Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, New Poem in Laurel Review, and Holiday Coping Mechanisms

Glenn and I in holiday sweaters for our festival book club

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (and Hannukah and Solstice)

Today is the Solstice. It’s also the week of Christmas, and Hannukah, which can be a wonderful time, but also a time of stress—more heart attacks on December 25th than any other time of year, and famously, suicide rates are higher this time of year—so be easy on yourself and your loved ones, give yourself a break, sleep in a little, remember everyone is anxious and outside it’s cold (and here, possibly flooding), so the point is, try to enjoy yourself and whomever you celebrate with.

Here are some hummingbird pictures to cheer you up.

New Poem in Laurel Review

Charlotte with Laurel Review

Very excited to get my contributor’s copy of Laurel Review, which has my poem “Biodiversity (In the World of Fairy Tales)”—and also work by a ton of friends, Steve Fellner, Amanda Auchter, Michael Czyzniejewski, and local Allen Braden. I love when I get to read my friend’s work with mine! Anyway, highly recommend the issue.

Here’s a sneak peek at my poem:

Holiday Coping Mechanisms

Do you have any special holiday-specific coping mechanisms to share? I posted that Facebook makes me feel more depressed but my Instagram feed (which tends to be cute animals—red pandas! ermines! foxes!—plus a bit of poetry and Stephen Colbert clips) makes me feel better. I also recommend a hot chocolate (or beverage of choice) at 4 PM (when it gets dark here in Seattle) to help you cope with the cold winter lack of lights. I also notice my skin and lips are dryer than usual, so remember moisturizer and lip balm. Schedule-in fun things that help you disconnect from the news, family stress, etc. that will help you actually enjoy the season. Sometimes going out to the movies or a museum can get you out of the house and out of a mindset. A coffee date with a friend can be a great pick-me-up as well. If you, like me, have must-dos (like medical appointments) you have to do before the end of the year because of deductibles/insurance reasons, give yourself enough time that you’re not rushing to and from, and plan something pleasant afterwards.

Since tonight is the Solstice, I’ll try to remember to light a candle (even an LED one counts) and think about what I want to leave behind and what I want to happen in the new year. A friend of mine recommended a “reverse bucket list,” which involves listing accomplishments you’ve already done and crossing things off your life list that you don’t need or want (skydiving? No thank you! I’ve already parasailed, zip lined, rock climbed, rappelled down a mountain, and ropes courses galore…don’t have anything to prove about that stuff anymore). The point is that we often discount things we’ve already accomplished and feel anxious about things we want that we haven’t accomplished yet (more money! more fame! more accolades! etc.), so this is a way to feel more gratitude and less stress.

I also create a Vision Board for each year and find working with visuals helps activate my inner artist (even though I’m not usually an arts/crafts type) and the Solstice is a great time to get in touch with our intuitive inner self.

Anyway, wishing you all a happy Solstice, a Merry Christmas, and a Happy Hannukah, with a minimum of stress and a maximum of joy.

Dangerous Floods All Around, Trying to Holiday Despite

From the Weather Channel: Snoqualmie Falls before and after

Dangerous Floods All Around

It’s been one of those weeks here in Washington. People I knew and cared about were trapped in their homes—places I frequent, like North Bend, Snoqualmie, Snohomish and Skagit Valley—all experiencing record-breaking water. Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm (where I took many pictures just a month or so ago) reported on Facebook that its corn maze was 16 feet underwater at one point. So many familiar places were shown in the news, sandbags in front of businesses, people anxiously evacuating their homes. I watched more news this week than I have in a long time. I had to cancel a bunch of plans—minor annoyances compared to what others were experiencing—and huddled indoors as we kept hearing “stay home, stay off the roads.” So many roads flooded that people trying to get home on a commute that usually lasted fifteen minutes lasted hours—and those were the lucky people whose access to home was not cut off by a bridge underwater.

