Getting Things Done in October, Mentoring and Making a Living as a Poet, Pursuing Goals and Dreams, and a New Instrument

Fairy Tale Mushrooms in Woodinville (fly agaric or amanita mushrooms)

Getting Things Done in October

Hello my friends! And sorry I missed a post last week. I’ve been surprisingly busy and actually lost track of time and forgot to post. Glenn and I voted early, and our votes have already been counted. As a reminder, if you have not already voted, please vote – I have never lived through a more important election in terms of the safety, soul, and health of our country. Remember, wherever you are, your vote matters, local politics is as important to pay attention to as national politics, and don’t let anyone discourage you from making your voice heard and your vote count.

A few of my friends challenged me to a “submission a day” in October thing, counting both book submissions and individual lit mag submissions, and that has been harder than writing a poem a day for sure. I had to research new poetry publishers, lit mags I’d been meaning to send back to, and try to keep my Excel spreadsheets up to date.

Also, ironically, I have had a couple of things happen that might not have happened if not for the pandemic.

This week I’ll talk a little bit about building a career as a poet, helping others, how to reach for your dreams and goals during a plague year, and thinking about a new instrument as a metaphor.

Pileated Woodpecker in Flight in the Rain

Mentoring At-Risk Youth

Also, so, someone I knew in high school reached out to me and invited me to participate and so I started a little mentoring with a Cincinnati non-profit for disadvantaged teens. The first bit involved talking with them about making a career as a poet. I love the idea of volunteering with youth again – something I did more actively when I was younger and have felt lately I wasn’t able to do as much because it was so demanding. But this was something I definitely felt able – and willing – to do.

The Zoom talk went well. The group had plenty of advanced and sophisticated questions for me, and I signed up to do another talk in November to go over things like writing a writer’s resume or how to advance in the spoken word circuit (thankfully, I have friends who can gave me advice on that front.) Because everything is in Zoom these days, it doesn’t feel weird to be doing volunteer work in my old hometown at all – a thousand miles or so barely makes a difference. Maybe I can figure out how to reach out to local youth on Zoom here, too.

Multi-colored sweet peppers, farm stand in Woodinville

Making a Living as a Poet

How do you make a living as a poet? I have gotten three degrees (one on scholarship, the second while working full-time and with grant support, the third I’m still paying off), worked in jobs as a makeup artist and retail manager to working a dozen years as a tech writing manager to teaching at an MFA program online to serving as Redmond, Washington’s Poet Laureate – and the answer still eludes me.

It’s tough – especially when talking to people who, like me, didn’t come from money, don’t necessarily have support in terms of family and friends, and have to keep the bottom line in their priority list as well as their dreams. I realize I was very lucky in that my mom encouraged me from an early age to recite poetry and that my husband never thought my dreams of becoming a full-time writer were stupid. I really emphasized in my talk how important it is to surround yourself as much as possible with people that support your dreams and goals – it makes it much more likely that you will succeed.

These guys don’t need abstract answers – they need specifics in terms of how to make a living in the real world of poetry. I gave them resources, recommended reading, talked about my own experiences – and wished I’d had someone to give me this kind of talk when I was their age. Real talk about the costs vs benefits of college – especially during covid-19 – and building networks when you maybe don’t come from the “right” schools and aren’t friends with the “right” type of person.

Red maple leaves, blue sky

Dreams and Goals

I’ve applied for four jobs in the last two weeks. This is a possibility because right now, it doesn’t matter that I walk with a cane or that some days my MS symptoms keep me from leaping out of bed at 8 AM. Right now, everyone is working from home, at odd hours. My brain and energy are the best they are ever going to be, I realized, and circumstances will never be better for me to get a job – maybe ever again. So I’m going for it. Wish me luck! I hope I can get an opportunity to help support my poetry career and do some good in the world while making money. Is that too much to dream for?

Also, I researched PhD programs for myself and MBA and MS programs for my husband Glenn. I am really encouraging him to use this pandemic time to do something to develop his own career (he encouraged me to get my low-res MFA when I became too sick to work full time over a decade ago now, so it’s time to give him equal opportunity.) And why not try school now, when so many are waiving tests or fees in order to get more students to sign up, and his work will cover a little bit of the cost (better than nothing, but definitely not most of the cost.) I’m not sure the PhD makes sense as much for me – I wouldn’t get a pay raise or a job out of it, necessarily, so the benefits would be mostly inspirational/aspirational.

Tiny typewriter in a pumpkin patch

Learning an Instrument as a Metaphor

I’ve also been contemplating getting myself an electric guitar. I used to play acoustic guitar, growing up, and in high school I even took a few months of lessons. I haven’t played as much since my MS diagnosis, because my hand coordination and strength are not as good as they used to be. However, my dad had electric guitar that I used to practice on, and it was much easier to play and on my hands, so I’m thinking of getting myself one. Glenn also plays drums and guitar, and we like occasionally playing and singing together for fun, so it would be a nice way to spend time together during the winter without going crazy.

Also, something about learning – or in my case, re-learning – an instrument that seems like an apt metaphor for writing. You may have the basics down, but there are always new things to learn, and your brain literally improves the more you force it to learn things you haven’t learned before, like dance steps or piano. And music seems somehow intrinsically connected to poetry, doesn’t it? Even Led Zeppelin or Lana del Rey. I don’t have any delusions about becoming a rock star in my late forties, but it would be cool to get a new hobby going during the cold, dark winter months, and anyway, I already know a little guitar, so it won’t be starting from scratch.

Sunflowers in a windstorm

It also might be a way to connect again with my father, who taught me to play a Spanish guitar song when I was about seven years old, and is himself a pretty good guitar player. I’ve been reconnecting with my mom by reading some of the same books (we just finished Virginia Woolf’s Room of One’s Own) and doing an over-the-phone book club, so this seems an appropriate way to have something to talk to my dad about. I am not especially talented at music, but I love it, and I hope this brings a little bit more of it into my life. (My mom also sent me my Casio keyboard I got for my eighth-grade birthday! Woo! I bet I can still play Prince’s “Paisley Park” on it! Some things you don’t forget…)