Six New Poems in the newest issue of Rosebud, and When You’re Not the Chosen One

Sylvia posing with Rosebud (and tulips)

Six Poems in the New Issue of Rosebud

First of all, a big thank you to the editors of Rosebud, who decided to publish six of my poems in the latest issue of their magazine (pictured here with Sylvia and a vase of parrot roses.)

These were some of my favorite poems from my new manuscript, so it meant a lot to me.

Here’s one of them, “Summer of Bombs.” (I scanned this with my new tiny printer. I’m so excited about it!)

When You’re Not the Chosen One

You would think, by my age, as long as I’ve been submitting poetry (um, more than twenty years) that somehow rejection would stop getting to me. But you know what? It still does. In the last two days, I got one regular rejection, and three – three!!! – book rejections. For two different book manuscripts. It always takes guts to send out your book manuscript that you work and agonize over, and then, you get (mostly) impersonal announcements, plus telling you about who they will be publishing, not you.  Well, that is going to take more than a chocolate chip cookie to get over. You look at the winners. And you think, why is that person chosen? And why not me?? Why am I not the chosen one? (If you want some reassurance, go back to this post and see what Sylvia Plath had to say when she lost the Yale Younger Poets prize to George Starbuck. Let’s just say she was not gracious about her loss. It’s okay to vent sometimes. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be human. The poetry game can be brutal!)

Intellectually, you know they might simply be writing poems more to the taste of a certain press’ editorial team, or your book might have been too similar to a book they just take, or they’re taking into account (shiver at the thought) your author platform and you don’t Twitter enough or have enough Instagram followers or you’re not male enough or young enough or cute enough or whatever. You don’t become a writer at all if you don’t have an ego. Sure, you love your art, blah blah purity (as Sylvia paraphrases), but really, you don’t write to not be read, as the older woman writer reminds Glenn Close’s character in “The Wife.” (See it! Great things to say about the writing product vs the writer him or herself. Also watched the extremely bleak “Can You Every Forgive Me?” which is literally every female writer’s neurotic nightmare of failure and poverty in one movie! Although I kept thinking of every other way to make money besides forging famous writer’s letters…) On second thought, maybe don’t watch either movie the day you get a really big rejection (or three.)

I have been watching the frustration of some much loved writer friends who send out their first manuscripts over and over and get a ton of “finalists” but don’t get chosen. At least not yet. It’s a shame because these are very strong writers and I want to hug them and tell them to ignore the noise and that they’re terrific. If I had my own press I would have already published them. I don’t want them to feel that they are “less” as people or writers because today’s trends or editors don’t validate their work. In the letters of Virginia Woolf I’m reading, she tells another younger writer that she didn’t publish a thing (besides reviews) in her thirties. And her forties were when she wrote and published nearly all of the work we consider ‘important’ today. Sometimes it takes time to come into your own.

I’ve also watched some friends get wonderful news – my friend Kelli Russell Agodon just won a PSA prize for lyric poetry – and Martha Silano has a new book, Gravity Assist, coming out with a book launch in a few weeks – which, yes, I am actually happy to celebrate. You want your friends to succeed. You cross your fingers for them and cry when they cry and rejoice when they finally get the good news. As a reviewer, I come across a lot of poetry books – some of which absolutely blow me away. They are so good they are humbling.

Tomorrow I’m meeting up for coffee with a new friend who not only does poetry but documentary filmmaking (which seems an even more difficult world than poetry.) I think the best cure for feeling unloved, rejected, is to get back out there, send out your work (which I’m doing right after this post – carrying a poetry manuscript – a paper submission – to the post office) and get together with other creative folks.

This is also a great time to remind you not to feel “less than” when you go to AWP next month. It doesn’t matter if you’re not “poetry famous” or whatever. The most important thing is to go, try to have fun, talk to a few other people in your line of work that you like about their survival tips, and talk (gulp) to editors and publishers. (There are publishers I decided never to send to because I didn’t like the way they acted at AWP, I’ll admit – and I’d rather know ahead of time about the type of person that runs a press than get an unhappy surprise later!) Don’t worry about your fame level, worry about your fun level. Make plans to meetup with some online friends for the first time in real life. Dawdle at the book fair over a table of beautiful chapbooks or lit mags.  Go to a Portland art gallery or museum or, if the weather is kind, the famous Rose/Japanese garden (or Powell’s or VooDoo Doughnuts – you do you!) The point is, use it an empowering exercise rather than a way to make yourself feel small because someone looks at your name tag and turns away – hey, it happens. But discover great books, make new friends, and take advantage of a proudly weird city to do something out of the ordinary that you find fun. Dress up. Be proud that you are out there and trying in a world where most people never even try.

Valentines in the Snow, Beautiful Ghosts at Roq La Rue Gallery, and Writing into the Winter Quiet

Valetine’s Day Flowers

Valentines in the Snow

Our plans for Valentine’s Day on Thursday were somewhat squelched by the snow and downed trees still around our neighborhood – the National Guard was called in to help people on the East side of Seattle dig out of their streets, people stranded by snow that refused to melt and unable to leave their neighborhoods on icy hills. Still, we drove out to a movie in the cold slush, which was fun after our weeks of being snowed in.

