The Aurora (or FireFoxes in the Sky), Signs of Summer Already Here, and How Sometimes I Don’t Feel Like a Writer

The Aurora (or FireFoxes in the Sky)

Awe-inspiring? Yes? I finally understand the big deal about the Northern Lights! Why so many myths. The Ainu people of Japan believed a child conceived under the Northern Lights would have a particularly lucky life. One Finnish myth involves Firefoxes running so fast they left sparks in the sky. Vikings believed in the reflection of the shields of the Valkyrie. I understood, when I saw what looked like an opening in heaven with streams reaching down to earth, why people believe in aliens or gods, or like some of the Alaskan peoples, the spirits of whales and seals in the sky. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced just out on my back porch, watching all these lights move around, snapping pics with my cameras (our eyes are capable of seeing less of the color of the Northern lights than even a cellphone camera!) There were people out there walking on our street, all looking up at the sky and snapping pictures, and I felt that community, you know, the feeling of being together experiencing something beautiful.

Me and Glenn in Kirkland

Signs of Summer

The last couple days have been in the eighties and the wildfires have already started in Canada. Also, two sure harbingers of summertime here—my birds, the goldfinches and black-headed grosbeaks.

Unfortunately, along with the warm weather came some troubling health symptoms returning—unexplained fevers and hives, for instance. More MS symptoms, which is typical with the heat, I know to expect it. I am looking forward to working more on my next book manuscript in June at my writing retreat.

Ducklings

Sometimes I Don’t Feel Like a Writer

I’ll be honest. I haven’t been writing or submitting much lately. My latest book project is mostly done (I need to do some pruning…) and I haven’t had the inspiration to start a new one yet. If you go so many days without writing a poem or thinking about poetry, you can start to…not feel like a writer. I mean, I’ve been writing poems since grade school, I’ve been publishing stuff since I was a teenager, but even so, sometimes other things in my life—like being sick—take up all my time and energy, and all I have the mental energy to do is maybe watch a movie I’ve seen before or listen to an audiobook. I’ve also been doing some spring cleaning—eliminating things, mostly—which is exhausting. Is this MS, or midlife, or the fact that I’ve been sick for over a month with a mystery illness the doctors can’t seem to figure out or treat while I go to appointments and get blood drawn and get MRIs. Ugh. I have hope that the writing residency upcoming in June will give me a boost, but honestly, I’m just feeling disconnected from the writing world—which let’s face it, has had a lot of ugliness in it lately—and even from poetry. It’s been a while since I read a poetry book that I was like, “Wow!” about. Once again, sometimes it’s hard for me to distinguish what’s happening physically to my body (pain, hives, weakness, fatigue, etc) and what’s going on emotionally and mentally. Usually, like Taylor Swift sings, “I’m so productive…it’s an art” but not lately. I was trying to find paid work for a while (we still haven’t gotten our ADA bathroom remodel started due to lack of funds) which maybe was a bit dispiriting. I feel old and unwanted and like the current batch of editors at lit mags are not even interested in the kind of thing I write anyway, so why send anything out? This is not a pity party, but I wonder if anyone else is feeling this kind of disconnect from writing and the writing world? Is this part of getting older? Or part of being sick? I can’t tell!

Still, it’s exciting to see ducklings on my daily walk (when I’m up for one of those) or see something as spectacular as the Northern Lights. I still feel happy with most of my life, honestly, I just feel annoyed that my health problems take up so much time and money and energy, and keep me from doing anything I actually want to do. And the fact that summer—with its heat (and MS symptoms) and wildfires (allergy and asthma symptoms) is coming, I know it’s not my best season, despite the proliferation of summer flowers and blue skies.

What do you do when you don’t feel like a writer? Comments welcome!

May Arrives with Lilacs and Hummingbirds, Art Show Reports, Birthdays, and Down Days

May Arrives with Lilacs and Hummingbirds

May is here, and with it, hummingbirds and lilacs, though it still feels like winter—today we barely got up to fifty degrees, and a cold rain fell all day. I’m feeling a little down—I got sick with a stomach flu after my birthday, and the bad weather (along with the news) has increased my overall blues. I have said here before that I am a cautious optimist—but some days it’s harder than others. Still, despite the cold, the first black-headed grosbeak appeared on my back porch (no picture, sorry) and goslings and ducklings have appeared along the lakes and rivers. Also, Woodinville has had cougar sightings! Not in our yard, but nearby.

Me on my 51st birthday with flowers from Glenn

Birthdays and Down Days

For my birthday, we had a little gathering with just Glenn and my little brother Mike and his wife Loree, and we chatted and celebrated. We took some pictures and had gluten-free black forest cake and mostly talked about lighter subjects. The day was relaxing and nice—Glenn and I took advantage of a brief window of sunshine and walked around Woodinville, got a glass of rose at a winery, then home to dinner. But the next day I woke up with the worst stomach flu (including a fever, no one else got sick, so just a weird virus?) I’ve had in years. The next two days, I stayed mostly in bed, feeling down, and a little discouraged about—well, maybe this is a midlife birthday cliché—where I am, what I’ve accomplished (or not). I remember pretty well when my mother turned 51—she was still working 90-hour work weeks, traveling all the time—and when I think about what I thought I’d accomplish by the same age, I just don’t know if I measure up against my own expectations.

