the little joys of this particular season, your glowing pumpkins and cider, an excuse to stay inside with a book.

New Poems up in Waxwing and Nine Mile, New Reviews in Guest 5, and Realizing Your Core Competencies

Sunrise in October in Woodinville

Mid-October Updates: Poems, Reviews, and Realizing Your Core Competencies

Sunrise is happening later and later and fall seems to be moving ahead – this week is supposed to be nothing but rain and wind, and last week we had our first night frost which single-handedly wiped out all the remaining flowers—dahlias and roses and sunflowers shriveled overnight. It’s now too cold to go out without pre-thinking a jacket or boots. I’ve had to dig out my winter coat. A coat!

Red mums and pink cyclamen

 New Poems in Waxwing

I am so happy to tell you I have two poems in the new Fall 2019 issue of Waxwing, which also includes wonderful poems by C. Dale Young and Oliver de la Paz. Thank you to Waxwing! Here are links to my poems, “American Origins” and “It Was No Longer Summer.” 

And here is a sneak peek of “It Was No Longer Summer:”

from Fall’s issue of Waxwing

Sylvia poses with Nine Mile Lit Mag Double Issue

Poems in Nine Mile

Happy also to be included in this double issue of the “Deaf, Disabled, and Neurodivergent” anthology from Nine Mile Literary Magazine.

As Sylvia shows here, it’s a wonderful issue with six poems from me, including a couple about multiple sclerosis, and this one, “Teen Heroines are Fireproof.”

Full Hunter’s Moon

Two Microreviews in Guest 6

And two microreviews of YesYes Books’ Ugly Music by Diannely Antigua and CavanKerry Press’s Body at A Loss by Cati Porter appeared in Sarah Mangold’s guest edited issue of Guest (and, opposite page, Rae Armantrout!)

Here’s a sneak peek at the reviews here.

Immature Hummingbird with purple streak

Realizing your Core Competencies

The other night I wrote a horror poem about a town that killed all its children and I was like “Wow, that’s dark” and then someone posted a quote from one of my other poems that was so dark I didn’t recognize it immediately and I was like, “Wow, dark.” So I guess we have to realize our own core competencies, to use the language of the corporate world. I could try to write uplifting poems about flowers and it would probably still have some pop culture or horror aspect to it – it’s just part of who I am.

 

 

Red maple branch

I’ve been trying to heal up from getting sick so I can get some dental work done (horror story on its own) and trying to do uplifting things that boost my immune system, but of course some of that involves listening to Nick Drake (depressing) and watching scary movies on cable late at night. One of my big coping mechanisms to life is humor, but I find humor in horror movies and MST3K Westerns and pointing out tropes that were stolen from Westworld. (My husband didn’t even know there was an original Westworld movie in the seventies! Scandal!)  One of my coping mechanisms is coloring my hair (I put in a purple streak this week for Halloween – a great thing to do if you have enforced rest!)

Fall scene, Woodinville

Maybe we have to look at the things that make us happy and do those things instead of things other people think make us happy. Does that make sense? I enjoy sipping apple cider and taking pictures of pumpkins and leaves but I also enjoy reading Japanese ghost stories or gothic tales in translation. I hope that I get healthy enough to take care of my tooth troubles but also to do a little more socializing, especially with other writers, because this time of year draws writers together in a unique way. I’m ready to see my friends, to hear some poetry in the air, to laugh. If you’re a hummingbird with a purple streak, don’t be afraid to stand out.

 

New Review of PR for Poets, Harvest Season at the Farm, and I Could Use Some Magic (An Unfortunate Confluence of Health and Teeth This Month)

Wagon wheel with pumpkins

Harvest Time at the Farm

We had some cold clear days between the rain and so tried to spend some time enjoying them (despite some health challenges) and I definitely enjoyed photographing. October here is mostly cold and dark, so the few sunny days must be appropriately celebrated, I think. We embrace the Hygge here in the Northwest – cold walks outside, hot cider, cozy blankets and sweaters, hot pumpkin bread, candles. It’s important to try to keep your spirits up here to fight the increasingly dark days.

A New Review of PR for Poets up at Entropy

A big thank you to Kim Jacobs-Beck and Entropy for this wonderful thoughtful review of PR for Poets. This is not a poetry book, but a book meant to empower poets to help them promote their work in a time when fewer and fewer poetry publishers (with fewer resources) can really do full promotion of a poetry book. From the review: “It is a useful guide for any poet with a first book, or poets who feel they could use new strategies to get the word out about their work.” Anyway, I hope this helps the book get into the hands of more poets.

