A Poem “Divination” in the new issue of Shenandoah, Birds, Heat Waves and the Fourth, Good News and Gardening

Bald Eagle

Poem in the New Issue of Shenandoah

Happy to announce that I have a poem in the new Spring 2021 issue of Shenandoah, which also has work by friends and amazing writers like Lesley Wheeler, Ann Fisher-Worth, Erika Meitner, Anna Marie Hong and Lisa Russ Spahr. Here’s a link to the poem but read the whole issue, it’s great. I’m very thankful to be in such a dream magazine with so many great writers.

Here’s a sneak peek at my poem in the issue here:

from Shenandoah Spring 2021 issue

Birds and Heat Waves

It was a brutal week here last week, getting up to 110 degrees in our backyard, almost everyone, including birds and flowers, miserable. I tried to keep the bird watered and the garden watered and called and checked on friends without air conditioning, but it was stressful. The heat makes my MS worse, and I almost fell a couple of times out of nowhere, so that was scary. I have to remember to rest on hot days.

We’ve also got wildfires now in BC, Canada, and the smoke is lingering in the sky high overhead. Many places here cancelled their fireworks shows due to the dry and the heat, but some idiots will insist of lighting off their own fireworks and possibly starting fires. Fourth of July has never been my favorite holiday (smoke! loud noises! asthma attacks from the terrible air quality!) and now with the threat of fires, even less so. Oh well. We’ll hope for the best.

And in the meantime, some pictures of birds (and a Townsend chipmunk) that visited us this week, to cheer us all up. And I’ll post a picture of Glenn and I on the 4th with blue and red hair!

Glenn with blue hair, me with red, Happy 4th with roses and Lake Washington!

Happy 4th and A Bit of Good News

I was thinking about the way we think about good news, and the way we poets are always waiting for good news, and get a lot of rejections, and steel ourselves against disappointment, sometimes so much so that when we actually get this long-awaited good news, we underplay it, to keep ourselves from further disappointment. Isn’t it hard to celebrate? So much easier to expect the worse than to even dare to think about expecting the best possible thing? Is this a writer thing?

And here are some flowers from my garden, a little bit of Seattle in July. In the garden, I expect the deer to come and eat some flowers, and for unexpected plant illnesses to kill some of my favorite plants sometime. I just shrug and go ahead planting different plants and hoping for the best. Gardening is so optimistic – you plant some seeds, and you hope some of the seedlings survive and flower. I planted a bunch of poppy and sunflower seeds last year, and although the didn’t all come up, a lot of them survived and gave me flowers I didn’t have before. If you plant a tree in the wrong place, or with the wrong conditions, sometimes it dies. But if you fertilize, and water, and protect it from predators large and small, eventually, you will probably have a full-grown awe-inspiring tree. Trees make me happy. Flowers do too. Maybe the attitude I have towards gardening should also be the attitude I have towards my writing life.

My Interview with Kelli Agodon in Redactions, Some Scenes of Hummingbirds, Supermoons, and Mt Rainier, 100 plus Heat Wave

Sylvia with Redactions Issue 25

My Interview with Kelli Agodon in the new Issue of Redactions

Happy to have an interview I did for Redactions Issue 25 with poet, friend, and publisher Kelli Russell Agodon about her new book with Copper Canyon Press, Dialogues with Rising Tides, available online and in the new print issue. Here’s a quick quote:

“JHG: You have an interesting philosophy about the attitude of competition and scarcity in the poetry world. Could you talk a little about that?

KRA: I guess I do have an interesting philosophy in that regards – I believe in the poetry world, there is enough for everyone. I reject the scarcity mindset that the field is only big enough for so many of us and only so many can come to play. That’s nonsense, we can always use another poet. And we don’t have to feel threatened by them, that now there will be one less spot for me to publish my poems…Just because a poet doesn’t win a prize, doesn’t mean that their book isn’t changing someone else’s life this very moment or having a profound effect on someone. I have never believed success can be measured in art – people try to measure it based on American beliefs such as “this book is better because it 1) sold more copies 2) won a prize 3) was published by a certain press 4) was featured in a certain journal or magazine 5) got an excellent review 6) made the author earn X number of dollars” and so on. . . . Who said that was success? Who wrote that definition? That’s not my definition of success – my idea of success isn’t built from opinion and numbers.”

Here is a link to read it.

