National Poetry Month, MRIs and Upcoming Birthdays and Publications, and Signs of Spring

Happy goldfinch

Happy Last Week of National Poetry Month

Hope you had a wonderful celebration last weekend – we got to have dinner with two out-of-town nephews plus my little brother and his wife, and we got to take our nephews to wine and whiskey tastings, so it was a lot of fun.

And it’s the last week of National Poetry Month. What are you doing to celebrate? Buying literary magazine subscriptions and poetry books? I’ve been trying – somewhat shakily – to write a poem a day, and catch up on my poetry reading and buying. I attended a virtual reading of Kelli Russell Agodon’s, which was fun. I also have a birthday coming up the last day of April and a publication in Jet Fuel Review (I’ll put a link up when it’s up!)

Me, post-MRI with late cherry blossoms

MRIs and Things

Unfortunately, the Monday after our celebratory Easter weekend, I was due for a long-postponed brain and spine scan. I always feel a little wonky after brain MRIs – sinus infection? magnetic allergies? – and so I was a little down and out this last week. I also found out some good news (no new brain or spine lesions) but also a little bad news – a thyroid node pressing on my jugular vein and carotid artery I need to have an ultrasound on, and terrible degenerative disc disease in the neck, which I guess is why my neck hurts all the time – as well as a pinched nerve. That’s how it always is, right? As we get older – a little good news – my MS hasn’t gotten any worse – with a little bad news – age related arthritis in the neck, something I need further testing on the thyroid (which, let’s face it, my thyroid has been wonky since I was a teen.) The funniest part of the test was the front desk person, as she was handing me my MRI on disc, said to me “Your hair is the same color as the cherry blossoms – you have to take a picture with them!” So I did.

Early Lilacs

Signs of Spring – Finally!

It’s been a very gloomy cold April so far, so having a few nice days here in the last week of so of April has been really nice. We saw some early lilacs, the last cherry blossoms are falling, and the trees are starting to have leaves again. We haven’t seen our baby rabbits or baby geese yet, but we did see our first goldfinch (see above) and another beautiful pair of Wood Ducks! I also took a picture of the fox statue hiding in Redmond with some blooming rhodies.

Anyway, I hope to spend the rest of April doing more cheerful things (in between doctor’s appointments, naturally) like enjoying some poetry (I just got Mary Biddinger’s new book, Department of Elegy, and Lesley Wheeler’s book of essays on poetry, Poetry’s Possible Worlds), getting out in nature when it’s nice. Remember it’s a good time to support poets, publishers, lit mags and indie bookstores that you love – so if you have a little money, maybe put it towards some poetry! I know they could all use it after the past couple of years.

Anyway, happy April and happy rest-of-National Poetry Month to you!

Advice for the New(ish) Writer (Plus Pictures of Birds and Flowers, Because Spring)

Eastery/Springy art by Dewi Plass

Advice for New(ish) Writers

Haven’t written a post like this in a while. Wishing you a wonderful Easter, Passover, Ramadan, or Eostre, or just a happy spring. I always write a poem around Easter for some reason; the fact that it’s a time of rebirth, resurrection, first flowers, and maybe because it’s my birthday month.  I had a great holiday weekend entertaining my nephews but now I am ready for some downtime. In between advice to new(ish) writers, there will be pictures of ospreys and cherry blossoms

1. Being a writer requires a team. Find your team.

You hear a lot about writers being introverts, about writers being loners, about creation requiring solitude.

Osprey in Kirkland

And those things can be true. But being a writer long-term requires a support team, whether that’s your family, your spouse, your writing group, fellow students from your writing program, your next-door neighbor, or someone who you’ve only corresponded with and never met in person. Because whether you’re down and dealing with rejection, or elated and dealing with some long-awaited success, you want someone one your side, to keep you from being driven to the extreme highs and lows that are involved in being a writer long-term. After reading a heck of a lot of diaries, letters, and accounts of successful women writers, I notice one thing: to succeed, it took more than just one woman alone – it took other people to champion, to encourage, to promote, to keep them going. Even Emily Dickinson – held up as the solitary genius icon – had multiple women (along with her brother and the editor of the Atlantic – who rejected her work 90 times while she was alive, so mixed feelings?) – who cared about carrying on her legacy after she died.

Closeup on late cherry blossoms

2. Feed your Creativity.

Whatever this means to you – time in nature, time around visual art, music, or reading books completely unrelated to what you’re writing. Take a class; go to a writer’s conference or festival. Keep your brain alert to messages from the universe. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been inspired by things I wouldn’t have thought at the time were important – a song lyric, an episode of a television show, a scientific concept, a bad sci-fi plot, a painting I glimpsed for a minute in a window of an art gallery. I know this has been hard during the pandemic. And spend time with people who inspire you and make your brain race (see above.)