I Could Use a Little Magic This Month (An Unfortunate Confluence of Health and Tooth Trouble)

So, despite the smiling photos, this last week has been mostly about going to the dentist, then an endodontist, then my primary care doctor (the endodontist thinks I need a root canal but I’m too risky to work on, the dentist thinks I’m too sick for more dental work, despite a second broken tooth and a tooth that needs a root canal, the primary care doc and several specialists don’t know why I’ve been so sick or what else to do to up my immune problems.) It’s been very frustrating and I’ve been stuck avoiding crunchy foods (eating a lot of soup) and trying to nurse myself back to health. I’ve had two weeks of antibiotics already and I’m layering on all the magic tricks – hot tea, soup, saline spray, ginger everything, hot and cold compresses and a heck of a lot of attention to keeping my broken tooth from getting worse. So if you believe in magic or prayer, I could use all the good energy to get myself an endodontist who isn’t afraid to work on me – and luck with the very first root canal of my life. And I’ve been sick with two or three viruses at a time, so getting rid of those would be nice too, since every minor infection makes my multiple sclerosis symptoms worse and I just haven’t felt well in months. I’ve been told I need to rest and keep my stress levels low. I had to cancel a reading in Auburn on Monday and a class reading next week already, so I’m just laying low, trying to sleep more (lots of naps!) and ignore the news (!!) and boost my immune system as much as possible. Please leave any recommendations in the comments (especially open-minded endodontists on the East side of Seattle, those who do sedation preferred since I am allergic to novocaine.) And uplifting, funny television shows. It’s been a while since I had a jolt of good poetry news, too, so if you have good thoughts to spare…Thanks.

Welcome to October, Talking Digital Technology and Loss, Tall Ships, Hawks, and The Future of Poetry

Pumpkins and hay bale

Welcome to October

October is here, hence the pumpkins and hay bales showing up at local shops. I’ve been a little under the weather (emergency dental work + upper respiratory infection + getting up early to Skype into a panel on Digital Technology at Missouri State University = fever, antibiotics, and bed rest.) I’ve been wrapping up in cardigans and jackets, and walking out on my deck every time we get a little sunbreak. It’s still a little early to plant bulbs and I’ve been too sick to do too much gardening, but I’ve been enjoying taking pictures of the last remaining flowers in October and got some great shots of local birds – lucky shots, really, of birds that don’t land in my backyard very often, like the Cooper’s Hawk and Pileated Woodpecker. I feel like we are lucky in every season here, to see beautiful scenes here in the Northwest (though I may be grumpier in late November, when we’ve succumbed to more dark and more rain.) For now, I’m enjoying the cooler temperatures and the change in landscape.

Talking Digital Technology and Loss

Tall Ship at sunset, Kirkland

Going to doctors and dentists took up a lot of my time the last week, but at least on the way home from one appointment I got to see a Tall Ship at the Kirkland marina at sunset, which is pretty great to see at any time.

So, this last week I visited (by Skype) Missouri State University for a conference on Digital Technology, and had a chance to talk with students and faculty about the influence of digital technology on the arts and the workplace. A theme I noticed from the other panelists in response to a lot of questions about social injustice, jobs, and the future, was: prepare to be a lifelong learner, be persistent and be resilient. I took a moment to be real and said “I did not plan to leave my Microsoft technology manager job to be sick. I was too sick to work. Then I had to pivot and decide what to do next.” Loss will come to these young people whether they are prepared or not: loss of health, loss of loved ones, loss of jobs. Loss is always, somehow, an unwelcome surprise. When, and not if, you encounter that, you have to be prepared to say: “What can I do next?” When I collapsed during my job at Microsoft, and decided I could not go back to the ninety-hour work weeks, my husband encouraged me to try being a writer full-time. I went back to school (again) to get my MFA, and published my first book. I tried teaching but discovered that most academic institutions were eliminating tenure-track jobs and only using adjuncts for most classes. So I had to give up on that dream, too. In the last few years, when I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I said to myself: “What now?” One of my priorities was getting to enjoy more of my life. I got myself a “real” camera and started taking photos of birds, flowers, trees, just normal, ordinary things, but things I wanted to remember. Then, later the same year, when I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, another unplanned loss, I thought, “Okay, what do I do now? How do I prepare for the future? How can I take the best care of myself so I can continue to do things that bring joy to my life?” Anyway, heavy topic matter for a college conference, but I wish I had been told these things when I was a little younger. There is no real way to prepare for the surprise losses in our life, is there? But knowing that loss is part of life may help you to keep your footing when it does happen.