Glenn and I at Willows Lodge with holiday decorations

Trying to Holiday Despite…

Despite all this, I tried to be useful this week. I signed up for a French online seminar. I read seven novels (possible candidates for the Winery Book Club—all art mysteries), wrote several Christmas cards, and bought presents for people. I even sent out a submission or two. I had problems with my web site that coincided with a week of a lot of rejection, which friends reassure me is “normal end of the year clearing house” but still feels personal, although I remind myself it is part of being a writer. (Not the fun part.) Saturday night, Glenn and I went to the Fireside Lounge at Willows Lodge, listening to live jazz (holiday themed) and trying out food (and cocktails) from the new Hawaiian chef at the hotel, Lyle Kaku. I can recommend their “zero proof” cocktails and their peppermint ice cream and pineapple tarragon sorbet, so far.

Me with peppermint espresso something – matched my outfit!

It was just nice to be out doing something normal and not stressful after the long week. We are reading Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower for this week’s book club (join us at the J. Bookwalter Winery in Woodinville on Wednesday at 6:30 PM if you like!), and it made me think about the power—and the weakness—of high empathy human beings (the main character has a defect that makes her “hyper-empathetic”—she literally feels other’s pain—and this disability/superpower also helps her build community). It reminded me that feeling pain for others is only helpful if it leads you to do something—take action—build community. I also watched the new Knives Out sequel, Rise Up Dead Man, which like Parable of the Sower, had a lot to say about good and evil in the human race, in religion, and the power of empathy over violence. It had really interesting things to say about the way Christianity (the example was in a Catholic setting, but it could just as easily been set in a fundamentalist megachurch) has dual roads—one consumed with power, vengeance, punishment, and oppression of women in particular—and another that decides that love and empathy are more powerful than fighting and hate, and the fruits of evil tend to be, well, more evil. Some of the lines in the film seemed ripped straight from social media. Even more than a murder mystery, the main conflict seemed to be between bowing to impulses like greed and prejudice and trying to do your best to be kind in an unkind world. I’d love to hear your thoughts about the movie (I also really liked the use of light in the movie, maybe more than any of the director’s previous films. It felt very film-noir-y, in a good way.) It seems like a good time of year to remember the goal of Christianity used to be “peace on earth, good will towards humanity” and “love thy neighbor” and you know, welcoming the stranger and the immigrant because after all, Jesus was born in a foreign land and no one gave his family shelter—all that stuff that seems to have fallen out of fashion among too many who call themselves Christian. Whew! All right, maybe this post got heavy. I also lost another poet friend, the great Connie Walle, who was a fixture in the Tacoma poetry scene and a great poet besides. It made me sad I had not expressed my admiration to her more while she was still here—a theme of this year for me, as I cross the names of old friends off the holiday card list because they are no longer with us. We really do a bad job of this remembering to express thanks, love, and appreciation for those friends and family, writers and artists, who have made our lives better, our memories short, our ability to remind ourselves that even our lives are not “forever,” and even small things cannot be taken for granted. This week I was made aware to be thankful that my home was dry and warm (for the most part—we did get a power outage or two) and that safety here in not guaranteed. It’s a time to give—not just presents, but happy memories, or thanks, or a donation. It’s also the Solstice approaching—I can feel the shortening days coming to an end soon—and a time to think about the past year, and what we want 2026 to look like. Well, happy holidays to you, and I am hoping you stay safe, healthy, and warm for the rest of the year.

December Rain, Bellevue Botanical Garden Lights, and Rejection

December Rain, Bellevue Botanical Garden Lights

Sorry this has to be a short, late post – my host had my web site down and I was unable to get into it until just now.

This week we’ll have rain, rain, and more rain, as a giant atmospheric river hits us for four days in a row. Before the rain started, we snuck out to see the Bellevue Botanical Garden Lights, and unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea, so it was super crowded. At least it wasn’t too cold, and it was a chance for us to get outside and walk a bit.