Strawberry Supermoon

Some Scenes of Hummingbirds, Supermoons, and Mount Rainier – and 100 Plus Heat Wave

We’re going to break some heat records in the days coming up, which means probably a lot of people sickened – as a city we’re only 44 percent air-conditioned, so getting up to 109 (!!) on Sunday and Monday is a bid deal here. Let me tell you the many reasons spring and fall are my favorite seasons…I saw as I try to save my flowers from the 102 degree heat today. Even the sunflowers think it’s too much sun!

Since this week has been hot, that means my MS acts up a little more than usual, and I spent more time than usual observing birds and flowers and staying up for the Strawberry Supermoon. I also got a beautiful shot of how clear Mt Rainier was one day. But I haven’t had the energy to do much besides water my garden and take photographs. I’m also anxiously checking my e-mail every night, hoping a note from a publisher will come through on one of the three manuscripts I’m submitting. Not very productive, either. Supermoons always interrupt my sleep and make me anxious. I don’t know why, even though they are beautiful.

A Port Townsend Visit, Happy Solstice, and Appreciating Things While the Sun Stands Still

Me with Discovery Bay garden

A Port Townsend Visit – Poet Friends, Eagles and Seals, and a Change in Perspective

One of my favorite places to visit in the Pacific Northwest is the little, haunted Victorian town of Port Townsend. I even lived there for a year once. Even though Woodinville is beautiful, every once in a while it’s nice to get away and get a change in perspective – and goodness knows after the year and a half we’ve had, we needed one. So we booked a cabin, packed up, and went during a couple of rainy/sunny days. (Rain/sun is the main kind of weather most of the year in Port Townsend.)

One of the wonderful things about Port Townsend is the ocean and the wildlife – so different from the woods and gardens of our home. We saw at least ten seals, several eagles, and tons of deer, including two little fawns. It was odd to go back and find some things changed – an old boat dock at Fort Warden that otters used to love to run across with their pups was torn down, to our dismay, and a roundabout in the road that was never there, plus some ugly development where there used to only be old growth forest. And an old-growth rose bower at Chetzemoka Park had been cut back almost to the root. We’ve only been absent a year or two, and yet…all these changes.

Red Rhododendrons with sunbeam

Another wonderful thing about Port Townsend is that besides offering beautiful views, fascinating flora and fauna, is that several of my friends (and soon, my little brother) live nearby. So I got to have a spontaneous afternoon coffee visit with poet friend Kelli Russell Agodon. We got to catch up on poetry news, then we hiked around a bit, birdwatched, and got rained on multiple times.

We talked about her latest book from Copper Canyon Press, we talked about my projects-in-progress, and generally I was reminded about the positive way that writer friends can help support our dreams and goals. After a year and a half of mostly staying in touch through phone calls, it is especially nice to be seeing people in person. It made me feel grateful.

Glenn and I with ocean overlook

Glenn and I got to visit our favorite spots – Chetzemoka Park, the lighthouse at Fort Warden. We walked on the beach, and were surrounded by walls of yellow lupines, which smelled like honey and salt. We explored around Discovery Bay – the place we stayed had a beautiful overlook among historic cabins. The only thing we skipped were indoor things – no shopping or restaurants this time around, just in case. Visiting Port Townsend was like visiting an old friend – observing things that had closed, or that were still open, or how an old madrone tree had finally disappeared after all the years of clinging to the cliffside. Here’s where Glenn met a coyote on his bike, or where I encountered a white deer. Little things. But it did allow us to appreciate how much the ocean, the trees, just the chorus of frogs so loud at night and birdsong so loud in the morning, can shift perspective. I am always happier when I am close to nature. I don’t have a body that supports most rugged individual sports, but it does allow me, even with MS and all my other nonsense, to get close to seals, and swallows, and deer, and look at the sky overhead, and laugh when it rains on me even when it’s sunny (yes, it’s happening in quite a few of the pictures here.)

Me at Chetzemoka State Park

Happy Solstice!

Well, we have a new holiday – Juneteenth – to celebrate, as well as the Solstice, and Father’s Day. I am so happy to have a President who actually agreed to make Juneteenth a holiday – can’t see that happening with the last guy – a holiday that’s long overdue. As we approach the longest day of the year, as the day lasts long into nighttime, I can appreciate the good things around me even though things aren’t perfect right now. Do I wish I had some things easier, like my health stuff or career stuff? Or that we hadn’t just gone through a year and a half of pandemic (that’s still not over in some parts of the world, or really even all the way here?) Of course. But with the flowers blooming, and feeling thankful for family and friends, and the beauty of the world around me, it’s easy to feel celebratory. Hopeful.

