Post Christmas Haze, Looking to the New Year

Sleeping Sylvia with wrappings on Boxing Day

Post-Christmas Haze, Looking to the New Year

Hope everyone who celebrated had as good a Christmas as possible. We Facetimed and Zoomed and Google-meeting-ed with family in Ohio, Tennessee, even Bainbridge Island, watched the new Wonder Woman movie and exchanged gifts. On Boxing day, as you can tell, Sylvia enjoyed playing with the boxes, and we tried to recover. I know this Christmas was hard on a lot of us, not being with loved ones, not being able to enjoy some of our traditions, and some of us mourning loved ones no longer with us. For most of us, it was not the holiday season we might have hoped for. On the side of good news, my sister in law, a nurse who works the covid floor, got her vaccine, as did many of my doctor friends from Cincinnati to Alaska. That’s a good present, right?

I had a little surprise good news on Christmas Eve (see previous post) that one of my personal essays that I published this year – the first year I’ve tried to publish personal essays, really – was chosen as one of Salon’s “Best of 2020.” “Marriage in the Time of Coronavirus” was the first that I wrote and sent out, and Salon was the second place I queried. It felt like a little encouragement from the universe to continue to try genres outside of poetry, especially as I am still trying to place my two poetry manuscripts in the new year. This is also a good time to remind you that even if you are in middle age (say, ahem, 47) it’s not too late to try out new forms and experiment a little.

Looking to the New Year

It can be hard, after the sort of year we’ve had in 2020, to make sense of it, much less process it enough to think about next year. It’s hard to make goals or set intentions knowing that even our biggest hopes might be thwarted by unforeseen intervention from a sometimes chaotic universe. Maybe we need to heal a bit before jumping into the next thing. We need to mourn losses, acknowledge hard facts, come to terms with the fact that sometimes things are out of our control.

But I’m actually feeling mildly optimistic when I look at 2021. I think a new President will not, realistically, suddenly solve all our problems – coronavirus, environmental, racial injustice, economic hardship, undoing the wrongs 45 has done to us. But it will be a little better to have someone at the control’s who not out to actively do evil. The vaccine will not come to me for months – and as someone with anaphalaxis issues, maybe not for a long time – but any amount of people at risk getting the vaccine will lower our numbers of deaths, help the overflowing hospitals, allow some amount of normalcy to return at some point.  I’m hoping for antivirals and tests for monoclonal antibodies. So there are reasonable reasons for hope – not for everything to magically become good on January 1, but for a gradual improvement to our quality of life as teachers get vaccinated so kids can get back to school, as nurses and doctors don’t have to be afraid of dying if they spend too much time with covid patients, as nursing homes might be able to receive visitors and front-line workers won’t be risking their lives selling flowers or cleaning teeth or putting out fires. I’m hoping people will prioritize the arts and reading after this tough year, that we can return to museums and concerts and readings, book release parties and casual celebrations of all sorts.

For myself, this has still been a tough year health-wise – I spent almost the whole year on antibiotics for a tricky infection, not covid – and my mental health, for the first time in a long time, took a dive. I hope that I’ve built in some life-supporting lessons that I won’t forget in 2021. I also hope, maybe it’s silly, to try for a new job, to try to make new friends, to find new opportunities. Anyway, I am no collage artist, but I think the exercise of building a vision board both relaxing and helpful in thinking about what our true goals are when we think about how we are leading our lives. Here’s mine for the coming year. I am wishing us all a healthier and happier 2021, and I hope you all achieve your dreams.

Vision Board for 2021

Happy Christmas Eve…and a little Writing Good News – a Best of 2020 Essay on Salon!

Christmas Ornaments

Happy Christmas Eve! A Little Early Christmas Present/Writing Good News for me – a Best of 2020 Essay on Salon!

Hello my friends! Happy Christmas Eve to all who celebrate.

I had a little piece of good news to celebrate today that I wanted to share, because I know I’ve talked on here about how discouraged I’ve been with my writing life lately, so here you go…

Though I have written journalism articles, tech writing, and book reviews for years, it’s only this year that I’ve attempted publishing personal essays. (Of course, I’ve been writing versions of personal essays on my blog for years, but not trying to publish them elsewhere.)