Sylvia posing with The Undying and SoundMachine

Speaking of surviving loss, I started Anne Boyer’s terrific memoir about her experiences with cancer in The Undying. I also started Rachel Zucker’s almost-prose-book SoundMachine. I was really enjoying the last section on residencies of SoundMachine, when Sylvia decided to take possession of the book and insisted on napping on just that section. Rachel talks about some of the normal annoyances that come with residencies (that you rarely hear about when writers gush about going to Yaddo or whatever) – being unable to sleep on the beds, being unable to write, worrying about being unconnected from your family, having no wifi. When you are handicapped and have food allergies, by the way, residencies become even less of a solid win – will the place be wheelchair-accessible? Will they have food I can eat? Will I b able to shower? For a long time it was hard to even find out that information – now places are finally starting to address accessibility in descriptions, but slowly.

Red and white rose

There have been other losses in the poetry world recently – Ahsahta Press, which did beautiful books for a long time, is closing. The editor and poet Jon Tribble, who I had the pleasure of meeting a few times at AWP and who worked tirelessly at Crab Orchard Books most recently, passed away. A friendly and generous man, the social media world suddenly lit up with words about how he had supported and encouraged so many writers, as well as his poems – it really makes you think about legacy. Will we leave behind memories not only of our poems, but of our kindnesses? I think of all the poets who have passed away in the last couple of years, as well as the musicians, and it seems like the artistic world is poorer for these losses. We have to celebrate the artists we love more, and tell them we appreciate them while they are still alive. Yes, go to that reading, or concert, or book launch, or art exhibit – and tell those whose work we love how much we love it. These connections and moments are not nothing – we should celebrate more, not less, in the face of loss.

Sunflowers

What is the Future of Poetry?

All this talk got me thinking about the future of poetry and the impact of digital technology. I’m not afraid of robots taking our jobs yet – I haven’t met a robotic great writer yet. But perhaps the way we share and learn poetry will be different. Will poetry books be less important that single poems? In a generation that lives on Instagram and Twitter, will a single line of poetry be more important than a whole poem? If universities are not only taking away tenure-track jobs but their support of university presses, where will poetry be published? Who will be the important and relevant publishers of the future? My guess is, those presses are just starting now, with editors twenty years younger than me who understand what appeals to the next generation of readers and how to present poetry to them.

Twenty years ago, my professors told me not to publish in online journals because it would somehow sully my reputation. Now online journals are an important pillar of the poetry community, and even the most old-school journals must adapt to having an online presence or perish. Some of the journals I grew up admiring have disappeared, being replaced by a horde of newer journals. Just as medicine has changed over the years, the poetry world too has been updating and mutating. A lot of the changes are positive and exciting – I see more diversity in voices, which was overdue, and more women and people of color in charge of journals and presses, also overdue. Perhaps poetry books as we know them will change – become multi-media, include more art or music or performance aspects. The voices that will become prominent in 20 years will certainly be different than those I was taught in school. The answer won’t be too different than the advice from the panelists at the conference: Stay flexible. Be persistent. Be resilient. We cannot predict the future, but we can know and be prepared to pivot. With that, I will take a look at my book manuscripts and poems again and think about where to send them. Wishing you a calm and refreshing October, with hope for the future.

Glass Pumpkins, A Little Bit of Good News, Appreciating Fragile Things, and the End of September

 

Red maple leaf

The End of September

is here, and I am sick in bed, watching the rain. This leaf is one of the first that has turned here in my neighborhood, one of the first signs that fall has really arrived. The dahlias, sunflowers, and hydrangeas are almost done with their blooming cycles. We’ve had thunderstorms, hail, and sunbreaks interrupt the last week of almost constant rain. We also had another bobcat visit – this time, the camera captured it pouncing on something just out of view! It was just like a gigantic bob-tailed kitten.

Last night I broke a tooth, which doesn’t feel like a good omen. Still, earlier this week I was able to get out to see the glass pumpkins from Tacoma Glassblowers Studio and took a peek at the Seattle Japanese Gardens, in between medical appointments. I have a practice of combining doctor appointments, especially stressful ones, with something pleasant, like visiting a garden. I recommend it! I have to have emergency dental work early this week so I’ll try to figure out how to alleviate that with some nature therapy.

