Grieving, Jenny Diski’s In Gratitude, Losing a Loved One, Winter Returns

Grieving – Having just finished Jenny Diski’s excellent memoir In Gratitude on her own experience of dying (and the death of her mentor, Doris Lessing) I learned one of my favorite relatives, my Aunt Charlotte, died unexpectedly of complications from the flu this morning. This is in the middle of a house in the middle of reconstruction, dust and drills, of course, as grief never happens in the proper time or place. And it seems there has been a return of winter this week – several dustings of snow and more alarming, icy roads, right when I was hoping for spring.

I probably won’t be able to fly cross-country for the funeral – a hardship to travel these days health-wise – but I hope she is celebrated for her good spirit and her nurturing ways. She had the most beautiful name – Charlotte – which I think is too rare, much like her, a woman devoted to her family (her son and husband had passed away within the last year) and to helping others, and a cheering influence on me in the early days of my health troubles in Virginia, way before I was diagnosed with most of the things that would eventually be found later by other, better specialists.

How is it there is never space for death and time to grieve, that people often end up dead too quickly to say goodbye (my aunt had just been discharged from the hospital – apparently too soon – and I was waiting to call until she felt a little bit better.) I was planning my own funeral around this time last year, I remember taking pictures of the cherry blossoms wondering if I would live to see another round, the death sentence had been passed (perhaps a little early) on me by all-knowing and very experienced doctors, and I was picking out music and where I wanted my ashes scattered, who I wanted to have my books and art (the only things I have worth anything, really.) But then I didn’t die, I’m still alive, still dealing with the messy realities of many many specialist and therapy appointments for my various medical things related to 1. liver full of tumors and 2. brain full of lesions among other lesser issues like asthma. And living is complicated and full of irritations – side effects of drugs, obstacles to our goals, not enough time paid having fun, too much time in lines or working on grant applications or taxes. Life’s little annoyances take up our brainspace, we forget to say “I love you” or prioritize spending time with loved ones doing the things that make life worth living, thinking life goes on forever.

Jenny starts off the memoir making “Breaking Bad” jokes but ends up, you can tell, irritable at the limitations of her body, the side effects of chemo, radiation and steroids, her falls and lack of concentration. You can watch her brilliant mind trick off her memories of the sixties and eighties and the things she learned about life, art, and family along the way. She had a hard life but didn’t really complain about it – in some ways she had a magic life, being taken in by a leading novelist when her goal was to be a writer, adopting Sylvia Plath’s very own kitten (given to Doris at the time of Sylvia’s demise, and passed along to Jenny) and generally having many extraordinary experiences, and ending fairly happy and fairly successful, though her end was not easy. (Jenny died of a mix of lung cancer and pulmonary fibrosis, quite similar to my aunt whose lung problems – COPD – complicated her ability to fight this year’s extraordinary nasty flu virus. Lungs are such delicate instruments and so susceptible in even people with the strongest spirits.)

Anyway, where is the space is Western life – between work and play, social media and in-person gatherings – for grief? How uncomfortable are we with the realities of death and dying, our own mortalities, that we rush to comfort people with platitudes. After a week of bitter cold, rain, and snow, the sun is shining right now out my window, and the sounds of the drills and hammers are quiet. My husband is not here. If I wanted to spend time crying I could. But I am a person who deals with hard things by writing about them. I did think it was appropriate to include this recent picture of the first crocus here, as my aunt was an avid gardener who loved flowers. I hope wherever you are is full of flowers, Aunt Charlotte.

A piece on rape culture on The Rumpus, outrage fatigue, a renovation and accessibility, and what to do when your brain lets you down

Today my piece “What Happens When Girls are Raped as Children” is up on The Rumpus as part of their Enough series on rape culture, along with some other terrific, gut-wrenching pieces:

http://therumpus.net/2018/02/enough-i-am-never-the-same-girl-again/

I’m a little tired today because since the beginning of the week we’ve torn out two 1980’s sticky sliding doors and replaced them with easy-opening French doors, as well as torn down part of the wall of our bedroom to make more space for an accessible closet. If you’ve ever wondered what an accessible closet looks like, I hope to post pictures soon, but it involves a larger opening (so I can get in if I’m in a wheelchair) and more shelving for easy access to clothes. I should never complain because 1. I have a house that was mostly already accessible and 2. I’m thankful to finally have some money (after eighteen months of living in the house) to do some more renovations, but I’m also super allergic to everything (paint, glue, insulation) involved in a renovation, so I’ve mostly been hiding out trying not to get sick and trying to get some writing done. I’ve written one poem and sent out one submission so far – nothing for the record books, but at least something during a week when I had a renovation plus five (that’s right) medical appointments going on already. One of the things I’m trying to do is not let “accessible” mean “ugly” and try to infuse some style in with the things I have to do to make my house usable with my motor skill and walking problems. I’ll post some pictures soon! We also painted a wall blue in the bedroom (something I’ve done in almost every house I’ve lived in – I love an accent wall!)