I don’t have all the answers. I’m two years away from fifty, and I’ll be celebrating my 27th year of marriage next month. I’m feeling the years, but also feeling grateful I’ve had so many of them. The sun appears to stop in the sky around the summer solstice, although we know it never really stands still, and neither do we. What does the future hold? Nothing stands still. We just have to stop and appreciate what’s beautiful and good around us, right this minute.

A Stormy Week, Both Weather and Health-Wise; a Few Literary Things to Look Forward To

Black-Headed Grosbeak

A Stormy Week, Weather and Health-Wise

It’s June, or as some on the West Coast say, June-uary, and we’ve had a bizarre week of low and high pressure systems, storms, sideways rain, hail, cold, and wind. On top of this, I had one of my rare migraines with aura that took me out for an entire “day in bed in darkness” followed by a few days of a stomach bug. Fun, right? So, the weather and my health have been equally gloom-inducing. But strangely I have not been feeling as down about my writing life…see below for a few reasons I have some cheer in that department.

Female black-headed grosbeak

So I have not gotten as much done as I was hoping, besides which, it’s not feeling very summery. On the other hand, lots of opportunity to photograph by birds when my headache wasn’t too bad, so I have pictures of Hairy Woodpecker mothers feeding their babies, all kinds of hummingbirds, and black-headed grosbeaks.

Me with sequins and typewriter. This is how I always dress to write!

A Few Literary Things to Look Forward To

But I do have a few literary things to look forward to. I’m working on a speculative poetry class I’ll be teaching online in July. I applied to Breadloaf for the first time since I was a young writer and I had just quit my job to try and be a real writer (but was too poor to afford to go), so I’m going to the all-virtual Breadloaf in August, which I’m pretty excited about – because having this event virtually allows someone like me, with disabilities and chronic illness, to attend. I’m an extrovert who can’t travel and go to as many literary things as she would like, so this is something exciting for me. Maybe conferences will start having a virtual component so those of us who can’t travel easily can still enjoy the cool opportunities, readings and classes – I mean, this year proved we could do it, right?

Then, I’m going to my first residency in a very long time on San Juan Island, one of my favorite places, in September for ten days, where I’m hoping to get to serious work on a new poetry manuscript. There will be foxes and otters and deer and seals and bioluminescent life forms right on the water to help me write, and maybe, if we’re lucky, dolphins and whales. I haven’t been to the San Juan islands in six years, even though it’s one of my favorite places to visit in the state, so I’m really looking forward to this (and crossing my fingers that my body is cooperating with me health-wise that week, and no wildfires.) I’m also feeling a bit more positive about finding a publisher for my book manuscripts. I’m thinking of starting a newsletter, too, pre-book, just to start up another way to outreach. Anyway, hope your June-uary is going as well as possible!

First Butterflies, Sunny Days and Speculative Poetry Picks, Broken Teeth and Meditations on Melancholy

First Swallowtail butterfly of the season, on lilacs

First Butterflies and Sunny Days

I saw my first Swallowtail butterfly this week, and that is a sure sign summer in near. Although I mistrust a string of sunny says, we’ve been trying to make the most of them, getting out to see the early summer flowers and enjoying gardening late with the longer light (til 8 PM now!) Sun can slow me down, as heat makes my MS symptoms act up, and I broke a tooth again this week requiring an emergency dentist trip. So that’s the downside of this week for me.

As people get more and more vaccinated in my area, you see happier people, friendlier faces. I stepped into an indoor farm stand (with a mask) for the first time since the pandemic – so much fun to see the produce in person.

I also am so proud of my planter-based culinary herb garden I started last year – with parsley, chives, pineapple sage, chocolate mint, mojito mint, tarragon, and a mini-rose for no reason. The hummingbirds and bumblebees love sage and chive flowers. If you need to garden but have accessibility problems with diggings, bending, and weeding, it’s a perfect container project. Highly recommend! This planter is sectioned so the herbs don’t take each other over, and there are planters (more expensive) that are even self-watering. But I like watering, pinching things back and smelling each herb close up. In my real-life-sized larger garden, roses and peonies are blooming, sugar snap peas are ready for harvest, and strawberries have baby strawberries on them now.

Me with newly extra-pink hair in Kirkland

Speculative Poetry Picks

I also had the honor of helping curate a Speculative Poetry page for our Seattle poetry-only bookstore, Open Books.

Here’s a link if you want some of my favorite books of speculative verse! 

It includes everyone from stellar popular prize-winners like Tracy K. Smith to robot-loving poet/scholars like Margaret Rhee, and I tried to find all kinds of speculative poetry – sci fi, scientific poetry, futurism, pop culture.

