New Poem “Meltdown” on Verse Daily Today

Thanks to Verse Daily for featuring my poem “Meltdown” from Sugar House Review today! (And which may be part of an upcoming collection to be announced soon…)

Here’s a sneak peek at the poem:

A Week Away at a Writing Retreat in the Pacific Northwest – with Foxes!

Lighthouse on San Juan Island, Cattle Point

Need to Get Away? To a Writer’s Retreat?

Some writers go to writer’s residencies and retreats frequently. I am not one of those writers. I haven’t been to a writer’s residency in six years. The last time I went, I was working on the manuscript that became Field Guide to the End of the World. I’m coming to this residency to write poems, yes, and send out poems, yes, but also to wrangle three (!) unruly poetry manuscripts that need to get out into the world. This takes more time and concentration than I usually can muster at home. I just finished a first last week – my first ever Virtual Breadloaf (TM) and now I’m taking time to be a writer at a retreat for a whole week!

So what to do? Well, you pack up, get in a car and drive for an hour and a half, then sit in parking lot for the ferry for another hour, then ride the ferry over for an hour, and then, bam! You’re there! Your little cabin in the middle of a university’s marine biology lab center on San Juan Island is ready and waiting to be aired-out and re-cleaned (covid days, of course) and then safely entered into. The skies are blue. The ocean is literally steps away. You can hear crickets. There’s no television. And though many young marine biologists and other scholars crowd the grounds you barely even see any of them except in a distance. You literally interact with no one except a friendly biologist who points you in the direction of the cabin key on arrival.

Typewriter in tree, with ocean

What Makes the Perfect Writer’s Retreat for You?

What each writer needs is different, and when you’re me, boy, you are asking for a handful. Some residencies cook for you and cost no money. Some have nominal fees and/or tough entry applications. There might be one near you that might be a perfect fit. I’m disabled, so that counts out most writer’s residencies across the United States, including some of the most prestigious, I’m sorry to say. And I have food allergies. And I need to be able to drive to it, because, well, right now, immune-compromised and covid. So even though it might not be perfect for everyone, Whiteley Center on San Juan Island – a residency open to scientists and artists alike with its one handicapped-accessible cabin and gorgeous and interesting marine surroundings – ended up being my perfect writer’s retreat. So far, I’ve drafted five new poems, sent out three submissions, edited one of three books and started on another. The internet and cell signals are not robust but enough to get my work done most days. It’s quiet, private, feels fairly safe, and gazes out through big picture windows at trees and ocean. I have a laptop I bring from the reading nook to the kitchen table to the bedroom, along with the stack of reading material I brought for diversion and inspiration. (My husband, importantly, is able to accompany me to be my disability assistant – which is not the case with most residencies. Because lugging trash out 500 feet or laundry a half a mile is tough for disabled folks to do alone. Plus he’s good company and a good cook.)

Red Fox, at South Beach

Plus, I’ve visited Lime Kiln Point, famous for whale-sightings (though not right now – our Orcas seem to be elsewhere these days), American Camp, famous for its foxes (those did not let me down) and quaint Friday Harbor, which, in non-covid times, would be very attractive for its cute restaurants, shops, and galleries. (I’ve only ventured into the co-op for groceries and the drug store for, well, drugs. Because, again, covid.) And I’ve even had a repeat fox visitor here at my very own cabin! This is on top of eagle and heron sightings, seals, and I hope before the end of the trip, otters.  If you bring a car with you – which I’d recommend if you’re disabled, because getting to everything is quite a trek if you’re in a wheelchair, on crutches, or a cane – you can even find the farmer’s market (check) and farms like the lavender farm and alpaca farm. Are all of these things requirements for a good writer’s retreat? No. But might they help inspire you, and even better, make you feel for a little while like you’re in the wild and can really breathe again? You do not have to wear the right clothes or even put on makeup (but maybe a little sunscreen and bug repellent.) It’s so dark and quiet that even I, notorious night owl that I am, have trouble not falling asleep by 11:30 PM.

Sunflowers on the Island

Finding Beauty, Finding Time

And usually I’m an extrovert who loves 1. her routines and 2. infinite forms of diversion so this forces me to rest, focus, and generally regain my sense of wonder and respect for the universe. This last few years have been so stressful, I admit I had lost a sense of how beautiful some parts of the world truly are, and how awe-inspiring mountains and oceans or even just an encounter with a fox can be. I believe this to be good not just for my writing but my soul. When I go home I’ll remember that a place like San Juan Island exists again, which sometimes, when you’re holed up in your house for quarantine for eighteen months, can be a little hard to believe. Magical.

