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.