I spent an hour yesterday in an MS therapist’s office doing cognitive testing so they can track what’s going on in my brain. Yes, it is harder to concentrate than it used to be – it takes me much longer to write a book review or read a book or even a magazine. Yes, it’s harder to keep a phone number (or face) in my head for long. Is it harder to do math, to recognize symbols, to memorize certain lists? I don’t have the results yet, but it felt as stressful and difficult as those placement exams they give you in sixth grade. I came out exhausted and my house torn up and my cat hiding because she’s easily traumatized having people in the house. Sigh. I’m hoping the results and exercises they will lead to will help recover some of my memory problems. While I try to retrain my balance and walking abilities, I am also trying to retrain my brain so that it will function at least as well as it did up until last July.

If you’ve always relied on your brain, rather than your body, for a sense of self-worth and self-respect, and it lets you down, it’s disheartening. It’s frustrating. But one neurologist who specializes in recovering from different types of brain injury (including MS lesions) told me that we don’t really know what the brain can do when challenged, how plastic our memory and abilities. As a writer I’ve tried to continue to write through all the health challenges I’ve had, even when my fingers could barely type. The piece I wrote about the consequences of being raped when I was six (and pondering the long-term consequences for so may girls who have had these things happen to them) was written a few months ago when I was still practicing my motor skills and swallowing, and I hope it will be helpful to someone. Talking about rape isn’t super fun or upbeat, but until we start protecting people and standing up against a culture of “boys will be boys” and “it’s okay for girls to suffer in silence” and “well, it happens to everyone” I’m afraid that little girls will be in the same danger I was in in 1979. As I talked about in my last post, it’s important not to get so fatigued mentally, spiritually, physically that we stop fighting for what is right. I am trying.

Why We Can’t Be Complacent, or What is My Responsibility as a Writer

I’m not going to lie, the last couple of days have been hard on me, and this post is a little heavier because of it. I’ve had the respiratory virus that’s going around, and that triggered my MS, and I sprained my back right before Valentine’s Day, so I’ve been kind of motionless. The school shooting on Valentine’s Day killed seventeen people, mostly kids. The passing of a bill in the mostly Republican House that would dismantle the ADA – protections for disabled people – people like me. I take that as a personal attack, not only on me, but on everyone a little different. I recall that the Nazis started by quietly killing off disabled people. A country that keeps saying that disabled veterans are a priority but taking away their benefits, even the ramps for their wheelchairs, is messed up. A country’s President that says he cares about mental illness and school safety but defunds both, and besides that, changes the law so that mentally ill people can buy guns more easily. The hypocrisy, and evil, that is taking place in front of our eyes if we keep them open – how can we respond?

But you might say, beyond voting, calling our reps, or donating money to a good cause, what can we really do? The lobbies of hotel corporations who do not want to have to build ramps for wheelchairs or the NRA who does not want the politicians it gives money to to vote against, say, a seventeen year old kid with a history of abusing his girlfriend and threatening to shoot classmates the ability to buy an assault rifle, then what can we regular folks, not politicians or lobbyists or people with big money, do about it?

Well, I am a writer. I can write about the things that make me angry, afraid, sad about how our country is acting. I can be (gasp) political, even if I do not feel especially comfortable writing political things. Here are some facts about me that influence my belief system and of course how I write. I was raised in Knoxville and Cincinnati, two bastions of conservative conservatives, but feel much more at home here in the artistic and more liberal Pacific Northwest. I learned how to shoot a rifle when I was seven years old, and I owned my own gun up until about ten years ago. I was six when I was raped. I became a Christian after reading the Bible when I was 12 and it helped me recover from a life-threatening suicidal anorexia. I have been in and out of wheelchairs for about nine years, and have been diagnosed with, among other things, a rare bleeding disorder, a bunch of odd and life-threatening allergies, a horseshoe kidney, liver tumors that may or may not be cancer (still doing tests), and a bunch of brain lesions from MS.

I tell you these things for a reason. They all impact what I choose to write, and how I write about it. All these things, these truths we can choose (or choose not to) tell, affect how we see the world. Are guns dangerous? Are all Christians intolerant? Should we build government buildings that include ramps, or protect the jobs of people with different abilities? What should we do when a woman says she was raped by a man – do we believe her, or do we demand some kind of physical evidence, even if she’s a traumatized child, say. How about domestic abusers? Should they be allowed to have guns? What is our reaction to a school shooting – do we merely add our thoughts and prayers, or do we take action to stop them? Can we encourage politicians to change the laws to stop selling weapons to children with a history of violence?

Any writer cannot help but have a point of view. It will be determined by our race, our gender, our histories, our family, our sense of place, our faith, our biases. We have a sense of what is right and wrong, what is just or unjust. We are called upon to witness, yes. But are we called upon to try to make a better world just with our writing? Can we imagine our way to a better world? Can journalists, instead of glamorizing a shooter, tell us more about the lives of the victims? Can journalists not shove cameras in the faces of recently-traumatized children? Can we write poems that lead people to think differently about current events? Maybe. I am currently laid up, but I don’t believe I’m completely powerless.