Anna’s hummingbird and coral bells

Maybe this is a problem of being chronically ill and disabled—neither of which I’ve had a choice about, of course—or also a problem of being labeled “gifted” at a young age, having high expectations about what you were expected to do with your life. Heck, even Barbie was President. I’d meant to go to med school, and when my health got in the way, I veered to corporate work—and when my health got in the way of that, I veered again, to writing full-time (among other ventures). And writing, though I’ve published six books (eight, if you count non-fiction books), has definitely felt like less than a triumphant path. Maybe it feels like that for everybody, although I know people who experienced a lot of wins early in their careers, so who knows? Sometimes I feel like a lab mouse in a very specific maze I haven’t quite figured out, but I keep getting shocks instead of treats. On the other hand, still alive? So, that’s a win.

Dewi Plass’ “Collecting Sunshine”

Art Gallery Reception Reports – “Spectacle du Petit” at Roq la Rue

I finally felt well enough to leave the house yesterday for the opening reception for “Spectacle du Petit”—a group show of tiny works by many artists I like, including Dewi Plass, Josie Morway, and John Brophy. It was fun, I got to meet a couple of the artists, and I always enjoy the people watching at Roq La Rue’s parties—you’ll inevitably get served “looks” that are very specifically Seattle. If you live around here, you should really catch the show too—a lot of the works are affordable because they’re smaller, which is great because most of us don’t live in huge houses anyway.

I feel lucky as a writer to have wonderful places to see art like Roq La Rue and have a little bit of inspiration, especially during a dreary week. Ghost dogs and red squirrels hugging hummingbirds for everyone!

Do People Buy Books? Followers and Publishing, Plus a Reading and Class Visit Reports, Typewriters, Art Birthdays, and More

typewriter in my yard with cherry blossoms

Do People Buy Books? And Followers and Publishing, Thoughts on Two Threads on Social Media This Week

The end of National Poetry Month, and of course, I celebrate my birthday on the very last day of April. The news has been tumultuous lately, as has my personal life (MS flareups and a family member in the hospital this week, among other things), so it’s hard to for me sometimes to sort through the noise on social media to pick up on interesting or pertinent threads. But these two stuck out to me:

Pink dogwood, blue sky

First, there was an article “No One Buys Books” (with a rather negative tone, but a lot of useful numbers to people interested in book publishing and PR), and in a separate conversation, a friend of mine posted how a press had turned down her non-fiction book because they preferred “writers with 100,000 followers” (on what platform? no idea!) Both of these conversations seemed to cause a lot of angst and even despair, so I’m just going to do a little counterpoint to both right here. Listen: I watch a lot of film noir, I haven’t had an easy or charmed life (just check out my blog from the past ten years to see what I mean,) and I’m just as cynical as the next person when it comes to publishing industry, and I have my dark days, but…

1. Probably no one is publishing you – or not publishing you – because of your social media following. I mean, will it hurt you to have a solid social media following? Probably not. But it doesn’t guarantee you anything either. Are our followers even buying our books? That’s a very good question. Maybe you’re fun to follow on social media but your followers are not poetry fans. So, maybe, but maybe not. It’s not worth stressing out over. I mean, yes, if you want to be a successful writer (however one defines that,) put up a decent web site, get on Instagram or Facebook or Twitter or whatever you want, and is it bad to be entertaining and insightful and talk about books (sometimes your own, sometimes others’?) No.
2. Yes, some people are still buying books – I buy books, my brother in tech buys books, my parents buy books, my friends buy books. I often buy people books as gifts. I receive books as gifts. So, are most book sales the Bible or Harry Potter or LOTR, as the article said? Maybe so. But I have had friends on the NYT bestseller lists. (Not poetry books, but they were poets!) I know plenty of us poets who have sold 1000 copies of their books (or over.) So it’s not some impossible dream. (Listen, this is why I wrote PR for Poets – so poets could sell more than the 50-100 books that might be the norm for most books. I didn’t write it to waste your time, or mine. Most of it is not lies. Basic PR and marketing – even if you have to do DIY – still works, maybe not as well or as fast as it used to, but that’s no reason to say “no one buys books” or “publishing a book is not worth your time.”
3. Pessimism isn’t always useful, and I know this, because I’m a half-pessimist myself. Optimism is much better at increasing your chances of winning – your chances of doing the things you want to do, and accomplishing what you want to accomplish. No one is looking at the bright side right now – the upcoming election, the Bird flu, the Middle East, Russia – and I understand why. But guess what? Yes colleges are closing because they lack financial stability, yes, book publishing as a business is very poorly run right now by people who are looking at profit not promise, yes, people read less than they used to. And things are expensive right now – that might be slowing books sales as well. But none of this is a reason to throw up your hands, and sigh, and give up. I haven’t and I’m just a poet. So, that’s my two cents.

Sunset with sculptures, Kirkland

Reading and Class Visit Reports

So, this week was pretty eventful for me poetry-activity wise. First, a reading with some Jack Straw alums in downtown Seattle, which went great—I loved seeing friends and hearing the other writers—and not-so-great—my MS was really acting up, leading to me losing balance in the middle of the reading and having problems with breathing. You can see the whole reading below—I’m the first reader—and see the trouble I was having (and also hear some poems from Flare, Corona you might not have heard before).

Then I had a class visit I was invited to, which went great—except that part of the class was missing because of campus things, students feeling threatened or scared to be on campus because of protests and students participating in protests. Besides that, the conversation was great, the questions asked by the students were intelligent, and the professor who invited me was wonderful. I wonder right now, with colleges shutting down left and right and the scary stuff on the news about students being attacked and/or arrested, what I would do if I were an in-person professor right now instead of a home-based freelance writer and editor. It definitely seems more stressful now that it did when I was getting my degrees, or when I was adjunct teaching. Anyway, I hope the talk was useful to the students, because writers, as I’ve mentioned, are in an anxious moment in many ways.