Besides the books listed at that link, I highly recommend Sally Rosen Kindred’s upcoming Where the Wolf, from Diode Editions, Celia Lisset Alvarez’s Multiverses, Jason Mott’s Hide Behind Me (hard to find now – he’s just putting out a tremendous new book taking on race, celebrity, and a book tour haunted by ghosts called “A Hell of a Book”) and Jason McCall’s Dear Hero (also out of print, but worth tracking down.)

Glenn and I with Lake Washington and roses

Meditations on Melancholy

So, despite these smiling pictures, I’ve been struggling with melancholy lately. Something like breaking a tooth (the fifth one since the pandemic started) or waking up with MS-related joint pain and fatigue, or another rejection of my manuscript-in-progress, can kick off a cascade of catastrophic thinking. Why do I send out my poetry at all? Why do I work so hard on my health (eating carefully, meditating, physical therapy, etc) only to face setbacks I can’t do anything about fixing? Is aging just one health disaster after another? (The answer, children, is yes! No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not true. For some lucky people.)

One way I comforted myself about my broken tooth was to think about Emily Dickinson, who probably had very little help from dental technology when she inevitable broke her teeth, or the way her vision problems caused her headaches (and she had to write longhand via candlelight.) My paternal grandmother had to have all her teeth pulled by the time she was 40. Another friend my age told me she’d had ten – ten, not two – root canals. I may be more unique in that I have autoimmune problems that make dental work complicated, as well as allergies to pretty much all painkillers and Novocain, but lots of people have battles with their teeth, which is somewhat comforting.

As far as my Multiple Sclerosis, I’m lucky it doesn’t give me more trouble than it does, so when I wake up with nausea and vertigo (telltale signs I need to slow down and take care of myself) or I’m so fatigued I can barely walk across the room, I try not to panic, and to be extra careful to stay out of the hottest part of the day and take my vitamins and just generally pay attention to my body’s signals. I’m due for another brain MRI soon. Do I want to do this? It makes me really anxious because I’m claustrophobic, and of course the possibility of the bad news of progression of damage to my brain and spine. I’m also facing the question – now that I’m vaccinated – of starting a new disease-modifying medication. Sigh.

And in my writing life, it’s been a season of rejection, rejection, rejection. Yes, I try to comfort myself that I’ve been lucky enough to have five poetry books published, or that I’ve gotten into some of my dream journals, or that I have wonderful supportive poet friends to help celebrate the wins and mourn the losses. But sometimes I wonder if the rewards are worth the effort. So, if one day I just stopped writing or sending out poetry, it’s not like anyone would demand it or clamor for my next book. To be honest, I also wonder about the effort of keeping this blog up as well – it does take time and energy, and I’m not sure that many people even read it (thanks, those that read and comment though, of course!)

I don’t want you to think it’s all gloom and doom in my head; it’s not. And I certainly recognize that many people, including some of my friends and family, have had it much worse than me lately. Every poet probably struggles with rejection, and we do tend to be prone to melancholy; it’s been a hard year for everyone; I recognize that catastrophic feelings don’t help anything. I think it would be nice if I could feel like I was able to do something useful again in the world, get paid for my work, or at least feel like I was helping others. I’m writing an essay for an anthology on speculative work and I’ll be offering an online class on speculative poetry soon (of course I’ll post details when it’s closer.) So those projects are good. And I really am thinking about moving forward on acquiring a place to use as a writer’s retreat – La Conner, WA or Port Townsend, WA maybe? So I’m trying to see the good things coming. I promise.

Almost Summer – Memorial Day Weekend, Supermoons, and Dreaming Some Poetry Dreams

Pink Peony – Signs of Summer

Signs of Summer – Memorial Day Weekend

Happy Sunday, readers. Are you seeing signs of summer yet? Here, after a fairly rainy and cold May, we are finally seeing and feeling a little summertime vibe. Like the blooming – peonies, roses, and lavender – all definitely summertime flowers here – and the baby birds of all sorts. It was a lovely 72 degree sunny day yesterday, one of those impossibly blue-sky, happy almost-summer days we get here, and I took a walk on the Sammamish trail, observed tons of baby things, listened to the wind in the trees, and the air smelled sweet – not yet full of wildfire smoke (hopefully we’ll have less this year) and there’s a sense of happiness and buoyancy all around.