3. Be persistent.

I am old enough to have seen lots of terrific writers fail not because they were not talented but because they stopped writing or stopped sending out their writing. They got discouraged. They got interested in something else. They got busy or had other priorities. That’s not the end of the world. But just when you think you’re at the end of your ability to tolerate rejection or discouragement, that’s when you’ll win the prize or get the acceptance that will keep you going. Again, this is why having teammates to cheer you on – it’s just as important in writing as it is in basketball. We all need a little encouragement to keep doing anything hard for the long term. The first acceptance or first book are great – but you will need to keep writing after those things. Writing is as much a practice as a sport – and hitting those foul shots in the NBA is not an accident – it’s because those players have practiced foul shots for hours, for years, in front of their audience and in front of their homes. Keep practicing your writing, trying new forms, and hang around with people who are also excited about writing.

Multiple cherry branches

4. Curiosity and Kindness Count

Stay curious – it will continue to pay off. Learn a new language, or a new instrument, read new literary journals and poets you’ve never heard of. Read fiction and non-fiction on subjects you don’t really know anything about.  Education? Travel? Close examination of the natural world? Yes! The point is, never stop being curious about your world – that is what will drive your writing long term.

Be kind when you can be. Volunteer with younger writers; review someone’s book; do someone a favor who can’t do you a favor back. There can be a lot of competition and not enough kindness in the art world, the poetry world, the work world in general. Believe me, your small and large acts of kindness will reverberate more than you know. A note to someone to say what their work meant to you – or how much you loved their class in eighth grade – or thank them for support during a hard time – that sort of thing matters.

Tulips and narcissus

5. Last Notes: Answering Questions

Do you need an MFA? Do you need to attend AWP every year? Do you need to do a nation-wide reading tour? Do you need to be on Twitter 24/7?

Volunteering for a literary magazine or publisher would probably help give you more perspective on publishing in literary magazines, and help you see things from the editors’ points of view. As someone who has an MA in English and an MFA in Creative Writing, and after interviewing many writer friends who do and do not have MFAs, I can confidently say: going to an MFA program may connect you with lifelong friends or mentors, or give you publishing opportunities, but it may not – so the best way to decide if you want an MFA is to decide if you want to dedicate the time and money to your writing, because that’s the only guaranteed thing you get from any MFA program. I would say all writer’s conferences and festivals are more than anything an opportunity to make friends – friends that might last your whole writing life. The same with a reading tour – it’s an opportunity to connect with others, but it’s not the only way. Social media, like AWP, isn’t a necessity, but can be seen as just another way to connect, and believe it or not, be kind. Doing a few book reviews 1. help you read more carefully and 2. show you how much work people are putting in when they write your book reviews as well as 3. help you connect with the larger literary community.

The reality is, you don’t need an MFA or to go to AWP to be a writer. A good writer’s group can be better than a traditional MFA program. You have to decide what makes you healthy and happy as a writer. So no magic keys – just whatever helps you find your team, engages your creativity, and helps you be curious and kind.

Any more questions I can address? Put them in the comments!

Happy Poetry Month! Tulip Festivals, Poetry Podcasts, a Poem in Diode, Snow Geese – and Illness (Plus Broken Teeth) – and The Importance of a Change in Scenery

Glenn and I catch a moment of sun – or at least daffodils in a rainbreak – at Skagit Valley’s Tulip Festival

Happy Poetry Month! Moody Weather, Illness, Snow Geese, And a Poem in Diode…

First of all, it’s National Poetry Month, so it’s about time I post a poem, right? Thanks to Diode for publishing my poem “Witchcraft” in their 15^th Anniversary issue, which also has poems by friends Martha Silano and Alison Pelegrin, so check out the whole thing.

(Sneak Peek below of my poem – click to enlarge:)

Bald Eagle, Skagit, in rain

Second, I spent most of this week with the lovely combination of a head cold (not covid -we checked) and a pretty serious stomach infection, so I was mostly down for the count. We’ve had a colder, wetter April than usual here – I’m so ready for some sunshine and a little bit of above-forties temperatures. PS We got snow and hail today. High of 48. Normal average temperature this month? 70 degrees. Ha ha ha.

Third, though I was very worried my head cold would make my video podcast with Robert Brewer from Writer’s Digest a little weird, but I took some cold medicine and I think it went okay. (Also, I blame cold medicine if I say anything weird.) The podcast will go up in late May, but here’s a still from the podcast. Thanks to Robert and Writer’s Digest! I’ll post the link when it’s live.