Crabapple blossoms

Typewriters, Art, Birthdays, and More

So, a little early birthday celebration involved art—a beautiful art book Glenn got me of Frida Kahlo, her complete paintings and illustrated journal pages and photographs of her throughout her life, big and glossy (and twelve pounds! almost too heavy for me to lift!)—a framed print that Dewi Plass made for me of her painting, “Dreaming of Dragons” (which she had already sold, but she ran a limited edition for me! You can see her handwriting her on the print in pencil).

Here it is below:

Art book – complete paintings of Frida Kahlo

Some birthdays (like last year) involve big parties, but this one was quiet, which was fine given my health stuff, and involves art and my little brother (who I haven’t seen in a while) coming over for dinner. Speaking of art, I’m thinking of making some stationary with my typewriter art photos, like the one at the top of the post. Is this something you’d be interested in? Anyone have any good ideas about finding a good place to make custom stationary with photographs? I might have to start at Etsy shop! LOL. The last refuge of the creative?

On the last day of April, I hope for some modest fun – my brother over for dinner, a visit to the local bookstore and Paper Source, maybe, if the weather’s good, a walk around to look at everything that’s blooming (wisteria! lilac!) that I haven’t been out to see because mostly it’s been rainy and cold. I want to get back to some writing, too, since it feels like I haven’t been doing it enough. Too much bad news, not enough writing – not a good state for the soul. Looking at art, spending time in the garden, with friends and family – I know those things help, at least they help me. I wish you a happy ending to National Poetry Month, to April, and wishing you some peace instead of anxiety, some inspiration instead of discouragement, love and kindness instead of injustice and meanness. I wish you lilacs in your path.

Last Days of 50, Catching Up on Pop Culture, Reading This Week in Seattle, Tulip Festivals, Risk vs Reward and Knowing Your Limits

Last Days of 50

It’s about a week until my 51^st birthday, so these are the last days of being 50! Glenn took me up to the tulip festival a few days ago to celebrate, hence some beautiful pictures of tulips, on days when we surprisingly had really nice weather—sunny, windy, not too hot. I have been feeling my age—or maybe it’s an upper respiratory infection I’ve been fighting for two weeks, MS, or my anemia—anyway, I haven’t had much get up and go, honestly. It doesn’t seem very rock-n-roll.

Being a little down—with the addition of some car travel time—allowed me to consume some modern culture. I listened to Beyonce’s new “country” album—though I would call it more a mashup of country, folk, gospel, and blues, and hey, I loved listening to it (and actually hearing Beyonce’s voice for a change—it’s a surprise to hear her voice mixed so that you can actually hear with warm timbre). And of course, listened to Taylor’s The Tortured Poetry Department Anthology—only really loved one or two of the songs, like “Florida” and “Clara Bow,” unlike the way I instantly loved Evermore. Also, I was expecting more poets to show up in her album! I also watched the new Dune part II, which while something of a spectacle, had very strange pacing—a problem with the first Dune as well. Now, I’d love to see David Lynch’s original five hour cut that never got aired years ago. The whole book (and movie) is a pretty straight- up metaphor for countries battling over oil in the Middle East, along with a strong critique of religions in general. Of course, it was written in the seventies, and those themes were everywhere then.

Reading This Week in Seattle with Jack Straw Alumni

In a rare real-life appearance this week, I’m reading with the Jack Straw alumni in downtown Seattle Wednesday night at 7 PM at the Jack Straw Cultural Center. I’m only reading for about ten minutes, but my book will be there so if you haven’t gotten a signed copy from me yet, this is a good chance! I’m also doing an online appearance the next day for a class, which should be fun. I just need some energy back!

Tulips and Risk vs Reward

As I said, I’ve been feeling a little under the weather but Glenn took me for my birthday up to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival. Afterwards I couldn’t make my legs work for a while (an MS thing—when you push yourself, stuff stops working) and I was exhausted, but today I was so happy I experienced the beauty and the sunshine and the positive experiences interacting with people and the art show (women artists on forests) at the Museum of Northwest Art and seeing all the flowers and one field of scented tulips (?) and the hyacinths and apple trees and yes, the pictures are wonderful and fun to take, but sometimes it pays to take a little risk—in my case, making my MS symptoms a little worse—to experience something that makes you happy and your life better. Risk vs reward, another lesson?

As I get older, I need to learn to practice self-care, acknowledge my limits, and also, when to take a shot at something that might be a little bit hard. It’s hard to know the exact right balance. If any of you have all the answers, let me know. Anyway, I think I will enjoy feeling like a real poet again this week.

Upcoming Reading with Jack Straw, Unreasonable Hope (in Hard Times), Meanwhile Cherry Blossoms

Upcoming Reading with Jack Straw April 24

Jack Straw, the program for writers, has decided to do a Jack Straw Alumni Poetry reading series celebrating those of us with books that have come out in the last year or so and I will be part of it! On April 24th at 7 PM at the Jack Straw Cultural Center in Seattle, I’ll be reading with other great writers (and friends), and the host will be Kathleen Flenniken. I hope you can come out!

I haven’t done a live reading in a little while (save an open mic at my book club recently) and I’m a little nervous. Then the next day I have a virtual class visit that I’m really looking forward to!  It’s a reminder that even with everything going on, April is still poetry month.