The end of the pandemic is not here yet, but it feels close. I can tell you I feel more optimistic this May than I did last May – with more knowledge, vaccines, monoclonal antibodies, and hopefully some good antiviral meds on the way. Now they’re saying immunity after being ill with covid-19 lasts at least a year.  Anyway, we have a reason to be optimistic again. Not that I’m off to ride a crowded subway or sit in a movie theater yet, but a trip to the bookstore again (even a poetry reading?) seems within the realm of the possible.

Flower Supermoons, Eclipses, and Feeling Restless

This week we also had a lunar eclipse of the Flower Supermoon. I also get weird around Supermoons – I sleep poorly, I’m moody and restless. Am I the only one this happens to? It’s also this time of year – the changing weather (fifty and rain one day, eighty and sunny the next) that throws me off.

Flower Supermoon, pre-eclipse

Supermoons also make me think about the future, for some reason. I always have weird vivid dreams – this week, among others, I had a poetry dream where a person was helping me sort one of my poetry manuscripts with blue drawers along a wall, and another where a man told me “No one wants to hear from a woman over 35.” (I mean, that seems like it is true in the poetry world, sometimes, doesn’t it? Or in the whole world? Women in my age group (late forties) seem to be mostly ignored, when we are in major energy mode in terms of knowing who we are, what we want, when we are gaining in inner powers.) Anyway, I have been feeling like I’ve been hearing an awful lot of “no” from the literary world and started thinking about what I might be able to do about that. I know I can’t just “will” good things to happen, but sometimes it seems like forward motion comes from a kind of crisis.

Which leads me to…

Towhee with pink flower

Poetry Dreaming

So, last week I talked about discouragement from the whole rejection-cycle of being a poet. This week I’m going to talk about poetry dreams. The sort you’ve thought about for a while and think – now may be the time to take steps towards making them a reality. You know, I’ve been sending out resumes for jobs in the literary world (this is a big secret) but it got me thinking about what kind of work I could start on my own. I’ve thought a long time about opening up my own press, and lately I’ve gotten to start thinking about Virginia Woolf – the way she cultivated her own circle of talented artists, writers, and critics, and invited them to her home because her health didn’t do well when she was away. I thought about maybe investing in a little writer’s retreat cabin in a resort area that I could use, but could also rent out to friends (writers and artists), and maybe even running a little writer’s retreat of my own. I think that would be within the range of things I could do without endangering my health, especially if I had an accessible place to host from. What do you guys think?

The main thing keeping me from starting a press in the knowledge that while I have some gifts that are good for running a press – enthusiasm for getting underrepresented voices out into the world, a great reader (and pretty good editor, if I do say so myself), PR and marketing know-how, a pretty good idea of how to run a business – my worry is that I recognize I don’t really have a great mind for detail (even worse since the MS). I wonder if I could get a partner in the press who was great at detail-work. I know that the caveat of a one-or-two person press is that if, for instance, one person’s health fails (which has happened at two of my own publishers) then the press is gone. Thus my hesitance to “go for it.” (Well, that and paperwork – one of my least favorite things in life.)

Goldfinch with rose bush

So the kinds of jobs I’ve been applying for would be doing marketing and PR for presses – or even acquisition editor, a job I’ve had before in my previous life at Microsoft. While it would be fun to be part of a team in that case, would it be more fun if I had more ownership?

So, even if I don’t have the money, partners, or plans completely available right now, there’s no harm in putting these things out into the universe, is there? Please chime in in the comments if you have any thoughts, encouragements, or ideas about what I’ve posted here….

A Week of Reintegration – Family Visits, Haircuts, and Roses – and Rejections

Goldfinch in Flight

A Week of Reintegration – Diving In

This goldfinch in flight represents my own approach to this week – diving back into reintegration this week. Our state, like many, dropped the requirement for vaccinated people to wear masks outside and even many situations indoors. I am cautiously embracing not wearing masks outdoors (yay!) but indoors I’m still wearing masks in public just to protect myself and to make other people feel comfortable, but I am having visits with friends and family who are vaccinated indoors without masks. Whew! That’s a lot of mask talk.

I got a haircut (wearing masks, but still), strolled around the waterfront at Kirkland looking at roses (with my mask off, so I could literally stop and smell the roses – such a pleasure I had forgotten), and a mini-family-reunion/late birthday celebration with my little brother and his wife. Getting a haircut seemed like such a luxury after the last year and a half – and I felt so much better (more myself?) with shorter, sassier hair. Seeing my little brother after such a stressful six months meant I felt similarly thankful. Walking around the Kirkland waterfront and being able to smell the air and the flowers – something I took for granted before last February – felt like a small step towards normalcy.