Snow Geese in flight, mountains background

A Bit of a Depressing Week and a Change of Scenery

I’ve been depressed on top of being sick this week – had a head cold on top of a fairly intense stomach infection that required big time antibiotics. Maybe because of the cold, bleak weather, the unrelenting bad news of the world, maybe because I got a very sad rejection from the Guggenheim, maybe because I couldn’t get out and see my friends’ readings on the most beautiful day of the week because I was in bed sick, and maybe because I broke a tooth (again!) and the antibiotics they put me on have a side effect of “suicidal thoughts and depression.” (True story! If you feel depressed, check your medications for side effects to see if that could be the reason.)

So Glenn decided to take me on a quick trip to see the Tulip Festival Saturday, even though it’s mostly daffodils and not tulip fields yet. See picture at beginning of post. We also did not dress appropriately for the weather! At least I had on snow boots to protect against the mud (not pictured.)

Snow Goose Crowd Closeup

It was weird weather – bright sunshine, then hail, then overcast, then snow, then rain, then clear again – but we did see some snow geese which have usually already migrated by now. A small miraculous thing.

Sometimes a change in scenery can help the spirit. It can’t make me have a normal immune system, or keep my teeth from breaking, or stop wars or pandemics, or even keep it from snowing in April, but I have so many medical appointments coming up, it was nice to have some brief sunshine and cheer. (Even though there was hail and snow and a broken tooth.)

Glenn and I with yellow and pink tulips

Allowing Yourself A Little Brightness in a Time of Storm/Stress/Mourning/Illness

Since I haven’t been able to travel much for the whole of the pandemic due to being immune compromised – starting on our third year now – I doubly appreciate being able to drive without too much trouble to such beautiful scenery. I have to get this broken tooth checked out, I’m due for two separate MRIs, I have like eleven blood draws I need to schedule, and it’s easy to let that kind of stuff take over your life when you’re chronically ill and have MS and other multiple physical problems, plus aging. Literally the time and energy it takes to stay alive feels overwhelming.

How do we make space for brightness, for the possibility of joy, when we are worried about a war across the world, or about waiting for test results, or a root canal? How do we make space for poetry? I’ve been trying to write a poem a day this week, but haven’t felt super inspired. So when I couldn’t write, I tried to do a submission, or read some poetry instead.

Daffodils and Tulips

When life keeps handing you problems, pain, rejection, and challenge, prayer/meditation/spending time in nature/purposefully changing your scene can seem stupid, like a waste of time, but these things can also remind us that life isn’t all suffering and pain, give us a much-needed sense of perspective, wonder, gratitude. In my opinion, hospitals should have mandatory garden/kitten/meditation time for recovery, which seem almost as important as giving our bodies antibiotics to fight an infection – we need a little spiritual/emotional help to encourage healing too. A sensitive, empathetic mind that focuses not only on their own pain but everyone else’s too needs to spend equal time around beauty, peace, happiness. The news does not report on this, but look – snow geese have recovered from almost extinction to the largest population on record, and even in the wind, hail, rain, and snow, there are moments when the world stops her sulk and storm and gives us sunshine and flowers.

Next week, I plan on a post with advice for the beginning writer – the last time I did one of those posts was some years ago – especially for National Poetry Month!

Happy April – National Poetry Month (and My Birthday Month,) and Seeking Inspiration

More art from Dewi Plass

Happy April – National Poetry Month (and My Birthday Month)

How is it April 2022 already? The cherry blossoms and early magnolias are blooming, the tulips are about to come out, and I’m about to turn another year older. I hope you love this piece of art by Dewi Plass, which features hummingbirds, a moth, and a fox. After seeing her art in Roq La Rue, I ordered a few art cards from her web site, and they did not disappoint.

I just finished writing up a review – my first in a while – of Dana Levin’s Now Do You Know Where We Are from Copper Canyon Press, and I’m hoping to read some more new work this month, as so many good books debut.

I’m also about a year out from the debut of my next book, Flare, Corona, with BOA Editions. Now that I have an author photo sorted, I’m turning to other things, like finding cover art and blurbs.

I’ve been taking a peek inside a few local galleries to see if there’s anything thematic that might work, but while I haven’t seen anything perfect for my book yet, it’s been great to see art in person again. I’ve also noticed some weird local art popping up – in Kirkland, wondering through one of the little streets with three cupcake bakeries, I saw this cat skateboarding and this glass and metal piece that reminded me of DNA. Here also is my own shot of a typewriter with fallen cherry blossoms.

Jeannine with pink Star Magnolias, Kirkland

Seeking Inspiration in Kirkland and in Connecting with Friends

I’m trying to write a poem a day, since I haven’t been writing as much lately, and seeking inspiration inside the world that’s still in a pandemic and a war. So I wanted to connect with some friends via phone and explore neighboring Kirkland, which has a beautiful waterfront with Lake Washington, and seems buzzing and friendly, at least when the sun shines.