Unreasonable Hope (in Hard Times)

Sometimes life requires perseverance and hope that is not logical.
I planted this cherry tree after I was diagnosed with terminal cancer and then MS, after the 2017 solar eclipse. Now it is over 20 feet tall and in bloom.
The day I took this picture, a few days ago, I was told by one of my doctors I should stop trying to make money and go on disability (not an easy process—or one I want to go through at this point), then went to the book club I curate for a Woodinville winery where we did a book-club open mic and I stayed late until the stars came out, and I looked up and saw a crescent moon weirdly aligned with a bunch of planets. I felt alive and connected to my community and able to contribute.
Today’s news with “WWIII” trending on Twitter and the threat of global war seems very dark, and outside of my control.
Sometimes you have to continue on with life even when confronted with things that could leave us feeling that hope is unreasonable. Sometimes it’s important to call the people you love just to tell them you love them. It’s important to plant something that looks like a small dead stick in the ground and hope something will come of it. The world feels hard and unforgiving right now. If it feels that way to you, too, you are not.

Meanwhile, Cherry Blossoms

Today we had a breath of real spring—above 50°F, finally, some sunshine, and the final set of cherry trees responded accordingly. Today, Glenn and I drove around to look at different patches around our side of town, and along the way we stopped to get flowers and go to the bookstore where I noticed all these children of different nationalities, speaking different languages, and the harassed parents running after them, and it felt like: all people don’t want to kill each other. People just want to give their kids ice cream and walk in the sunshine with the cherry blossoms. And I felt, briefly, illogically happy. No one reports: peace breaks out unexpectedly! Some place was blaring “La Vie en Rose.” Anyway, every day can offer these brief glimpses into an alternate universe, but we have to keep looking.

Solar Eclipse Reading Material (and book birthdays), Flare, Corona, Under the Weather in Springtime, More Reading Notes, and Upcoming Zoom Classes and Readings

Solar Eclipse Reading Material (and Book Birthdays)—Flare, Corona

The solar eclipse is tomorrow, and it’s almost my (and my book’s) birthday, so may I suggest some eclipse reading material? Flare, Corona has eclipses, solar weather, supervillains, terrible diagnoses, surviving, and a surprising number of foxes and coyotes. You can order Flare, Corona from BOA Editions, Ltd., or from local bookstores like Open Books, or a signed copy directly from me. Okay, that’s enough eclipse cross-promotion for now.

I was thinking about my last birthday, and the book launch last year, and seeing my parents and little brother and friends all together. It was a really fun day. The last four years have not had enough celebration in them. I’ve been so stressed lately I haven’t taken the time to be grateful for the good things that have happened in the last year. Even in the last couple weeks, when I’ve been stressed about a) trying to get an ADA bathroom remodel done without losing my mind or all my money, b) my purpose as a writer, and c) just general depression, I’ve had so many friends encouraging and supporting me, so thank you to all of you who sent me a little note or bothered to say something nice. I am grateful to you!

And, thanks to friends’ encouragement, I’m going to run a few Zoom classes, including one on “Possible Futures: Apocalypses and Solarpunk,” and another on persona poetry. I may also run one on PR for Poets if there’s enough interest, which instead of generating poems, would include Q&A.  (Let me know in the comments if you’d be interested!)

I’m also doing a live in-person reading as part of a Jack Straw Reunion special at the Jack Straw Cultural Center on the evening of April 24, with other Jack Straw Alumni and friends. My first in-person reading in a while, so if you’re in the area and free check it out! 

I did get the good news that I’ll be doing a writing residency on San Juan Island this summer, which will mean…two residencies in a single year…I’ve never done that before. It really does help when I’ve got a manuscript I’m working on and new poems that need to be written.

(It also turns out my foot bones were not broken as I feared last week, just soft-tissue damaged, so I only have to stay off the foot for a couple of weeks while it heals, and side note, my foot bones are stronger and thicker now in x-rays than my x-rays six years ago! Take that, age related bone density! In all seriousness, I think this is because I’ve been able to exercise more in the past six years, ironically, since my MS diagnosis in 2017, because the diagnosis led to more intense physical therapy, and now I am able to do much more outside than I used to be able to. So see, even things to be grateful for that I didn’t realize I’d be grateful for, like getting diagnosed with MS, which led, ironically, to better physical health.)

Fox statue with pink rhododendrons

Under the Weather in Springtime (and National Poetry Month)

I love April, and I’m usually fairly healthy in spring, but I’ve been taken down by another upper respiratory bug this last week (not covid, but still unpleasant), the weather’s been unseasonably grey and cold, plus foot injury recovery, so I’ve mostly been staying in.

Despite being sick, spring continues all around, this week with blooming rhododendrons and tulips starting. I hope I’ll be well enough next week to get up to La Conner to see the tulip fields there, which we always try to do around my birthday. I love it up there. I always come back feeling inspired. And thinking about retiring to a farm with miniature horses.

More Reading Notes

Two books this week that are worth noting are The Husbands: a Novel by first time novelist (and former game designer) Holly Gramazio. The premise is that a single woman comes home from a party to find that she is married to a man she has never met, and that when she sends a husband into her attic, a new husband appears, and her apartment (and life) change accordingly. You can tell the book was written by someone who loves math and gardening. No spoilers, but the book ends up being quite a meditation on marriage and the importance of (and dangers of) regretting your “what if’s.” It’s lighter than my usual fare, but speculative enough to keep my interest, and I read the whole thing in one sitting.