I don’t have all the answers, but I know for sure the answer isn’t to give up, to shrug our shoulders and say “that’s just the way the world is.” That’s the opposite of making anything better. Poetry, visual art, fiction, non-fiction, journalism – all of these are forms that can influence people. We have a responsibility to try to be an influence for a better world. Let’s make a little noise in a dark universe.

The Importance of Resilience (in the Poetry Game and in Life)

Sylvia poses with one of Jenny Diski’s books

Addendum: Thanks to Rattle for featuring my poem, “Self-Portrait as Escape Artist,” today. It seems to go with the post!

You might have seen a few articles around lately on the benefits of “resilience” which at best, seems like a boring sort of virtue, and at worst, just sounds like you become an object that gets beaten up a lot.

I may be thinking of this because I’m lying in bed after a bad virus, bad weather, and a series of dental and doctor appointments have made the last couple of months an exercise in resilience. A lot of my specialists have commented on my positive attitude and resilience in the amount of recovery I’ve made since my July attack of neural lesions from MS (although my comment is usually, “what is the alternative?”) I do not want to be defined by my illness(es,) or my age, or my disability, although all these things may play a part in my life, sometimes more than I’d like. But people I know who have been through worse and come through seemingly undamaged always display that virtue – resilience.

Lately I’ve observed some things that made me think of the importance of resilience in the poetry “game.” One friend got good news that a poem from her 2005 book – she has never published another book of poetry because she said the effort was too much and she was too busy and had switched to non-fiction – was going to be on NPR. Which was great news – and shows how odd the promotion of poetry is, and how sometimes as Emily D. said, “Victory comes late.” If a poet gets a lot of sales, or prizes, or gets on NPR or the Poetry web site or the PSA with a poem or whatever right out of the gate – she’s probably more likely to give the next book a go. I was talking to another friend who was also sort of discouraged – or not so much discouraged, but not encouraged enough – by not great numbers on his first book, and this guy’s a really good poet and I encouraged him to send out another book. But it’s more rational for poets to be discouraged than not. These two friends are being 100 percent rational. They are spending time doing things that are more rewarding to them, and that is not a bad thing.

I’m now sending out a sixth (!!) manuscript. Am I insane? Because, does the world really need another book from me? Are they clamoring for more of my previous books? I mean, some of my books sold respectably, and some poorly. I got lucky with the first one, Becoming the Villainess, I think, that it struck a chord with enough people and it got taught, which I am very grateful for. The last two books (The Robot Scientist’s Daughter and Field Guide to the End of the World) had better distribution and therefore, I think, not unrelatedly, better sales. Also both books had sales from a very supportive, close-knit sci-fi-speculative poetry community (which I am also grateful for.) But I was telling my friend I’ve kind of followed the same promotion patterns with every book, with vastly different results. And I still haven’t got job offers or prizes or grants all over the place or anything. Why do I keep going?

You might have seen a few articles around lately on the benefits of “resilience” which at best, seems like a boring sort of virtue, and at worst, just sounds like you become an object that gets beaten up a lot.

I may be thinking of this because I’m lying in bed after a bad virus, bad weather, and a series of dental and doctor appointments have made the last couple of months an exercise in resilience. A lot of my specialists have commented on my positive attitude and resilience in the amount of recovery I’ve made since my July attack of neural lesions from MS (although my comment is usually, “what is the alternative?”) I do not want to be defined by my illness(es,) or my age, or my disability, although all these things may play a part in my life, sometimes more than I’d like. But people I know who have been through worse and come through seemingly undamaged always display that virtue – resilience.

Some people are so traumatized by a rejection – in a job interview, date, or, yes, a poetry rejection – that they turn away from a thing altogether. This can kill your career, your love life, or your poetry publishing – because one of the most important things to learn to is to weather these hard times. Yes, you’ll have terrible interviews where you’ll forget everything you know, or you think you did a great job at an interview but you don’t get the offer. We have all had our hearts broken when we extended ourselves to someone we loved who either didn’t love us at all or didn’t love us well. And in the life of a poet, there are bound to be at least a few rejection slips – or these days, rejection e-mails – that will pile up over your lifetime.

How does anyone build resilience in the face of rejection? In the face of what can feel like failure? Part of it is having the courage to go and put yourself out there again – either for the job, the loved one, or the prized publisher or journal – and try again. And again. So, experience. But experience just makes some bitter or angry, frustrated or again, to avoid the pain they just quit. What makes the difference between someone who thrives through terrible circumstances and those who do not?