I’m not healthy enough to travel or get in big crowds yet but I am, as you may see, making an attempt to get back into the world while covid levels here are low enough. As the UK and Asia struggle with another surge, I’m sure one is coming this way too, but for now, I’m getting out when it’s sunny (even when it’s not warm) and enjoying the flowers. I’ve enjoyed talking to friends this week about AWP as well as their travels and travel plans. Being immune compromised, I can’t be quite as adventurous, but I’m glad to get the news of the outside world, adventure by proxy. Meanwhile, I’m exploring different neighborhoods, capturing signs of spring.

Tulip Magnolias

Almost April

So, in family lore, I was supposed to be born in May, but I actually arrived on the last day of April – and was almost named “April.” I wrote a poem about it that was published in Tinderbox Poetry Journal. So I’ll leave you this week with a poem…Happy April!

Not at AWP Post: A Seattle Writer Walks through Plum Blossoms, Japanese Gardens, and an Art Gallery

Not at AWP: A Writer’s Week with Plum Blossoms, Art Galleries, Japanese Gardens, plus Wood Ducks and Deer

Not at Philly’s AWP this week, still avoiding crowds due to the covid-19 thing and the immune-suppressed thing. But I did try to spend the week paying attention to things that fed the spirit and inspired. When spring finally appears in our area, we get these rare sunny days when everything is in bloom and people smile and say hello to each other.

So I went for a walk through a bunch of plum trees in bloom, which smell amazing, and the petals fell down in the breeze. There are also cherry blossoms, and the daffodils have started to open, and so I spent time in the garden, trimming back maples overgrowth, giving the new apple and cherry trees more space and more mulch, and weeding and planting a new pink container “cutting” garden with things I haven’t grown before – snapdragons, carnations, cupcake cosmos, celosia, godetia. Tulip and star magnolia trees are starting to open as well. The air smells like spring, even in the rain.

The news remains grim. My social media feed is full of book signings and panels, friends who are traveling to beautiful places, or people raising money for Ukraine refugees showing pictures of destruction and bombings – it’s enough to give someone emotional whiplash. It’s hard to stay oriented, much less focus on writing or submitting poetry. The spring flowers and deer visitors (we also had a bobcat walk through again) are good reminders that there is still beauty and wildness around us. I miss seeing friends at AWP – my social life has been mostly phone calls for two years – but at least Seattle gave us some warmer, sunnier days so that we could stop and appreciate the beauty of where we are now.

A pair of Wood ducks at the Japanese Gardens

Date Night: a Visit to Seattle’s Japanese Gardens and Roq La Rue Art Gallery

This week I was working on a book review, and Glenn and I turned in our taxes, so we decided that we needed a break and had a “date afternoon” during one of our rare March sunny days this week. We visited the Japanese Gardens for the first time in a long time, where we were lucky enough to see pairs of Wood ducks, and the camellia and azaleas were in first bloom.

Then we visited my favorite Seattle art gallery, Roq La Rue, for their “Jungle” multi-artist show (click this link to preview that art). This was our first visit since they moved to a new location in Madison Valley, across from famous vegetarian restaurant Cafe Flora, and it’s a beautiful, airy space. I bought a book on women and surrealism (which somehow my art history class skipped) but missed out on my favorite painting, of a tiger surrounded by birds and butterflies which had already been purchased – cool to discover a new artist to love, though. I’ve missed going to art museums and galleries over the last two years; I’ve forgotten how much I love to be around visual art. Taking steps towards living a “normalish” life again. And I’m looking forward to AWP Seattle next year, when I hope it will be safer to attend.

It is so easy to feel depleted by the news of the war, by the feeling of missing out, by all the things we have lost in the last two years, or even just daily routines that have become ruts. Plant something new; go see some new scenery; pick up a new book on a subject you don’t know that much about. Rest can be about more than just napping; it can be making space for things that rejuvenate us. Spring seems like a good time to try breaking out of routines that have become stifling. Wishing you lots of blooms, deer, and possibly a bobcat!

Despite Everything, Spring and Solstice; Choosing an Author Photo Every Decade; and Reviews and Reading Reports

early pink cherry blossoms

Despite Everything, Spring and Solstice

We’ve had a colder March than usual, and it’s been gray and rainy, but in fact, spring is springing around us, despite war and pandemic and other apocalypses. Jonquils and hyacinths are up, and the early plum and cherry blossoms are starting to appear. I’ve heard more birdsong; my garden, mostly still asleep, is showing signs that it is actually a garden. And how is it the Spring Equinox already?

Here are some pictures of a red-winged blackbird singing, my small weeping cherry, and some white cherry branches. Meanwhile, my refrigerator died, the third pandemic appliance death in three years – this is getting expensive. At least the new fridge models are more energy efficient and easier for me to access. And I’ve been doing a lot of reading in the rain, which I’ll talk about later, and more exciting – I posed for my first author photo in over ten years. Now I just have to decide on one.