My other read was my Bookwalter Winery Book Club Pick for National Poetry Month, Terrance Hayes’ So to Speak. It’s a bit quieter (more meditative?) than Hayes’ previous books, as he takes on topics like the pandemic, and makes references to his previous book, American Sonnets for My Once and Future Assassin, and even has a comic based on Octavia Butler (one of my favorite solarpunks) and DIY sestina exercises complete with charts and graphs. It’s an enjoyable read, even if you haven’t already been introduced to his work, and if you were already a fan, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at some of this new work. If you’d like to join the book club, we’ll also be doing a brief open mic after the book discussion. It’s at the Bookwalter Winery tasting room in Woodinville, we meet at 6:30 April 10, and yes there will be wine!

Keep your eyes open for more information about the upcoming readings and Zoom classes. Enjoy your eclipse!

Hoppy Easter and Spring Awakenings, Weird Vibes in the Lit World, Stress Fractures in Home and Body, More Reading Notes

Bunny with Daffodils, back yard

Happy Easter and Spring Awakenings

Hoppy (or Happy) Easter to those who celebrate, and a happy spring to all! Though our weather is still indecisive—one day, a breezy 57° and another day, freezing rain—signs of spring are all around—cherry blossoms, daffodil, quince, camellia are brightening our Pacific Northwest landscapes. I even saw three kite surfers at a time in Kirkland and managed to snap a pic. The second round of cherry blossoms have bloomed, though the late-blooming cherries have not yet opened, and that’s probably a good thing given we’re supposed to get freezing temperatures again tomorrow.

But let’s focus on all those blooming flowers and a possibly early-ish spring approaching.

Bunny statue in Kirkland

Weird Vibes in the Literary World

There have been a lot of weird vibes in the lit world this week, from the surprising closure of SPD, a distribution center that has been the sole source of distribution for many small presses and literary magazines, who also stiffed all those nice presses and lit mags for their sales in the last year, so if you have extra money, be sure to order your poetry books straight from your favorite small press. There was a weird article from a 27-year-old about marrying someone older being the key to solving all your life goals as a woman and a writer which had a lot of weirdly internalized misogyny and tradwife vibes. (Um, nope, say all the members of my family who have huge age differences in their marriages.) Also, just general negativity and snarkiness, which always feels like it’s amplified by the internet.

Tomorrow, National Poetry Month begins, and I’m doing several appearances and readings, including a reunion reading with Jack Straw writers and a class visit to a university or two. Ironically, April becomes a little harder to write and submit during, because so many of us are busy organizing book club poetry readings or class visits or other things to promote poetry in our communities. America in general does not seem very interested in poetry right now, though its citizens are reportedly lonely and depressed at record levels. (Not that poetry is a cure-all, but it can help you feel not so alone.) It seems like decreasing money towards the arts in general is starting to have spiraling consequences, which is a bummer if you are an artist and you need money to live, like many of us.

Me with white cherry blossoms and Lake Washington

Stress Fractures in my Personal Life and Body

In my personal life, I’ve been very stressed out by the fact that the company we hired to redo our main bath to make it ADA accessible doubled their original estimate, and then after we signed a contract, added another 50 percent to it. I’m not sure whether to cry or call a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure one of those things is the answer. Add to that I had an accident this weekend in my non-ADA shower that may have resulted in a possibly broken foot, it’s just been one of those weeks. You know, those weeks where you wake up heart-racing and weeping with stress at 4 am. That’s not normal, right?

I’m still struggling to figure out how to make money and feel like I’m able to financially contribute, despite my physical problems. It’s hard to feel “useless” to society that bases so much on how much money, what your job is, how able-bodied, beautiful, successful, healthy, you are. It was a good week to watch Frida, a semi-animated documentary about Frida Kahlo in her own words and illustrations, see notes below. Sure, I have health problems, but hey, how many months have I spent in a full-body cast? Even if your answer is more than one, it still wouldn’t be as much time as Frida did.

Easter with white cherry blossoms

More Reading (and Watching) Notes

So, I finished up Emily Van Duyne’s Loving Sylvia Plath: a Reclamation, which I have to say answered a lot of questions, and also will enrage and simultaneously explain why you might have been made fun of and/or belittled for daring to appreciate Sylvia Plath’s writing your whole life (spoiler alert: the result of a lot of men belittling Sylvia’s writing and life after her death.) The author also did an interesting thing by including some personal life details that must have been unsettling to write about given her subject matter, but her vulnerability allows the book to resonate even more.

I watched the wonderful animated semi-documentary, Frida, on Amazon Prime, which includes her paintings and animations from her illustrated diary, letters to and from lovers, her struggles with her health and her art (things I didn’t know: she never sold a painting ’til after she divorced Diego, and when she remarried him she made him sign a no-sex contract),  Frida, like Sylvia, was a frustrated, underappreciated female artist with a cheating spouse, but unlike Sylvia, had no big help from kind wealthy folks or grants or supporters early in life, a lot of really bad health luck (even beyond the bus accident, which left her alive but suffering and in pain for most of the rest of her life, and at the hands of surgeons who may have just made things worse). But she channeled her anger into her amazing art, directing her anger at, in her words, a “bourgeois, petty” art world, a husband with a huge ego and a problem being faithful but simultaneously being super jealous, and yes, a body that left her feeling trapped and broken and unable to do many of the things she dreamed of. (Originally, before the accident, she went to a prep school with dreams of becoming a doctor, which would have been just as revolutionary in her time as being an artist.) By the time she had successful shows in New York and her home, Mexico, she would almost be at the end of her life. Yes, I cried at the end of the movie, because you realize that Frida but it also really inspired me to be a tougher version of myself, because even at her hardest moments, she exuded passion, glamour, bravery and a strangely fierce embrace of her own uniqueness.