Week of Rejections

And in case you thought I was feeling too confident in my writing career, I got three (!) rejections for my book in the last week – one semi-finalist, one “send again,” and one totally blank – just a switch from “in-progress” to “declined.” I have to admit, with the rain and the dark and my MS acting up, it all seemed a bit much, and I admit to feeling defeated and depressed. The holidays can make this kind of stress harder, too – so much pressure to somehow always be happy during the darkest and coldest part of the year, don’t you think? Anyway, I’ll give the manuscript another go over in the new year and send it out again. I really am convinced it’s pretty good, but it’s not a “feel good” or “nice” kind of manuscript, and that may be hurting its chances at a time when people actually do need to feel better. It does have a lot of dark humor, which is sort of my thing, but it may not be everyone’s thing. Have I finished Christmas shopping? No. Am I feeling ready for the new year? Again, no. But sometimes, just like the weather out here in the Pacific Northwest, things can feel like a slog and you just have to get through them and go on. I’m lucky to have writer friends who cheer me on. If you all are getting more rejections than usual, one of them reminded me this is the time publishers and lit mags “clear the decks” – nothing personal, though it certainly feels personal, doesn’t it?

I will return and post something more upbeat soon. In the meantime, dental appointments, MRIs, and one more tutorial before the holiday. (Darn that resetting 5K deductible!) You all be gentle with yourselves and others. Maybe watch a holiday movie, something funny. Sending you all good writing and reading spirits for the rest of the year.

Thanksgiving, Holiday Times at The Nutcracker, Local Wineries, Mt Rainier and the Writing Life Holiday Edition

Glenn and I at the Nutcracker at McCaw Hall, Seattle

Thanksgiving, Holiday Times at the Nutcracker

Hello! Hope you had a good Thanksgiving weekend with a minimum of friction, family, travel, or otherwise.

We had a quiet Thanksgiving with my little brother—Glenn made a duck dinner with sweet potato and cranberry pies. A low-key affair, but nice. It’s always good to have some downtime catching up with family. It was my older brother’s birthday, too, and my grandmother’s (who passed away a few years ago). My little brother Mike told a funny story about finding a book of Grandma Opal’s recipes, trying them out, and finding that he didn’t like them at all. Well, neither of my grandmothers were really the cooking types, although I do remember her making divinity from scratch once.

Glenn, me and Mike

After Thanksgiving, I decided we should go see The Nutcracker, which Glenn had never seen before. My mother took me when I was a kid, and I had a ballerina classmate who got us free tickets in high school, but I hadn’t seen it in a long time. I was surprised by some of the changes—this was Balanchine’s Nutcracker, a version which I guess I hadn’t seen before—and the while the costumes and sets were beautiful, I didn’t like some of the changes to the music or the decision to take away Clara and the Prince’s Pas de Deux. There were lots of kids—some of them screaming or crying—not ballet fans, I guess—some of them dressed in ballerina outfits and snapping pictures everywhere, which was cute. Even now, Tchaikovsky can make me get up and want to dance around the room. I learned that the Dance of the Sugar Plum fairies used an instrument brand new to the world when he wrote the songs—the celesta, which most of you might know from John Williams’ “Hedwig’s Theme”—and that his younger sister died while he was writing the ballet, which might have made it more melancholy in nature than it might have been.

Mt Rainier, winter trees

Holiday Wineries and Mt Rainier

Today we stopped off to see the wineries and drop off a toy at J. Bookwalter’s Toys for Tots drive (’til Dec 7th and they give you a free tasting if you’re not already a member!) We walked around Chateau Ste Michelle and though there weren’t as many decorations or gifts as seasons past (they’ve had several changes of ownership, and it doesn’t feel as warm or festive as it once did) it was still nice to have the holiday feeling. It was super cold (got our first frost last night, much to our hummingbirds’ disapproval) but sunny, and we got to see the mountain, which even against a wintry backdrop is beautiful. We also put up our tree, which makes the house seem a little warmer and brighter. I did zero Christmas shopping this weekend, which may be a reaction to all the “spend spend spend” commercials and e-mails.

