Sick in September, an Article on CBD Oil, and Stuck in the In-Between
- At September 20, 2019
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
1
Sick in September – Down But Not Out
Well, I got a rejection (well, a “semifinalist” for one of my book manuscripts, which still feels like a big no) and I’ve been fighting off multiple fall illnesses and feel terrible. I’m lying in bed and drinking ginger tea and I’ve already done a week of antibiotics and vitamins and sleeping way too much. Now, usually, Facebook, reminds me, on this week on most years I’m in the hospital for pneumonia or MS-related vomiting or something else fun, so really, I’m up from the other years, so…yay? Anyway, I applied for a big ole grant (that required 4 (!!) recommenders – thank you to those that offered, I really appreciate it) and revised my book manuscripts yet again. Still feel like sleeping through all day and all night. The weather person keeps telling us it’s been colder and wetter here than usual.
I did have an article come out for Folks PillPack, on CBD oil for MS pain, in case you’d like to read it, called “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Learning to Love CBD Oil for Chronic Pain.” I haven’t written that many personal essays about health stuff – I mean, journalistic writing is something different than a personal article, you know? So I’d appreciate your thoughts on it.
Feeling a Bit…In Between
Have you ever had a period of your life where you felt like nothing was really settled, when you felt like you were in between big things? I’m a Taurus so I don’t like being unsettled. I’ve lost some sources of income that were steady for some years, so I have to think of new ways to bring in income with my current level of health/disability. I can’t travel as much as I’d like. I haven’t had a book come out in three years, which to me, feels like a long pause. I have these two great book manuscripts I’m sending around, and I’m getting nibbles, and I’m getting to “finalist” but not “winner,” and that can be frustrating. My health is better than it was last year, but not by so much that I’m suddenly able to do everything I want – the gains, with MS, seem to be incremental rather than huge steps.
So what do we do with the times in between, like I’m going through now? Sometimes we wait and rest. We try to get a little perspective. The seasons are changing. We just had a beautiful Harvest moon, in between rainstorms.
I was talking to my little brother about “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” It’s just Jerry Seinfeld driving around with various comedians, and often it is unfunny, uncomfortable, and thought-provoking. Comedians are sad by nature. The way they talk about comedy is the way writers talk about writing. Recently Eddie Murphy was featured, and he seemed really melancholy, distant. When I was a teenager he was such a big star. I remember seeing Louis Black on the show and I wrote down this quote: “Importance is the worst thing to put on art…if you think this is important, you’re screwed before you write the first word.” In between gigs, or the highs of careers, comedians are awkward and thoughtful, thinking hard about how to make people laugh, as hard as poets might think about creating their next poem. I have started going to therapy since my cancer and MS diagnoses, and my therapist suggested I should do stand-up. I was like, that’s the only place where I could get paid less and be treated with less respect than poetry. You don’t like being a woman in the poetry world? Try stand up! Also, I’m not sure my jokes about illness would kill with a real-life audience; I have a very specific sense of humor.
Anyway, this is how un-energetic I’ve been – I started this blog post three days ago, and I’m finally finishing it tonight. It’s been cold and rainy, with brief breaks of weak sun, and I haven’t been up to doing much, but Glenn and I took a stroll at the nearby Willows Lodge gardens and I saw the most beautiful blue delphiniums. Such a surprising flower to see at the end of September, when you feel like flowers are the least likely to be at their most beautiful.
I am inspired by being outside, in nature, and even when I’m not at 100 percent I try to do what I can to remind me about what is beautiful in the world, why we keep on fighting to stay in it, why we bother with the whole struggle. Gardening requires a lot of hard work – a lot of plants that don’t take, or that get eaten by deer or rabbits, or the plant gets rotted underground. You take care of the garden because the moments of beauty are the reward. It’s the same with poetry. You send out your work, it mostly gets rejected, sometimes it gets published, and you’re reminded by a kind note from a friend or a good review why you bother with poetry in the first place. Like being a comic, and you’re rewarded by the laughter of an audience. Gardening, Comedy, Surviving a Chronic Illness and Poetry: all require a lot of toil, a lot of faith, a lot of hope, and a lot of failure with sometimes modest results.
Anyway, now my metaphors have meandered from comparing poetry and illness to comedy and gardening, so I’ll end this post with a picture of those blue delphiniums. I wish you moments of beauty in the middle of struggle, in between the highs and lows, that remind you why you do what you do.