A Little Bit of Good News – A Poem Nominated for Best of the Net

I did get a little good news – a poem of mine, “Introduction to Writer’s Block,” was nominated by Shenandoah for Best of the Net. What a nice pick-me-up! Thank you to Shenandoah‘s editors for that! They are a great magazine full of wonderful work and I’m honored to be part of their nominations!

I’ve been writing but not sending out my work enough – usually fall is “go time” for writers, but I’ve had trouble getting my energy going, despite my love of fall and cooler temperatures. I’ve been fighting off a couple of bugs plus pretty severe anemia. So, feeling moody and tired and ready to feel better so I can enjoy what is usually one of my two favorite seasons (my birthday is in April, so I have to love spring, but fall is a close second.)

Seattle Japanese Gardens and Disappearing Birds

Have you been reading the depressing news about the extinction of trees in Europe (in particular, the Horse Chestnut tree is in trouble) and the disappearance of about half of the bird population in North America since the seventies? Oh, right, you were focused on all the impeachment stuff in the news? Totally understand. But it is a reminder to appreciate and notice the birds and trees around us, especially the ones that are difficult to grow and maintain, the birds and plants susceptible to changes in habitat and climate and invasive species. Also, there have been some really interesting articles about how spending time in nature literally helps your body heal, and I believe that’s probably true. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more interested in planting things, and trying to appreciate the work that goes into maintaining public spaces, parks and gardens. I’ve been trying to plant things around the garden that butterflies and hummingbirds like, and planting sunflowers for finches and other small birds.

 

Glenn and I with glass pumpkin

Glass Pumpkins and Other Fragile Things

Tacoma is known for its Glass Museum and glassblowing studios, and sometimes Tacoma Glassblowing Studios comes and shows off the work of its artists at our local outdoors store Molbak’s, and I always enjoy seeing the shapes and colors they come up with.

I mean, glass pumpkins are not entirely practical items, and definitely don’t taste as good as the real thing, but since after all it is decorative gourd season, they add to the spooky/harvest-season feel. Plus they always remind me of Cinderella – the pumpkin magic coach. Glenn was entertained by the “Seahawks” colored pumpkins on a mini football field.

Traditional Orange Glass Pumpkins

Appreciating the value of fragile things – disappearing trees, delicate swirls of glass – feels like a metaphor to me right now, with the reminder that our human bodies remain fragile no matter how many vitamins we take or plans we have. I try to take good care of myself but sometimes my system gets overwhelmed. We get flu shots and stop at the local vegetable stands, bringing home squash and carrots and pears. We try to get out every time the sun shines in between the rain, appreciating the golden light that happens at the beginning and end of the day in between raindrops.

I hope you have had a good beginning to fall, full of promise and good cheer, celebrating the changing seasons as much as you can. I am hoping to fill the increasingly dark and rainy days with writing and reading (I just got a new stack of library books) and hoping to find good publishers for my two book manuscripts, placing poems and hopefully getting to do some writing-related social things (I have a reading scheduled for the first week of October in Auburn so hopefully I will be better for that!)

Think good thoughts for my emergency tooth repair. Wishing you good news in the mail and the time to get out and enjoy a little bit of autumn!

 

Sick in September, an Article on CBD Oil, and Stuck in the In-Between

 

Sunflowers

Sick in September – Down But Not Out

Well, I got a rejection (well, a “semifinalist” for one of my book manuscripts, which still feels like a big no) and I’ve been fighting off multiple fall illnesses and feel terrible. I’m lying in bed and drinking ginger tea and I’ve already done a week of antibiotics and vitamins and sleeping way too much. Now, usually, Facebook, reminds me, on this week on most years I’m in the hospital for pneumonia or MS-related vomiting or something else fun, so really, I’m up from the other years, so…yay? Anyway, I applied for a big ole grant (that required 4 (!!) recommenders – thank you to those that offered, I really appreciate it) and revised my book manuscripts yet again. Still feel like sleeping through all day and all night. The weather person keeps telling us it’s been colder and wetter here than usual.

I did have an article come out for Folks PillPack, on CBD oil for MS pain, in case you’d like to read it, called “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Learning to Love CBD Oil for Chronic Pain.” I haven’t written that many personal essays about health stuff – I mean, journalistic writing is something different than a personal article, you know? So I’d appreciate your thoughts on it.

