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.

New Podcast on BeautyHunters, Bobcat Visits, and March Comes in Like a Jerk

Plum Blossoms in March

March Begins and a New Podcast: Q&A with Me and Tatyana Mishel Sussex on BeautyHunters

March has come in, not like a lamb or a lion, but like a jerk, bringing hail, sideways snow, heavy rain, sunshine and all in two days’ time.  The flowers continue to bloom through it all, and a bobcat comes to visit. Meanwhile, I’m reading a ton, trying to do some submissions this month, and getting ready for a ton of readings and talks later on in March and April.

From Tatyana’s substack:

What do you do when you’re told you have six months to live? Poet, author, and lover-of-life Jeannine Hall Gailey went immediately to a giant writer’s conference, bought a house, took up photography, and reminded herself of all the beauty around her.

“You have to give your body a reason to live,” Jeannine says.

And through all the years of doctors appointments and emergency room visits, pain and low-energy, Jeannine continued to be fully in life: writing and submitting poems, finishing and publishing books, beelining her way to parks when the sun shone, the leaves turned gold, the blossoms pinkened, seeing friends, starting book clubs.
In my view, Jeannine shows us what we’re capable of, even if we don’t feel we are—in the way we all show each other what we’re made of, and what’s possible beyond the limitations of our thinking.
Grab a cup of coffee or tea, take us for a walk—treat yourself to the gusto and all-in-ness Jeannine possesses, along with some fun, creative and wise views about all kinds of things.”

On how I faced a terminal cancer diagnosis, why I write, what I think about immigration, how I find beauty in the world, and an hour of all kinds of fun things. At the end of the interview you can hear a terrible noise which is my small cat trying to escape the bedroom because she really wanted to be part of the interview by jumping up on the laptop.

Bobcat Visits and March/April Mayhem

Jonquil in my garden

Below is a little Ring video of our bobcat visit. But in life news, I have several things lined up in the next two months, including a visit to NorWesCon, participating in a speculative writing panel for Cascadia Writers, a virtual college visit, and a Zoom reading for the Olympia Poetry Network. It seems April is almost here, bringing its National Poetry Month busyness, and hopefully some sunshine and warmer spring weather.

I’ve been trying to come out of my plague-years hibernation—doing AWP, my book launch, and visits with family last year. my first travel in seven years last month, and so, I’m trying to get out there in the world a bit more. I’m currently also working on my next book, sending out poems, doing serious edits (as opposed to those lighthearted edits of the last several years). But like the Northwest’s weather in March so far, it’s been a bit of a stop and start, with my energy and health being good for a while, and then having to rest and recover. Here’s looking forward to the warmth of true spring, better weather, and the opportunity to get out and enjoy it!

Early Cherry and Camellia Blossoms, New Poetry Books and a Rattle Podcast Where We Talk about Poetry Submitting

early camellia

Signs of Spring? Early Cherry and Camellia Blossoms and a Frost Moon

This week was a confusing and overstuffed week of a doctor visit a day (two brand new, which is always fun because you’re explaining all the weird stuff that’s wrong with you AGAIN) and three poetry Zoom sessions (two podcasts and a planning session for an upcoming poetry presentation).

On the plus side, a beautiful frost moon, at least one sunny day, some signs of spring around town such as early cherry and camellias blossoms—although we’re supposed to have snow tomorrow and again later this week. And some field trips—to Kirkland to walk on the water, and downtown during a windstorm to Open Books. More on that later.

Glenn and I in Kirkland on our one sunny day

Rattle Podcast on Poetry Submissions

One of the podcasts I did this week was “The Poetry Space” for the magazine Rattle, and I was joined by several other poets and the editors to talk about poetry submissions: advice about them, how we organize them, pet peeves, and more.