Oh yes, and being away from the television, and social media (unreliable internet again) and all that is probably also good for my brain and soul. It is very hard for me to do an electronics fast at my house – here, I barely notice it. Some writers are able to take a month off from job or family responsibilities – for me, a week or two seems like more than enough time away to get some actual work done – and I mean reading, writing, and even filling out a form or two. (Hate forms!)

My cabin visiting fox friend

And whether or not a residency looks good on your CV or is required for finishing a book, it is certainly something for writers (even writers who think they can’t because of money or kids or disability) to think about. There may be a perfect residency out there for you that affords you exactly the time, space, and awe-inspiring wonder to help you through a difficult creative time. And don’t forget the foxes!

Don’t Do Their Job for Them – More Breadloaf Thoughts and Rejections, Recovery, Rest, and Dahlias

Painted Lady Butterfly, Dahlia

Don’t Do Their Job For Them – More Breadloaf Thoughts and Rejection

So, a day or so ago I got a “big” rejection. A beloved publisher who had had my manuscript for over a year wrote a nice rejection note saying my manuscript had made it through several rounds of readers but alas, they were not going to publish it. And I couldn’t help but be somewhat depressed and discouraged by it. You’d think by this point I’d be used to rejection. But still, sometimes, they hurt. They make me feel stopped at a stop sign of the universe.

This is after a week of getting two regular acceptances (one for a place I’ve wanted to get into a very long time) and a regular rejection. All within a week of still trying to digest the two week extravaganza of virtual Breadloaf.

Someone – or maybe more than one someone – told me during Breadloaf, “Editors and publishers get paid good money to reject your work. Don’t do their work for you.” (On seeing my notes, this was said by Brenda Shaughnessy in her lecture.) That is, don’t pre-reject yourself. Another person told me “It’s a tough time for us to get our work published. Publishers are struggling and overwhelmed with submissions. You have to just keep sending to presses you love. Believe in your work. Don’t give up.” These messages are essentially the same message.

It is work to write, and to write your best work, and it is a different kind of work to send that work out into the world, maybe to be rejected and forgotten. This all while trying not to worry about the world, dying of covid right outside your door, or how to pay your bills, or why you are writing in the first place and not doing something to fix all the problems of that world. And yet, a butterfly outside your door appears, and momentarily, help and hope. And you feel you can write, and send out your work, again.

Red and white dahlia

Recovery and Rest and Dahlias

This week I’ve been recovering (I got sick during virtual Breadloaf, I guess through Zoom? Just kidding. I seem to always catch something during August, somehow – and yes, I took a covid test and it was negative) and been trying to enjoy the clear, cooler days, the last days of summer, the blooming dahlias, the waning August light, the two new piglets at the farm down the street. I’m trying to believe in the good in the world, and making my body healthy and whole by resting and eating fresh vegetables and getting some fresh air and sunlight.

My husband is recovering from a paralyzed vocal cord, a fairly serious and maybe permanent problem. We are planning to take some time off and spend nearby in nature, unplugged from the internet and work and news. (I am also going to my first residency in a long time – I think six years? Too long…)

It is part of a life, a marriage, to being a good writer or a good employee, to take time off, to rest. Especially if you’re in the middle of year two of the plague, if you have immune system problems that make the plague more dangerous that it would be to others, if you feel that you are trembling on the verge of quitting something, if you have become depressed, hopeless, unable to sleep because of anxiety, short-tempered, too angry. It might be good to spend some time with trees in a forest, with waves of a sea bigger than you, to spend time noticing the end of summer blooms, and animal life, around you. In a whirlwind of tragedies, each tragedy might become less real to you, and we lose a bit of our humanity, our empathy, especially when we are stressed and tired and have already felt enough tragedy has happened. (Unfortunately we do not get to control this.) Does the world need you to fix it right this second? (And maybe it does! Heroic actions during tragedies are always welcome.)  Or do you need time to heal yourself before you can do any good in the world? Listen to your self – what do you truly need? And go spend some time listening to the hummingbirds, the dahlias, whatever they’re saying.