We decided to reschedule our Valentine’s Day plans, which included going to the opening of Roq La Rue’s group show, “Beautiful Ghost.” But it turned out the part of the art the gallery had planned to show was delayed because of the snow.

We finally tried to dig our garden out of the snow. We lost a little weeping birch that fell over under the weight of a foot and a half of wet snow and ice. Many cherry and apple trees on our street were knocked down, which was heartbreaking, and our neighborhood roads were actually blocked in both directions by huge downed evergreen trees – thank goodness for a neighbor who owned a chainsaw who cleared an area for cars to get in and out. My next door neighbor’s fifteen-year -old lilacs were split at the base. Nasty snow. Also, we had a nine hour power outage – but one of my friends nearby had a 24-hour outage – not much fun in the cold.

Glenn and I dressed for post-Valentine’s Day

Beautiful Ghosts at Roq La Rue

On Saturday, there was still snow on the ground, and a chill cold grey cloud dousing us with rain, but we were determined to do a little celebrating. We dressed up and went downtown to Roq La Rue, got to see the “Beautiful Ghost” show, and I spent time floating around the ghostly art. I have said before that I think being around art is important for writers, and even though I’m not a gifted visual artist myself, something about being around art and artists makes me feel happier and more inspired.

Me posing with “Bonny Swan” by Kai Carpenter

Here are a few shots of the pieces at the show, and me next to one of my favorites, “The Bonny Swan,” which reflects the narrative of an old English/Scottish broadside and folk song about a younger daughter pushed into the river by her older sister so that she could marry her younger sister’s fiancee. A harp is made from the drowned girls hair and bones that sings of her murderer. Yeah, I can see why I’d be attracted to it. Dead girl transformations, Scottish murder ballads, crimes being told by ghosts, instruments made out of bones?

Other pieces I was captivated by were this ghostly cardinal and “The Ghost of Miss Darcy Three Fish”

Afterwards we ambled through Elliot Bay Books, where Glenn got coffee and I picked up a copy of The Penguin Book of Japanese Stories, edited by Jay Rubin (a terrific translator whom I got to meet and think the world of) and introduced by Haruki Murakami, but I would have bought it just to see the stories by Yoko Ogawa and Banana Yoshimoto.

A Feature on Women Horror Writers and Writing into the Quiet

Anyway, we finally started getting mail and packages again, but there is snow again in the weather forecast next week. Feeling very ready for some sunshine and warmer weather. I want to see daffodils and cherry blossoms, not murdered cherry trees and bulbs buried under snow. The political climate and the weather have together been so depressing, maybe I’ll go sing drowned swan ballads to cheer myself up!

Speaking of horror and wintertime, a big thank you to Gallows Hill for including Field Guide to the End of the World in this feature on women horror writers! Click here to pick up a copy!

End of February can be a tough time for writers, because it tends to be a season on waiting on submissions, of still-too-long nights and dreary short days, of sad music (Ahem, acoustic version of “Northern Lights” by Death Cab and hey, for the heck of it, a version of “Bonny Swan”) So be kind to yourself, watch something that makes you laugh, read a novel or bring in some tulips. Spring awaits. Write into the cold wind.

New Q&A Up at Gingerbread Lit Mag, Seattle Snowpocalypse 2019, Snowbound (with Cats)

Snowy Back Porch View

Seattle Snowpocalypse 2019

Since I’ve last written, winter has appeared – with a vengeance – in Seattle. Last weekend it snowed five inches here – and never melted. Last night we got hit with another four inches. Grocery store shelves empty, traffic snarls, icy roads, helping cars stuck in the snow – we might not be able to leave the house for a while as no roads at ALL got plowed in my city of Woodinville. At least the cats got to enjoy it! One extra chore has been unfreezing and refilling our hummingbird feeders, as hummingbirds need extra fuel to stay warm in this cold spell.

A Q&A with Gingerbread House Literary Magazine

Thanks to Gingerbread House Literary Magazine who posted this Q&A feature on fairy tales and poetry with me today: Gingerbread House Q&A with Jeannine Hall Gailey.

Ironically they posted my poem about the White Witch last week, and then it seems the White Witch of Narnia has descended on us in Seattle to install an unending winter! Seriously, we have no temperatures above freezing on the forecast for a week and more! This is much colder (and snowier) than average for us. By late February we usually have some trees starting to bloom – not this year, it seems.

Early snowfall on my garden – now it’s covered!

Snowbound

So, with no way to escape and trapped indoors, what are my plans? Working on a Plath essay on spec, a fellowship application, and received two acceptances in the last few days (both of which, unfortunately, were stuck in my spam folder, so I didn’t even get to celebrate them right away.) I may send out one of my poetry manuscripts another couple of times, too. Still reading Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath’s letters, and checked Mary Shelley’s apocalypse novel The Last Man out of the library. And although January was full of rejections, I’ve had two acceptances this week. Thinking about starting our taxes, finally. If I hadn’t already gone a little crazy from being stuck inside last week by the snow, I’m sure I’ll be a little “The Shining” by the end of this one.