You can listen on Spotify (link below). It’s about an hour long, and I still don’t think we covered everything. Always interesting to talk about this sort of thing, the humdrum work of not writing, but getting published—a difficult and complicated chore that can be discouraging (all the rejections) and off-putting (all the different rules). But if you want to build an audience as a poet, it’s probably a good bet that you have sent out some submissions and will send some out in the future. (Although we also discussed sharing work on social media.) Anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments! I believe this podcast is also available on iTunes and other podcast listening options.

ep. 53 – How to Submit by The Poetry Space_ (spotify.com)

Sylvia in a bucket

New Poetry Books

Although I missed AWP this year, I did try to make up for missing the bookfair by picking up a few books at our Seattle all-poetry bookstore, Open Books, today, during a windstorm (A tree fell in a car in our neighborhood while we were away, the 520 was closed for construction, and I was nearly blown over walking down the street. Still, we would not be stopped!)

So far, I’m loving the essays on feminism and pop culture edited by Marisa Crawford, The Weird Sister Collection, and Dorianne Laux’s new book, Life on Earth. More on these later, but I particularly loved the essay the “White Male Canon as Nineties Pop Songs” by Marisa Crawford, and this beginning to the essay “The Honesty of Jean Rhys” by Kristin Sanders:

I recently had a conversation with a man about Bukowski. Had I read much Bukowski? I said I’ve avoided a lot of the bro-writers: Bukowski, Burroughs, Miller, Kerouac (though I’ve come to love Kerouac). He said, Yeah, those guys are great writers, but, you know, they’re not really great toward women.

It’s not surprising we have a whole genre of literature by men who disrespect, objectify, reduce, and silence women. A more interesting question is, who are the women—especially the early women writers—of whom we might say the same: they aren’t really great toward men, you know, but they’re still worth reading.”

This bit got me thinking if I knew any women writers who weren’t great with men but are still worth reading. Even Margaret Atwood writes at least as many female villains as male ones. Also, would I count as one of these? The men who show up in my poems aren’t always great, although I don’t think I’m mean in general to the men in my life, i.e. brothers, husband, male friends. But maybe male enemies? I had to think about it. The self that represents us in our writing isn’t necessarily the self of our real life. Anyway, a book I wanted to discuss with people as soon as I stopped reading it.

Open Books Haul

Palm Desert Residency Part II: Poetry Energy Magic, What Makes a Great Residency? and Valentine’s Day

Selfie with pool on the last day of the residency

Palm Desert Residency Part II: Poetry Energy Magic

So, this is a continuation of last week’s post about the Desert Rat Residency, Palm Springs and Palm Desert. I’ve had a week of recovery time by now, plus Valentine’s Day, so I’m capping with a bit about what makes for a great residency.

The last few days of the residency were mostly spent working on my second book manuscript, as well as standing out by the lemon tree watching hummingbirds. We left feeling like the residency wasn’t long enough, which is a good feeling. And definitely a little bit of sunshine—albeit chilly for southern California—was good for both my and Glenn’s mood.

Some of these pictures are from a strange side trip to the Living Desert Zoo, almost walking distance from the Desert Rat Residency, which has amazing botanical gardens to walk through, is set up the mountains, and has a kid-friendly gigantic train set exhibit, but the animals are mostly older and kind of sad, because it lacks a breeding certification, so the animals are for the most part (barring rescued animals, like the juvenile fennec foxes, and meerkats, because they breed whether you want them to or not) retirees from other zoos. The animal exhibits vary in goodness, from pretty good for the animals (spacious! airy! full of natural environmental things and enrichment) to not as modern (and a little claustrophobic). It also includes a carousel for endangered species (good!), and I got to talk for a while with a retired Santa Barbara zookeeper who used to take care of this tiny California island fox, which is smaller than a house cat and climbs trees—he’s ten and still pretty spry! My favorite animal—the fennec fox—was “off exhibit,” but the talking to the retired zookeeper about California island foxes almost made up for it. Tiny tree climbing foxes that live only on certain California islands? I thought the San Juan Islands and Japan’s island of foxes were where the coolest island foxes lived, but now I’ve learned of a whole new breed of tiny, adorable foxy things!

But here’s the poetry magic part. January was a tough slog for me poetry-wise. I didn’t write much, I sent out a bunch but received a bunch of rejections, and I had some discouraging information on the life front and was kind of at-odds about how to make a living (or at least cover my own bills) as a disabled, chronically ill poet (along with recovering from a three-month long respiratory mystery illness).