Writing from Inside the Thunderstorm, Fall Color, and Submission Season
- At September 08, 2019
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
1
Writing from Inside the Thunderstorm
I’m writing tonight from inside one of the most intense thunderstorms Seattle has seen in over 20 years, with over 1200 lightning strikes in about 45 minutes – not a big deal for other places I’ve lived but a big deal here – cancelling concerts, emptying stadiums, knocking out lights all over the city. If I’m honest, I miss the thunderstorms from my childhood – smelling the electricity in the air, the sound of hail against the windows, the stirring up of everything.
Fall Color in September
And stirring up was in order – just yesterday it was 80 degrees and sunny, more like midsummer than almost-autumn. I went to get my hair cut-and-colored for September and after we walked around in the sunshine on the edge of Lake Washington, almost too hot, posing with some still-blooming roses.
I put up this wreath, and boom! Autumn feels like it’s arrived at our doorstep. I’ve been taking pictures around Woodinville to show that fall color is coming, although the grass is still dry and brown and the leaves haven’t started to change on my trees yet. I also captured a couple of birds – a Steller’s jay and a junco with a sunflower seed in its mouth. The last blooms of September are really something to celebrate – orange dahlias, roses last gasp, vibrant snapdragons, even a pumpkin peeking out or two. These orange dahlias made me want to plant a big patch of orange dahlias somewhere.
- Me post hair
- junco with seed
- orange dahlias
- snapdragons with pumpkin
- Glenn and I on Lake Washington with rose bower
- Steller’s jay
Submission Season – September
Yes, submission season for poets has started in earnest, and I’ve been revising my two book manuscripts, and writing new poems, and gathering poems into groups for different journals. I’m also ready to start reading for real again – I mean, doesn’t September suggest the reading of serious literature, for things that make you think? What are you reading to get you in the mood for fall?
Thinking hard about where to send book manuscripts and which journals to send new poems. It reminds me of the birds showing their plumage and the flowers showing off their brightest color right before they disappear. We are all trying to get noticed, poets, birds, petals – an evolutionary imperative. I think that the last couple of years have given me more perspective, but also given me the desire to aim a little higher, work a little harder on making the poems and manuscripts the best they can be. When my brain is working, and I have energy, I have to remember to work during those times. With multiple sclerosis, you can’t take emotional or mental energy for granted.
There’s a certain amount of luck, chaos, and sheer force of will involved in sending out your work and getting published. Submitting poems during a thunderstorm seems somehow appropriate.
Happy September! New Poem up at Rogue Agent, an Interview, and Fall Submissions
- At September 03, 2019
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
2
Happy September!
This is really one of the most beautiful seasons here in the Seattle area, with late roses, dahlias, and sunflowers still blooming in the gardens, the days are still long and the days get a little more pleasant. I enjoyed our trip to Oregon, but I was even more happy to get home. We went and got flowers and went to our little farmer’s stand, and cut roses and lilacs (!) from our own garden, and I was happy just to relax over Labor Day weekend and catch up on everything, including spending time with our cats, who refused to leave our side for a couple of days.
For my friends who work in academia (or have children,) it’s all about returning to the school’s schedule, but for me, September is a good excuse to get new notebooks and pens and start a new spreadsheet for poetry submissions. It’s also time to enjoy the last little bit of sunshine before the rainy season really sets in. It’s time to put new bulbs in the garden, to watch the last of the summertime sunsets. It’s a good time to get together with friends who’ve been travelling during the summer, and the poetry reading schedule starts up again in earnest. What about you? Is there something you look forward to in September, even if it means leaving summer behind?
A New Poem, “Today, Rose Gold,” Up at Rogue Agent
I have a new poem up at the new issue of Rogue Agent, “Today, Rose Gold,” which talks about dyeing my hair pink and how retail therapy was involved in my recovery from my cancer diagnosis/MS diagnosis in the last couple of years. I really appreciate how the editor puts together every issue, and I also appreciate them giving my work a home.
An Interview with Luna Station Quarterly
Thanks to T.D. Walker who did this interview with me for Luna Station Quarterly about my book, The Robot Scientist’s Daughter. I talk about radioactive flowers, the influence of growing up in Tennessee, and menacing scientists. I apologize for the lateness of this; I was just made aware that it had gone up, so I hope you enjoy it.
Fall Submissions: Impossible?
In the good old days, when I first started submitting, with envelopes and stamps and everything, September 1-June 1 was a reliable open window for most literary magazines. You got all your poems printed up and lined up, and then sent everything out at once. Sure, you waited around nine months for your precious rejection slip, possibly with some writing on it, but it was easy to get going.