The Writer’s Life (Holiday Edition)

And how does the writer’s life change during the holiday season? Do you find yourself writing more or less? Is shopping or holiday card sending taking up time you would usually spend investigating journals or publishers? I haven’t been writing as much as I would like lately, holiday or no holiday, but I did manage to get a few submissions out after a pretty brutal book rejection the day before Thanksgiving (kept for more than a year with a “sorry it took so long” message after I’d been a finalist there multiple times. Ouch.) I’m starting to feel less sure about this book, which I used to have so much confidence in, my best book yet (I thought), fun and maybe even necessary. It’s also a little feminist, a little speculative, and more open about disability, which may mean it doesn’t appeal to everyone, especially in these “risk-averse” times. Anyway, think good thoughts as I send the manuscript out yet again, along with some poems. It is a good season for reading, and I’ve got a stack of books to read for the winery book club (trying to pick a literary art mystery for January). I’m doing more social things this December too—if I can avoid covid or pneumonia which a bunch of people I know have picked up recently—and one more Writer’s Digest tutorial—as well as some end of the year medical testing I have to get done before my deductible rolls over, so maybe I shouldn’t be too ambitious. But spending time being creative can be a good reminder to us during a hectic time of our true selves, and the things we truly value. Even if it’s just a sketch, a poem, a few photographs—I encourage you too to spend a little time doing something that inspires and energizes you. Happy almost-December to you all!

How to Give a Little, Making the Holidays Brighter…Literally

Amanita mushroom, or Alice in Wonderland mushroom

How to Give a Little, Making the Holidays Brighter…Literally

Ah, November in Seattle. I found myself humming “In the Bleak Midwinter”—a Christmas song I never heard or even thought about before moving here, but it seems very appropriate right now. I can feel the English melancholy in the gray rain of our winters.

I’m trying to find ways to brighten the days, literally and figuratively. For instance, here’s a beautiful amanita (or fairy agaric, or Alice in Wonderland) mushroom from our yard—something you’ll only see in November. We’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving with my little brother on Wednesday, a little untraditional with duck and broccolini but also cornbread stuffing and sweet potato pie (my Southern heritage peeks out a little here!) And we got tickets to see the Nutcracker—a little ballet in the holiday, since we have Thursday as down time. My husband Glenn has never seen it! We’re also planning a little Twin Peaks themed getaway in late December, so, our holidays are always a little weirder than most people.

Kitten Charlotte enjoys fighting the mushrooms under our solstice/Christmas tree. Her birthday is Christmas eve!

I was thinking about how to make this season brighter—with all the political ugliness and Trump and his horrid party boys trying to kill the arts (defunding the NEA means a lot of presses and lit mags shutting down and struggling)—and I came upon this idea. If you have a favorite press or literary magazine—we may not be able to replace a $25K grant from the government, but maybe we can give a little and if it happens from many of us, it will be enough to count. I know a lot of us are struggling with money these days—more than usual, given the layoffs and the inflation—but giving during the holidays has always been a tradition that usually comes—not from the wealthy, not from the billionaires—but from the little people, from the middle class. There are a lot of people who don’t have enough to eat. Animal shelters need donations of pet food. Even cleaning out and donating from your pantry may do more good than you know.