Pink clematis from my garden

Birds and Blooms This Week

It’s late May, which means the garden is changing. My own roses aren’t blooming (dang deer ate the tops of every rose, eve the ones in “deer proof” cages) but the peonies are about to go, the pink clematis, rhododendrons, and azaleas are blooming, and the birds are singing loudly every morning. I find myself sitting outside on the deck more and more each day, especially the cloudy days, and the birds are getting more comfortable with me.

Peekaboo woodpecker

And a Week of Rejections

Unlike this woodpecker, I was not able to hide from being hammered by rejections this week. Despite all the joyful things, I did feel a little discouraged be the sheer number (I think it was seven) of them. I know that rejection is part of the writer’s life, but it can feel like “Why do I even bother?” and also “This is an expensive form of gambling (since submissions cost from $3 for most lit mags, to $25 for most book contests).”

Sylvia Plath said: “I love my rejection slips. They show me I try.”

I wish I had that good an attitude towards them. I often feel like they are a sign I should quit writing or that I should just to stop sending out. I have a few friends who get together a couple of times a year to do a submissions thing together. If it were not for them, I probably would not have sent anything out this week. The other thing is that on social media, it always seems like people are always celebrating new book contracts with great publishers or winning contracts or grants and it’s hard not to compare yourself and feel like a failure.

This is part of why I’ve been looking for a part-time work-from-home job – so I had something that was steady that might distract me from the merry-go-round of “yay, acceptance” and “boo, rejections” (and gave me a steady source of income.) Also talking to other writers going through the same thing helps. Part of why I’m writing this part of the blog post is to share that yes, this part of the writing life is hard, expensive, and sometimes feels like it’s not worth the effort. If you feel that way, I understand. The old lottery adage, “You can’t win if you don’t play” comes to mind.

Striped pink rose

I know that it seems so easy for some people – they get solicited by top-tier journals and publishers, they win a book contest on their first try or they have a drink at a bar with an editor who then publishes their book. But for most writers, rejection was a big part of their journey. I feel like this is still more true for women writers than men writers. I literally had a dream where someone told me “No one wants to hear from a woman over 38.” I hope that is not true.

It’s cloudy today, and I will try to get some writing done (much more fun and life-affirming for me than submitting.) I will notice the birds and flowers of May even through the gloom. And I am trying to see the world more optimistically, that we are almost (hopefully) at the end of the time of pandemic. I am feeling more and more ready every day to reintegrate into the world. I’ve been taking it slow, but taking little steps is key.

A Poem on Verse Daily – I Can’t Stop, Birds and Blooms, and Sylvia Plath and Joan Didion

A Poem Featured on Verse Daily Today

Thanks to Verse Daily for featuring my poem today, “I Can’t Stop,” from the latest issue of Sugar House Review. Check it out! A great post-birthday birthday present!

A sneak peek below. It seems to fit the anxious mood right now…

Bi-color lilacs

Birds and Blooms

We had mostly beautiful weather this week, and everything has started blooming, but I was down with a cold so I didn’t get out as much as I wanted to. However, I did manage to snap some pics of birds and blooms around my neighborhood. If you are feeling too closed-in, I recommend taking a stroll around some Woodinville wineries – even the small ones – some of them have surprisingly great landscaping and birdwatching. I mean, come for the wine, stay for the flowers!

Purple Iris

Reading Joan Didion, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath

So I spent some time this week reading Joan Didion’s new collection of as-yet uncollected essays from the 1960’s – 2000s, What I Mean – a great book to dip in and out of on the weekends. Standout essays include “Why I Write” and “On Being Unchosen by the College of One’s Choice,” as well as some of her asides about her early days working as a copywriter at Vogue.

Here is a picture of my kitten Sylvia cuddling Joan Didion.

I also finished Three Martini Afternoons at the Ritz, about the friendship and relationships between Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. There were two fun chapters – on how they met in a workshop with Robert Lowell, their meetups, and on their writing habits – and about four excruciating chapters on how both women suffered in their marriages, their poor treatment at the hands of psychiatrists, Anne’s abuse of her daughter, and their eventual suicides. I know it’s hard to get around those subjects in any kind of biography about either poet but it just – oof – made for tough going. It’s well-researched and the author makes useful notes and asides for context, but I was glad to have Joan Didion to go back to – she seemed so solidly upbeat in comparison!