This year, when I got ready on September 1 to send out work, I’ve found that some journals have shuttered, others have shrunk or changed their submission windows, and some that should be open as stated on their submission guidelines just…aren’t. Online submitting, which often costs money, seems to me a bit more time-consuming and frustrating that the old method, where you just stuffed your envelope and sent stuff out. Ah well, that’s progress for you. Nowadays you can check in to the online system and see if your poems have been “received,” are “in progress,” or, sometimes, rejected or accepted without an e-mail (it’s happened to me.)
Some things haven’t changed. Along with starting a new Excel spreadsheet for my poems in the fall, I’ll start a new spreadsheet for book manuscript submissions. I’ll research new journals and scan my local bookstores for journals that look interesting. I like seeing journals in person, to see what their covers look like, if they have art work inside, scanning the work for names I recognize or an interesting piece. I know more and more journals are switching to online-only, which seems like a sort of loss. I still have a bookshelf full of journals that date all the way back to the late nineties, with paper evidence of publication which, admittedly, often gathers dust but I love having a paper archive. Some days I think I would have really liked being a librarian, except even libraries are going more and more online.
Anyway, how do you motivate yourself to get your fall submissions rolling after the slower summer season? Do you, like me, save up poems written over the summer to send out in September? What are your favorite new journals, or what journals do you miss the most?
Two New Poems up at Cold Mountain Review and Picturing the Oregon Coast
- At August 28, 2019
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
2
Visit to the Oregon Coast
Just returned from the Oregon Coast – Pacific City, to be exact – where we had this review of a giant sand dune and Haystack Rock each morning and evening from our balcony. Pacific City – which can be reached only with a five and a half hour drive, the last hour of which was a hairpin turned, one-lane bridged mountain road driving – complete with washed-out roads and steep drop offs – almost reminded me of driving through the mountains in Tennessee only to wind up in California. The rocky dunes and steep cliffs, the scrub brush, the surfers – definitely echoed the beaches in northern California. Maybe a little like Big Sur – the lush growth of mountain trees, ending in a spectacular stretch of beach.
Even the birds – when we went through town, which was a bit modest and even seedy in spots – on the river reminded us of California. We saw our share of herons, but we were really excited by a sighting of a great Egret – which we hadn’t seen since we left Napa. We went to a wildlife preserve, where we saw the only flowers we saw in Pacific City. We didn’t encounter the rare butterfly they were trying to protect, but we did run into several deer, which were plentiful just like they were in Port Townsend, Washington, another mostly touristy, small beach town. These little coastal towns are fascinating to me: the people, the landscapes, the jobs, the houses. What are daily lives like when the pace is so different than, say, Portland or Seattle? There are a ton of these little pockets all around Washington and Oregon. You can definitely see the appeal of escaping here.
It’s easy for us to forget that we live so close to so many amazing landscapes – mountain ranges we rarely visit, a roaring ocean we don’t see often enough, a whole different menagerie of birds and butterflies. One of the benefits of taking these kinds of road trips is re-familiarizing yourself with the area you live in, the microclimates, the tiny different ecosystems. Also, we listened to almost the full book (and I finished when I got home) of Yoko Ogawa’s depressing with very salient The Memory Police, about the dangers of succumbing to authoritarian governments without too much resistance. (And also the very Japanese emotion of aware – the sadness and beauty of things that disappear – in this case, memories.) We try to get through one book on every road trip. Glenn said it would be easy to do nothing but watch the sea – as the light changes, as the birds go up and down the beach, watching various vehicles get towed off the beach after getting stuck in the sand.
But I remain attached to Woodinville – the abundance of flowers, especially, and hummingbirds, which were missing in our beach visit. I think of myself more as a tree/forest/waterfall person than a true beach lover. I love the shade rather than sunning. I like the shapes of the leaves overhead. But it is nice to remind ourselves of what is out here. Also, for disabled people, the beach is hard to have fun on. As I discovered quickly, canes sink quickly in the sand, and the person trying to navigate the beach in a puffy-wheeled wheelchair had a really hard time. As it was, I took a few steps towards the water, got my feet wet, and then jumped back into the car (which yes, though it had all-wheel drive, got stuck on the sand, but instead of being towed, we were pushed out by a volunteer gang of teenage volleyball players. I’ve never been so relieved to be surrounded by teens! They cheered as we successfully rolled away, and Glenn and I could not stop laughing.)