There are several things the experts say help children, for instance, develop resilience after traumatic events. They include old clichés, like trying to find silver linings, finding something to learn from the negative experience, or finding a way to help others in similar circumstances. Community is mentioned. Another talks about finding humor in your situation. I’m reading a book, In Gratitude, by Jenny Diski, kind of a poster child for resilience. She was abused by both parents, sent to foster homes and institutions, then taken in by prickly 60s literary star Doris Lessing, and managed to make a literary name for herself outside of that shadow. This particular book follows her journey after being diagnosed with terminal cancer in her late sixties. Her first instinct after her diagnosis is to make a joke about “Breaking Bad,” which her doctors fail to laugh at. But humor is a very strategic response to stress. When I received my own terminal cancer diagnosis (which, now, the terminal part has been postponed indefinitely given every six-month scans of my liver) I delved into episodes of comedies – Mystery Science 3000, 30 Rock, Community, Futurama. Humor makes pain lessen – it’s scientifically proven! And there’s a famous quote “Life is a comedy for those who think, and a tragedy for those who feel.” Which seems like it might be true, or at least, we empathetic types have to shut down our empathy sometimes because feelings can overwhelm us in a negative way. I’ve had to avoid Facebook sometimes and the news, um, pretty much since the Trump election. I’m convinced those are bad for my health, both mental and physical. Facebook can feel like a place of such negativity, and I prefer to talk about poets I love and support. I admit I like a kitten picture and some good news – and of course I want to help support those I know are sick, or who have lost a loved one. But social media can be as beneficial as you let it be.

So positive things we can do to increase our resilience in the face of bad news: nature, humor, a supportive community of some sort, a willingness to look for the positive or the learning experience in a situation. I think also a certain love of risk-taking – that’s something Jenny Diski kind of encapsulates over and over in her writing and her life. (PS Her book of short fairy-tale-esque stories, The Vanishing Princess, are like what I would write if I wrote short stories, except with way more bodily functions and sex.) Am I much of a risk-taker? I think maybe I felt more adventurous when I was younger and more confident. But one good thing about getting older is letting yourself do things you might not have thought about when you were younger. I am thinking that to survive a scary diagnosis like cancer or MS – or the poetry world – you need to not be afraid to confront the difficult truths, but not let them overwhelm you. To try things even though you may (or probably will) fail, maybe repeatedly. This may boil down to: how to keep hope alive in a dark world. Please leave your thoughts on how to keep up resilience – and hope. I don’t have my formula 100 percent down yet!

New poems in Gingerbread House and Rogue Agent, New Glasses, Supermoons, and Happy February

At February 01, 2018
By Jeannine Gailey
In "I Forgot to Tell You the Most Important Part, Blog
2

: Superbluemoon

: Superbluemoon with branches

: Sylvia using her opposable thumb to steal a bookmark

New Poems in Gingerbread House and Rogue Agent

Thanks to Gingerbread House literary magazine for publishing my fairy tale poem, “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” with the gorgeous art by Līga Kļaviņa: https://gingerbreadhouselitmag.com/2018/01/31/east-of-sun-west-of-the-moon/

And thank you to Rogue Agent for publishing my poem “In July, in the Garden, When I Feel Like Death:” http://www.rogueagentjournal.com/jgailey-3
(They also published my poem “Self-Portrait as Radioactive Girl” in their January issue if you want to check that action out: http://www.rogueagentjournal.com/jgailey-2)

Happy February

The super-blood-blue moon is past (it was cloudy here for the eclipse, but the supermoonrise was really pretty – pics above) and now we have finally made it to February. I’m not going to lie, this was a tough January to get through – wet windy cold weather, I had a cold almost the whole month that kept me cabin-fever-y, some anemia and dental work, but February is really the beginning of spring here – a few bulbs have poked up some green shoots, the camellias that we planted last fall have little buds on them. I’m soo ready for spring! I also went crazy and got a new pair of dark pink glasses – I thought they might be too much but I like them a lot – I seem to be having a thing for pink lately, pink hair, pink glasses, pink sweaters. Valentine’s Day must be coming soon! I’ve been feeling hopeful about my new book manuscript as I’ve gotten ten (!!) poems taken from the book (some in places I’ve been trying to get into for years) since the new year began! I hope that’s a good sign, but you never know. I’ve also gotten a lot of rejections – editors have been busy!

Next month is AWP in Tampa, which I won’t be attending this year, but I hope I hear lots of bloggers report on. I’ve been stuck at home a lot lately, and when I do get out, it’s for therapy for different MS symptoms, in specialists’ offices and dentists offices way too much to feel like I have much of a “real” life going on. With this weird flu season I’ve actually had doctors tell me to avoid parties and movie theaters, so basically all fun til flu season’s over. (Flu can bring about MS crises for some reason.) I’m trying to make an effort to put a fence around my life outside of being a patient of any kind, so that I still hold on to my sense of self outside of my body’s various problems. Spending time in nature is pretty hard when it’s 40 with hail and sideways rain outside, but that’s one of my main ways to connect with the world – trees, flowers, animals, etc. At least I have my entertaining Sylvia, who has learned how to open doorknobs and pick things up off the floor with her amazing opposable thumb (See the pic at the top of the page – I swear!) I’ve been spending less time on social media, particularly Facebook, and more time with books, and started an exercise program (such as it is) on my recumbent elliptical machine which has helped my mood, I think. Still, I’m hoping for more sunbreaks and more chances to socialize (and fewer dentist offices!) in the coming months. Wishing you all a happy February!