Also, little things, like getting out your sparkly tops, just dyeing your hair a different color (yes, I did it again—now it’s cranberry for the holidays!) and putting out candles or extra lights—can up your mood. It is dark here by 4 PM—and it’s natural to want to curl up and escape reality by staying in bed and binging Netflix. But trying a new place to look at holiday lights or adopting a new tradition (whether Ballet or Twin Peaks related) can help us out of our normal ruts. I got together with a few poet friends this week, and talking over sparkling cider and gingerbread cookies (and I swear there was healthy food too) made writing and submitting for another month of 2025 seem a little less intimidating (or exhausting.) I also realized I’d been writing an awful lot about death recently—even when I didn’t think I was! That’s what having other writers look at your work helps with—sometimes we can’t see our own obsessions, or we try to hide them from ourselves. Encouraging others often leads to feeling more encouraged ourselves. So, get together for cider or hot chocolate, put some lights up for elderly neighbors, drop some flowers off for someone who’s down—but try to offer up a little kindness and brightness in a world—and a season—that can feel awfully dark.

Wishing you a happy and untraditional-as-you-like Thanksgiving holiday!

Northern Lights, Book Club Revelations, Winter Blues and Winter Holiday

Northern Lights and Book Club Revelations

Most of the week was dark, windy, and rainy, but for fifteen minutes we got to see the Northern Lights! I only got a couple of quick cell phone pictures because the clouds came in so quickly. My brother on the other side of town couldn’t see them at all.

Here is a poem I wrote the last time the Northern Lights appeared, which was published in The Normal School,  “Aurora, or When Firefoxes Spark the Sky.”

Sylvia with Terminal Surreal

We also discussed my late friend Martha Silano’s incredible book of poetry, Terminal Surreal. And the discussion was really amazing. An engineer in the group mapped the sections of the book to the five stages of grief, and someone talked about the idea of knowing something of the author’s life and how that can enhance the reading of the book. When I was in graduate school, biographical readings were very out of style, but I always talk about the culture, the time of the writing, some details of the author’s life—for instance, when we read Osamu Dazai’s Blue Bamboo, we talked about Japan in the 30s and the incredible stardom of Dazai in Japan. I only teared up once talking about Martha, and Glenn said he also teared up once. We still miss her! I had never thought about whether or not to discuss the context of the book and author at the book club, but I’ve always found that knowing more about the author enhanced, rather than hurt, my own readings. We’ve read poetry books several times now, but this was the first time we read poems out loud at the club, including poems that were referenced in the book (Stephen Crane’s “In the Desert” and Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese”). I think we’ll try that again—hearing a poem out loud is a great way to really get a different dimension of the book. For December, we’re reading Octavia Butler’s terrific Parable of the Sower. I discovered Butler’s writing only a few years ago, despite the fact that she was a Seattle-lite and is a first-rate science fiction writer.

Deer visitor

Winter Blues (and Winter Holiday)

It was a tough week for me physically—I recorded a tutorial on Monday and then the book club on Wednesday, and by Thursday I was run down and spent almost the whole day in bed. The weather’s been dreary—so much rain, wind, chill—that I haven’t been able to do much outside, and I feel like I have a head cold all the time, which is super fun, lol. I remembered that I always struggle—emotionally and health-wise—around this time of year. What do I do to help cope?

Candle lights at Redmond Town Center

A couple of things that help—scheduling something to look forward to, looking at the holiday decorations around town (see last week’s post for the Woodland Park Zoo’s beautiful holiday lanterns) and deliberately doing cozy things. I watched several film noirs (my favorite genre of movie, I think), read for fun, and since Glenn had never seen the Nutcracker, we got tickets to go see it after Thanksgiving. My mother used to play the Nutcracker Suite on a record player when I was a kid (along with other classics such as Jimi Hendrix and Jesus Christ Superstar—a diverse musical upbringing, really), and we went to see it when my brother and I were little so I have a sentimental place in my heart for it, hallucination-induced rat king and all.

Despite the rain, dark and cold, Glenn put up the holiday lights around the house. Too early, you say? Well, when it’s dark by four PM, it’s literally a safety hazard, and the lights help! Never too early for lights the Pacific Northwest—and we weren’t the first house on our street, either.