Birthday and Superbowl Celebrations, pre-snow

Last weekend we celebrated my little brother and sister-in-law’s birthdays along with the Superbowl. The bad part was we fed them all our food and then were stuck on icy roads trying to restock the fridge. We haven’t had trash pickup or any delivery trucks since then, and the grocery store stocks have been raided – dairy cases empty, bread, lettuce, bananas, meat – all gone. The day we got out to Redmond, it took us an hour to get back to Woodinville – usually an eleven minute drive. Out on the road, spinouts are common, jack-knifed trucks block lanes of the highway, and Glenn had to rescue a woman in a Prius stuck in ice on the bottom of our own street, which is a mild hill! Seattle, Woodinville, and Kirkland aren’t really equipped to deal with snow – they don’t have snowplows, they don’t salt the roads, which tend towards curves and hills, even main thoroughfares remain treacherous and covered with ice in our hilly area of Woodinville/Kirkland. Many folks here (besides us midwestern transplants – I literally had my Driver’s Ed driving classes in a steep, hilly Cincinnati neighborhood, with ice and snow fog and poorly operating brakes in an old car, so besides my MS vertigo, I’m a darn good ice driver) have no experience driving in the snow. One of the days we actually got out, a Miata spun out in front of us and nearly hit us pulling out of a driveway onto a main thoroughfare and ended up blocking both lanes. So if you live in the area, be careful! The hardware stores have been sold out of snow shovels and de-icer for a week. Try to keep your hummingbirds fed (and a birdbath with water – birds are looking for water with all this ice and snow) And be sure to keep your phone charged, your car full of gas, and a shovel and kitty litter in the back of your bar (along with water and blankets) in case you get stuck. The woman who got stuck on our street said she called both AAA and the local police and both were too busy to help individuals who were stranded – there are too many stranded cars!

So, as a writer, I certainly have no excuse not to do some reading, writing, and more tedious tasks (cleaning, taxes, fellowship applications, submitting…) Wish me luck and no power outages! We are supposed to have more snow all week and wind and freezing temperatures.

PS Be extra friendly to your neighbors who may be disabled – crutches, canes, and wheelchairs all have issues on the ice, so even getting their mail may be treacherous. Be extra kind to teach other. If you have to drink some extra hot chocolate, pull out that extra blanket and book you’ve been meaning to read, make a phone call (if you have power) to someone who haven’t talked to in a while – and enjoy the quiet.

 

The Winter Witch Arrives in Seattle, New Poem up at Gingerbread House Lit, Queen Anne and More Sylvia Plath, and Looking Towards Spring

Hummingbird closeup (immature Anna’s?)

The Winter Witch Arrives in Seattle

Sure, it’s been a polar vortex in half of the country for a week, but today is the first day we’re actually getting cold temperatures and a chance of snow – and the cold weather’s hanging around for a whole week! I’m still struggling to get over my cough, which has been hanging around since January 1. So keep warm out there!

Gingerbread House  – “The White Witch Retreats”

A big thank you to Gingerbread House literary Magazine for publishing my weather-appropriate poem, “The White Witch Retreats,” complete with a beautiful piece of art work. It’s sort of a mashup of Narnia’s White Witch, the Snow Queen, and Game of Thrones mythology, with a dose of environmental concerns…Fun, right? I can’t get away entirely, it seems, from fairy tale poetry!

An Outing Across Town…Traffic, Open Books, and Trying to Track Down Medicine

One of my prescription medicines has been discontinued, and we tracked down a last dose at a pharmacy in Queen Anne. No problem, it’ll be a thirty minute trip across town. No, it was a four-hour round trip! The new “tunnel” – replacing the Alaska Way Viaduct – opened and traffic was the worst I’ve seen it in a while, compounded with so much construction and destruction it looked like an apocalypse had occurred in certain stretches of downtown. And 30,000 people running through the tunnel, along with a protest of people in wheelchairs protesting for more accessible design traversing downtown (which is sorely needed!)

We ducked out of the traffic for a moment to stop at Kerry Park at sunset (hadn’t been there in a while, but definitely one of the best views of the Seattle skyline around) and after we had the prescription safely in hand, we stopped in right before closing to Open Books, and picked up Dorianne Laux‘s beautiful new and selected book of poetry Only As the Day is Long, and also picked up Float in the Space Between: A Life and Work in Conversation with the Life and Work of Etheridge Knight by Terrance Hayes. And Glenn snapped a photo of Field Guide to the End of the World on display! Glenn also snapped a pic of me in my somewhat sad and barren looking February garden. It’ll be much prettier in a month, I promise – already the hyacinth and daffodil bulbs are poking up. I look tired (not sleeping well as a result of this dang cough) but hey, this is probably what I’ll look like at AWP too – I rarely sleep during the three-day poetry-extravaganza – although I might have another pink hair mood by then!