Glenn took this picture with the “Sweet/Hot” peppers sign.

Feeling a Bit…In Between

Have you ever had a period of your life where you felt like nothing was really settled, when you felt like you were in between big things? I’m a Taurus so I don’t like being unsettled. I’ve lost some sources of income that were steady for some years, so I have to think of new ways to bring in income with my current level of health/disability. I can’t travel as much as I’d like. I haven’t had a book come out in three years, which to me, feels like a long pause. I have these two great book manuscripts I’m sending around, and I’m getting nibbles, and I’m getting to “finalist” but not “winner,” and that can be frustrating. My health is better than it was last year, but not by so much that I’m suddenly able to do everything I want – the gains, with MS, seem to be incremental rather than huge steps.

So what do we do with the times in between, like I’m going through now? Sometimes we wait and rest. We try to get a little perspective. The seasons are changing. We just had a beautiful Harvest moon, in between rainstorms.

Harvest Moon – a Big Mood

I was talking to my little brother about “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” It’s just Jerry Seinfeld driving around with various comedians, and often it is unfunny, uncomfortable, and thought-provoking. Comedians are sad by nature. The way they talk about comedy is the way writers talk about writing. Recently Eddie Murphy was featured, and he seemed really melancholy, distant. When I was a teenager he was such a big star. I remember seeing Louis Black on the show and I wrote down this quote: “Importance is the worst thing to put on art…if you think this is important, you’re screwed before you write the first word.” In between gigs, or the highs of careers, comedians are awkward and thoughtful, thinking hard about how to make people laugh, as hard as poets might think about creating their next poem. I have started going to therapy since my cancer and MS diagnoses, and my therapist suggested I should do stand-up. I was like, that’s the only place where I could get paid less and be treated with less respect than poetry. You don’t like being a woman in the poetry world? Try stand up! Also, I’m not sure my jokes about illness would kill with a real-life audience; I have a very specific sense of humor.

Glenn and I at the gardens at Willows Lodge in late September

Anyway, this is how un-energetic I’ve been – I started this blog post three days ago, and I’m finally finishing it tonight. It’s been cold and rainy, with brief breaks of weak sun, and I haven’t been up to doing much, but Glenn and I took a stroll at the nearby Willows Lodge gardens and I saw the most beautiful blue delphiniums. Such a surprising flower to see at the end of September, when you feel like flowers are the least likely to be at their most beautiful.

I am inspired by being outside, in nature, and even when I’m not at 100 percent I try to do what I can to remind me about what is beautiful in the world, why we keep on fighting to stay in it, why we bother with the whole struggle. Gardening requires a lot of hard work – a lot of plants that don’t take, or that get eaten by deer or rabbits, or the plant gets rotted underground. You take care of the garden because the moments of beauty are the reward. It’s the same with poetry. You send out your work, it mostly gets rejected, sometimes it gets published, and you’re reminded by a kind note from a friend or a good review why you bother with poetry in the first place. Like being a comic, and you’re rewarded by the laughter of an audience. Gardening, Comedy, Surviving a Chronic Illness and Poetry: all require a lot of toil, a lot of faith, a lot of hope, and a lot of failure with sometimes modest results.

Blue Delphiniums in September

Anyway, now my metaphors have meandered from comparing poetry and illness to comedy and gardening, so I’ll end this post with a picture of those blue delphiniums. I wish you moments of beauty in the middle of struggle, in between the highs and lows, that remind you why you do what you do.

 

Writing from Inside the Thunderstorm, Fall Color, and Submission Season

 

Lightning Strikes Seattle (photo by Tim Durkan – what a view!)

Writing from Inside the Thunderstorm

I’m writing tonight from inside one of the most intense thunderstorms Seattle has seen in over 20 years, with over 1200 lightning strikes in about 45 minutes – not a big deal for other places I’ve lived but a big deal here – cancelling concerts, emptying stadiums, knocking out lights all over the city. If I’m honest, I miss the thunderstorms from my childhood – smelling the electricity in the air, the sound of hail against the windows, the stirring up of everything.

 

Fall wreath

Fall Color in September

And stirring up was in order – just yesterday it was 80 degrees and sunny, more like midsummer than almost-autumn. I went to get my hair cut-and-colored for September and after we walked around in the sunshine on the edge of Lake Washington, almost too hot, posing with some still-blooming roses.