So, it was a huge deal to find out that Salon.com had chosen my essay, “Marriage in the Time of Coronavirus,” as one of the “Best of 2020” picks. It felt like a huge honor and I am truly grateful. (And this will definitely encourage me to try more personal essays in the future!) A huge thank you to Salon.com and to their editor Erin Keane!

Best of 2020 Salon – Marriage in the Time of Coronavirus

Merry Solstice/Christmas Week to All, and to All…A Good Riddance to 2020, plus Setting Intentions for 2021

Sylvia, looking nonplussed in laundry hamper, with Santa hat

Merry Christmas/Solstice Week to All Who Celebrate

It’s the solstice today, a day for retreating and rest, and for resetting. I know I could use a reset, A little bit more cheer, a little less gloom.

Maybe the vaccine and the new President will help this country reset itself. I hope so. It’s grey and groggy with rain here in Seattle, though I’ve been hoping to get a glimpse of the planetary convergence of Saturn and Jupiter, which they sometimes call “the Christmas star.”

Glenn and I with Michaela’s fox painting and white Solstice/Christmas tree

I’ve been practicing meditation exercises every day, and started a creativity journal (practicing any kind of creativity seems almost impossible right now, doesn’t it? But it is supposed to be good for depression, anxiety, and even pain management.) I did some crafting yesterday (making homemade Totoro ornaments) and writing exercises. I have still been pummeled by rejections, and my MS symptoms have been acting up – muscle spasms, fatigue and vertigo with nausea. I was in so much pain this week I actually almost cried from it (my MS isn’t always that bad, but this week, it was.) I’ve been sleeping like crap. I’m sure some of you can relate. One thing that makes this time of year so hard is we are supposed to be aggressively cheerful, but this year that seems like an unrealistic expectation. So many of us are dealing with loss – lost loved ones, lost jobs, lost health. lost opportunities. This year has seemed to take it out of the best of us. We are trying to practice our Christmastime rituals in the hopes that they might help bring a little bit of brightness.

Seeking the Light Where You Can, Saying Good Riddance to 2020

Space Needle with Christmas Tree lights

Some scenes of December Seattle that are my attempt to find the beauty and the light during the darkest time of year here – in our neighborhood, sunset comes in around 3:30 PM. So I drive around looking for different perspectives.

To the left, the Christmas tree lights on top of the Space Needle at twilight (about 4:30 PM.) Below, a few shots from the winter Lantern Lights at the Zoo, shots of sunset at the Space Needle, a Double Rainbow shot from a Floating Bride, and a Sparkly Reindeer at a Woodinville Winery.

I know we are all saying “get out and good riddance” to 2020, I try to remember the good things that came from this year, too. I spent a lot of this year sick (not with covid, just other weird stuff) so I became acquainted with weighted blankets, the Queen’s Gambit and the Mandalorian, I started a novel (still not very far,) applied for jobs in poetry publishing, and applied for grants I normally would avoid. (I even got two small grants this year, which seems miraculous.) I did a lot of bird watching. I got published in a few “dream” journals, including Poetry and Ploughshares. I tried to find as many inspiring things close to home as possible, since we couldn’t travel or do our usual about-town entertainments.

I am certainly hoping that with the vaccine, it will be a little safer to visit friends, the doctor and dentist, and generally go about the business of living. I have been sheltering in place since February since I am high risk, and here are some things I’m looking forward to at some point next year: visiting my favorite bookstores, hanging out in person with a few friends and family members (maybe still outdoors, but better than nothing,) and not feeling afraid on my short walks in nature when I see other people.

Holiday Ornaments at a local wintery

Setting Intentions for the New Year

This year, I am thinking harder than usual about setting intentions for 2021. What am I hoping for? Thinking about health, work, relationships, the whole shebang. Quality of life. Maybe a new home, a few new friends, a new publisher, a new job? Better health, and I’ve got to get a handle on managing my health problems without getting angry or resentful of my body (after all, it’s gotten me this far, if not perfectly.) Mental health wise, trying to tackle depression (mild) and anxiety (more acute) head on with all the resources I have.

If I want, say, a new place to work or walk, or to find more friends who are supportive of my writing, or to find a publisher for my next two manuscripts, how do we set that intention?

You can imagine things in your mind. You can say mantras, or pray. You can make a vision board, which involves trying your hand at collage (another creative exercise that’s really good for those of us who aren’t visual artists, necessarily.)