Choosing an Author Photo Every Decade or So

Along with spring, there’s another seasonal ritual that must be performed every decade or so: getting a new author photo done. It just doesn’t feel right to use a photo that’s more than ten years old – ten years ago I was so sick, before my MS diagnosis, barely able to walk or eat anything. I wasn’t in the same place I am now. My hair had less gray in it – and for that matter, I hadn’t started my pink hair color phase yet. So I thought, for my upcoming book with BOA, Flare, Corona, I’d do an updated author photo. I was pretty nervous because I’m a writer, not a model, and not as spry as I used to be, either. But I thought: let’s do it and then I don’t have to do it for another ten years! Heck, I think Louise Gluck used her mid-forties author photo (she looked fantastic in her mid-forties, I can remember) for at least twenty years!

Anyway, I had a great local photographer, Char Beck, out and we took pictures with a cherry tree across from my house. Anyway, if you want to help, here are the four final contenders. You can leave your vote in the comments: Photo 1, Photo 2, Photo 3, or Photo 4!

Mask-less visit to Molbaks, spring display with pink bicycle

In Other News, Reviews, Mask Mandates, Donna Tartt Reading Report, and More

So, Washington State’s mask mandate was lifted a few days ago. Glenn and I weren’t up to trying a restaurant yet, but we did make a spring pilgrimage to our favorite gardening store, Molbak’s, and bought herbs and flowers to plant. It was so nice to be able to smell things again! But I’m mostly staying masked up for the time being. While our covid rates have really dropped, especially in my county, we’re staying cautious. But it does seem like we’re getting closer to a post-pandemic period, doesn’t it? As we get better, newer treatments, and maybe even better, newer vaccines, we won’t erase this virus – it will continue to mutate and appear in waves for a while, I believe – we will not have to live in quite as much fear. I hope.

I’m trying to review a poetry book for the first time in a while – Dana Levin’s Now Do You Know Where You Are, from Copper Canyon. Exercising those reviewer muscles again. The book has made me cry three times. It’s also one of those books you really need to pay attention to and read the notes at the end of the book. It’s not a book you can skim easily and that also might make it more rewarding.

Spring tulip display at Roozengaarde gift shop

I also finished my mother-daughter book club read, Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. I had read this book and loved it in my twenties, but as I read it this time I read it as a writer – like, I think Donna should have made the main character a woman from the South, not a man from California, not only because I think women writers have a tendency to “male up” their protagonists to be more “accessible” or popular with male critics, but also because some things didn’t ring true, either the male or the California aspects – and I think the book could have used more humor and pop culture references. The eighties were so much fun, it seems a shame to leave out references to, I don’t know, Prince or Madonna or John Hughes movies or something. It’s also a bit of a slog in the middle – not exactly paced right for a psychological thriller. Like, you don’t want the reader thinking, she could really have edited this part out, or doesn’t this seem repetitive. (I had a similar reaction to The Goldfinch.)

It’s interesting to revisit books you read in your twenties – at the beginning of the pandemic, I re-read Middlemarch, which I hated in college, but actually enjoyed it in my forties. Maybe The Secret History is really a twenty-something’s kind of book. Anyway, I also have been on a Hitchcock bender the last year, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between this book and the Hitchcock thriller, Rope. (Check it out if you haven’t. A really great turn by Jimmy Stewart as an amoral philosophy professor.) And actually, between this and the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode, The Pack. Funny how those things turn up when you read. I also really saw more parallels between this book and Flannery O’Connor’s Southern gothic moral fiction (I hadn’t read any of Flannery’s work in my twenties yet.) So, though it took some time, it was actually a captivating book with really beautiful sentences that not only reflected the dark mood of the world right now but also made me think about questions I hadn’t in a while: does fiction have to be funny? Does it have to teach us something? Do you need any likable characters? I would say if you compare this book to her classmate’s book, Less than Zero (which also was really devoid of humor – gosh, did Bennington College in the eighties knock the humor out of its English students or what?) you can see that though Less than Zero made more of a splash, I think Secret History had more of a lasting influence on other writers.

Next up on my reading list is Rapture and Melancholy: the Diaries of Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve already enjoyed taking a look at her pictures (saved by her sister, who passed away at 90 in 1989) and reading about her amazing self-confidence as a young person. I loved Edna St. Vincent Millay as a teen, and I still enjoy reading her poems out loud – she’s funny and bracing and has great musicality. I’m interested how her diaries – and life trajectories – compare to other women poet’s diaries I’ve read in the last few years.