Sharp-Shinned Hawk

I feel like I should be more productive at this time of year, but maybe it’s okay to take a break from being productive and hibernate a little. I feel impatient, a bit, about getting my next book into the world. I’ve sent it out to a few places—it’s possible I’m a bit pickier than I was when I was younger—and have already waited over a year to hear back from most of them. So much of the poetry life is waiting, and I’m impatient by nature. And if you are feeling a little under the weather or depressed, remember the time change and lack of sunlight can cause a lot of emotional turmoil and immune system problems, not to mention the news and the economy and politics, so take your extra vitamins and don’t beat yourself up for not being Little Miss Sunshine all the time. (A great film to watch, by the way, when you’re under the weather—a little offbeat but I remember laughing so hard in the theater when I saw it, I almost fell out of my chair. I got a lot of strange looks that day…)

November Chill, Book Publishing and PR Questions, and Trip to the Woodland Park Zoo

typewriter and fall leaves

November Chill, Book Publishing Biz and PR Questions

The dark, cold, rain has definitely set in here, as darkness starts about 4:00 PM now. I’ve been working more indoors, reading, and sending work out. But not just sending work out—thinking about the machinations of the publishing world, thinking about PR and what we can expect from our books and our publishers, especially because tomorrow I’m recording a tutorial on PR for Poets for Writer’s Digest and I did a talk last week on the subject.

Typewriter with mushrooms

Book publishing itself has changed so much since I started in publishing, working at Microsoft Press in 2000 as an Acquisitions Editor. Now Microsoft Press no longer exists, and books on technology are considered obsolete. People are reading less, reversing the trend of reading more during the pandemic. Books are selling fewer copies, publishing continues to encounter problems of plagiarism in AI, it’s harder to get the word out about individual books from small presses now than maybe ever in my life, and I don’t want to lie about how challenging it is now to younger writers. I am sending out my own seventh (!) manuscript and the landscape is more expensive (those fees aren’t getting cheaper, and you’re less likely to get a book or subscription than you used to be) and more challenging than it was back in 2003, when I sent out my first poetry book manuscript. Social media doesn’t seem easy to navigate right now, with more and more people totally stopping posting or just getting off of socials altogether (for their mental health, or just because socials have become more annoying). There are still people going on book tours and doing readings online and in person, there are still people buying and reviewing books. there are still people that care. That’s what we have to remember.

Glenn and I with fox lantern

Woodland Park Zoo in Winter with Lanterns

It’s usual for us to take a chance on a sunny day and try to go to the Woodland Park Zoo before their Zoo Lanterns lights are completely up—we like to see the animals more than we like the illuminated lanterns—so we took advantage of a rare sunny Sunday and visited some of our favorite animals, including the jaguar, the snow leopards, and of course, the red panda (and we heard the zoo is getting two more red pandas in 2026 with an expanded forest feature). The antique carousel is sentimental for us because we rode the carousel when the same carousel (!) lived in Cincinnati back when we were teenagers, and my mother loves carousel horse art.

With wings

We learned the zoo, after losing its last Northern gray wolf, took in endangered Mexican gray wolves, which are rare, and are helping with reintroducing cubs into the wild in Arizona and New Mexico. We also learned the beautiful mother the snow leopard cubs—you can see her in my previous posts about the cubs had passed away at the age of 20. I wonder if the bird flu is still endangering big cats—I heard recently it has been decimating populations of elephant seals in the wild—because it’s hard to keep wild birds, squirrels, and rats totally out of habitats. Anyway, there were lots of foxes represented among the lanterns this year—as well as an absolutely terrifying giant centipede—why? It did get us a bit in the holiday spirit too—we used to shop every year at the zoo’s gift shop for gifts for our young nieces and nephews for Christmas—now they’re too old for most of it (although I’m not!) Here’s wishing you a day or two of brightness during your November dark and remember to acknowledge the hard parts of life while still trying to celebrate the good. And best of luck with your writing and publishing journeys.

