While passing time at the gigantic Bellevue library this afternoon, I ran across the best (and most amusing) thing I’ve read in Poetry (this was the July/August issue) in some time:
http://www.poetrymagazine.org/magazine/0707/comment_179843.html
This essay ostensibly and comically describes the difference between fiction writers and poets from the perspective of a somewhat flibberty-gibbetish fiction writer in love with a poet; fiction writers are “too busy writing to read” while poets are “always reading,” the fiction writer writes 13 pages while the poet leans her head against the window waiting for the poem to hit, etc.
My favorite part was the tongue in cheek part about payment, near the ending:
“But it’s been a good week for us. I sold my new novel, after a bidding war, for $11 million, and my Poet had a poem taken by a well-known literary journal, which gave payment in the form of an origami swan made out of her recycled submission. “
And the part where the poet throws books by beautiful-young-prizewinning-theorist-poets she’s reviewing across the room. Not that I would know anything about that. No sirree.
I also checked C. Dale Young’s second book out of the library, along with Natasha Tretheway’s Belloq’s Ophelia, which I had skimmed but hadn’t really read – it’s a series of poems about a prostitute in New Orleans who was photographed early last century; they’re mostly persona poems, truly well done. It’s an easy book to read in one sitting, moving and graceful.
I also sent a query in to Poets & Writers Magazine with an article idea. I figure, maybe I should try to write for magazines which have something to do with what I do all day. You know, crazy ideas like that. And an MS into BOA. Wish me luck…
Well, I’m back from Portland only slightly worse for wear (I’m sure 72 hours of sleep will fix that right up) and since I received official written notification, I’m pretty sure I can share my good news I’ve been blathering on about:
My first ever grant! Washington State Artist Trust has awarded me a GAP (grant for artists) grant for my Japanese book project, titled something like “The Woman Disappears” or “She Returns to the Floating World,” depending on my mood. (Please feel free to opine on title in the comments.) Thanks so much for your comments and encouragement last week 🙂 I especially liked the guess that I had the Guggenheim, which I thought was quite optimistic and sweet! Maybe someday…
For now, I’m very excited about this and take it as a sign I should not run off and become a sculptor or something. I have oft described myself as someone who doesn’t win grants, so now I have to come up with some other descriptor. I also know that my fellow Steel Toe Books author Martha Silano, and local writer-friends Susan Rich and Ronda Broatch, were awarded grants as well. Congrats girls! The total number of writers awarded grants was about half the number of visual artists, and several less than the number of theater-related artists. Maybe we writers should start submitting slide shows with our grant applications.
The graduation party at Pacific was a lot of fun (though technically I graduated in January, we didn’t have a party then, so…) and got to visit with all my former advisors who were all sweet and enthusiastic. One of the faculty whom I adore, Sandra Alcosser, with whom I never got to work officially, actually gave me notes on my second book MS, and really encouraged me, giving me specific feedback and telling me to hit the contests hard. The difference between this particular low-res program and my residential MA at U of Cincinnati is pretty shocking in terms of – at UC you were lucky to get any outside-of-class one-on-one time with any of the workshop leaders, whom you saw once a week for workshop – at this MFA program I’m pretty sure all the faculty keep better track of me than my grandmother (some of them knew about my grant before I did!) and they are all just so supportive and generous with their time. Genuinely interested in how the students are doing, in their work. Maybe it’s just Pacific, and I know I had a great bunch of unique advisors, but sheesh! I’m thinking of adopting them as my extended family. I strongly recommend low-res programs to anyone who wants one-on-one time with great writers. If you want a lot of peer review, you’re better off at a residential program, though.
I also loved visiting with the younger students, especially this new bunch of girls who are so bright and interested in feminism etc. They’re a pretty impressive group, and when I hang around them I think “it wouldn’t be so bad teaching college.” Of course I’m always giving them advice like “learn technical writing/journalism/advertising writing so you can support yourself and not end up relying on your husband or boyfriend or starving” which I’m pretty sure is exactly what my mom said to me in my early twenties and why I worked ten years in corporate America before I focused on writing poetry. It’s my cynical nature, perhaps, but I believe artistic-type writers should also have a “trade” so they can feed themselves and have health insurance while they’re waiting for their big breaks, especially the single girls who might otherwise be tempted by some jerky rich guy. Or if they’re poets, because even our big breaks are somewhat less than inspiring financially than the fiction or memoirist’s big breaks. What do you guys think? Is that a good or bad thing to tell a young creative writer? Am I a terrible influence on young minds?
Okay, I’m going to unpack and breathe, but, oh, I am feeling happy and grateful and ready to face the rejection slips again!
Well, since I can’t tell you my good news yet (I’ll give you a hint – it has to do with a “g” word rather than a “b” word) I’ll give you a funny anecdote instead…
Yesterday, I went to my doctor and then to get my hair cut (sounds like a weird combination, but they are right next door to each other, and since I had to get some more tests done for my weird fever situation, I thought I might get my hair done as well.) The first thing I thought, after talking with a new doc at the office and then to a new hairdresser, is that if doctors listened as well as hairdressers, we would all be in better health. (No offense, Peter or C. Dale. I’m sure you are both great listeners 😉
My new hairstylist had recently visited Chile with friends, one of whom offered to take her on a tour of Pablo Neruda’s homes. We talked about how important poetry was to the culture there. Then she said, “ARE there any American poets?” And I said, “Yes, but they’re all in hiding at universities.”
This conversation led me to think that maybe all those studies showing people just aren’t aware of contemporary poetry are right on. Perhaps poets should join an American Idol tour or something. Or we should create a show called “So You Think You Can Write…” My dream judging panel would be Louise Gluck or Margaret Atwood (for the strict one) Denise Duhamel (the bubbly one) and maybe Bob Hicok (the one who has the feel-good factor but says things that make very little sense.)
Would you watch that show?
Leaving tomorrow for Portland again, be back Monday…
Back from Portland, exhausted but feeling like, although I am the middle of a crossroads (where to live, what to do for a living, figuring out general purpose of life, etc) things will work out. Got to chat with Pattiann Rogers a little while I was at school,and caught up with friends, which was cool, as well as catch a reading (Joe Millar and Claire Davis.) Stayed up too late visiting, though.
Actually had nice weather for once on the way down, so we stopped by The City of Roses’ actual rose garden, where some middle-aged folks were dancing around with scarves (Solstice celebration) and a bride with a train was walking awkwardly through the wet grass. Every color of rose was in bloom – lavender, peach, yellow, white with red stripes, tiny pink, giant pink, orange, climbing roses…and a view of a snowy volcano (Mt. Hood) in the background.
And now I’ve done my last reading for the summer, time to turn my attention to working (writing for money,) writing (poetry, not for money,) and sending out books/poetry packets. And maybe having some fun, visiting with family, my cats, and my husband.
Jeannine Hall Gailey served as the second Poet Laureate of Redmond, Washington and the author of Becoming the Villainess, She Returns to the Floating World, Unexplained Fevers, The Robot Scientist’s Daughter, and winner of the Moon City Press Book Prize and SFPA’s Elgin Award, Field Guide to the End of the World. Her latest, Flare, Corona from BOA Editions, was a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She’s also the author of PR for Poets, a Guidebook to Publicity and Marketing. Her work has been featured on NPR’s The Writer’s Almanac, Verse Daily and The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror. Her poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Poetry, and JAMA.