The Apocalypse is Knocking, First Cherry Blossoms, Cats From the Past and More History Repeating

It’s the apocalypse, but a haircut and four fillings later…

The Apocalypse is Knocking

The Apocalypse feels like it’s knocking at the door. Are we going to answer?

The picture at left was taken this week after 1) spending two hours getting four fillings in my front teeth and 2) getting my hair cut and colored. These things are a total waste of time if a maniac ends the world in nuclear war or the pandemic kills me. Yes, I think about weird stuff like that. How do we respond of existential despair and threats of war and pestilence? Do we think harder about how we spend our time, our money, our love, our votes?

So, in a way, every act – going to work, kissing your spouse, petting your cat, is an act of rebellion against nihilism. Stopping to take pictures of trees – something I started doing when I was diagnosed with terminal cancer over five years ago (I was told I did not have six months, FYI…always get a second opinion, kids!) – is to make a record of the beauty as the world continues.  Until I stop, or it stops. My philosophy.

Speaking of that, I saw the first cherry blossoms this week in Kirkland, and I also photographed another early spring bloom, quince. Quinces look like ugly shrubs in the winter, and then they have these beautiful blooms and fruit. I’ve always liked those kinds of things. Apple trees with their twisted arms and shrubby height, how fragrant their blush petals are, their fruit that hangs on ’til September. Bulbs that when you plant them seem like nothing, brown little lumps, then bring their tulip petals and daffodil trumpets during the cold early spring. So here are some pictures of March flowers. Are you writing poetry, or sending it out, or getting ready for AWP? Good job. I have been struggling with poetry’s relevancy in the last week or so, I admit. It feels…frivolous. Extraneous. I know that it is good for the soul, but maybe my soul is feeling a little fractured right now.

Me posing with brand new cherry blossoms. I don’t know what my great-great grandmother looked like at my age. She probably didn’t have pink hair. I wish we had more pictures of her.

Cats from the Past – and More History Repeating

Remember how last week I mentioned how history seemed to be repeating, with a pandemic and the threat of world war starting in Europe? My mother has been going through my grandmother – who died of covid in November of 2020 – things, her keepsakes, letters, books, pictures. One thing was a letter my mother read me from my grandmother’s aunt to her brother, my great-great uncle Jean (whom I may be named after) to check how he was doing with his case of the flu in 1922. He was dead by the time the letter arrived. Even though the Spanish flu was declared “over” in 1920, people were actually dying of it i 1921 at as high a rate as they had a year before, and of course it also spilled into 1922, obviously. (One in ten Americans died of the “1918” flu, FYI. A great account I read earlier this year was “Pale Horse, Pale Rider” by Katherine Anne Porter) Does that sound familiar? People were tired of caring about the flu, people were still dying of it, but the burden of worry and grief was too much. The world shrugged. Sorry for this sad story from my family history with echoes of our covid tale. Let me tell you a happier one.

My mother also found a picture of my great-great grandmother Elizabeth’s kitten. It was a sketch signed by the artist, and also had the name “Fifi” inscribed on the picture. The weirdest part of this is that the kitten very much resembles Sylvia: fluffy, blue eyed, white with gray points. Is my kitten a reincarnation of my great-great grandmother’s childhood pet? Did this picture register in my childhood mind when I saw it at my grandparents’ house and cause me specifically to adopt a kitten someone else was looking to rehome because she was eccentric, hard to care for, destructive and sickly? I don’t understand time loops and reincarnation among cats, but all things are possible.

Finding My Way with Poetry and Trumpeter Swans in a Week of War and Anxiety, A Change in Perspective

Trumpeter swans with barns, La Conner

In a Week of War and Anxiety, Finding My Way with Poetry and Trumpeter Swans

It’s been another week of war stress, watching the Russians march into and bomb Ukraine and its people and besides that, five people a day in my county, which is highly vaccinated, are still dying of covid but all the restrictions are being lifted anyway, so that’s fun. War with Russia trying to take over the world supervillain style and a pandemic? Why are we having a hundred years of history but only the bad parts in two years?

Not only that, everyone, including me, seems more stressed and anxious than usual. I have to remember to be kinder than usual, and my social skills have not improved from being basically isolated in my house for two years. Also, on the road trip, I saw at least three cars driving to try to kill each other. People, the highways are not your anger management strategy.

So I was pretty tense and once again, sleepless for most of the week. I tried meditation, deep breathing, exercise, and yes, prayer. I wrote to my senators. I gave to multiple charities trying to help Ukraine. But mostly I felt helpless and kept having war dreams. I dressed up and put on makeup and decided to spend some time outside. (PS This is one of my possible author photo outfits, still deciding, speaking of things that aren’t important…)

By the way, you should read this piece on CNN by my friend and poet colleague Ilya Kaminsky about his home country and the place that poetry and humor have in Ukrainian culture. And if you haven’t read Ilya’s poetry, his first book, Dancing in Odessa, or his second, Deaf Republic, are excellent – and educational – reads.