At any rate, set a little bit of quiet time tonight to let go of the old year, and think about what you’d like to see in the year to come.

Discouragement During the Holidays, 2020 Edition

Ornament Closeup

Discouragement, Depression, and Disappointment: Holidays 2020 Edition

I try to be honest here on this blog, and so, in the name of honesty, I’m talking about something I’m sure a lot of you are feeling this year around the holidays – discouragement, depression, and disappointment. And of course, writers live in a world of constant rejection, it seems – so they are more prone to this than others.

So, in the name of honesty, this week, I received some really crushing rejections – of book manuscripts, of jobs I applied for, and you know if you read this blog, this last month has brought its share of losses and stresses, including my grandmother. One of my publishers – New Binary Press – is closing, sadly.  I feel like the universe says been saying a lot of “no” to me lately, and not a lot of yes. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I think this year has really taken it out of me. Even thinking about the new year feels exhausting. Like, yes, it might be better, but it’s going to be a while before the vaccine gets distributed and the economy recovers and Biden can right the many wrongs of Trump’s last four nightmare years. I don’t know, as an immune-compromised person, when I’m going to feel “safe” seeing friends and family again, besides outdoors and socially distanced (which is easier here in the summer than the winter). I’ve struggled with my health this year – mostly from long, serious complications from my first two root canals ever – even without seeing people, I ended up in the hospital a couple of times, which seems unfair – like, I’m shielding, I never do anything, and my body still manages to find a way to get sick? Gah.

I’ve written a lot this year, so it hasn’t been a lack of writing. I’m even a little proud of some of this year’s accomplishments, such as they are. But searching for a part-time job, trying to get these two manuscripts I’ve been shopping around a home, even just sending out individual packet of work – all feel like they have ended in despair, not celebration. I even tried to write a novel for NaPoWriMo – I’ve never done that before – and tried for a couple of grants that were difficult and daunting ot even apply for. I’ve been trying, is what I think I’m trying to say, but not getting exactly a ringing sound of endorsement from said universe.

I think about giving up on my dream of being a writer, sometimes, honestly. This year especially. I was good at my job as a tech writing manager, I liked advertising writing and working in publishing as an acquisitions editor for technical books. I liked getting a steady paycheck and the nice feeling of people praising you for a job well done – very absent in the poetry world, you may notice, except for a chosen few. I liked feeling useful instead of useless. When I was healthier and younger, I spent almost as much time volunteering as I did working – and I was sort of a workaholic. I miss being able to “do things” for people, physically, that I used to be able to do. I resent my disability, honestly, my immune system’s weakness and the symptoms of MS – vertigo, nausea, muscle weakness at odd times – and the feeling of a shrinking life those things can bring. I love my husband, who has always been very supportive of my writing career, and I’m happy he’s embarking on his own adventure, getting his first Master’s Degree, but I wonder: what’s next for me?

Anyway, I apologize for this downbeat post. All writers feel discouraged at some point. I hope your holiday will have a lot of joy, comfort, and light in it.

A Week of Rejections and Small Disasters, A Pushcart Nom, and Looking for the Beauty of the Everyday in December

Geese with Sun Flare in December – Everyday Beauty Series

A Week of Rejections and Small Disasters

This week’s blog post has two themes: looking for the beauty of the everyday and the weight of small disasters. So, to the left is a picture I took of geese flying with a sun flare (December light here has a unique color – almost peach.)

This week, besides the larger sadness of the burial of my grandmother on Monday, I received seven rejections, our dishwasher leaked and flooded the kitchen overnight, ruining some of the kitchen floor, then our internet went out, then no stores had dishwashers (the repair would have been over $500, so we just decided to get a new one…problem: nothing in stock, and installation would mean waiting til January.) We finally found one store that had a last dishwasher in stock and could drop it off in our garage (no install) and Glenn installed the dishwasher himself. The internet was out, the cable company sent out a tech who helped with the internet but broke off our phone service, so basically I spent 24 hours this week on the cell phone with various customer service people which I don’t recommend during the holidays. It was not a great week, and it ended with a three day migraine.