Beginning November: Time Changes, Halloween and Talking with Poetry Students

Bob’s Pumpkin Farm with Moon

Beginning November: Time Changes, Halloween, and Talking with Poetry Students

The time change is always rough here, but at least after two days of storm and rain, we had sunshine today and enough autumn leaves left after the storm to actually admire.

I love Halloween, the kids are always adorable and we had neighbors over pre-trick-or-treating for wine and appetizers, which reminded me of pre-pandemic days, when we’d have tons of neighbors in the driveway for drinks and food and the kids would run around like crazy.  We made one last visit to Bob’s Pumpkin Farm the night before Halloween, when it was clear and cold and the moon shone down. Farms at night are really beautiful.

Goldfinch on spent sunflower

Also this week I had a chance to talk to students at the University of New Orleans. The students were uniformly intelligent and asked great questions, questions that took on the difficulties of publishing, the state of the world of poetry, questions that were larger than perhaps I could answer. It reminded me to be hopeful, because the world is going to be in their hands soon, and perhaps they will do better than my own generation, or the one before that. Do I sound old when I say that? Perhaps.

Anna’s hummingbird with (still blooming) fuchsia

How are you doing, my friends? November can be a tough month of shadows. Remember to donate to your local food banks as they are stretched thin with the end of SNAP benefits, and maybe invite someone you think is struggling over. It feels like a month to be kind, when the government is failing to do its job and the false king is building a guilded ballroom while people in his country go hungry and while the GOP doubles people’s health insurance premiums. I am angry, yes, but also I remember that we each have a responsibility to vote, yes, and also to our neighbors, and the community. How can poetry make this better? I don’t have the resources the tech billionaires do, and making a living as an artist or writer in this country is harder than ever. But I can still do something. It’s good to remember. I will leave you with a few images of nature at her most beautiful, even at the end of the harvest season, as we turn to winter.

A Week of Poetry Friends and Readings, Horror Poetry, Halloween/Samhain and Some Real Life Scares

Lesley Wheeler, J.T. Manning and myself at J. Bookwalter’s Poetry Reading

A Week of Poetry Friends and Readings

This week was a riot of activity in my relatively quiet life – my friend Lesley Wheeler, at the end of a massive two-week book tour in the Pacific Northwest. She visited the Hoh Rainforest, did readings in Port Angeles and Bainbridge libraries, and toured the region’s lakes and visited a mushroom conference as a guest of honor. Then did readings in Kirkland and Woodinville. I get tired just thinking about it!

It was good to spend some downtime with Lesley—in between events, we even got to take her to McMurtrey’s pumpkin farm, where we took a tractor tour of the farm, and caught up on life, books, and news. You can watch a bit of the reading, with me reading a few introductory spooky poems and Lesley reading from Mycocosmic and Unbecoming, plus a Q&A. Lesley shines like the professional she is.

Here’s the reading:

Here’s the Q&A session:

The day Lesley left, Kelli Russell Agodon was the featured reader at the Copper Canyon fall fundraiser, so we tried to make it on time (despite massive rainstorms and equally massive traffic)—arrived an hour late at the spooky historical mansion (only accessible by tons of stairs—not so great for the handicapped among us) but it was nice to meet some of the new folks at Copper Canyon and it’s always a pleasure to see Kelli read. Kelli read from Dialogues with Rising Tides and from her upcoming book too.  I also got to see my old friend, poet Elizabeth Austen, which was really fun. Elizabeth helped me a lot when I was a Jack Straw poet and gave me so many good tips about reading on the radio.

Red finches

Horror Poetry, PR for Poets, and Real-Life Scares

Tomorrow I’m recording a tutorial on Horror Poetry for Writer’s Digest and the 30th I’m talking to a class at University of New Orleans about publicity and poetry. Doing the tutorial was an opportunity for me to do more in-depth thinking about what makes a horror poem a horror poem—does Sylvia Plath count? Louise Gluck? Am I a horror poet?