Sylvia poses with Dana Levin’s newest book, Now Do you Know Where You Are

Poetry Cannot Save Us, But…

As Ilya’s piece shows, poetry can stay important even in a time as fraught as ours. I’m currently reading Dana Levin’s upcoming book from Copper Canyon, Now Do You Know Where You Are, for a review and her work is apocalyptic in its own way and it delves into her move to St. Louis, where my father grew up. Of course, with the title, I immediately staged a photo picturing Sylvia the kitten going on a road trip with the book as reading material. Ah, some of us have different ways of dealing with stress!

In a way, reading her work was able to transport me and made me think about what poetry is and isn’t able to do. I’ve been writing poems about nuclear war, about the Doomsday clock, about being in a pandemic as a disabled person. Are these poems that will help other people? I can’t tell. But I can say they are what I need to write right now.

What are you reading right now?

Daffodils in La Conner, WA

Spending Time in Nature with Eagles, Swans, and Daffodils

Today it got up to fifty degrees, no rain, and sunset was as late as 6 PM, so we decided to take a short day trip to spend some time in nature. We went up to a famous spot for bird watching, Skagit Valley, Washington, which gets snow geese, Trumpeter swans, tundra swans, who migrate, and eagles and herons year-round.

We saw so many Trumpeter swans, a pair of bald eagles, and a few early blooms – daffodils and a crocus – at Roozengaarde Gardens, which was completely empty of visitors except for us. Getting out of the house and out of my own head helped my thinking, my mood, and my outlook. Sure, looking at eagles and swans can’t fix the world’s problems – but they do remind us of the good and beauty in life.

Mt Baker at last light, La Conner

A Change in Perspective

One of the good things about both reading and getting into nature is that they both provide a welcome change in perspective. They remind you of the larger world and your place in it. Sometimes we have both an inflated sense of our place in the world AND an inflated sense of our ability to control it. On a micro level, we can do positive things – we can plant a tree, or give money to a charity that helps people who suffer in a war across the world, or write a letter about an issue we care about. On a macro level, we are each part of a much larger system – in which we don’t matter all that much, which is both a sobering and a comforting reminder. In the face of evil, we can ignore it or we can resist it. We can be grateful for the instances of beauty all around us. In a time that seems very apocalyptic, we can choose to hope.

Leaving you with a few more shots of swans…

A Week of Insomnia, the Threat of Nuclear War and Ukraine Heartbreak, Spring Approaches but with Record Cold and Snow (plus bobkitten!)

In a pink sweater dress, dreaming of spring – and peace

A Week of Insomnia and the Threat of Nuclear War

How are you doing? If the stress of the pandemic was not enough, now we are dealing with the threat of WWIII this week as Putin invades Ukraine. The ghost of nuclear war anxiety – something I was familiar with as a kid in the eighties, where nuclear war with the then-Soviet Union was always on our minds and felt like something that could happen any day – is back. My childhood home, Oak Ridge, Tennessee was always on the bombing risk list because although it is called “the Secret City,” the secret is pretty much out that it’s a place that the US could – and definitely has in the past – manufacture nuclear weapons.

So all week I have been unable to sleep, perhaps not inexplicably. I’ve also been running a fever all week, tired, stressed. As mask mandates and vaccine requirements are lifted, the high-risk (like me) are left more vulnerable.

But as the thought of pandemic stress is starting to wane in most American’s minds, it’s still there for me, and now on top of that, heartbreaking videos of young women preparing to defend their country – teenage girls standing in front of their homes unarmed facing armed Russian soldiers, elderly Ukrainian women offering sunflower seeds to the Russians to help commemorate their dead, a 26-year-old teacher being drafted to defend her home city of Kyiv, the bombings, the black smoke, the air raid sirens – anyone with any amount of empathy must be overwhelmed, and when faced with the inaction of the US and Europe against this dictator’s Hitler-like takeover of a country, equally angry and feeling powerless. My brother, who worked extensively in Ukraine in his last job in tech, encouraged me to write to my senators and to send money to Ukrainian charities. If I could become a superhero right this second, I would go and defend the brave citizens of Ukraine.

Yellow crocus – sign of coming spring and hope

Spring Approaching and Nuclear Poems

This week was so strange – cold, sunny days, record-breaking below freezing temperatures at night, even snow – and spring flowers. It made me think of the news, the frenetic dives between politics and plague.

In the beginning of the pandemic, I dreamt repeatedly of nuclear war, and wrote this poem in response, which suddenly seems alarmingly prescient. I usually don’t post unpublished poems, but this one seemed timely. It may make its way into my newest book.