What is the Lifespan of a Poetry Book, Saying Goodbye to Ursula Le Guin, and the Value of Little Girls’ Voices

What is the Lifespan of a Poetry Book?

It’s January, traditionally a time you might hear from your publisher(s), possibly with royalty checks and reports of some sales numbers from your book(s) over the last year. When you first publish a book of poetry, you probably aren’t thinking about its longevity – how long it will stay in print, how many years the book will be taught in classes, or how it will perform in a decade. You’re all about the excitement of firsts– waiting for those first reviews anxiously, setting up readings and college visits. But poetry, unlike fiction, often has a long shelf life. And some of what gives a poetry book a longer shelf life may be out of our control. In a way that’s a relief – it takes some of the pressure off of us – and in a way it’s sad, because we don’t control which books catch an audience’s attention and keep it.

Many of my friends who published books ten years ago – and have gone on to publish several subsequent books – are still having their first books taught! Sometimes because their first books got the big push of publicity in the beginning, sometimes because of word of mouth, and sometimes because poetry books can take a little while to get to their readers. I would say that for two of my books at least, the second year of sales was better than the first! (I talk a little bit about this subject in my upcoming book, PR for Poets, from Two Sylvias Press – in the section about our expectations for our books. I think we tend to burn ourselves out trying to do too much in the beginning of a book’s lifespan, not realizing it is definitely a marathon, not a sprint.)

If you’ve been following this blog, you know the last year has been remarkably tough – and the last week, I spent more time on the phone with pharmaceutical companies trying to get insurance approval for a very expensive MS drug and financial assistance, plus long doctor and dentist appointments that have left me in bad shape – physically drained (and recent blood work indicates yep, I’m sick and anemic and need to rest and heal more than I have been.) I have been feeling guilty about not being able to go do college visits or readings in the past six months dealing with the severe MS attack that put me in the hospital and left me re-learning how to walk and talk and text. I put in several hours yesterday with a rehab specialty neurologist, who will help me learn how to walk better, deal with the MS changes to my brain wiring, and memory problems. But weirdly, the little books I put out into the world kept going even when I couldn’t – they don’t need a cane to travel or take time off to heal – and I’m grateful for that. People still teach my book from 2006, twelve years ago, Becoming the Villainess! When I was writing the book, I definitely did not anticipate it being taught across the country years after its publication. Hopefully they will teach my newest book, Field Guide to the End of the World, twelve years from now – just imagine! One might anticipate that the future will be slightly less apocalyptic than the current time, what with the Doomsday Clock being two minutes to midnight and anxieties about nuclear war and environmental destruction and all that. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Speaking of which, if you’re interested in teaching any of my books, please let me know what I can do to support that choice! I can Skype in or e-mail with students or even provide a little background for students if you think they might be interested. I am so grateful for instructors and professors who decide to put my work in front of their students, for people who decided to buy my book out the blue, for those who recommend my book to others or choose to review it. There is a life for each of our books that is somewhat magical, and in a way more powerful and immortal than our human bodies, and I am thankful for that.

Goodbye Ursula Le Guin. We will miss you.

Speaking of people whose books will have a long life, I am very sad to note the death this week of Ursula Le Guin, whose books I read in high school and who was an inspiration for speculative writers everywhere. She demanded – I saw her speak a couple of times, most memorably on the Oregon Coast during a giant storm where the windows were rattling with wind and thunder – that speculative writing not be put in a separate and lesser category, that women’s writing get equal considerations as men’s, and that poetry be given equal attention as fiction. She didn’t act like any of those demands were unusual or impossible. I still hope to one day gain her bravery and refusal to put with nonsense as well as her ability to imagine a better world.

Here’s Margaret Atwood’s tribute to Ursula: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/jan/24/ursula-k-le-guin-margaret-atwood-tribute

Testify

Speaking of speaking out and being brave – one difficult thing going on this week has been the testimonies of so many brave gymnasts against the doctor that had molested over 100 little girls, among them US Olympic champions, many of whom had told someone – several someones – and been ignored. One of the things that has made our society so poisonous is how we discount and ignore little girls’ voices. If a little girl ever trusts you enough to tell you someone has done something bad to her, believe her and make some noise. Make a ruckus. Make sure that bad person – usually a man, let’s be real – never has the ability to do something bad to a little girl again. I was a six-year-old rape victim who was ignored. Teach little girls that their voices matter, that they can make a difference. I am so proud of those young women giving their testimonies, in public, which is difficult, and happy that they convicted the doctor, that he won’t be able to hurt little girls ever again. But consider how many people turned a blind eye over the years that these girls raised their voices. That is the illness in our society that the women’s march, the #metoo movement, and the #timesup are all trying to draw attention to, and change.

Getting the Most from January Doldrums, Spoon River Poetry Review Surprise, the Benefits of Downtime

: Blooms in January

: Hummingbird in January sunlight

: Me in a brief moment of sunshine in lucky red

What are Doldrums Good For?