But when I got back home, strange positive things began to happen. I was invited to give a tutorial (for pay)! I was solicited to send work! I got two acceptances and got asked to do a podcast. Is this because of the residency? Did some energy thing shift in the universe? I do not know. Mysterious, but I hope it continues for a while!

Valentine’s Day…

was kind of a non-event in our house, except Glenn sent me pink tulips from Skagit Valley (local flowers!) and chocolates from Fran’s Chocolates (local chocolate!) and he made a delicious duck and cherry dinner and heart-shaped cookies to share with neighbors and a few friends.

Charlotte as the Valentine’s cat

We were still so tired out from travel (and still doing laundry from travel—how was that possible?) that we made it a chill-out night, but it still felt pretty good. After all, we were home with our cute cats (see Charlotte at left) and in our own bed and after dinner we watched a romantic movie (well, a romantic thriller—Hitchcock’s Rebecca, which is really more a cautionary tale, come to think of it, than a love story, but a darn good movie).

What Makes a Great Residency?

This part might be useful to writers seeking out residencies to apply to finish a book project…or start one.

Seven must-haves for a good writer’s residency

For those of you who have applied and/or gone to a writer’s residency, you know they are not all the same. Some are better than others. Some (like Yaddo and Macdowell) have famous writer histories. Some have more natural beauty—some have better food delivery systems. A lot of them have ghosts, and ghosts are perfectly acceptable for a writer’s residency, as I outline below. The “must haves” are:

Desert Rat bedside cocktails, tea, and book station

1. A comfortable bed with extra blankets. If you’re not sleeping well, you’re probably cranky, achy, and unable to write well. Facts!
2. Either a pretty well-set-up kitchenette or food delivery that can feed even those of us with food allergies and/or intolerances. If you’re hungry, you’re not writing well, because you’ll be thinking about where to get your next food. So, not just food, but good food. Same with coffee shops and/or a coffee source.
3. Natural beauty is very high up there for me. Mountains, an ocean, a fantastic garden, as many birds as possible (ideally birds unknown to the writer). Dolphins, whales, deer, foxes and other magic animal visits are encouraged. Outdoor space—a porch, a garden, an overlook—must be available, because occasionally writers need sunlight and fresh air, even if they don’t want to change their clothes.
4. Reading material and visual art to help inspire you. Music is also useful. Maybe art materials? I often start art projects on residencies.
   

   Me with hallway art wall, Desert Rat Residency

5. A comfortable (for me, ergonomic) chair and writing desk.
6. Something unexpected—a sequin tiara, a special cocktail setup, a soaking tub, a fancy robe or a fancy pen—the little extras that surprise and delight.
7. Cleanliness, security, privacy and safety. You don’t want to worry about safety on a residency. No weird windows you can’t close, sketchy bathrooms or too many spiders, or as happened to me once, either a cicada-eating wasp or a murder hornet (Yup, welcome to the Pacific Northwest!) Ghosts are optional but acceptable in this section.

Other “haves:” for a disabled person, the ability to bring a friend or partner (which Glenn terms a “residency valet”) might be crucial. For single mothers, the ability to bring a child might be a must-have. You may have your own specific needs (for me, no stairs to climb, a walk-in shower, and the ability to make some of my own allergy-specific food come to mind), so ask lots of questions before you apply.

Seek out inspiration

Inspiration may come from unexpected places, so take a side trip (for date shakes…to a special lighthouse, an art gallery, or a coffee shop) and maybe also try to move around a bit (hunching over a notebook or computer for multiple days straight has bad results for the human spine) during the day, get that fresh air and sunlight I talked about earlier. Do something you might not usually do—if the residency has a piano or guitar, try playing it, or try photography or sketching. I find that also inspires new ideas and new ways of looking at things. Jot down notes when you’re out and about. I’m sure California island foxes are going to show up sometime in my writing!

I hope this was useful for you. The Desert Rat Residency (thanks, Jeff Walt!) met all of these needs and was quite nearly perfect for me. I’ve also really loved some other off-the-beaten track residencies I’ve done, so don’t just think about Yaddo and Macdowell— do some research near your home, or in a place you’ve always wanted to visit, for unexpected opportunities. And good writing!