Hummingbird in sunbeam on top of bird cutout

Just a Little Bit of History Repeating

Those of you who are students of history could not be unaware of the parallels to WWI and WWII right now – the financial instability, the crazed dictator and his alliance with an equally sketchy country or two, the global pandemic and war stresses at the very same time, and the stubborn slowness of the US government’s response to both pandemic and war. You know Woodrow Wilson never even publicly addressed the 1918 flu, despite the deaths of one out of every ten Americans from it and he actively increased infection by shipping infected young soldiers around in too-close quarters? Did you know most Americans didn’t want to help Europe in WWII, despite so much evidence that Hitler was a monster and committing heinous crimes – and that we refused refugees’ applications to enter the US, especially of Jewish people, even Anne Frank? (True fact!)

And despite all of this alarming information, the birds are singing louder, the flowers are starting to show their willingness to bloom despite temperamental weather. I feel like I should be tougher, more resilient, like the flowers. My body betrays me – lying awake, uneasy dreams when I do finally get an hour or two of sleep – the fevers, dark circles, nails splitting and a nagging cough. My body knows things are really not okay, no matter what meditation apps I use, or deep breathing exercises I try, or cures of tea, soup, and vitamins.

A proliferation of camellia blossoms

In the unease of the end of February, let’s hope for a better spring – easing up of pandemic death rates, an end to Putin’s ambitious power grabs (and China’s eyeing of Taiwan in the background) that put the entire globe out of balance – a time when we can once again see our friends and family, that America defends its allies and welcomes refugees from despots. The hope that my doctors can help sort out the haywire immune system problems that keep me from living the life I want. If I can banish the discouragement brought on by plague, and war threats, the political strife in America – maybe I can write more poems. Even if the poems can’t bring peace and health to the planet, or even bring an end to my insomnia.

PS: Last night there was a bobkitten sighting on my Ring recorder – a small bobcat, and he was wagging his tiny little bobbed tail! That seems like a good sign!

The Future of Lit Mags, Birds and Blooms in February

The Future of Literary Magazines

CNN did an article this week, surprisingly, on the future of literary magazines, particularly smaller mags: Long-standing literary magazines are struggling to stay afloat. Where do they go from here? – CNN Style.  They talk about the lit mags going under – even big ones, like The Believer.

In the fifties and sixties, the CIA, among other government agencies, sunk a surprising amount of money into literary magazines like The Paris Review, The Kenyon Review, and many others, in order to fight the cold war, so the speak, in the art world.

For a while, universities seemed willing to foot the bill for literary magazines for the prestige, but now, they’re shutting down MFA programs and their accompanying literary magazines left and right, as unbusiness-y, unprofitable.

So what is the future of lit mags? I joked that maybe it’s in the hands of some of the richest people in the country – the ex-wives of Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos, aka Melinda and MacKenzie. I met MacKenzie once at a writer’s conference, not knowing who she was, assuming she was just another struggling writer. I think she might be open to a solicitation for the right kind of magazine – she’s giving away her fortune at astounding rates, which: good for her. Their husbands were never going to do much for the arts out here, even though they live here in Seattle (and the Eastside). You’d think they’d do more for local culture! But their ex-wives will be big contenders in shaping where Seattle’s non-profit scene is at, and not just that, but the whole country’s non-profit scene.

When I volunteered for several lit mags, I begged them to try to raise subscription numbers, to take adds from local businesses, to hold more creative fundraisers, anything so they weren’t so attached to either a) a university’s funding or b) a single angel investor. How can a literary magazine make a profit, and do we even want to worry about that? My answer is, if you want to keep them around, then yes. Often, lit mags are very expensive compared even to the fanciest “regular” magazines. Younger readers expect to get their content for free – even regular mags are struggling with subscriptions. So we have to give readers a reason to buy the magazine. What would that be? What do you think? Are lit mags doomed? Can someone start throwing awesome parties that might attract billionaires looking to share the wealth with the literary arts? And invite me?

First Jonquil in My Garden

Birds and Blooms in February

It’s about to freeze again tomorrow and stay below freezing for three days, so while I’m excited for these early blooms and birds, I’m nervous that the lone bumble bee I’ve seen at my garden might be doomed, much like literary magazines. Camellias and jonquils, mostly, but other things in my garden are budding up. Despite the coming freeze, spring is coming. It’s just taking it’s time this year, a little stop and start.

Our bird visitors this week included lots of Anna’s hummingbirds and a less common visitor – a red-winged blackbird. It was mostly rainy, as you can probably tell, which doesn’t make for the best pictures, but I thought you’d enjoy seeing them anyway. Also, my cat Sylvia with a Valentine’s Day ribbon, just to mix it up.