Greek Strawberry Tree

Looking for the Beauty of the Everyday in December

Since most of us can’t do the usual celebratory things right now due to covid, I made up a photo project this week to see the beauty in the everyday. To the left is a photo of a Greek Strawberry Tree that we saw in a parking lot. Now I want one to plant myself. So, having a week of smaller disasters and the continuing sadness of losing my grandmother to covid, I wanted to find the grace, the things to be thankful for, in a time that feels totally barren, usually. We did get several days of sunshine (even if the sun goes down on my street at 3:30 PM – it matters, in Seattle, how far up you are in how much light you get in a day) which felt like a nice respite. Several mornings I went out on my back porch and just stood in the freezing cold (36 yesterday morning) just to get a few moments of sunshine. It is supposed to help your mood. Here are a few more everyday things I thought were beautiful: a robin, back-to-back woodpeckers, apples at the Tonnemaker farm stand in Woodinville, Mt Baker at sunset.

Viburnum Flowers with Christmas Lights

A Pushcart Nom and an Acceptance

I had a reading this week with a Poemeleon-sponsored anthology called the Plague Papers, which connected ekphrastic poems to the experience of looking at museum art work online. I was surprised to find that they had nominated one of my poems, “Ode to Koons,” for a Pushcart Prize. The reading was really moving, with people connecting this very tough year with particular works of art. I encourage you to check it out, at least a few pieces – you might discover a new artist or poet.

I also got an acceptance from a beautiful new journal called The Chestnut Review, which I encourage you all to check out.

Our main Christmas tree

So that is our “looking on the bright side” of the literary world this week. Of course, anyone would be bummed by seven rejections in a week (I believe most of them came in the Monday after Thanksgiving,) and the expense and annoyance that comes with the failure of a major appliance, the internet and phone at the same time, plus the incessant ring of disaster in our ears of high levels of covid and coronavirus-related deaths in America, and the total failure of our government in the last year to contain it. It’s just that these days most of our coping mechanisms for annoyance sadness, disaster: getting together to celebrate with family, getting a coffee and commiserating with friends, even the simple pleasant act of going to the grocery store or bookstore – are out of reach. So maybe we should all start recording the beauty of everyday things. I’ll leave you with this shot of our Christmas tree, which we have been trying to decorate (in between disasters) all week. Love and light to you this December. Drink something hot – cider and hot chocolate and coffee. Watch a holiday film. Turn off the news for a day. I hope to be back with a better attitude next week.

My Poem, “The Wildness,” Up on Verse Daily Today

Hairy Woodpecker

A Poem, “The Wildness,” Up on Verse Daily Today

Thanks to Verse Daily who featured my poem, “The Wildness,” originally published in Cherry Tree, up at Verse Daily today.

http://www.versedaily.org/2020/thewildness.shtml

Here’s a sneak peek. Wishing you all a safe and peaceful holiday week. Stay home and give your loved ones a call to tell them you love them.

November Doldrums, Grieving a Loss and Moments of Light

Typewriter with red maple leaves

November Doldrums

It’s been a rough week. It started with me staying up all night with kitten Sylvia that required the emergency vet (okay now, but gave us quite a scare), continued with me being too sick (not covid, but a stomach and sinus infection) to get much work reading or writing done, and ended with the news that my maternal grandmother, after surviving covid-19 for two weeks, passed away today, just a few days short of her 96th birthday. This was my last surviving grandparent, and one who shared with me a love of literature – Poe, Hemingway and Faulkner were a few of her favorites, and in her youth she read voraciously. She lived in Missouri, which has some of the highest covid rates, and no one was able to visit her the last weeks of her life, because of covid.

I know people are chafing under travel restrictions during Thanksgiving, but remember that people like me – and my grandmother – are the people that need protection. Wear a mask, stay six feet apart, and stay home. Having to miss a Thanksgiving with family is much better than having to mourn a family member you can’t even have a funeral for, which is what I’m doing this week. No amount of pumpkin pie is worth that.

Sunshine in November, Seattle View from Kerry Park

Moments of Light

Even in the darkest times, there are moments of light. Most of the week has been cold – in the low forties – and rainy, but yesterday the temperature was above 50 and the sun was shining, and suddenly everything was beautiful – the last remaining leaves on the trees, the snow-capped mountains, the neighbor walking his dog.