I put up this wreath, and boom! Autumn feels like it’s arrived at our doorstep. I’ve been taking pictures around Woodinville to show that fall color is coming, although the grass is still dry and brown and the leaves haven’t started to change on my trees yet. I also captured a couple of birds – a Steller’s jay and a junco with a sunflower seed in its mouth. The last blooms of September are really something to celebrate – orange dahlias, roses last gasp, vibrant snapdragons, even a pumpkin peeking out or two. These orange dahlias made me want to plant a big patch of orange dahlias somewhere.

Submission Season – September

Yes, submission season for poets has started in earnest, and I’ve been revising my two book manuscripts, and writing new poems, and gathering poems into groups for different journals. I’m also ready to start reading for real again – I mean, doesn’t September suggest the reading of serious literature, for things that make you think? What are you reading to get you in the mood for fall?

Thinking hard about where to send book manuscripts and which journals to send new poems. It reminds me of the birds showing their plumage and the flowers showing off their brightest color right before they disappear. We are all trying to get noticed, poets, birds, petals – an evolutionary imperative. I think that the last couple of years have given me more perspective, but also given me the desire to aim a little higher, work a little harder on making the poems and manuscripts the best they can be. When my brain is working, and I have energy, I have to remember to work during those times. With multiple sclerosis, you can’t take emotional or mental energy for granted.

There’s a certain amount of luck, chaos, and sheer force of will involved in sending out your work and getting published. Submitting poems during a thunderstorm seems somehow appropriate.

 

Happy September! New Poem up at Rogue Agent, an Interview, and Fall Submissions

 

Row of orange sunflowers, Woodinville

 Happy September!

This is really one of the most beautiful seasons here in the Seattle area, with late roses, dahlias, and sunflowers still blooming in the gardens, the days are still long and the days get a little more pleasant. I enjoyed our trip to Oregon, but I was even more happy to get home. We went and got flowers and went to our little farmer’s stand, and cut roses and lilacs (!) from our own garden, and I was happy just to relax over Labor Day weekend and catch up on everything, including spending time with our cats, who refused to leave our side for a couple of days.

 

Field of dahlias, Woodinville

For my friends who work in academia (or have children,) it’s all about returning to the school’s schedule, but for me, September is a good excuse to get new notebooks and pens and start a new spreadsheet for poetry submissions. It’s also time to enjoy the last little bit of sunshine before the rainy season really sets in. It’s time to put new bulbs in the garden, to watch the last of the summertime sunsets. It’s a good time to get together with friends who’ve been travelling during the summer, and the poetry reading schedule starts up again in earnest. What about you? Is there something you look forward to in September, even if it means leaving summer behind?

 

A New Poem, “Today, Rose Gold,” Up at Rogue Agent

I have a new poem up at the new issue of Rogue Agent, “Today, Rose Gold,” which talks about dyeing my hair pink and how retail therapy was involved in my recovery from my cancer diagnosis/MS diagnosis in the last couple of years. I really appreciate how the editor puts together every issue, and I also appreciate them giving my work a home.

An Interview with Luna Station Quarterly

Thanks to T.D. Walker who did this interview with me for Luna Station Quarterly about my book, The Robot Scientist’s Daughter. I talk about radioactive flowers, the influence of growing up in Tennessee, and menacing scientists. I apologize for the lateness of this; I was just made aware that it had gone up, so I hope you enjoy it.

Fall Submissions: Impossible?

In the good old days, when I first started submitting, with envelopes and stamps and everything, September 1-June 1 was a reliable open window for most literary magazines. You got all your poems printed up and lined up, and then sent everything out at once. Sure, you waited around nine months for your precious rejection slip, possibly with some writing on it, but it was easy to get going.

This year, when I got ready on September 1 to send out work, I’ve found that some journals have shuttered, others have shrunk or changed their submission windows, and some that should be open as stated on their submission guidelines just…aren’t. Online submitting, which often costs money, seems to me a bit more time-consuming and frustrating that the old method, where you just stuffed your envelope and sent stuff out. Ah well, that’s progress for you. Nowadays you can check in to the online system and see if your poems have been “received,” are “in progress,” or, sometimes, rejected or accepted without an e-mail (it’s happened to me.)