Ah, January Doldrums – have you caught them yet? Like the cold that’s been dragging me around for a couple of weeks, like the resolutions you might already feel you’ve let yourselves down with, like the seemingly endless cold, short days – the doldrums can be tough to avoid and sap your energy. This is the time for extra self-care, from taking vitamin C to drinking hot chocolate by a fire to streaming something uplifting or finally cracking open that book you’ve had on your bedside table for a while. See? The doldrums can be good for some things. We humans like to be busy, but something about January – either a bout of the flu, or the bad weather – forces us to slow down and be quiet. It’s a good time to refocus, to cast aside clothes that no longer fit and goals that no longer fit, to look forward to spring (mulching never seemed so optimistic.)

January surprise – Spoon River Poetry Review

Glenn took me out to the local bookstore to cheer me up, and we decided to browse the literary magazine section. Glenn picked up a copy of Spoon River Poetry Review – which I’d never seen at this particular bookstore before, at random, and said, “Jeannine – your name is in here!” Spoon River Poetry Review published a long and interesting essay on apocalyptic poetry in its latest issue, which quoted quite a bit from a guest post I did on apocalypse poetry a while ago on Trish Hopskinson’s blog. And here’s Sylvia posing fetchingly with the issue, which is really very good. It was a reminder that I don’t necessarily know and read all the good journals out there, that I don’t really know what influences people when I write (is anybody out there? Is the usual feeling I get from writing blog posts, lol.) That surprises can find us in unexpected places and unexpected ways.

Cue: The Benefits of Downtime, or Why Not to be Productive ALL the Time

So the last several days I’ve been beaten into submission by the combo of the following: the aforementioned cold, a nasty root-cap – which averted a root canal – and my first full crown – sans novocaine as usual and ahem super painful even for me and my superhero-like dental pain tolerance, a little flare up of my MS symptoms, and short dark days with weather that could charitably be described at “sullen.” This has led me to 1. watch way more movies and listen to more audiobooks than usual (as reading has been impossible with a little double-vision/migraine 1-2 punch) 2. think about things to do to help myself be as healthy as possible (hello, vitamin D gummies and new soup recipes!) and 3. be still and breathe, which is something I resist automatically unless dramatically forced into it. I’m not a yoga person, I hate meditation. When I’m stuck in hospital beds or out in nature, I’m not silent – I typically sing! (I was even singing a little in the dentist’s chair, thanks to ativan and Aimee Mann and Beyonce.) I’m extroverted and a do-er, not a be-er. It’ s the opposite of all the spiritual advice I’ve ever read – and particularly un-useful for someone with chronic illness. I have several “get-er-done” overachieving friends with chronic illnesses that I constantly have to shut my mouth to keep from advising them to “do less” when they suffer side effects from overdoing even though I hate getting that advice myself. Getting comfortable with “doing nothing” is tough. But I’ve noticed it yields insights – into destructive behavior patterns, long-held beliefs that aren’t helpful, etc – that absolutely nothing else does. Outside right now – at 1 AM -thanks steroids! – the wind is making a lot of “look at me” noise in the trees, icy hail pellets are bouncing off the deck, and I’m pretty sure it got dark at 4 PM. But see those pictures at the top of the post? Even now, in January, surely not the time of year to visit the Northwest, there is beauty to be found – brief sunlight on the Anna’s hummingbirds and mysterious early pink blooms in a local garden path. I think it’s part of the pattern of normal human behavior to tend to hibernate during the dead of winter, but for writers, this hibernation can be put to use. We may not see its immediate rewards yet. Cleaning out our closets, reading books or browsing sections of the bookstore we don’t normally see, or taking on a regimen of vegetables we don’t normally eat, or deciding which friends we need to have more of in our lives, which are really rooting for us and which are not – these things will have lasting benefits down the road. Consider downtime as not so much of an obstacle, but a necessity that will help us – just like our garden – to produce better and lasting results. If we look at it that way, we’re less likely to be resentful of a day or two spent in bed, not wasted but rewarding.

What I’ve Learned from My Millennial Friends as a Gen-X Writer, or, How to Submit like a Millennial

A few years ago, my friend Kelli wrote a very popular blog post called “Submit Like a Man,” (now archived on Medium,) talking about her experiences with how she observed women submitting as an editor and how she encouraged women to submit more often, more widely, and respond to editors’ encouragement. A great post.

But today I’m going to say – maybe we should learn to “submit like a millennial.”

I was thinking about the many things about the literary culture that are changing because of the younger generation, especially young women, that inspire me. My female millennial writer friends are much more hard-core about submitting their work faster and more often than I do. I never considered myself a slacker in the submissions department, but my younger friends have inspired me to try even harder, try better venues, and simultaneously submit more. They have also taught me how Twitter and Instagram can be positive forces for poetry! (I was dragged into both kicking and screaming. I may still not completely get Instagram, but I’m learning.) Also, they are very social justice focused, and demand to be treated equitably – which we should have been demanding all along, but a lot of women in my generation just assumed, maybe, it would never get better and we couldn’t change it. We were often told “that’s they way things are” and accepted that. The young women I’ve taught, mentored, encountered, and/or befriended do not assume that…They assume they can change the world. And I’m glad about that.