Here’s a snapshot in pictures: a cabinet inlaid with slices of geode from the Rowboat Gallery, a friendly deer, the scrub flowers at the wildlife preserve, and us:
- Glenn and I on the beach, with Haystack Rock and dunes
- Friendly Deer
- Wildflowers at the Wildlife Preserve
- Kite over Pacific Ocean
- Cabinet art from Rowboat Gallery
- Glenn and I on the beach (I was sinking in the sand)
Two New Poems up at Cold Mountain Review
Thanks to the new Spring/Summer 2019 issue of Cold Mountain Review, which has two of my new poems in it. The whole issue is beautiful, so check it out. And here’s a sneak peek at one of my poems, “Self-Portrait as Migration,” what I write while I was preparing to go into chemo and reading about the disappearances of poisoned snow geese. Snow geese are one of the birds I had never seen before moving to the Northwest, and they are amazing. Wishing you a quiet and peaceful transition into September.
My New Review up on The Rumpus, Spending Time with Poet Friends, and Unexpected Downtime
- At August 23, 2019
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
1
New Review up on The Rumpus
Happy to have my new review of Lee Ann Roripaugh’s excellent and timely Tsunami vs the Fukushima 50 up at The Rumpus today. Check it out! Sneak peek:
“In Tsunami vs. the Fukushima 50, a book that crackles with imaginative language and mythological retellings that represent real-life disaster, Roripaugh offers the audience a new way to think about nuclear and natural disasters and the remnants and ghosts that remain in their wake. Worth a close reading just for the sonic skills displayed, this book manages to weave a larger message for the reader inside poems that are at once playful, plaintive, and foreboding.”
I really do believe that reviews are part of staying a part of the “giving” part of the poetry community, and I hope that reading this one 1. brings you joy and 2. causes you to look up this book, because I’m very enthusiastic about it.
Spending Time with Poet Friends
Speaking of poetry community, I had the chance to spend some time catching up with my poet friend – or should I say, doctor/poet friend – Natasha K. Moni. She has just opened up her practice in the South Sound, and we talked publishing, book sales, balancing being a writer and a doctor (she also offerings book “doctoring!” – ie editing services!) I mean, that’s a lot going on!
One thing that will always make you feel a little less frustrated and alone in the poetry world in spending time with other writers. Every one of us has good news and bad news, good days and bad days, figuring out this whole “living life as a writer” thing. We have to help each other celebrate and mourn, fight the good fight, etc.
Unexpected Downtime
The fun of having a kind of crappy immune system is that one day you feel fine – see above re: socializing, and the picture of me enjoying some sunshine and flowers at the edge of Lake Washington – and the next, you’ll have to cancel all your appointments and are forced to take some unexpected downtime and go to the doctor instead of doing something “useful.” That was the case for me this week when I caught one of the stomach bugs going around. Mostly it meant lying around groaning (I’m not good with stomach stuff, though I’m pretty tough at this point about most health things) and extra sleep while playing classic movies in the background (the news was much too terrible to contemplate even on a very empty stomach) and it reminded me again that we have to appreciate the good days when they happen, and be gentle on ourselves on the bad days. I used the downtime to order a new Yoko Ogawa novel and peruse some poetry journals which had been lying next to the bed, and decide to grade Audrey Hepburn movies from best to worst (My favorites remain Sabrina and Paris When It Sizzles because writer satire on the latter and Paris featuring in both, plus I would definitely date William Holden and marry Humphrey Bogart.) Funny Face is a distant third, only because Fred Astaire just didn’t seem to have good chemistry with Audrey, but at least it has some nice scenes in a bookstore.
Our society really pounds in the point that we’re only to be valued if we are of use, and that is a negative lesson. Human beings – including myself – have value even if they’re not being “productive” or “turning a profit” or “making widgets.” One thing poetry does is teach people to slow down and evaluate their world (and worldview.) If the news says the world is burning, it may be, and what does that mean? And what can we do about it? That’s why the kind of poetry book I reviewed (link at the beginning of the post) is important – not just that it examines a huge cultural and environmental catastrophe of our time, but that it really makes us thing hard about why these things happen and how we are involved. And maybe even more valuable than the things you plan to do is the unplanned downtime that gives you time to ponder. Even if that downtime is the kind that leaves you moaning in bed.
Well, I’m hoping to post a healthier post next week, but until then, enjoy the last of August before September is upon us. Remember to eat a popsicle and run around barefoot and smell at least one flower before it’s over. I will do the same.
































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.