I’ve also been reading Percival Everett’s Erasure, the book on which Oscar-winning American Fiction was based, and it is even better than the movie, so if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie, do both. No surprise, the novel is more nuanced, funny and clever than the movie, and just a different experience. Yes, it’s a fascinating satire of academia and the publishing world’s standards and regulations of artists who are people of color, but also a whole new take on race in America. And it was written back in 2008.

Also, speaking of the intersections of race and art, Beyonce’s newest country album (which shouldn’t really surprise us, because she grew up in Houston and has performed at rodeos multiple times) has spawned several mini-documentaries of the influences of Carribean and African music on what’s thought of as country and Appalachian music, and the sort of erasure of black country artists from the beginning of country music’s history. One of the shows featured one of my personal favorite musicians, Rhiannon Giddens, who plays banjo on Beyonce’s album, and is a tremendous artist and music researcher documentarian in her own right. So if you get time, pick up one of her albums as well, because she is definitely worth a listen, and I’m glad people are talking about the weird idea that country music is only for white people (because historically it’s just not the case).

Anyway, it seems that my reading and viewing choices have been all about people who embrace their art in a world that isn’t particularly receptive for whatever arbitrary (racism, sexism, etc…) reasons, and how many artists don’t relate to that? Wishing you a happy National Poetry Month!

Happy Palm Sunday! A New Poem in the Shore, Under the Weather Reading Sylvia Plath (and Parents in the Hospital), and Finding a Way Forward

Me with cherry blossoms (possible new author photo?)

Happy Palm (Springs) Sunday!

Palm Sunday always had good connotations for, a truly celebratory religious holiday. (Here’s a poem I wrote about Palm Sunday and Palm Springs for the Los Angeles Review for extra fun.)

I wish I had been up for celebration, but I’ve been sick all week and injured my shoulder, plus my dad was back in the hospital for pneumonia. This picture on the left with our neighboring cherry tree was the last one I took before I got sick. Sadly, I haven’t been out exploring for new blooms, I’ve been stuck inside, stressed—and starting with a new physical therapist for spine issues.

And, in other news, my dad went into the hospital this week with pneumonia, so I’ve been super stressed out because he’s got COPD and he’s so far away. I do have a lot of experience with pneumonia myself (my dad and I share a crappy immune system) but who knows whether he even listens to my advice? It’s tough with parents.

Sylvia the kitten with Loving Sylvia Plath

Reading Loving Sylvia Plath with Sylvia the Cat

Fortunately, to take my mind off things, I got an ARC of Loving Sylvia Plath: a Reclamation by Emily Van Duyne. If you felt like maybe Red Comet left out some details, you’re right, it did! But this book explores more than unpublished letters and medical documents which Van Duyne carefully researched, it re-raises the idea of respecting Sylvia Plath’s work and reclaiming the reputation that was sullied not only by her husband, Ted Hughes, but also mountains of critics (who were mostly ex-boyfriends!) and just that feeling that you’re a silly, emotional girl for liking Plath’s work, which the new critics were out there saying for years. You’ve been gaslit, dear reader! And this book shows the exact path to how critics, terrible husbands, and so-called friends of Plath’s went about belittling Plath’s legacy and her fans.

If Plath made a terrible decision marrying Hughes and leaving America (and her support system) behind, this book made me realize just how few resources she had and how little people who could have helped her, did. It also made me value my friends and family more, because when you get yourself in a tight spot, it helps to know someone—as many someone’s as possible—have your back. This is not to belittle Plath’s mental illness, or explain how she was some kind of saint, but it does highlight the practical ways women still have to fight to be supported, to be taken seriously, to be heard.

Coral Camellia

Speaking of Survival, a New Poem in The Shore

And speaking of survival, I have a new poem, “Cassandra Shares the Secrets of Survival, Pandemic Edition,” in the latest issue of The Shore, which also has great poems by friends like Martha Silano, Kelli Russell Agodon, Ronda Broatch, and Donna Vorreyer. Here’s a sneak peek below:

Finding a Way Forward

First Rufous Hummingbird

I’ve been thinking, recently, about finding a way forward. After a terrible diagnosis, like cancer, or MS. After you’ve had a loss. After you’ve lost your way. How does one pick up the pieces, and find  a way forward? Did this happen to any of you during the pandemic? Are you feeling frozen in Spring of 2020?

I realized that a lot of me I had left back in 2016 when I was told I was going to die of terminal liver cancer. (We are still having to MRI those tumors every six months, but still breathing, if somewhat hampered by MS.) I just didn’t snap back from that. I left behind a lot of my ambitions. I left behind relationships of people who didn’t want to associate with me once they know I was sick. I left behind work, assuming I wouldn’t be able to contribute much. I gained some things—a renewed appreciation of the moment, a habit and hobby—photography and gardening—and some not good things, like PSTD and increased anxiety—but I realized that my vision of the future was still frozen back in 2016.

But I realized as I was frantically updating things I had forgotten about—resumes, work samples, career goals—that I not only was still a writer, I was a writer who could help contribute things to other writers. I am a pretty good editor, and not only that, I can help people promote their books in the same way I have from my first book back in 2006. I’ve decided to start offering those services on a limited basis—see this link—in the hopes of feeling like part of the writing community again for real, and feeling I am contributing to not just my family but to other writers. I think I’m a pretty good teacher and mentor too, especially for writers who feel that for some reason—money, disability, chronic illness—that the writing world is not for them. I could help them navigate some of that.