Sylvia Plath Road Trips, Poetry Publishing World Quotes, and Looking Towards Spring

A few days with cold rain and a cold have given me time to catch up on my reading, specifically Virginia Woolf’s letters and now I’m dead in the middle of Sylvia Plath’s letters, Volume II. I thought this quote might have about today’s poetry publishing world, instead of 1959’s:

Here’s a quote regarding not getting the Yale Younger Prize in Summer, 1959:
“I am currently quite gloomy about this poetry book of about 46 poems, 37 of them published (and all written since college, which means leaving out lots of published juvenalia.) I just got word from the annual Yale Contest that I “missed by a whisper” and it so happened that a louse of a guy I know I know personally, who writes very glib light verse with no stomach to them, won, and he lives around the corner & is an editor at a good publishing house here, and I have that very annoying feeling which is tempting to write off as sour grapes that my book was deeper, if more grim, and all those other feelings of thwart. I don’t want to try a novel until I feel I am writing good salable short stories for the simple reason that the time, sweat and tears involved in a 300-page book which is rejection all round is too large to cope with while I have the book of Poems kicking about. Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing, which remark I guess shows I still don’t have pure motives (O-it’s-such-fun-I-just-can’t-stop-who-cares-if-it’s-published-or-read) about writing. It is more fun to me, than it was when I used to solely as a love-and-admiration-getting mechanism (bless my psychiatrist.) But I still want to see it ritualized in print.”
(She’s referring to George Starbuck, a neo-formalist who went on to run the Iowa Writers Workshop and may have had CIA connections…please read Finks: How the CIA Tricked the World’s Best Writers to learn more about the CIA’s deep connections to the literary world and all we hold dear…Oh Sylvia, if you had only known how deep the cronyism and favoritism went back then for male writers…you might have been less bitter, but maybe not.)

The other fascinating section was a part describing an All-American road trip Ted and Sylvia took in 1959, where they went camping and fishing in State Parks all across America, from the east coast to Montana (where they enjoyed $2 steaks!) and Yellowstone (where their car was attacked by a bear while they were in it) with Sylvia fishing like a champ all the way to California. It was such an extraordinarily interesting portrayal of Sylvia Plath’s life as outdoorsy camper girl that it made me wonder if she would have been happier staying in America (almost certainly) and such a vital presence – not the moody glum portrait most Plath readers have in their mind. Her travel writing is descriptive and gripping, which makes me wish someone would make a book and movie out of this episode in Sylvia and Ted’s life.

From Woolf’s letters, I was entertained at letters from Virginia and Leonard’s “courtship” in which she admits she isn’t physically attracted to Leonard and after his proposal, pleads to “let her remain free.” The least romantic love letters ever, perhaps! Of course she did get married, and apparently even wanted children before doctors advised Leonard it wouldn’t be good for her health (and since there was no contraception available in 1914, this means…well, draw your own conclusions.) And yet they stayed married until her death many years later. Virginia and Leonard provide an interesting portrait of a working literary marriage – very different from Sylvia who you wish could have adopted a little of Virginia’s frostiness towards Ted!

Well, off to get ready for a birthday celebration for my little brother/Superbowl party, which means Glenn has made enough food for an army and we hope the windstorm and snow don’t start up til after! Have a happy February week, and remember, spring is around the corner now!

Midwinter Sun, Four New Poems up at Live Encounters, Money and Poetry, and Plath’s New Book

Glenn and I near a creek in Woodinville

A Hint of Spring Sun

Greetings from Seattle! We had a little peek of sunshine today, so even though I’m still fighting off this virus from hell, I got out a little bit and saw the sun! We had deer visitors, the birds have been chirping like it’s springtime (even though it’s still a little chilly outside.) So if anyone tells you it rains all the time in Seattle, well, I post these pictures as proof that is not technically true.

Nature Poems up at Live Encounter

Sneak Peek at two of my poems up at Live Encounter

I love taking pictures of nature, as you may know if you follow this blog, but I don’t often write about it. That’s why these four poems, up at Live Encounter, may surprise you: “Halloween, 2018,” “Charmed,” “November Dark,” and “Lost Flowers.” These are the sorts of poems I write that never end up in books – orphaned, one-offs, or just not themed in a way that lends itself to a certain collection. Do you have poems like this?

Nature Pics: Baby Hummingbird, Super Wolf Moon Eclipse, Deer Gangs

Speaking of which, here are some nature pics: a gang of deer, a baby hummingbird, and a few pics of the Super Wolf Moon eclipse (I didn’t sleep right for three days afterwards, FYI,)

Reading the new Sylvia Plath Story

Sylvia with her namesake’s book – four paws up!

Delighted to receive my copy of “Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom,” a new short story published by Faber & Faber that Sylvia Plath wrote when she was 20 years old, and Mademoiselle rejected. She didn’t work on the story again for two years, and when she did, she diminished the mystery and darkness of it. A reminder that we, as writers, often let editors guide what and how we write way too often – and just because something is rejected, doesn’t mean it isn’t good. She was just way ahead of her time. This story seems today, Murakami-esque, in the school of magical realism or symbolism – some resemblances to the story of Snowpiercer, in fact – at the time, it must have been very surprising reading indeed. I wish she had been encouraged to write more short fiction – this piece shows she had a real talent for it. One more lesson from Sylvia: don’t let editors discourage you from writing something different, or something people haven’t seen before. Or, in modern parlance, F&ck the haters.

A Little Midwinter Panic (Health, Money and Poetry)

I’m already indulging in a little midwinter panic – first, AWP Portland (will I be healthy? Will I get sick while I’m there? What in the heck is the hotel going to be like – will it be accessible? Will the conference be more accessible than last time? Will I be able to meet with everyone I want to, or get all the books and lit mags I want home?) Also, health stuff – will I ever get better from this virus (as I speak, on a new inhaler and antibiotic and still running 100 degree fever and coughing like the dickens). I have to go get my thyroid checked out and some more cancer tests at the endocrinologist on Monday. And then I had this dream about the afterlife and how I told the afterlife people I shouldn’t have spent so much of my life trying to be a poet, that I should have aimed higher and tried to be a rock star instead. So obviously mid-life crisis-ing – this often coincides with about the time I do my yearly taxes, which shows my yearly writing expenditures vs income. This may be the first year I actually made more from royalties than I made from freelance writing – which was still not very much.