Virtual Breadloaf, Some Writer Conference Takeaways, and End of Summer Musings

Red and Yellow Sunflower

Virtual Breadloaf

Today was the last day of the two week journey of this year’s Virtual version of Breadloaf. There were at least twenty lectures from amazing writers of all genres, including non-fiction and screenwriting, several long workshop sessions, pitching sessions, hanging out in a virtual Barn, and even Breadloaf readings on Zoom.

I am so tired it feels amazing that I never left my house for any of this conference! I think the interactions, the intensity of attention, and of course, a lot of hours online took their toll, but it was a wonderful opportunity for someone like me – for whom travel can be a barrier (food allergies, multiple sclerosis-related disability, the costs, etc.) I also enjoyed the fact that I got to meet writers from Japan, Australia and France as well as from all over the US. I got the feeling the attendees were a little more diverse than usual because of the lower barrier to entry (it was also less expensive than the usual full-residency Breadloaf as well.)

Me in a local garden after workshop

I noticed that for me it was important to spent time each day, especially after the intense two-hours at a pop workshop sessions, outside in the fresh air, sunlight, and around living things like flowers. It was like re-grounding after a whole day – from 8 AM my time til about 6 PM – spent in an online format. Glenn took this picture after my workshop day after I had shed jewelry and makeup, and enjoyed a stroll around the garden at Willows Lodge (as well as a visit with their new set of potbellied piglets!) I actually did get a little sick about halfway through the conference – which isn’t unusual for me for August, but because of Delta, the extra stress of “is it covid?” make what was probably just a summer bug more scary.

The last talk was by Jericho Brown, who is always lovely, but his and Brenda Shaughnessy’s talks this week probably had the most emotional resonance for me. Both went a little off-book, which is always a plus in my book, and both had wonderful energy, which really did come through even in the virtual world. Both talked about the importance of being your true self and finding your voice – a theme that came through in several of the talks during the two weeks. It will take me a while to digest everything that I took away – but besides the official talks, the things I picked up hanging out with other writers in the off time, the pitches, and the workshop.

Some Takeaways from Breadloaf

Me post-Breadloaf reading, Glenn shot this while I took my glasses off in my garden

I was nervous that Breadloaf was only for younger writers, but I met people of all ages and backgrounds, which was great. I thought my workshop was full of really talented writers, and I was impressed by the level of writing at the attendee readings as well. The atmosphere of one of the oldest and most prestigious writers conferences in the country was much less stuffy or pretentious than I imagined it would be – could the virtual aspect of it make it seem more accessible?

I got lots of advice on publishing and lots of encouragement as well. A lot of kindness from people. I think it will have been a worthwhile thing to have done looking back. Now I need to actually apply the advice from workshop and on publishing and get to revising and sending out my work. I hope I stay in touch with at least a few friends I made, and crossing fingers for the manuscript that was sent in from one of my pitch sessions. You never know!

In a year (and a half) characterized by so much lack of socialization, going to a virtual writers conference was a great way to feel like I wasn’t totally isolated and that I was part of a larger writing community. It was also fun getting advice from other people who had been to Breadloaf before me about how to get the most out of it.

Field of wildflowers, Woodinville, WA

End of Summer Musings

It’s getting cooler here and more overcast, though barely a sprinkling of rain to relieve our long drought. The last flowers are blooming now – cosmos, dahlias, sunflowers – and they’ll be done soon, and we’ll be in the middle of autumn before we know it.

I realize that the last two weeks were full of disaster – from rising Delta cases and deaths and hospital overflow, to the Afghanistan situation, to wildfires all around the West Coast – and even if you feel helpless with nearly all of those problems, it’s important to feel like you can take positive steps to help, like giving to a charity or just trying to do what you can for those around you who might be struggling.

Food banks are still having a hard time, hospital workers are overworked, people who are chronically ill, going through chemo, or otherwise immune-compromised, could use at the least a friendly check-in because they probably feel especially vulnerable right now. Be nice to your friends who are doctors and nurses, who may be struggling with depression and burnout. A good place to send some money, besides food banks, is the excellent, well-vetted charity, the Malala Fund, https://malala.org. 

Hummingbird with last penstemon

For those of you going back to teaching or sending kids to school this fall, I know you are stressed out. Things will eventually get better. As as me, I am thinking positive: people will get vaccinated or they will have antibodies from having caught a version of this virus, even if we might need a booster shot or continue to mask up for a little bit longer.