I was also interested to find out for which book and when Anne Sexton won the Pulitzer Prize – click the link for more detailed info from a Poetry Foundation blog post – and how she negotiated for equal pay for readings, appearances, and publications. When reading about successful female authors of the past for inspiration, I often wonder how they would fare now. How much more equitable is our current system – health system, and the poetry system? How can we make it even better? How can we find successful women writers who had more stable, less abusive relationships, better help and more success in life who can be role models? There’s always Margaret Atwood, who remains bracingly cheerful in the face of a long, happy marriage and a lot of late-in-life success, I guess…Suggestions welcome in the comments!

Happy Mother’s Day, A Week of Birds, and Thinking About Our Poetic Mothers and Influences (and Who Will Parent Our Books?)

Two red-winged blackbirds, one in flight

Happy Mother’s Day, and A Week of Birds

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mother in any way today. Even if, like me, you only mother books and cats. Take some time for yourself, go out and visit some flowers and birds – you deserve it!

This week has been a little reserved, cold, moody and rainy for May, a little downbeat after a sunny, late-blooming April. But it seems the birds have all appeared at once, and are not at all bothered by cold rainy days. I stood out in the rain to get these shots of red-winged blackbirds – there were three mating pairs that I counted, plus two sets of goslings and about nine ducklings on the lake. By the time I was done taking pictures, I was so cold I had to take a hot shower to warm up, but it was totally worth it. Around the feeders, hummingbirds and black-headed grosbeaks as well as goldfinches have been appearing. I tried to capture as many magical bird moments as I could because: 1. Birds are little dinosaurs. 2. Birds are like little poems unto themselves, right?

Mother Goose

Poetic Mothers

Since it’s Mother’s Day, I thought I would talk a little about poetic mothers – our influences. I’ve been reading The Writer’s Library with my mother (as part of our quarantine book club project which you can read about here on Salon) which includes terrific interviews about influential books by Nancy Pearl with great writing influences like Siri Hustvedt, Lorrie Moore, Jane Hirshfield, and Louise Erdrich. It’s wonderful to find that you have so much in common with writers you love and the books they love. Certain books come up over and over again in the book – Agatha Christie, The House of Mirth, childhood sci-fi binges – and the fiction writers talk a LOT about poetry, which was surprising. Anyway, a great read, and I bought it as an Audiobook as well, because listening to the writers is fantastic (for the most part, they voice their own interviews.)

Goslings entering the water

The other book I’ve been reading that made me think about poetic foremothers and influences is Three Martini Afternoons at the Ritz, all about the friendship/frenemyship of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. It provides a lot of background and context for their relationship. Besides making me jealous that I having been meeting anyone at the Ritz for martinis, it made me think about the poets we read and pay attention to in our own lives, who we are secretly competing with (even if subconsciously,) who we read and let influence our own thoughts about poetry and poetics. I realize I am very lucky to be friends with so many wonderful poets, but I don’t really have a nemesis, per se. But maybe that’s okay. Do we need someone to compete with to reach our own potential? I think this is a very interesting question, because, especially as women are pressured NOT to be too competitive, at least in my generation.

But it does make me think about how writers need to encourage and push each other out of their comfort zones, and one way to make sure that happens is to make diverse friends from all kinds of backgrounds, some who are editors and publishers, who are full-time writers, who run their English departments, who are best-selling novelists (hey, it happens!), who have many different ways of writing and publishing, and many different voices. It reaffirms that we can all grow and learn and build our own unique paths. We don’t have to sound alike, or go to the same conferences, residencies, MFA programs, etc. There’s space for all of us.

Orange Azaleas

It also made me think of publishers and their role as “parents” of the book – not the author, who created it, but perhaps more like mentors or stepparents, who create the book’s look, help find it’s audience and marketing niches. I’ve been sort of picky about who I’m sending my manuscripts to, which slows down the publication road, but I’m hoping to find the right home – the right people who will help my books become the best versions of themselves. And I always hope – and so far I’ve been lucky – that my publishers will become friends as well.

Maybe I’ve pushed my mother’s day theme as far as it will go now. But I do hope you all find something good to do today for yourselves and your loved ones, spend some time outside with some lemonade and maybe a scone and read and write and have a magical moment with birds and flowers. It is springtime, and we have to appreciate its brief flare of beauty while we can.

Wisteria in bloom – your Mother’s Day Postcard

Birthday Celebrations with Spring Flowers and Friends, Kelli’s Book Birthday, Book Giveaway Winner Results, and More Re-Integration into Society

Me posing with cherry blossoms and sparkles for my birthday

Birthday Celebrations with Spring Flowers

Yesterday was my 48th birthday, which we celebrated with homemade black forest cake, a duck dinner, a trip around Woodinville to look at everything that was blooming (and found a brand new baby bunny always a sign of spring), and a trip to a bookstore.

