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

Self-Care for Writers, and the Anxiety of Turning Fifty—a New Poem in Rogue Agent, and Anxiety and Its Antidotes

A Mollusk Without a Shell with Charlotte

Self-Care for Writers

This anthology, A Mollusk Without a Shell: Essays on Self-Care for Writers, from University of Akron Press came out at a great time, no? I’m so proud and happy to have an essay in the collection, along with many friends like Kelli Russell Agodon, Charles Jensen, Lee Ann Roripaugh, and many others. (Thanks to Mary Biddinger and Julie Brooks Barbour.) Topics range from the distractions of social media and AWP hazing to dealing with issues like cancer and death of a family member. And with AWP, Valentine’s Day, the Superbowl, and Lunar New Year all happening in the same week, what do writers need more than a reminder about self-care? Charlotte (above) poses with a copy of the new book.

A lot of the anthology contributors are Gen X, who might have some unique knowledge about self-care, having been brought up as latch-key kids, the forgotten generation, the first generation to do financially less well than their parents, the sandwich generation (taking care of children and aging parents at the same time these days), and raised on teen apocalypse literature before it was cool. As a kid as young as 10, I was up before daybreak, walked a mile along a highway to the junior high to take a transfer bus to my school with my little brother, made my own breakfast and lunch and sometimes dinner, and then spent two hours after school at various activities (often finding my own ride home among friends and other people’s parents). I went to unchaperoned parties where yes, sex and drinking and drugs existed. I ran away from policemen (once with a friend on crutches), sketchy characters on motorcycles (after an ill-advised TP-ing sleepover activity), and a crotchety parent (of a house party he was not aware he was hosting, thanks to his son) with a shotgun. I was told I wouldn’t be able to have children when I was 19. On the cusp of a long weekend away, a doctor told me a year later, “You either have AIDs, lupus, or cancer, have a good weekend!” Since that cheery experience, I’ve been diagnosed with multiple life-threatening illness. Are these good qualifications for someone to give advice about self-care? You be the judge!

A New Poem in the Latest Issue of Rogue Agent

I’m also happy to say I have a poem in the latest issue of Rogue Agent, about the anxiety of turning 50. (Which seems like it was just yesterday, but how is it almost a whole year ago?)

Here’s a link to the poem and issue online: Jeannine Hall Gailey—Rogue Agent (rogueagentjournal.com)
This is a sneak peek:

Anxiety and Its Antidotes

Have you been feeling anxious? I’ve been having anxiety dreams almost every night, and (probably related) trouble sleeping at all, staying up ’til 4 AM. I haven’t been writing as much poetry as I’d like—too busy doing paperwork and web forms—and I’m going to be going to a residency that requires a plane flight, something I haven’t done since way before the pandemic. I’m worried about the state of the world, the state of America. I worry about my family members and friends. I worry about the pandemic, the fact that it’s not over, and we still don’t have that many good treatments for it. I worry about God and justice, my place in the world, if I’m doing the right things with my life. The poem above is all about anxiety, and I admit, many of them haven’t changed. I just did my part of the taxes, and that never leaves me feeling good about my choices in life (see: not making enough money to cover your student loans, that old saw, another thing we X-ers pioneered). My computer’s been constantly crashing, which means a switch to a new one will be coming soon. Another doctor retired, so I’ll have to train another specialist replacement. Are all of these things equally important? No, they are not.

So, what are your good antidotes for anxiety? Reading a relaxing book (murder mysteries are usually my go-to relaxation type of book). I’ve been listening to music at night before I go to bed. I also tried watching old movies, mostly comedies. I’m trying to get outside during our brief moments of sunshine and get outside when I can. I spend time with my two cuddly cats. I’m trying to eat healthy (for me, more protein, and more iron and B12, less sugar) and get back to my regular pre-winter-illness levels of physical activity, which cliché or no, does help, I know. Spending time with sunrises and sunsets. I’m looking forward to spring, to being able to be out in my garden a bit more, going to farmer’s markets again, at least. I’m hoping this level of anxiety won’t last another month, another year. Wishing you an anxiety-free day, week, month, year.

Celebrating with Writers, New Hair, Vision Boards and Book Promotion, and Getting Back to “Normal” (?)

Celebrating with Writer Friends

This week I got together with Kelli Russell Agodon to celebrate her birthday (a bit late.) We talked new year’s writing goals, our next books, and of course there was sparkling rose and cupcakes (and a real brunch made by Glenn, not just junk food, I swear!) It was great to get back to socializing with Kelli and her husband Rose and feel like a real human again. I even went and got my hair done this week—something I hadn’t been well enough to do for a while!