I also posted a link to this article on Vox about money and a life in the arts. I’ll try to post a little more about my thoughts on poetry, money, and Plath a little later in the week, but to put it shortly: yes, a life in the arts is almost impossible without marrying money or having family money, no, most people won’t be able to pay off their MFA student loans writing (or even teaching, as I discovered to my dismay as an adjunct.) If publishers want “diverse” voices – women, writers of color, disabled writers – as much as they say they do, they should offer to waive those exorbitant submission fees, or they are literally ruling out the people they say they want to publish – and they should publish those “diverse” voices more often, rather than straight white men who happen to come from money (a dismaying majority, still.)  Sylvia letters reveal a great deal of anxiety about money, starting when she was fairly young – always worried she didn’t have enough of it, always looking for a side hustle though she was desperate for time just to write – having two young children and a terrible husband didn’t help that, of course. I would even say that Ted running off with their entire bank account and leaving Sylvia to support their two children alone may even have contributed to Sylvia’s death. So money is serious, and anyone who gives people advice about becoming a poet or artist or whatever ought to be frank about what is involved, and the hardships moneywise people will face. I still remember the advice I tried to give the students in the MFA program I taught in – I didn’t come from money, and many of those MFA students certainly financially struggling and from working-class backgrounds – and I was often distraught when I had to tell them the truth – how little I made from teaching (less than minimum wage,) how that was often the case for women who are most often assigned adjunct teaching roles and very rarely make tenure, how little I make from writing, despite some serious hustle on my part, how technical writing paid my bills for years until I became too sick to do it full-time, and that is why I had the time to become a poet, but how I would probably still be working for the man if I had the health for it (ironically, mostly because working for the man provides the best health care.) I am still paying my student loans off. I do not make enough to pay them off as a writer – I have to rely on my husband’s help. That’s not cool, but it is the reality. I wonder often if I’m doing the right thing (see: afterlife dream) putting so much effort and time into poetry when it seems to give so little back – and I still wonder if the MFA was a silly expenditure for me. I wish more poets – and other people in the arts – were more up front about how the got where they are, how they afford their life, and how much their students can expect to do with their MFA once they get it. The truth about money – it’s part of politics, even poetry politics, and the more we keep it a secret, the more power it has over us.

Anyway, read the article for yourself and let me know your thoughts! Or just stress out about AWP 🙂

New Poem in Star*Line, Supermoon Eclipses, A Little Seattle Color, and Surviving January by Reading Writers’ Words on Writing

Sylvia and Shakespeare taking care of my books

Down Time: Reading Writers’ Words About Writing

Good morning! At left you can see what I’ve been doing with my time – mostly sick in bed, surrounded by books and cats. Last night I finished Ursula Le Guin’s Words Are My Matter, from Small Beer Press. My favorite bits from the writing of her last decade were an essay called “Disappearing Grandmothers,” a diary of her time at our local Writer’s Retreat Hedgebook on Whidbey Island, “Learning to Write Science Fiction from Virginia Woolf” (whose letters I have been reading,) and some of her reviews, including Philip K. Dick. Quick quote from “Disappearing Grandmothers:”
“We really can’t go on letting good writers be disappeared and buried because they weren’t men, while writers who should be left to rot in peace are endlessly resurrected, the zombies of criticism and curriculum, because they weren’t women.”
I get the feeling I would really have gotten along with Ursula. And her commentary on Virginia Woolf made me realize why I’d been picking up her writings again – she really did have a way of approaching old subject matter in a singular way. I’m learning a lot from reading non-living writers, and coincidentally, a friend just sent me a collection by Mary Oliver, who recently passed away. Of course, we should appreciate and cheer our living writers, both friends and heroes, too! But it does feel fascinating to be reading letters from Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf, and essays by Ursula Le Guin – like the most terrific conversation with women writers across time.

A New Poem in Star*Line

Thanks to Star*Line (this issue was edited by Vince Gotera) for publishing my poem “Self-Portrait as Pretty Monster.” If you join the SFPA you get a subscription to Star*Line for free. Here’s a sneak peek:

 

A Little Seattle Color and January Wildlife

Lest you think from my ramblings that in Seattle our January is always a dull grey and the rain never ceases, a rare sunny day when I was able to get out and do a little nature photography (and pose with an antique red truck – what a cheerful color!) Hummingbirds are regular visitors thanks to our feeders and deer love to eat the new grass that grows this time of year. In our neighborhood, you can usually find an array on antique cars or car shows on any sunny day. And I love all kinds of flowers, but this time of year, coral roses seem especially vibrant and cheering. Glenn’s been making a new quick-jam that I got out of a magazine called cranberry-pear butter (we make it in the instant pot, not a slow cooker, much faster) and not only is it beautiful, it’s delicious (the ginger really makes it pop and feel winter-appropriate!) Great on greek yogurt, a scone or a slice of pear-cranberry-ginger cake.