Anyway, these are my thoughts for now. And if you are struggling with feeling like you fit in, or to find your way forward, just know you are not alone.

The Spring Equinox and Sunshine at Last, Japanese Garden and La Conner Visits, More Thoughts on Writing and Money

Me with cherry blossoms

The Spring Equinox is Upon Us, and It Brought Sunshine to Seattle at Last

After a mostly cold and stormy March, we were finally given some sun and warmth. Glenn and I took breaks between doctor’s appointments and assignments to find evidence of spring. Not everything is blooming yet, but I have some evidence the Equinox is truly bringing spring.

This week I’ve been working on finishing some paid assignments, updating my resume and work samples, finishing up some unpaid work I’d already agreed to (more on that later) as well as working on taxes. But since (as you could probably tell from my last post) I’d been feeling stressed, grumpy, and generally terrible, Glenn thought it was important to do some spirit-lifting things. So, I got out my camera and photographed the flowers in our neighborhood, and this weekend we took it to excursions to the Seattle Japanese Gardens and La Conner’s daffodil and snow goose fields. I am physically exhausted but feeling a little more cheerful.

Daffodil fields and Mt Baker

Japanese Garden and La Conner Visits

Saturday, we decided to take a quick trip to the Japanese Garden, where we saw eagles, a hummingbird in a waterfall, and blooming rhododendrons, among other things. We stopped by Roq La Rue and got the scoop on upcoming shows and looked at fantastic art books. And then we got stuck in terrible traffic. (Seattle had closed down a bridge and the intersection back to the other highway had a malfunctioning traffic light, so it took us two hours to get home. Sometimes Seattle’s traffic problems make me never want to cross either bridge again, honestly. Who runs this down’s DOT? Evil trolls?) But we did get some wonderful relaxing time before the stressful traffic. And some good pictures.

Hyacinths at Roozengaarde

On St. Patrick’s Day, Glenn worked on refinishing an antique farm table we got last year, and I worked on updating my sadly neglected resume and writing samples, sending out poems, and looking at freelance jobs. A helpful friend gave me good tips on the resume and had some suggestions for other kinds of work I could be doing as well (which I’ll talk about later in the post).

After lunch, we decided to drive up to La Conner to see the daffodil fields and see if we’d see any snow geese (the answer was yes—and we were circled by three bald eagles which we sadly didn’t catch on film). The daffodil fields and hyacinths in particular smelled as lovely as they looked.  It was beautiful, everyone was friendly, and it was actually a faster trip—up and back—than just getting home had taken us yesterday. When we got home, we made Irish stew and watched our traditional St. Patrick’s Day movie, Secret of Kells. And yes, that is a green dress with tiny foxes on it.

More Thoughts on Writers and Money

So, last week’s surprise money crisis helped me clarify my thinking how I’m spending my limited time and energy. (I mean, everyone has limits, but with MS and several other chronic illnesses, I really do have to very stern limits what I say yes to.) I’m going to start to say no to unpaid work more often. Not only that, but when we really do need money (this kind of money crunch may happen again sometime), what can I do that I’m not already doing? I’m seeking out part-time freelance work that I can do from home, whether that’s writing articles or essays or reviews. And the friend I mentioned above asked me if I’d considered doing a small coaching package for new authors who wanted to learn how to do PR for their books, instead of just doing the standard manuscript editing and coaching. Empowering others to learn to do for their small press books to do the basics of PR and marketing themselves, instead of relying on someone else. What do you think, readers? Is there a market for this?

Of course, it also started me thinking about how I can sell more books for my publishers (and for myself) and find paid reading and teaching opportunities. (Once again, if you want to order a book, that would help me out a lot, or just ask your library to order it, or consider writing a short review on Amazon or invite me to speak at your college—all super helpful.) As my actual birthday—and book birthday—approach, I went back and looked at what I’d done for Flare, Corona so far, and what I still need to do.

The reality is most poets do not make a living writing poetry alone. And if we cannot, what else do we do? I do have limitations—being disabled means I couldn’t work some of the jobs I did in the past—but I also have experience, education, things that are valuable and could be valuable to others. I just have to learn to find opportunities that allow me to use my specific skillsets. My mind is fluttering in ways it didn’t have to for most of the pandemic.

A Good Day Followed by a Terrible Week, MS Awareness and Women’s Awareness Month, and Writers, Disability, and Money: Some Thoughts

Me, on a good day in Kirkland

A Good Day (Followed by a Terrible Week)

This is a picture of me on Tuesday of this last week. So happy to be out in the sunshine (despite the 45°F temperature) enjoying the early flowers, some deer crossing in front of her on her street, walking along Lake Washington. So terribly unaware of the how the rest of the week would go. The bobcat, the predator, appeared last week. This week, the prey, the deer, appear on my street. So which am I to believe, the predator or the prey?

After this, I had dental work, which was supposed to be a crown and a couple of fillings, but ended up being two crowns and a filling, which cost me a thousand dollars more than expected (surprise!) but also, my husband came back during the work and I was in so much pain and so lucid that he asked for more sedation, which meant it took me two full days to get un-sedated. But my jaw still hurt, one of the crowns was too long (and I was unable to get back in to get it fixed—still!) and basically, it made my MS symptoms flare up and took me out for three days which were going to be very busy with work and taxes. Very fitting for MS Awareness month. Hello, MS! I remember you.