Some things haven’t changed. Along with starting a new Excel spreadsheet for my poems in the fall, I’ll start a new spreadsheet for book manuscript submissions. I’ll research new journals and scan my local bookstores for journals that look interesting. I like seeing journals in person, to see what their covers look like, if they have art work inside, scanning the work for names I recognize or an interesting piece. I know more and more journals are switching to online-only, which seems like a sort of loss.  I still have a bookshelf full of journals that date all the way back to the late nineties, with paper evidence of publication which, admittedly, often gathers dust but I love having a paper archive. Some days I think I would have really liked being a librarian, except even libraries are going more and more online.

Anyway, how do you motivate yourself to get your fall submissions rolling after the slower summer season? Do you, like me, save up poems written over the summer to send out in September? What are your favorite new journals, or what journals do you miss the most?

Two New Poems up at Cold Mountain Review and Picturing the Oregon Coast

 

Haystack Rock and Giant Sand Dune at Sunset

Visit to the Oregon Coast

Just returned from the Oregon Coast – Pacific City, to be exact – where we had this review of a giant sand dune and Haystack Rock each morning and evening from our balcony. Pacific City – which can be reached only with a five and a half hour drive, the last hour of which was a hairpin turned, one-lane bridged mountain road driving – complete with washed-out roads and steep drop offs – almost reminded me of driving through the mountains in Tennessee only to wind up in California. The rocky dunes and steep cliffs, the scrub brush, the surfers –  definitely echoed the beaches in northern California. Maybe a little like Big Sur – the lush growth of mountain trees, ending in a spectacular stretch of beach.

Egret in flight

Even the birds – when we went through town, which was a bit modest and even seedy in spots – on the river reminded us of California. We saw our share of herons, but we were really excited by a sighting of a great Egret – which we hadn’t seen since we left Napa. We went to a wildlife preserve, where we saw the only flowers we saw in Pacific City. We didn’t encounter the rare butterfly they were trying to protect, but we did run into several deer, which were plentiful just like they were in Port Townsend, Washington, another mostly touristy, small beach town. These little coastal towns are fascinating to me: the people, the landscapes, the jobs, the houses. What are daily lives like when the pace is so different than, say, Portland or Seattle? There are a ton of these little pockets all around Washington and Oregon. You can definitely see the appeal of escaping here.

Last sunset on the Coast, our balcony

It’s easy for us to forget that we live so close to so many amazing landscapes – mountain ranges we rarely visit, a roaring ocean we don’t see often enough, a whole different menagerie of birds and butterflies. One of the benefits of taking these kinds of road trips is re-familiarizing yourself with the area you live in, the microclimates, the tiny different ecosystems. Also, we listened to almost the full book (and I finished when I got home) of Yoko Ogawa’s depressing with very salient The Memory Police, about the dangers of succumbing to authoritarian governments without too much resistance. (And also the very Japanese emotion of aware – the sadness and beauty of things that disappear – in this case, memories.) We try to get through one book on every road trip. Glenn said it would be easy to do nothing but watch the sea – as the light changes, as the birds go up and down the beach, watching various vehicles get towed off the beach after getting stuck in the sand.

Glenn and I on the windy beach, where it was really hard to walk with a cane!

But I remain attached to Woodinville – the abundance of flowers, especially, and hummingbirds, which were missing in our beach visit. I think of myself more as a tree/forest/waterfall person than a true beach lover. I love the shade rather than sunning. I like the shapes of the leaves overhead. But it is nice to remind ourselves of what is out here. Also, for disabled people, the beach is hard to have fun on. As I discovered quickly, canes sink quickly in the sand, and the person trying to navigate the beach in a puffy-wheeled wheelchair had a really hard time. As it was, I took a few steps towards the water, got my feet wet, and then jumped back into the car (which yes, though it had all-wheel drive, got stuck on the sand, but instead of being towed, we were pushed out by a volunteer gang of teenage volleyball players. I’ve never been so relieved to be surrounded by teens! They cheered as we successfully rolled away, and Glenn and I could not stop laughing.)

Here’s a snapshot in pictures: a cabinet inlaid with slices of geode from the Rowboat Gallery, a friendly deer, the scrub flowers at the wildlife preserve, and us:

Two New Poems up at Cold Mountain Review

Thanks to the new Spring/Summer 2019 issue of Cold Mountain Review, which has two of my new poems in it. The whole issue is beautiful, so check it out. And here’s a sneak peek at one of my poems, “Self-Portrait as Migration,” what I write while I was preparing to go into chemo and reading about the disappearances of poisoned snow geese. Snow geese are one of the birds I had never seen before moving to the Northwest, and they are amazing. Wishing you a quiet and peaceful transition into September.