But real life threw in a real scare in the middle of spooky season—my father went into the hospital last night with a serious illness, so we’ve been texting and talking to mom and dad back in Ohio. Hopefully he’s in recovery by Halloween.

Yes, Halloween is Friday, so going about my normal routine (besides the tutorial and the speaking engagement) and decorating, buying candy, etc. This is the time of the “thinning veil”—the time of year when the membrane between the living world and the afterworld becomes more porous, a holiday celebrated long before All Hallow’s Eve, Samhain. Samhain (practiced by my mostly Celtic ancestors) was a time to light fires and much like today’s Day of the Dead (which originated in Mexico and Central America), remember loved ones who had passed and set a table setting for them at feasts.

A storm has blown down a lot of our leaves and branches around town, but here’s a photo of one of our maples before the storm. When the regular news is horrifying, and things in our personal lives are in turmoil, it’s a time to consider the blessings of autumn – how the death of our flowers and our long sunny afternoons just means rebirth in the spring, that this is the time of year to think about the ones we have lost and celebrate the good things we have. Time to rid yourself of bad habits and doubts. I am thankful for the friends I have, the consolations of reading, for my family, my home. I am thankful for you, readers. I hope you light a candle and celebrate this season in a way that brings a new hope (and not just the Star Wars kind). Happy Samhain, Day of the Dead, and Halloween to you all!

Upcoming Appearances and Poet Friend Visits to Woodinville, Halloween and Horror Poetry, and The Big Dark Begins

Me at JB Family’s Pumpkin Farm in Woodinville

Halloween and Horror Poetry, Plus the Big Dark Begins

The days are getting darker, the rain and wind have arrived, and the big dark has truly begun—waking up in the dark, coming home in the dark. A freeze overnight took care of all the area’s beautiful dahlias and sunflowers in a flash. I was happy we got to spend some time with the sunflowers before their disappearance. Still, plenty of pumpkins everywhere, though, as my sweater indicates.

Glenn as evil cyberpunk scientist, me as cyberpunk replicant

This week at Book Club we discussed early cyberpunk and the newly translated Japanese classic short story collection Terminal Boredom and had a costume contest with a cyberpunk theme. We’re reading poetry—Martha Silano’s Terminal Surreal—for November, meeting on the 12th at J. Bookwalter’s Woodinville Tasting Studio, if you want to attend. Then we’ll be reading Solarpunk—Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower—in December.

I’m doing a tutorial for Writer’s Digest next week on the history and practice of horror poetry, which seems appropriate for spooky season (and also, you know, the political atmosphere these days). It’s been fun seeking out older horror poems as well as thinking about what makes a poem technically a horror poem. I’m also doing a talk the day before Halloween at the University of New Orleans about publicity and poetry, which is its own kind of horror, right?

Me in Halloween sweater at McMurtrey’s

Upcoming Appearances and Poet Friend Readings in Woodinville

Speaking of appearances, my friend, excellent poet and fiction writer Lesley Wheeler is in town and doing a reading and Q&A with us at J. Bookwalter’s Winery this Thursday at 6:30, followed by an open mic. I’ll be introducing her and reading a few spooky poems to get us in the mood for the season. Then Lesley will read from her new book about the underworld of mushrooms, Mycocosmic. Our Q&A will feature both Mycocosmic and her novel Unbecoming. It’ll be worth your time to come out, because Lesley doesn’t make it often to the West Coast, as she lives in Virginia, where she teaches at Washington and Lee and is the editor of Shenandoah Literary Magazine.

I’m excited to see one of my old friends in person—it’s always great to catch up with Lesley—and she’s been on a whirlwind tour of the area, doing readings all over the place, and she’s also reading this Wednesday at Booktree in Kirkland.

I am wishing you all a good week. I am going to try not to pick up any bugs with all the things going on. Wish me luck! And No Kings!