Then, I got an estimate. I had mentioned I was doing a remodel for an ADA bathroom in my house. I told the group at the beginning what the total cost was we could afford. Alas, after we’d sunk $20K into materials, they sent a work estimate that was twice what we could afford. Then I started stressing out about my choice to be a poet which pays no money (see my taxes for proof,) being disabled (which I can’t help) but forces you to do expensive things to a house to be more independent, about trusting the people the way I did to get the project done in the budget we’d agreed on (ha ha, niave woman!) On top of getting the too-expensive and super painful dental work, I was suddenly counting up things I could sell (old jewelry? clothing? books? not enough) and scrambling for any kind of money in the works – from poetry royalties (which publishers can conveniently forget sometimes) to freelance work even knowing I’m already overcommitted for March and April as it is. People with MS have a certain amount of energy, and after that, sadly, we are out and we have to rest and recover. Dental work has always been a major trigger for my MS (in fact, what caused the first flare), so I should have known this week would be tough. Then I cancelled cable services, housekeeping services, sold some clothing, and cancelled some magazine subscriptions. None of this, sadly, makes much of a difference financially. None of this is the end of the world, but it was very stressful. It did make me think about money, being a poet, and being disabled…

AND SO…

Plum blossoms, blue sky

On Writers, Disability, and Money (and Possibly Gender Pay Disparity?)

(Warning: Frank talk about money. If that makes you uncomfortable…flee!)

I started thinking seriously about the writing world and how little it values writers, especially poets. Back when I was healthy and could keep up with the stressful atmosphere, the sex discrimination, and the terrible hours, I was a tech writer, and I was good at it—I got promoted and promoted and ended up with a pretty good job at a pretty good salary. Unfortunately, I had spent all my spoons (see: spoonies) getting there, and almost immediately was hospitalized and almost died from health things that were undiagnosed (who has the time when you’re working 80, 90 hours a week) or neglected (again, when you’re in a time crunch, there goes your self-care). I ended up quitting technical writing and becoming a full-time poet, with some side things like essays, book reviews, and occasional journalistic writing that paid something. That was 23 years ago now. I am now pretty disabled, and all my health stuff is expensive. I just can’t do some of the things, energy wise, I was happy to do when I was younger—like volunteering 20 hours a week at lit mags and creative organizations, for example. I can’t make it to as many readings, or travel for book promotion like I used to. MS—which I probably had for over ten years and have been diagnosed with for seven—has made energy conservation a serious matter. If you do something one day, you have to rest the next. And if you don’t, your body WILL come for you. MS is not unique in this way. CFS, long Covid, lupus, and cancer all affect energy levels AND finances.

So if you’re a writer and you’re disabled, what are your choices? Well, I can tell you from experience, even if you paid into disability for years—and I did—it is very hard to qualify for government disability payback (which is different than disability social security?)—it is just paying you what you paid into the system for this occasion. Plus, they limit you to $1100 a month in pay or they kick you off and you have to reapply. It takes an average of six years—and a lawyer—to get any kind of real disability money, the kind you could sort of live on. So, instead, you choose freelancing, gig work, OnlyFans—whatever you can do to pay the bills. Maybe you have wealthy parents (I don’t) or a wealthy husband (again no)—I do have a husband whose health insurance at a big tech company helps keep me alive, but we pay out of the nose for it. We both have student loan debt. Specialists are expensive. MRIs are expensive. All the meds I’m on—you guessed it—very expensive. (Most MS drugs cost 3-5K a month.)

Writers right now are getting squeezed. Universities are shuttering whole English departments, not just literary magazines which are also falling by the wayside. That means more writers, with less ways to make a living. (Adjunct teaching, by the way—which I did for four years at an MFA program—pays worse than minimum wage and requires a ton of time and energy.) Publishing—which used to a respectable business you could do to earn a living—has been consolidated so much that making a decent wage there is nearly impossible, and certainly not if you’re not in-person working, young, attractive, energetic and in a big city like New York City. I have noticed there are fewer places that pay for book reviews. Many newspapers are folding. My little brother tells me “Print is dead! You’re working with extinct ideas!” That may be. I’m also a little older—wiser, too, maybe but not wise enough to figure out a way to support myself. My brother encourages me to put ads on my web site, but I don’t want to do that. Yet.

Cherry blossoms, blue sky

Anyway, I come upon some hard facts: do I try to get paid for poetry, or do I try to do something else completely? If you are disabled, your choices for work are fewer and farther between. As much as I hustle, my books aren’t selling as well as they used to. (Buy a signed copy of my books from me to support a disabled poet! Or have your library request the e-book or print book of Flare, Corona.)

I am doing tutorials and college visits and virtual readings. Should I be turning down unpaid work at this point (like the con that pays you in free attendance)? Should I only be sending to journals that pay that don’t have submission fees (and how many of them are there?) So many questions. Where should I direct my limited energy in the short—and long—run? Are the rewards worth the effort? I’m questioning a lot of my decisions, and that’s okay. Tax time by itself usually brings up a panic attack about how much I’m NOT making, and this year with the unexpected immediate expense just throws that into greater relief. It’s not any of the things that happened this week individually, but the accumulation of them. I try to look on the bright side of things most of the time. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe that I need to change, but how and what I have no idea. It’s a new moon tonight. I was happy that Miyazaki won an Oscar but sad Lily Gladstone did not. I felt so positive about things last month, that maybe things were moving in a good direction. Maybe I’ve let the dental pain and financial stuff overwhelm me. The time change never helps, either. Anyway, signing off, and hoping for a better week ahead.