Supermoon Eclipse of 2019

Tomorrow night is the only full lunar eclipse of 2019 – and usually the night sky here is very cloudy – or it’s raining – this time of year. I hope you are able to watch it (around 6:30 Pacific, 9:30 Eastern) but I always feel a tinge of foreboding around supermoons in general and supermoon eclipses in particular. The red color of a lunar eclipse is so eerie. I do not consider myself superstitious and particularly astrologically-wise but moon cycles really get to me, and I think they affect something not just in the earth (tides, etc) but something in the human body. I wrote a poem about how eclipses are supposed to take away the veil between dimensions and worlds, between the subconscious and conscious. Lunacy and all that. Perhaps this year the supermoon will bring us good changes this year, which I think we could use with all the lunacy in the world right now. Here’s wishing good health and new poems to you and to me!

New Review of Who is Mary Sue in The Rumpus, New Poem in Scryptic, Poems set to Jazz, and the January Doldrums

Purple January Sunrise

January Doldrums, with Sunrise

How has your January been so far? I came down with a very-long lasting cold/virus and sprained my ankle, so I’ve been confined and resting…plus it’s rained nearly every day of the new year, which makes it tough to appreciate the gorgeous Pacific Northwest quite as much as usual (what the with driving cold wind and rain). A leak sprung up around our chimney after one of the windstorms, which somehow seemed symbolic. I’ve been able to read a little bit, write a little bit, but mostly I’ve been sleeping poorly, restlessly watching nature shows, and trying to make headway in the eight-ten books I’m reading. I’ve been researching publishers and vowing to do a better job this than last in sending out my book manuscripts (I have two now, a sixth and a seventh).  I have had some good things happen this week, which I thought I’d share – a new review, a new poem, and a poem set to jazz music.

“Angel”

New Poem, “Angel,” in the new issue of Scryptic, a magazine of alternative art

Thanks to Scryptic, who published a speculative poem of mine for the new year, “Angel,” in their latest issue. From the art to the lit pieces, it’s a bit of a rush to read. My poem’s on page 57 of the PDF, and here is a little preview to the left. The poem is called “Angel,” but it more science fiction than religion.

New Review of Sophie Collins’ Who Is Mary Sue in The Rumpus

Looking for something new to read in the new year that will challenge you and get you thinking? Check out my review in The Rumpus of Sophie Collins’ Who Is Mary Sue, a book that challenges the notion of female autobiography, the idea of authorship and authenticity, feminism and pop culture. I wasn’t familiar with Sophie Collins’ work when I picked this book up at local poetry bookstore Open Books, but she has a fascinating mind.

” Might every character who is female and empowered be termed by male fanboys a “Mary Sue” with some derision? Might every female character, indeed, be a “Mary Sue?” Whether we write about ourselves or others, women authors will always be accused of the sin of autobiography in a way that men typically are not.”

Poems Set to Music

I also had a suprise when a gentleman named James Gardner contacted me and asked me if he could set my poem, “Robot Scientist’s Daughter [medical wonder,]” to music on his web site, Poetry DNA. Check out the results! I’m kind of a jazz fan, so this tickled me.

Surviving the Dark Winter

So what are your survival tips for surviving the dark, cold winter months? January and February are my least favorite months to live around Seattle, it’s pitch black by 5 PM and the sun doesn’t really come all the way up…ever, plus the cold wind and rain mean you never really enjoy being outside. It’s cold and flu season so I’m not surprised I finally caught something, and this bug is a loooong one. I’ve reorganized my office, written a few poems and revised both my poetry manuscripts, but honestly, I’m restless, ready for a little springtime. (I know, we’re still a long way, but Seattle does start to have some camellia and cherry blooms sometimes as early as late February.) I’ve already started thinking about how to successfully approach AWP – I’ll be doing one offsite reading, and I’m planning to spend max time at the Bookfair saying hi to friends and checking out books and lit mags, my favorite part of the conference. My big goals were: getting more sleep, trying to do something fun once a week, and reaching out and socializing with more people, have all been rendered moot by this evil virus (waking up with early asthma attacks and tossing and turning with fever not conducive to more sleep, sadly, and you definitely don’t want to give this bug to anyone you like), but I hope to be getting better soon and back to my 2019 goals! I also made a playlist called “Survivor 2019” which includes this Sam Smith song from the Netflix series Watership Down, called “Fire on Fire.” Happy January!

 

New Year So Far, Poem in Natural Bridge, Lunch Dates with Poets and Poet Letters, and 2019 Goals

Sunrise on the New Year

Happy Brand New Year!

Good morning and Happy New Year 2019! Hope you had a wonderful New Year’s celebration! Miraculously I wasn’t too sick on New Year’s Eve, so Glenn and I were able to do a daytime stroll to enjoy the sunshine and then go out in the evening to Willows Lodge where we toasted and listened to a live band and generally enjoyed ourselves – we got home in time to watch the Space Needle Fireworks, by which time the city was locked in icy fog, so we were happy to be home and warm! We ate grapes for luck, and then I stayed up late afterwards writing a new poem and working on my new manuscript – still in its birth phases, but definitely shaping up.  Auspicious writing start – actually writing a poem within ten minutes of 2019!

Sylvia in linen closet, her favorite reading space

First Poem of the New Year in Natural Bridge!