Kelli took this fantastic shot of Sylvia (hiding in the linens as usual when we have visitors) and Flare, Corona on my pink typewriter. I do feel that I’ve been a bit lax in promoting my book lately, with the holidays and the long illness, so I’m going to try to schedule some promotion. It’s been nine months—believe it or not—since Flare, Corona came out. AWP is just around the corner, although I won’t be going this year but maybe next time in LA? Part of me wishes I was going, part of me is relieved that I can just have some down time.

Vision Boards and Getting Back to Normal(ish)

New hair—a little lighter and brighter

What does it mean, anyway, for a writer to “get back to normal?” Well, I’ve been writing new work, editing my next book, submitting, and finally getting to my vision board for 2024 (clearly, I’m winning no awards for my collage making, but hey, I was sick!) The headlines for 2024 haven’t exactly been the stuff of cheer and light—this year of the dragon has already been called, for instance, the fourth year of the pandemic, the year of the solar eclipse (again, which makes me book cover super relevant lol), the year of the cicada (two different swarms coming out at the same time for the first time in 200 years!) or, of course, the election year, which brings up different emotions for me that run from anxiety to disappointment…and two wars.

So, I’ve decided to brand my 2024 as the year of “restoration” after last year’s flurry of book launch events, AWP, a milestone birthday, big family visits, and generally being busy. Good busy, but not a sustainable busy. So I’m going on my first residency in a while next month, where I hope to work seriously on my next book, but also enjoy a change of scenery (the desert!) and just have some down time to think and devote some time to my health—physical therapy and catching up on my required tests, among other things. With MS, you don’t really know when the next “flare” happens, or when a remission goes kaput.

The thing is, despite the headlines, and the vision board, we can’t really know what the year ahead lies. We can hope and wish for good things—for better health, for book awards, for health for our families and our friends, for a better America, for a better future for us all. And I do!

Hope, manifesting, positive thinking—it seems time for a dose of something strong. Something that we can look forward to. I am wishing us all a magic we can’t imagine, a seed of something good planted at the right time. The fairy tale we live in seems to be mired down in the dark forest right now, the struggle, the part of the journey where we lose our shoes and have to walk in the snow and survive off the nuts and berries the birds bring us. The part where we’re abandoned, no fairy godmother in sight. But let us look to the light, to the mysterious and strange part of the story that gives us survival against the odds, that gives us the strength to stand up, to not give up.

Cold Snaps, Planning Ahead, and SolarPunk and MythPunk

Painting of Fennec Fox by Dewi Plass

Cold Snaps, and Lots of Sleep (and Movies and Books)

Well, as in much of the country, we spent the last two weeks shivering through a very cold, cold snap—we even had snow and ice enough to close down schools and roads for a couple of days. We had to cancel our winery book club on Wednesday because the roads were too dangerous. Glenn has been sick, so we haven’t been up to much here. We’re just now starting to clean up from the holidays, if you can believe it.

Seattle Snow with fox

Needless to say, this means I watched a ton of movies. I particularly enjoyed The Marvels—space cats! Beastie Boys “Integalactic!” Rap Battles! Space Jump Rope!—but I went into it having watched Ms. Marvel—which is a delight, if you haven’t seen it—and WandaVision—more serious, but also great—I laughed so much through the whole movie! I also watched Killers of the Flower Moon, whose main actress, Lily Gladstone, is phenomenal in her role, but I also bought the book by Linda Hogan about the same story called Mean Spirit. It’s a fascinating story of evil and murder in the Osage tribe in Oklahoma. I also watched Oppenheimer, which you would think was perfect from the number of nominations it got, but I know the story pretty well and thought it was too long, too talky, and didn’t focus enough on the destructive force of the nuclear tests and the dropping of bombs on Japan. (For instance, the Trinity site test killed a bunch of teen girls who were out camping and got caught in the fallout—but no mention of that! But sooo much boring politics!) A lot of great blink-and-you-miss-them cameos from really great actors in that movie, though.

In terms of reading, I also finished my re-read of Isak Dinesen’s Winter’s Tales and am starting a re-read of Wit’s End by Karen Joy Fowler for book club next month.

Towhee on bird fountain

Filling Out Paperwork and SolarPunk and MythPunk

So, one fun thing to look forward to is a brief writer’s residency in the Palm Desert—I’ve already started packing mini-sunscreens! In the unfun time before that, though, I’m applying for some unfun medical stuff, doing my taxes, and applying for the NEA Grant. The medical stuff is discouraging, and taxes are never fun, but doing the NEA prep work actually led me to an interesting discovery of new genre descriptions.

So, while I was working on my project description, I came upon a discussion that some of you might find interesting. There is a term that describe science fiction that has an optimistic outlook on both social and environmental issues called SolarPunk, and a type of science fiction that looks through the lens of mythological characters called MythPunk, My next manuscript, besides having poems on plagues and disability, actually has both SolarPunk and MythPunk aspects. I’m tired of writing futuristic dystopias that come true (see: Field Guide to the End of the World, published in 2016, and see how many things I uncannily described in advance! Eerie!) The next manuscript does deal with difficult issues—like disability, and our four-year plague, and the environmental crises—I’m not into denial, but more thinking about how the path to better things happens.