Besides the emergency-levels of “real life” stress of this week, I also got a rejection from the NEA grant, two book rejections (though my manuscripts were semi-finalists, sigh) and several regular poetry rejections. When you don’t feel good and you’re wondering what the point of all your hard work is, it’s important to remember the sun will shine again, figuratively and metaphorically.

This coronavirus has made 2020 a very tough year for everyone. My grandmother is just one casualty of a pandemic that has killed a million people world-wide. Travel plans and curfews and shutdowns have impacted the economy, our quality of life, almost every part of it. So I’m hoping you have a safe, happy-as-possible Thanksgiving week, and remember it won’t always be the way it is right now. Light a light. Get outside in every moment of sunshine. Grieve the things that are lost, and hope that 2021 will be a better year for all of us.

A Poem Up at Verse Daily, Rough Week, And On Poets And Prizes

Red maple leaves

A Poem Up At Verse Daily Today – “They Are Waiting”

It’s been a rough week, so I’ll start with the good news. A poem of mine published in the latest issue of Boulevard, “They Are Waiting,” which I wrote when I was waiting for cancer scan news a few years ago, is featured today on Verse Daily. Thank you to Boulevard and Verse Daily!

Here’s a sneak peek:

Sunrise in November, Woodinville

A Rough Week in November

It’s been a bit of a rough week for us here in November. My 96-year-old maternal grandmother, Opal, tested positive for Covid and is in isolation at her nursing home. She lost her husband in January, so this has been a hard year for her (and for my mom) already. We are praying she makes it to her birthday at the end of the month. I’ve already sent her birthday card, and I’m just hoping it makes it in time. Even if we were in the same city, I could not see her. It’s a cruel time to be ill.

At the same time, I got hit with another pretty serious stomach infection, requiring massive antibiotics (and sometimes hospitalization and surgery,) so I’ll ask for your good thoughts for healing there as well. I definitely am trying to stay out of the hospital. Stressing about the election and rising covid rates, too. The November sunrise picture is to remind us, even on bad days, the rainy cold months, there is always a little beauty.

White Peacock, Zoo Lanterns

On Poets and Prizes

There was a very interesting article this week, “On Poets and Prizes,” by Juliana Spahr and Stephanie Young, at the ASAP journal. It talked about the fact that, though some of us might prefer to think of the poetry world as a meritocracy, it is mostly a function of a small “in-crowd” of Ivy League types giving prizes to their friends, and only their friends. The charts and graphs alone are worth a look. Data-driven poetry information. Since poetry receives so little attention in America – and so few sales – the poetry prize decides whether a writer is read – or ignored. And most of this is nepotistic – highly nepotistic. More than you thought, if you already thought it was.

It is hard, as I have posted the last two weeks on the blog, to make a living as a poet. If you did not come from a family with money, didn’t go to the “right” schools, never ran with the “right” poetry in-crowds, it’s going to be even tougher. I mourn having to say this, especially to younger poets with more enthusiasm and optimism than I had (I was always a little cynical.) If you don’t go to Iowa for your MFA, you don’t go to New York City and the right parties, you are probably never going to get the big prizes or the big fellowships. Which means, you probably won’t be read. The data presented in the article is fairly convincing.

But…it does happen – and I know people who it has happened for, who were lucky, who just on the merit of their work and their hustle, did make it. I am so happy to know that such poets exist.  Publishers, from time to time, present terrific work by people from “nowhere,” who don’t have money or go to prestigious schools, and their work finds not only an audience, but good reviews and accolades and yes, prizes. Am I likely to be one of the lucky ones? Are you? The odds, as the article makes clear, may not be in our favor. But there is something honorable about writing, publishing, continuing to offer the work to the world, isn’t there?

If we are Katniss Everdeen and the Poetry World is the Hunger Games, how do we start to break the game, the in-crowd, nepotistic, odd-are-never-in-our-favour  system? Do we want to? How do you choose which poetry books to read, or decide which book is good and worthy of your time? How do you choose which book to review?

I want to be hopeful. What is the message of hope I can find here? I admit to feeling a bit discouraged, poetry-wise, this week. I’m still waiting, for a publisher to pick up one of the two book manuscripts I’m circulating. A lot of living the life of poetry is waiting, isn’t it? I am wishing you the best this week.  Some good news. Some luck.