It was a day that started cold, with wind and rain, and turned sunny and warmer. Glenn got me two rare books and some beautiful flowers -a book of Sylvia Plath’s art work and a signed first edition of Siri Hustvedt’s first book, which was an out-of-print book of poetry. I felt very loved on the day with messages from friends, phone calls from my brothers, and generally, while still feeling very much like another pandemic birthday, as good as it could be.

Today I’m going to have tea with my doctor poet friend, Natasha K. Moni, (my second visit with a vaccinated person inside my home! So crazy! Still not used to it!) and hopefully have a movie night with Glenn, maybe the new Tenet (heard it’s incomprehensible, but I like time travel films).

Book Giveaway Results and Winner!

Goldfinch

Congrats to Patricia Valdata, who was the winner (from random number generator) of last week’s book giveaway of the now out-of-print Unexplained Fevers. Thank you to everyone who participated!

I still have a few copies of Unexplained Fevers for sale, and Open Books has a copy or two as well, available at this special link:

https://open-books-a-poem-emporium.myshopify.com/products/gailey-jeannine-hall-unexplained-fevers

Wisteria in late April

More Re-Integration

I was realizing on my birthday – though the CDC has said we vaccinated folks no longer have to wear masks outdoors or inside with other vaccinated people – that, because of cases rising here, it really doesn’t feel any different yet. The rest of the country’s cases are down, but here and in Oregon, it still feels like the pandemic is raging.

We don’t feel like movies, restaurants, bars, and even museums are totally safe yet – and can’t go, in some cases, anyway, since we are moving back to phase 2 here. I have gone to grocery stores and bookstores, but I didn’t linger in either place. And then visits with my vaccinated friends – those are great, but hugging and sitting around the table – which wouldn’t have been a big deal before the pandemic, still feel radical and strange. So I’m moving slowly towards re-integration – I’ve gone to the dentist, got an MRI, the tulip festival, seen two sets of vaccinated friends – but not running headlong into throngs of crowds.

There is also some question about how effective the vaccine is long-term in people with autoimmune problems and immune deficiencies – which means I really can’t ignore news about variants, studies about antibodies, T-cells, and B-cells, just yet. I really, really want to stop waking up to read covid news (after my meditation app leads me through a breathing exercise, naturally) sometime soon. Remember everyone who gets the vaccine helps protect vulnerable people like me (and children! since they can’t get their vaccines yet), so go get your vaccine! I got J&J and Glenn got Pfizer, and really, neither of us had bad side effects. And it means you can visit people – without masks!

Natasha Moni and me – birthday celebrating!

Anyway, my birthday weekend visit with vaccinated doctor/poet Natasha Moni – only my second post-vaccine in person visit with anyone – was wonderful. We realized we hadn’t seen each other in a year and a half! So we celebrated my birthday (yesterday) and hers (in January). It is so weird to see people in person, to sit around a table eating and drinking just like it was the good old pre-covid day. And Glenn made a terrific spread – chocolate cake, a wonderful cheese tray, crudités with avocado dip, goat-cheese stuffed baby peppers – he even sat down with us – briefly, if you know Glenn – for some poetry and grad school talk.

We talked about favorite poets, jobs, medicine, talked about how medical improvements made during covid might apply to other diseases after the covid pandemic has died down – like MS, cancer, lupus, and other conditions that have taken far too long to get good, effective treatments for. We talked about the benefits and downsides of Zoom doctor visits and Zoom poetry readings. We talked about Joan Didion, Haruki Murakami, Sylvia Plath, and Siri Hustvedt. Anyway, if you don’t have Natasha Moni’s poetry book from Two Sylvias Press, The Cardiologist’s Daughter, do yourself a favor and check it out.

Kelli’s New Book Birthday

Speaking of books and birthdays, besides being my birthday, this was also the week of the book launch (otherwise known as book birthday) of Kelli Russell Agodon’s new book, Dialogues with Rising Tides (see left, with Sylvia, who gives the book two paws up) from Copper Canyon Press. Happy to have my own copy and I’m sending one to my mom for Mother’s Day!

Looking Forward

I hope you have a good year ahead of you. I hope a better one waits for me too. One thing the pandemic highlights is that there is at once never enough time and so much time. (Also the theme of Tenet!) Stop and snip a bit of lilac. Get out in the May sunshine. Kiss someone you love. I am making my birthday wish. You make one too. Wish for another poem.