Thanks to Natural Bridge for publishing my first new poem of the new year – “Self-Portrait as MRI.” Here’s Sylvia hiding in the linen closet with a copy, and here’s the poem:

From Natural Bridge’s newest issue

Sarah Mangold and I in black and white

Poet Lunches and Reading Poet Letters

One of my goals for 2019, besides getting more sleep (I average four hours a night, which I hear from doctors is not enough, what?) is getting out more and spending more time with wonderful creative people! Yesterday I had the chance to meet up for lunch with the lovely and talented local poet Sarah Mangold. I had run into her work at Open Books and liked it, so I was happy to have this opportunity to talk over coffee. And now I’m looking forward to reading her chapbook, Cupcake Royale! Nothing cheers me up like spending time with artists, writers, and musicians – I think it decreases the feeling of “I am crazy for doing this” and always inspires me to do more in my own creative life!

I’ve been reading a beautiful hardcover illustrated edition of Virginia Woolf’s letters and the second volume of Sylvia Plath’s letters. Virginia Woolf is always cheerful, restrained and clever in her letters while Plath is a little more self-revealing, passionate in her happiness and her disappointments, but I think both can teach us lessons about women writers. I’m also reading After Emily, a book by Julie Dobrow about the two women who devoted a ton of time and energy to make sure Emily Dickinson had a legacy and a reputation as a great poet. It’s kind of a wonderful lesson in what it takes to become a household name in the 1800’s in upper-crust society in New England and dispels the illusion that Emily didn’t make en effort or that she became a sensation out of nowhere – a sort of early template for PR for Poets! (Book Clubs were very big, FYI.)  (Another 2019 goal: less television and social media and more reading books!)

One quote I thought I’d share – I was reading Sylvia’s new years letters from January 1957 – and she had just had poems published in The Atlantic and Poetry, but was running into trouble getting teaching work for either her or Ted without PhDs, which frustrated her. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose, was my thought about her quote after getting a flurry of new year rejections – which I also got (albeit nice rejections):

“These job refusals plus a pile of rejections (of really fine poems, too) are enough to make me think the teaching profession is run by slick closed-shop businessmen and the literary magazines by jealous scared over-cerebral fashion-conscious idiots.”

Well, you can always count on Sylvia to cheer you up in the new year!

Poetry and Gardening – Things to Look Forward to in 2019

Now, since last year I did lots of individual poetry submissions (and even a couple of fiction subs) but not so many manuscript submissions, I’m going to take an ambitious stab at getting Flare out into the world and work on getting my in-process seventh manuscript finished (themes of witches, religion, nature, politics?) Some of my spring bulbs are already poking up out of the ground – it’s still the dark rainy season, but I’m feeling ready for spring! We planted 45 new bulbs last fall, and had a least a hundred in the ground from the last two years, so hoping for lots of hyacinths, daffodils, and tulips. Poetry and gardening have that in common – the more you put out there, you might get more rejections (unsuccessful bulbs) but also more to look forward to? How about you? What are you looking forward to in 2019?

Two End of the Year Poems in ACM, and Dreams, Goals, and Inspirations for 2019

Happy Almost New Year! New Year Poems up at ACM

I hope you’ve all had a wonderful holiday. I was thrilled to discover two year-end-themed poems up at Another Chicago Magazine, “Lights Out” and “Sitting by Yourself at the End of the World, I Mean Year.”  ACM has been one of my “goal” publications for a long time, so I’m thrilled!

“Sitting by Yourself at the End of the World, I Mean Year” from ACM

 

2019 Vision Board

New Year Inspirations, Action Plans, and Goals

It’s almost 2019, and if you’re like me (or January O’Neil, who has a cool “poetry action plan,” you start thinking about your intentions for the year ahead – what you hope for, what you can plan for, what you are envisioning. This year’s Vision Board had a lot of animals in it, and more words about inspiration and creativity. I realized the last two years had been all about survival – first the liver tumors and the cancer diagnosis, then the surprise of neurological symptoms and the MS diagnosis. I’m hoping this coming year to be fewer doctor appointments, more wonder – less about survival, more about creating and befriending and embracing the world.

From the AWP conference in March in Portland to sending out two poetry manuscripts – one about the journey of the last two years and one about the history of women and witchcraft, which I was just shuffling through last night to think about organization and which poems to leave out and which to add. I’m going to get more serious about sending out both – I only sent out book manuscripts four times last year, but I sent out over 150 submissions (!!) total, including fiction and essay attempts, and published about fifty poems, which seems like an okay ratio, but I had no idea I had submitted so much.

Bobcat sighting in Woodinville

Other life goals include cultivating more friendships and socializing a little more, paying more attention to my body and treating it like something to take care of and not push, and spending some time (!!) meditating or doing something restful and creative every day, maybe even just five minutes of art or writing before bed. Also, trying to value my time more. One of the things about getting serious diagnoses is that it makes you re-think what you spend your time and energy on. What are the essential things for living for you? Spending time outside, reading good things, and time consciously building a life – whether that’s balance or motor-skill exercises, or reaching out to a new friend, or time spent noticing the new flowers in your garden to the kind of moon that rises. Or the visitors to your neighborhood – the day after Christmas, this bobcat visited our street!