Get your work out into the world. And sometimes f-ck the rules.
This was a hard lesson for me, because I’m very much a play-by-the-rules person. But watching my millennial friends talk about how often they submit their work was an eye-opener for me. I had never ever simultaneously submitted (“sim subbed”) to more than two places at a time…since I was twenty. I didn’t sim sub to places that asked me not to. But in the last eighteen months, when I was diagnosed first with terminal cancer and then MS, I realized “If not now, then when?” Some literary magazines ask you not to simultaneously submit, then don’t get back to you for six months. Some lit mags take a year to get back to us with a rejection – and that’s not a rare occurrence. I think I realized my mortality, that I could literally die before my poems got published. And I watched my millennial friends, who posted that they sent their pieces to five places at a time – I couldn’t imagine keeping the Excel spreadsheet for that kind of velocity, but it did help me realize that maybe it was okay to send to more than two places at a time. Also I learned to aim higher – and had the positive experience of poems being taken at great places I had not submitted to too often because…they were too good for me? Sometimes our cages are of our own making. Aim high! Don’t be afraid of success.
When I posted about the subject on Facebook, Hope Erica said: “Millennials rock. They fear less, and are ruled by their fear less, then I was. Our stretch goals for acceptance are their minimum that they will tolerate.”
Yes. Our goals are their minimums. Think about that.

Let social media work for you. And for goodness’ sake, have some fun!
I’ll admit I was scared of Twitter. How was I going to say anything substantive in 140 characters? But my millennial friends made Twitter seem fun! They posted lines from poems they liked, quipped about their days, posted pics from their creative work, and generally encouraged and posted about other writers they liked. It wasn’t the hate-filled crazy place I was worried about – at least not after I muted a few people and learned what hashtags were. Anyway, younger people just do what they want – social media isn’t work for them, it’s fun – not a chore. We X-ers could learn something about that! Kaveh Akbar is a hit on Twitter, not only because he’s a good writer, but because he’s hilarious and generous in his praise of others.
It’s allowed to be all about you once in a while. People complain about the “selfie generation,” older generations lob the accusation that millennials can seem a bit narcissistic. But there is a balance – in the way they bring attention to themselves, they also bring attention to others. I literally cringed through writing my upcoming book PR for Poets, because I felt so much shame about trying to help others bring attention to their own poetry books. Ridiculous, you think? But my generation was shamed for behavior that was sometimes just good sense or for feeling like they had the right to be successful, especially if you were a woman. If you don’t like and promote your work, no one else is going to, right? Promote your work, and remember to promote others as you go. You can post that picture of yourself in the funny hat, but also when your best friend wins a book contest, make some noise. Don’t be ashamed because you are proud of what you’ve achieved. I love seeing my younger friends post about their accomplishments – I’m not mad at them for doing it, I’m happy for them. Chances are, your friends will be happy to see your good news, and if not, um, why are they your friends?
On Facebook, Sally Rosen Kindred said this: “The millennial feminist poets (male, female, and non-binary) whom I deal with most frequently online have impressed me with their bad-ass dedication to writing and submitting, as well as reading and supporting fellow poets by getting the word out about their work. They’ve also taught me to forgive myself and reward myself when I’m beating myself up about my writing practice, my writing’s quality, and my frustration and fatigue in the face of injustice in this country. They are a fierce and compassionate generation of poets and I am so glad to be alive while they are. “
Start things. Don’t be afraid. Bring your own literary community. Women are speaking up for themselves. I’ve been around a lot of men who took advantage of women in the literary community. I didn’t make too much noise about the things I experienced in work and school when I was disparaged, condescended to, discriminated against. But young women are making noise now, which has been making women my age say to themselves, “Yeah, and why did we think that was okay again?” It’s not okay to be harassed, belittled, threatened, so why should we pretend it is something we should just “get over?” Millennials repeated message to the gate-keepers who are keeping women and people of color down? Do better. They are demanding it.
Starting your own thing: Some of the most fun reading series I’ve attended were started by young women who were like, “Can’t we have some fun with this literary event?” (The answer is…yes!) When my friends got tired of not seeing literary magazines or publishers that supported the kind of work they liked, they started them. I am so excited to see younger women starting literary magazines, reading series, groups where they workshop and support each other’s work, helping each other find jobs and places to publish – that is really what will change the world. My younger friends have a more optimistic view of the literary world, and why not? It makes me feel more optimistic too. Why can’t things change for the better? Radical thought.

I’m thankful for all my millennial friends for your inspiration! What about you? Are you a millennial with inspiration advice for us X-ers? Are you an X-er or Boomer who has benefited from befriending younger writers? Please leave your thoughts in the comments!