Palm Springs, Palm Desert: Sun, Cocktails, Art, and a Desert Rat Residency: Part 1

Palm Springs, Palm Desert: A Residency Story, Part I

Hello Friends! While everyone was in Kansas City for AWP, I had the opportunity to escape Seattle’s February gloom for Palm Springs and Palm Desert, thanks to a residency at Desert Rat Residency in Palm Desert.

The first day we spent touristing around Palm Springs. We flew in in a storm, windy and cloudy, but still beautiful. We saw the big Marilyn statue, posed with wings, marveled at palms, had cocktails and steaks at a fancy steakhouse (first time eating out in a long while for me, but they had outdoor seating.) Palm Springs has a kitchy appeal, but also a faint seediness, reminding me of LA a bit – the neon, the bright colors next to faded tourist businesses. Great art scene and pretty good coffee shops – we stopped by Shag, an artist I’ve liked for some years, and Glenn tried the coffee, while I posed with instagrammable things around town. If I had more time in Palm Springs, I definitely would have spent more time in the art galleries – they looked fab. Next time! In the end, Palm Springs seems to be about sun, mountain hikes, pools, cocktails, sexy affairs, architecture, and art. Since I am allergic to sun and have the drinking constitution of a young child, some of the glamour was possibly lost on me, but I was interested to see it. Such a different place than Seattle – and flowers everywhere as it had just rained, a good omen, I thought. (Although I learned the plentiful bougainvillea has terrible thorns! Did you know this?) I drove off into Palm Desert for a writing residency, my first in years! Poetry Business!

Desert Rat Residency – A Dream in Palm Desert

So we drove from Palm Springs into the desert to Shield Farm, which is a huge date and grapefruit farm. Bought dates and grapefruits, plus fresh grapefruit juice and date shakes (a little too sweet for my taste, but kind of cool to try!) Then we checked into the beautiful Desert Rat Residency, started by poet Jeff Walt, in a lovely neighborhood next to fancy restaurants, great shopping, and tons of lush spas and famous golf courses – none of which we got to experience, because we were so focused on how beautiful the residency space was! A fully stocked half-fridge – a soaking tub – a pool – fully stocked bar, tons of eclectic art everywhere you look, so many books and magazines you wouldn’t be able to read them all in a week. Really a dream. Here’s me in the front yard garden. Happy to be there! It was still a little cloudy and chilly the first day there, but Glenn was game to try the pool – about four steps worth! Every morning and evening was full of birdsong. I saw hummingbirds (they have nine species in the desert!) and mockingbirds and hawks, barn swallows, finches – this was just from the front yard! And every morning I woke up and walked by the lemon trees, which have the most amazing smell – not like perfume, not like lemon – just divine. Wish I could capture it! Better than coffee as a wake up perk.

Then, Down To Poetry Business…and Hummingbirds

So after we unpacked and figured out what switches did what and put things in the giant closet, it was down to business. The first day, I wrote a new poem, I sent out a submission, and worked on the first two sections of my next book, reorganizing and editing. (Writing and editing a book is really such a work of time – it takes dedicated time and attention, hard to find at home.) About two in the morning, I fell asleep. While I was working, Glenn made a tour of all the grocery stores in a five mile radius, was sad he could find neither a cheese grater nor ginger syrup, but ultimately we were totally fine and did not need that much food. California sunshine and lots of exercise (even for this MS-haver who had to use a wheelchair occasionally) helped me shed a few pounds as I was always thirsty but never hungry the whole time. (Oh yes – pack extra lip balm! Dry air and flying are hard on the lips! I packed a ton of sunscreen too, and can happily say I am not going home with a sunburn, which is a bit of a miracle.

I didn’t turn on the (smart) television and didn’t miss it. I played music instead. I did go to the local Barnes and Nobles to get some bird identification cards to leave at the residency, in case bird nerds such as I use the residency too. I also put up a hummingbird feeder, which immediately attracted hummers! Listen, hummingbirds, like foxes, are part of the necessary work of this writer. I can’t identify all these hummers – can you?

To be continued…in Part 2 of Palm Springs, Palm Desert, and a Desert Rat Residency, the Living Desert, and What Makes a Perfect Residency