Dewi Plass winter scene with snow leopard cub

Anyway, I’m trying to pick ten poems for the NEA sample, always so difficult (as I haven’t won an NEA grant yet, I’m apparently not great at picking out poems for their readers!) I’m looking forward to having a writer-friend date this week, getting back into normal routines (it seems like 2024 has had an inauspicious beginning so far, but hopefully it gets better), and hopefully I’ll get enough done on the grant application and taxes to not feel guilty taking a week to focus just on my work.

But I’m going to set my intentions for 2024 as being a year to restore—my health, my relationships, and my hope, even in the midst of war and chaos. More joy, less handwringing over things I can’t control. Less fear, more taking steps to live life as well as I can while I can.

I included these two paintings from artist Dewi Plass because the first reflects this time of hibernation (sleeping Fennec fox on book about dragons) and the other an abundance of winter wildlife, arctic owls, ermine, and snow leopards. I am wishing you lots of good hibernation times, hopeful dreams, connecting to nature, and also to our levels of hope for the future.

Wintering: The New Year So Far, Honoring the Season, and the Choices We Make

Bunnies with Ornament: Woodinville

Wintering, Or the New Year So Far

Well, it’s been a tough 2024 so far – Glenn got my evil virus on New Year’s Eve and has been sick since, and I have still not recovered from the original bug that hit me over a month ago. It seems so many Facebook friends are sick that I shouldn’t be complaining. At least it’s not covid I guess?

I have been deep in my wintering activities—watching a lot of movies I missed during the year, reading (right now, for the Bookwalter Wine Book Club, re-reading Isak Dinesan’s Winter’s Tales, full of odd spirituality and Denmark and melancholia) as well as Julie Cameron’s memoir. Glenn and I finally have the ornaments off the large Christmas tree, but the lights are still up all over Woodinville, including our strange bunny statues with pink ornament. It’s been cold and gray, with ice-rain, very dreary, even my birds aren’t showing up regularly. Every time I step outside, no matter how I’m dressed, I regret it.

Towhee in January

I haven’t been writing much—not enough mental energy—but I do think about the idea of “wintering,” or that we need to sort of make our way through winter gingerly, at least making some awareness of the need for warmth and hibernation. I’ve been sleeping at off hours—awake at 3 in the morning, asleep at 5 pm—which means I’m only watching weird stuff on television and reading in stray catches of awake time. “Winter just wasn’t my season,” as the song “Breathe (2 AM)” says.

I woke up today wondering how soon it would be spring, envying my friends and relatives taking vacations to sunny climates. How nice it would be for my cough and sinus stuff to have hot dry air for a change? Even though I’m allergic to the sun and MS hates heat. LOL.

My garden looks very bare right now, except for a few shoots in some containers, and we’re trying to keep a little lemon tree a neighbor gave us as a gift alive despite a lack of sunlight and freezing temperatures outside. We also bought a small Christmas tree we’re trying to keep alive on the back porch. Can’t ever plant enough trees, I say, even as I struggle to keep them alive. We try to keep our hummingbirds and towhees alive with feeders and birdbaths.

Is it hard for you to keep up your spirits and health in January? Maybe it shouldn’t be treated as a disorder, but a sign of our bodies’ alignment to the seasons. Wrap yourself in blankets, drink hot tea, read some somewhat mystifying short stories from a brilliant but strange writer of another age. Take a couple of sick days. I hate the late-night commercials for diet pills and exercise machines in a month that makes most of us long to eat more carbs and stay under the covers an extra 20 minutes. And maybe that’s actually the right medicine for this time of year. Why do we struggle against what even the plants and animals know how to do? I have a bright red vase of tulips above my desk right now, a sign of life in the otherwise foggy gray landscape. I think of all the writers that died in England of TB in the 1800’s, think about how the weather here in Seattle is so similar to London, all cold wind and rain but rarely snow or ice. It feels like ice and snow might be seen as celebratory next to the drab rain.