My New Review up on The Rumpus, Spending Time with Poet Friends, and Unexpected Downtime

 

cat with book

Kitten Sylvia posing with Tsunami vs the Fukushima 50

New Review up on The Rumpus

Happy to have my new review of Lee Ann Roripaugh’s excellent and timely Tsunami vs the Fukushima 50 up at The Rumpus today. Check it out! Sneak peek:

“In Tsunami vs. the Fukushima 50, a book that crackles with imaginative language and mythological retellings that represent real-life disaster, Roripaugh offers the audience a new way to think about nuclear and natural disasters and the remnants and ghosts that remain in their wake. Worth a close reading just for the sonic skills displayed, this book manages to weave a larger message for the reader inside poems that are at once playful, plaintive, and foreboding.”

I really do believe that reviews are part of staying a part of the “giving” part of the poetry community, and I hope that reading this one 1. brings you joy and 2. causes you to look up this book, because I’m very enthusiastic about it.

Natasha Moni and Jeannine Hall Gailey, being poets

Spending Time with Poet Friends

Speaking of poetry community, I had the chance to spend some time catching up with my poet friend – or should I say, doctor/poet friend – Natasha K. Moni. She has just opened up her practice in the South Sound, and we talked publishing, book sales, balancing being a writer and a doctor (she also offerings book “doctoring!” – ie editing services!) I mean, that’s a lot going on!

One thing that will always make you feel a little less frustrated and alone in the poetry world in spending time with other writers. Every one of us has good news and bad news, good days and bad days, figuring out this whole “living life as a writer” thing. We have to help each other celebrate and mourn, fight the good fight, etc.

Glenn and I at Carillon Point

Unexpected Downtime

The fun of having a kind of crappy immune system is that one day you feel fine – see above re: socializing, and the picture of me enjoying some sunshine and flowers at the edge of Lake Washington – and the next, you’ll have to cancel all your appointments and are forced to take some unexpected downtime and go to the doctor instead of doing something “useful.” That was the case for me this week when I caught one of the stomach bugs going around. Mostly it meant lying around groaning (I’m not good with stomach stuff, though I’m pretty tough at this point about most health things) and extra sleep while playing classic movies in the background (the news was much too terrible to contemplate even on a very empty stomach) and it reminded me again that we have to appreciate the good days when they happen, and be gentle on ourselves on the bad days. I used the downtime to order a new Yoko Ogawa novel and peruse some poetry journals which had been lying next to the bed, and decide to grade Audrey Hepburn movies from best to worst (My favorites remain Sabrina and Paris When It Sizzles because writer satire on the latter and Paris featuring in both, plus I would definitely date William Holden and marry Humphrey Bogart.) Funny Face is a distant third, only because Fred Astaire just didn’t seem to have good chemistry with Audrey, but at least it has some nice scenes in a bookstore.

Our society really pounds in the point that we’re only to be valued if we are of use, and that is a negative lesson. Human beings – including myself – have value even if they’re not being “productive” or “turning a profit” or “making widgets.” One thing poetry does is teach people to slow down and evaluate their world (and worldview.) If the news says the world is burning, it may be, and what does that mean? And what can we do about it? That’s why the kind of poetry book I reviewed (link at the beginning of the post) is important – not just that it examines a huge cultural and environmental catastrophe of our time, but that it really makes us thing hard about why these things happen and how we are involved. And maybe even more valuable than the things you plan to do is the unplanned downtime that gives you time to ponder. Even if that downtime is the kind that leaves you moaning in bed.

Well, I’m hoping to post a healthier post next week, but until then, enjoy the last of August before September is upon us. Remember to eat a popsicle and run around barefoot and smell at least one flower before it’s over. I will do the same.

Jeannine Hall Gailey

Jeannine Hall Gailey
Jeannine Hall Gailey is a writer with MS who served as the second Poet Laureate of Redmond, Washington and is the author of Becoming the Villainess, She Returns to the Floating World, Unexplained Fevers, The Robot Scientist’s Daughter, winner of the Moon City Press Book Prize, Field Guide to the End of the World, and the upcoming Flare, Corona from BOA Editions. Her work has been featured on NPR’s The Writer’s Almanac, Verse Daily and The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror. Her poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Poetry, and Ploughshares.

Connect with Me

Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Tumblr Pinterest Amazon Wikipedia Email
Copyright © Dandelion by Pexeto