Christmas Moon

A Quiet Christmas, and a Great Gift for Writers

Christmas was quiet – a sunny (!) Christmas Eve with a lovely church service with interpretive ballet, a retelling of the Christmas story, camels and baby goats and lots of candlelight singing – and dinner with my brother and sister-in-law, a beautiful almost-full yellow moon, and talking about our dreams. Glenn did  a great job as always with dinner (two whole ducks, asparagus and honey-roasted carrots, and cranberry tarts – plus, cracking open his Christmas port). I was lucky to receive LOTS of books this year, and Glenn got me a really special Christmas gift – a library book cart, yes, just like what they have at the library, because he worries about me trying to transport my reading material from one room to another – a pretty large stack of books. I thought it was perfect!

Anyway, I want to wish you a happy New Year! My traditions these days include eating grapes, black-eyed peas, and a toast at midnight, even if we’re at home at midnight. (We’re planning a low-key visit to a local wine bar with live music, so we can enjoy a little festivity without too much drama…) Also, sleeping in New Year’s Day seems important! May 2019 bring us a better year for all. Leave your inspirations/goals/dreams for 2019 in the comments!

 

New Interview with Bekah Steimel, Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas and Almost New-Year with Sylvia Plath-style Dreams and Goals

Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice from the Pacific Northwest

   Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, and almost New Year!

First of all, hope you are all doing well and celebrating the holiday season with a little rest and relaxation and even a little poetry!

Here in Seattle a lot of people celebrate the Solstice, along with other traditional holidays, the longest night of the year – I think because the long dark feels more intense out here, especially when sunset is around 4 PM. This solstice we had sunsets, hummingbirds (and coyote howls), a full moon, and even cherry blossoms on a neighbor’s tree down the street! It’s a good time to think about our dreams and goals for the next year – which I did this year with a little help from Sylvia Plath. More about that later!

Interview with Bekah Steimel

Thank you to Bekah Steimel for doing this interview with me! I hope you enjoy it! I talk a little bit about my best advice for poets and my time working as Redmond’s Poet Laureate. There’s also a little poem for the resistance!

Field Guide to the End of the World on End-of-the-Year Gift Guide

Also, thanks to Serena Agusto-Cox for including Field Guide to the End of the World on her 2018 Holiday Gift Guide. 
 Field Guide to the End of the World is a good book to read this time of year – it’s all about weathering disasters and apocalypses of various kinds. I’ve been reading, along with Plath’s letters, several apocalypse-y books, including M Archive: After the End of the World by Alexis Pauline Gumbs and the always mildly apocalyptic Murakami’s Killing Commendatore and we all know how much fun it is during the holidays to shut off all the noise (televisions, phones, etc) and spend some of that “darkness” time catching up on reading!

Talking Plans, Dreams and Goals with Sylvia Plath

So, one of the traditions as we head towards the new year is talking about our dreams, plans, and goals for the new year. Someone posted this from Sylvia Plath’s journal on Twitter, and I found another list from her school days in my own copy of her unabridged journals (click on each to enlarge):

No one was more ambitious than Sylvia, so we can all learn a little something from the lists, also, it’s always good advice to work on our inner lives and listen more (plus, French every day!)

So I spent my time thinking about what I wanted from 2019, what I wanted to accomplish, what I wanted to toss from this year, and what I have learned (besides not to date any guys named Hamish!)

Looking to 2019

I sat around a candle with a hot cider and thought hard about what I wanted. My dreams and goals may seem less ambitious than in years past – for instance, I want to spend less time in hospitals than I did the last two years, obviously (a modest goal for some – big ambition for me.) To do that, I need to practice a whole heck of a lot of self-care with MS, like, resting more, eating an MS-friendly diet (brains like avocado, blueberries and protein, apparently), doing my physical therapy, and choosing to surround myself with people who are a real support.
As far as writing goals go, we’ve got AWP coming to Portland in March 2019, so I’m hoping to make it to that and do some socializing, catch up with friends, and look at new journals and publishers at the Bookfair. I plan to finish up a seventh book manuscript and hopefully find a great publisher for manuscript six. I do want, like Sylvia, to make smart choices about people – I want to practice kindness and encouragement towards others, say thank you more often, and reach out and make new friends (don’t want to totally go the Emily Dickinson sickly-recluse route until I absolutely have to.) I want to try publishing essays and short stories as well.

Taking our writing seriously – like, carving out time to, as Sylvia says, “WRITE” – and submit work – which, from reading her letters and journals, I know she also took seriously. She reminds me to aim high, but also, not to isolate myself, which can lead to trouble, and she also represents what happens when you spend too much time trying to fulfill other people’s expectations of what you are supposed to be. (Embrace your strangeness, rather than spend energy hiding it.)  I was surprised this week to receive two surprise gifts from friends who live far away – and that reminded me I am blessed to have wonderful writer friends all across the country.

I want to spend more time appreciating the good things – spending time in nature, with my loved ones, just in general celebrating the good days. I know the holidays can be a tough time for people – a time when what we don’t have seems to be highlighted. As someone with a chronic illness, it’s hard not to worry about the future, especially with an incurable degenerative disease like Multiple Sclerosis. But I have hope. We have more medications and more tools, more research than we used to, and I have faced health challenges in the past. Even with the political turmoil in our country (and beyond) over the past two years, I try to have hope.

There’s a verse from Psalm 30 that says something like “Darkness may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Wishing you all more joy and less darkness in 2019.

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.

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