Along this vein of melancholy, I was thinking of two great writers we recently lost, Louise Gluck and Colleen McElroy, how both had disabilities they rarely talked about (Gluck had epilepsy, Colleen had RA), both were fiercely devoted to their work. Gluck was born into a lot of privilege; Colleen had to struggle more against a world less friendly to women, especially women of color, as a young person. I feel Colleen didn’t get enough recognition for her gifts as a teacher and writer and was the kind of person you instantly trusted—she radiated energy and warmth. Gluck wasn’t warm—even her obituaries seem prickly. I wonder about the value of our writing and our personhood after we pass away—how will we be remembered? Will time be kinder to one than the other? I wonder about the value of work versus the value of relationships, how often women are forced to choose in a way men are not. I am lucky I had a husband who was just as supportive when I was working ninety-hour weeks at Microsoft as when I now spend hours submitting poems to journals that don’t pay enough to cover the cost of submission. I never had to choose between a marriage and work, or a child and work (since I couldn’t have kids in the first place). As I get older, in the cold January months, I think harder about the choices I’ve made in my life. It will be later in life that I’ll be able to see if I made the right ones.

Well, on that note, my friends, honor the season. Stay in, light a fire, read a book off your shelf that has sat there for a few years. Sending you thoughts for restful wintering.

Happy New Year! What About 2024? Recovering from Christmas, and Planning on a Restorative Year

Happy New Year! What About 2024?

Happy New Year my friends and family! Wishing you all health, hope and happiness in 2024!

(Image at left from VartaCrafts on etsy.)

But seriously, what are you looking forward to in the new year? As I recover from the meanest throat/sinus/lung infection I’ve had in years, I’ve had plenty of time to sleep, dream, watch all the shows I meant to catch up on, and of course, have anxiety about the year ahead.

I don’t like that it’s an election year. I’m nervous about the several wars going on in the background of our newreels. I don’t have much on the calendar yet, which might be okay – just a residency, possible start of a new immune system treatment, and the somewhat scary bathroom-accessibility renovation.

Haven’t had the mental/emotional energy to set intentions or do my usual vision board yet, but I know I will eventually feel a little better and will be able to think clearly enough to do that stuff.

Family Christmas pic, with Dad, Glenn, me, mom, Mike, and Loree

Recovering from Christmas and Planning for a Restorative Year

So I’m recovering from the evil Christmas illness – my first Christmas illness in a while – and big family visit. It was really good to see everyone but I was so miserable and worried about getting others sick it wasn’t ideal. After the folks left, I caught up on my movie viewing – saw Oppenheimer, Saltburn, a great Christmas classic dark comedy movie called We’re No Angels among others – but didn’t catch up on as much reading as I wanted. Glenn finally caught this bug as well (we did check him for covid as well) so now the whole house is sick except for the cats!

I’m hoping the coming year will offer more peace and rest for us after the hectic flurry of last year’s AWP, book launch readings, and several large family visits. I want to focus again on my writing and photography, and tend more closely to my health. I may start IVIG treatments this year, which is scary but also possibly hopeful, giving my immune system more of a boost so I don’t get sick (and stay sick) as easily.

A lot of the things I’m anxious about (war, election, my health problems, etc) I don’t have a lot of control over. I want to build in more restorative activities to my year. I read something that I really liked – thinking about what makes you happy, and putting more of that into your life. We are more than what we weigh, or what we earn, or what we get done. We worry so much about being productive, but how much do we actually think about the activities and people that make us happy or give us joy? So that’s my modest goal for 2024 – trying to focus on the things that bring joy, and less on everything else.

Wishing you joy in 2024!

Happy Christmas! Tales from a Holiday Hospital Trip, and Challenges in Holiday Plans

Merry Christmas Eve!

Merry Christmas Eve!

Hello friends and family, wishing you all a very merry Christmas Eve! The picture on left is from a completely charming Christmassy store called Cranberry Cottage in Bothell, which I just found out is closing in January. So sad! But I was able to take my folks there and get my mom a Christmas present, so that was good.

My folks are in town but I’ve mostly been too sick to entertain (week four of the mega-virus that’s not covid or flu) so I’ve only had a partial Christmas experience so far. I had an ER trip again this week (that’s the third one in three weeks – and holiday ERs are weird) and numerous doctor appointments. I spend all night coughing and all day with stomach trouble – oh, it’s glamorous all right!

Challenges in Holiday Plans

Everyone has the idea of what the holidays should be, how things should go. They rarely include accidents, illness, bad weather, bad moods – which makes the pressure of the holidays to be happy almost impossible. Challenges happen – not just for me, but a lot of people this year. We try our best to be merry and bright, even in spite of the list of things that go wrong.

But it’s not really about being a Hallmark perfect family, or having a perfect time. I’ve been reading all week about friends having divorces, having emergency surgeries, getting covid – and of course, the news from the Ukraine and oh yeah, the birthplace of Jesus, Bethlehem, is extremely unnervingly dark. Life cannot be perfect. Life is not a Hallmark movie. We have to make do with the imperfect moments.

Me and Glenn at Willows Lodge for a brief break from my house and the rain

And so, that concludes our “challenges” section. Hopefully by next week I will have made a complete recovery. And it would be nice if, for once, there could be peace on earth. I wish you and yours a very happy holiday season.