2018 so far: A Poem in Rogue Agent, New Year Zoo Lights, Luck and Poetry Fees, and Thinking About the New Year and New Poetry Blogs!

The new year surprised me on January 1 with a new issue of Rogue Agent, which had one of my poems from my new manuscript in it called “Self-Portrait as Radioactive Girl.” It’s a wonderful issue if you check out the whole thing.

So far in the new year, I’ve received two rejections and an acceptance already! I also bought Powerball tickets, something we only do one time a year. This made me muse of the subject of luck, money, and poetry. (My theory was, I had so much bad luck health-wise in the last year, that perhaps the universe would let me win the lottery? I mean, not the whole thing, but a couple of million, enough to pay off student loans, start a poetry charity, and buy my retired parents a house in WA state?) And here’s a sign, lucky or not – today the sun shone bright over Mt. Rainier, and I saw a coyote in the middle of a field, running in a circle, stopping, and running in the other direction. This was under the giant white mountain and bright blue sky in a field of green. If I were a painter…

The Millions had an interesting essay on the “pay to play” model of poetry submissions: https://themillions.com/2018/01/paying-to-play-on-solvency-and-submissions-fees-in-poetry-publishing.html. I also keep an Excel spreadsheet noting financial costs and gains from poetry – submission fees, of course, royalties, literary magazine payments, getting paid for the occasional class or reading. When I make money from poetry, I try to put money back into poetry. I want to support the literary community as much as I can. I spent some time at the end of the year subscribing to a few journals, as I do every year – I try to rotate the journals so I can support as many as possible. I buy a LOT of poetry books (although I get a decent number as review copies) because 1. I want to support my local stores that carry poetry and 2. I want to support small presses that publish poetry. But I do also support the idea of literary publishers, organizations and journals trying to raise money outside the small circle of poets that want to publish – by reaching out more, trying more ways to gain subscribers, maybe advertising? What do you think? I remember being poor enough that every book contest fee hurt. I feel that fees have gone way up since I started trying to publish work waaay back in 2001-2.

We also decided to take a brief spur of energy to go out on the last day of the Woodland Park Zoo Lights show under the supermoon on New Year’s Day. It was very cold – I had on earmuffs, gloves, and a heavy coat, Ugg boots and I was still freezing after about thirty minutes (I know you Northeasterners are having killer storms, but thirty degrees is very cold for Seattle!)

: New Year Supermoon over Woodland Park Zoolights

: Me with Woodland Park zoo’s beautiful carousel

: New Year’s Supermoon

: Butterfly house lights at the zoo

The poetry blogs are rolling again, and it’s a wonderful way to get to know more about some of your favorite writers! Donna Vorreyer has a wonderful list of poets who have joined up and proposed at least weekly blog posts here. Reading poetry blogs will definitely make you feel better than reading the news (oh my God, are we going to die in a nuclear war? No, don’t read the news…) and maybe think about participating!

Happy New Year! Visions for 2018, Things to hope for: Art Friends Flowers Fun

What are you hoping to put into your life in 2018?

More health, more happiness, more hope? More art, more time for simple pleasures, more friendships? Every year for the past decade I’ve messed around with art collage to create one of those vision boards. This year I did the fastest one I’ve ever done, which resulted in more intuitive results (and fewer straight lines, perhaps.) I like this exercise because 1. it forces me to recognize the amateur levels of my art skillz, 2. it makes me think about the things I want more of in my life.

What do you want the in your vision? 2017 was certainly nothing like I planned. It’s part of why I stopped doing resolutions in my thirties – with chronic health problems, I knew that any resolutions – even small ones – could be easily disrupted, thrown off – our illusion of control over five pounds, or even, say, the ability to type an e-mail or to remember the last five minutes – really IS an illusion. We do not have that much control over our lives, even though when I was younger (and more optimistic? and more arrogant?) I believed that we did. The things we CAN ultimately control are the way we respond what life throws our way. We can also make small moves to include more “blank.” I call these my aspirations. In my case, in the coming year, I want to include more of the following: laughter, fun, friendship, flowers, inspiration, art, poetry. If I could get a little break from dramatic health stuff, that would be great too, universe!

In the vein of including more art AND more friends, we had a little pre-New-Year’s-Eve celebration with our friend Tacoma artist (and animal rescuer – she’s a professional rescuer now, the person who goes out on cliffs to save dogs and horses! What an inspiration!) Michaela Eaves. Glenn made about fifteen courses for dinner. Here’s a picture of us where she pretends to be my height (she’s actually much taller) – with her beautiful fox painting in the background:

What are your aspirations for 2018? Sometimes, just like making a collage, simply writing down our hopes can help us articulate what we want more (or less of.) Tonight we’ll go out on the town briefly and then ring in the New Year with grapes (good luck? wishes?) and black eyed peas (which I think represent prosperity) and greens (same?) I’m a little cloudy on all my New Year’s eve traditions, but we’ll also have something bubbly and try to steal a kiss at midnight.