Welcome to October, Talking Digital Technology and Loss, Tall Ships, Hawks, and The Future of Poetry

Pumpkins and hay bale

Welcome to October

October is here, hence the pumpkins and hay bales showing up at local shops. I’ve been a little under the weather (emergency dental work + upper respiratory infection + getting up early to Skype into a panel on Digital Technology at Missouri State University = fever, antibiotics, and bed rest.) I’ve been wrapping up in cardigans and jackets, and walking out on my deck every time we get a little sunbreak. It’s still a little early to plant bulbs and I’ve been too sick to do too much gardening, but I’ve been enjoying taking pictures of the last remaining flowers in October and got some great shots of local birds – lucky shots, really, of birds that don’t land in my backyard very often, like the Cooper’s Hawk and Pileated Woodpecker. I feel like we are lucky in every season here, to see beautiful scenes here in the Northwest (though I may be grumpier in late November, when we’ve succumbed to more dark and more rain.) For now, I’m enjoying the cooler temperatures and the change in landscape.

Talking Digital Technology and Loss

Tall Ship at sunset, Kirkland

Going to doctors and dentists took up a lot of my time the last week, but at least on the way home from one appointment I got to see a Tall Ship at the Kirkland marina at sunset, which is pretty great to see at any time.

So, this last week I visited (by Skype) Missouri State University for a conference on Digital Technology, and had a chance to talk with students and faculty about the influence of digital technology on the arts and the workplace. A theme I noticed from the other panelists in response to a lot of questions about social injustice, jobs, and the future, was: prepare to be a lifelong learner, be persistent and be resilient. I took a moment to be real and said “I did not plan to leave my Microsoft technology manager job to be sick. I was too sick to work. Then I had to pivot and decide what to do next.” Loss will come to these young people whether they are prepared or not: loss of health, loss of loved ones, loss of jobs. Loss is always, somehow, an unwelcome surprise. When, and not if, you encounter that, you have to be prepared to say: “What can I do next?” When I collapsed during my job at Microsoft, and decided I could not go back to the ninety-hour work weeks, my husband encouraged me to try being a writer full-time. I went back to school (again) to get my MFA, and published my first book. I tried teaching but discovered that most academic institutions were eliminating tenure-track jobs and only using adjuncts for most classes. So I had to give up on that dream, too. In the last few years, when I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I said to myself: “What now?” One of my priorities was getting to enjoy more of my life. I got myself a “real” camera and started taking photos of birds, flowers, trees, just normal, ordinary things, but things I wanted to remember. Then, later the same year, when I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, another unplanned loss, I thought, “Okay, what do I do now? How do I prepare for the future? How can I take the best care of myself so I can continue to do things that bring joy to my life?” Anyway, heavy topic matter for a college conference, but I wish I had been told these things when I was a little younger. There is no real way to prepare for the surprise losses in our life, is there? But knowing that loss is part of life may help you to keep your footing when it does happen.

Sylvia posing with The Undying and SoundMachine

Speaking of surviving loss, I started Anne Boyer’s terrific memoir about her experiences with cancer in The Undying. I also started Rachel Zucker’s almost-prose-book SoundMachine. I was really enjoying the last section on residencies of SoundMachine, when Sylvia decided to take possession of the book and insisted on napping on just that section. Rachel talks about some of the normal annoyances that come with residencies (that you rarely hear about when writers gush about going to Yaddo or whatever) – being unable to sleep on the beds, being unable to write, worrying about being unconnected from your family, having no wifi. When you are handicapped and have food allergies, by the way, residencies become even less of a solid win – will the place be wheelchair-accessible? Will they have food I can eat? Will I b able to shower? For a long time it was hard to even find out that information – now places are finally starting to address accessibility in descriptions, but slowly.

Red and white rose

There have been other losses in the poetry world recently – Ahsahta Press, which did beautiful books for a long time, is closing. The editor and poet Jon Tribble, who I had the pleasure of meeting a few times at AWP and who worked tirelessly at Crab Orchard Books most recently, passed away. A friendly and generous man, the social media world suddenly lit up with words about how he had supported and encouraged so many writers, as well as his poems – it really makes you think about legacy. Will we leave behind memories not only of our poems, but of our kindnesses? I think of all the poets who have passed away in the last couple of years, as well as the musicians, and it seems like the artistic world is poorer for these losses. We have to celebrate the artists we love more, and tell them we appreciate them while they are still alive. Yes, go to that reading, or concert, or book launch, or art exhibit – and tell those whose work we love how much we love it. These connections and moments are not nothing – we should celebrate more, not less, in the face of loss.

Sunflowers

What is the Future of Poetry?

All this talk got me thinking about the future of poetry and the impact of digital technology. I’m not afraid of robots taking our jobs yet – I haven’t met a robotic great writer yet. But perhaps the way we share and learn poetry will be different. Will poetry books be less important that single poems? In a generation that lives on Instagram and Twitter, will a single line of poetry be more important than a whole poem? If universities are not only taking away tenure-track jobs but their support of university presses, where will poetry be published? Who will be the important and relevant publishers of the future? My guess is, those presses are just starting now, with editors twenty years younger than me who understand what appeals to the next generation of readers and how to present poetry to them.

Twenty years ago, my professors told me not to publish in online journals because it would somehow sully my reputation. Now online journals are an important pillar of the poetry community, and even the most old-school journals must adapt to having an online presence or perish. Some of the journals I grew up admiring have disappeared, being replaced by a horde of newer journals. Just as medicine has changed over the years, the poetry world too has been updating and mutating. A lot of the changes are positive and exciting – I see more diversity in voices, which was overdue, and more women and people of color in charge of journals and presses, also overdue. Perhaps poetry books as we know them will change – become multi-media, include more art or music or performance aspects. The voices that will become prominent in 20 years will certainly be different than those I was taught in school. The answer won’t be too different than the advice from the panelists at the conference: Stay flexible. Be persistent. Be resilient. We cannot predict the future, but we can know and be prepared to pivot. With that, I will take a look at my book manuscripts and poems again and think about where to send them. Wishing you a calm and refreshing October, with hope for the future.