Do be kind to yourselves, as well as others. It’s been a really long eighteen or so months. Here’s hoping for a peaceful and healthier winter season. It would be nice to be able to visit friends and family for the the holidays…

A Week of Wildfire Smoke and the First Week of Breadloaf: Late Summer Edition, Plus, the Sealey Challenge Continues

Pink Dahlia

A Week of Wildfire Smoke And Heat Waves

So this last week we had temperatures in the nineties plus a wave of wildfire smoke came in, it seemed, from every direction – there are fires in Canada above, Eastern Washington, California, and Oregon – so for a few days I couldn’t even open a window or walk outside without getting dizzy and my eyes watering.

We’re hoping for some rain to come in, and looking further, I’m just really excited about fall happening again. I got news I’ll be eligible for a booster covid shot, due to my multiple immune system problems, so that’s something. I just recovered from my tetanus shot of last week! With Delta coming around, I haven’t been getting out and about too much. It’s a good thing I’ve had virtual Breadloaf this week to distract me from the heat, the smoke, and the virus (plus my sore arm from the TDAP shot – man, that was way worse than the covid shot, for those who were wondering!)

Immature Rufous in flight

The First Week of Breadloaf: Late Summer Edition

So, during the first week of Breadloaf, I mostly went to lectures, plus I had me editor/publisher “pitch” sessions, which are fifteen minute Zoom meetings with either lit mag editors or book publishing people. I got Graywolf and Four Way, which were both lovely, but I was so nervous about them! I can’t believe I was so nervous about pitching poetry! This was also my first time at any Breadloaf, because they offered a Virtual option. I wish all the big conferences offered this, because I got to meet writers from both coasts, but also France and Australia, which I think makes the whole conference more interesting. It also seemed that the conference faculty and attendees were more diverse than at least I was expecting.

In the pitches, I also asked some questions about the publishing world in general right now (hard! Libraries and bookstores are buying fewer books, and without readings it’s been tougher to sell books – but the good news was, people like me – disabled and unable to travel as much – may benefit in the long-term from the new structures in publishing – relying more on social media and Zoom readings.) So, interesting stuff. Now I wish I could just schedule fifteen minutes with all the publishers of my choice, because it’s much easier to get a handle on what a press is about this way. I also wish MFA programs included meetings like this – mine did not.

Apples on the tree

One thing that surprised me about the lectures – the ones with the “superstars” were only okay, and the ones with writers that were new to me were the most thought-and-poem inspiring. I wonder if expectation factored into this – or as another Breadloaf attendee observed, prose writers are just better at prose presentations, or less well-known writers work harder on their talks? Two of the best lectures this week so far at (Virtual) Breadloaf were by Jess Row and Tania James, two writers I didn’t know about before the conference. My loss! Jess talked about writing the political and economic within scenarios of apocalypses and Tania about writing surprise (including example short stories about transforming into a deer or eating children.) Both were brilliant.

I thought I’d be writing way more (I’ve only written one poem this week) but I feel like thinking about ways to write after each lecture was good and the pitches were good, but everything online seems to take way more energy than in person and I ended up napping way more than I expected (this could also be related to the heat.) All this staring at screens did motivate me last week to go get an overdue eye exam which resulted in two new pairs of glasses, including readers – prescriptions plus some magnification for computer reading. Both pairs were pink – one sparkly, one neon. It seems metaphorical – looking at life through literally a new lens. I’m looking forward to next week, when I’ll be really immersed with hours of workshop AND lectures. And then it will almost be September!

Prometeo by C. Dale Young with Red Sunflowers

The Sealey Challenge Continues

So, I have not been able to do a book of poetry a day in August, which is sort of the goal, but I haven’t totally abandoned it either. I ordered a bunch of books before Breadloaf started, which have sort of tricked in nicely, giving me time to appreciate each book.

New this week: C. Dale Young’s Prometeo from Four Way Books, about love/sex/death/identity/faith/palm trees (also it made me cry within 15 minutes.) Also, Sally Rosen Kindred’s When the Wolf from Diode Editions, and Kelly Cressio-Moeller’s Shade of Blue Trees from Two Sylvias Books.

Since I’m already reading a ton of books for Breadloaf, I’m only doing a little extra reading, but I figure the point of the Sealey Challenge is to get us to read a few more poetry books in August, and help us purchase some books during a notoriously slow time for poetry book sales. It’s been good for me to get so many different points of view at the conference and through reading so many poets, known and unknown, friends and strangers. Also, I can feel virtuous supporting small presses, indie bookstores and/or buying directly from poets! 100 percent recommend if you are feeling the August doldrums.