60º ~ sunny beauty ahead of another whack from another polar vortex headed our way later today through Wednesday..."uncle"!
As many of you know, I was on the road last weekend, giving readings with Jacar Press in North Carolina, and then, I had my Little Rock launch of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths on Tuesday night. Despite winter storm Pax disrupting the beginning of my NC trip and causing us to have to cancel the reading at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill, the rest of the readings were thrilling, with wonderful audiences and, in the case of NC, amazing co-readers.
During one of my readings, a poet-friend asked for advice on how to read well. I know that much of this has been said elsewhere, but here are my tips and tricks.
1. Think about the poetry reading you have enjoyed the least and analyze why. If it wasn't a matter of poetics and/or subject matter, it was probably a matter of performance. If it was a matter of performance, jot down all the things you would have done differently and implement that list the next time you read.
2. I want to be entertained at a reading. Yes, I know there is a difference between performance poetry (i.e. spoken word) and page poetry, but if folks are going to come out to hear me read, then I'm going to read like I mean it, and that means adopting some elements of performance, first and foremost, projection (of the voice). I'm a terrible actor, but I do remember the brief lessons in speaking from the diaphragm that I received in a college acting class. Those lessons have been priceless whenever I read.
3. If you are nervous about a venue, check it out in advance. The best option is to attend a poetry reading at the same venue before your own event so you can see the layout and watch how things run. In this past week I read at a coffee shop (espresso maker whirring, dish washer behind the bar chugging, chairs scraping, & etc.), at a restaurant with a stage (and a Southern debutante birthday party going on to my left as I read), and in the quiet cathedral of Richard Krawiec and Sylvia Freeman's home. In all three places, those who were there for poetry were amazing audiences. In the coffee shop and restaurant, it was my job to deliver for those who had shown up to support poetry and me. Here is where 'teacher voice' comes in handy in being heard over coffee machines and debutantes alike.
4. If you don't have experience using a mic, find a way to get some. Ask a friend who has access to a PA system let you practice. Ask the venue operator to let you come early for an event and do a sound check. Find out if there will be a podium or not. (I prefer not, but that's just me.) Be prepared to read with a mic and without, with a podium and without.
5. Know your poems. Know them backwards, forwards, and inside out. At every reading I did in the past week and a half, I flubbed one or two lines (in one case leaving out an entire line!) due to sound or movement distractions, but because I had the poems near-memorized I just kept going. I didn't have to fumble to find my place. When kids getting ready for music recitals are told to "just keep playing," there's a reason for that. Fumbling by the performer causes the audience to dis-engage, to check their text messages, to whisper to the people nearby, etc. Don't give them a chance!
6. Practice your performance. Just like an actor would mark up a script, I mark up the poems I will read. Yes, the enjambment and end-stops should be clear on the page, but when I'm in front of an audience, I don't want to have to guess, AND I don't want to have to scrutinize the page. I also make breath marks (sometimes a carrot mark, sometimes the abbreviation "br.")
7. Know the limits of your own eyesight. Many poetry books and journals use 10 point font. In the weird lighting of some venues, especially if a spot light is on you, there can be a shadow on the page. Do not hesitate to print your work out on regular paper in larger font. Even if you have a book, you can hold the book as a prop and as a publicity tool, then, just set it down and read from the larger font. I promise you, the audience will understand.
8. Acknowledge your audience. Try to make eye contact in between poems or in major pauses within a poem. The best trick for me is to locate one receptive person in the audience on my left, one in front of me, and one on my right, and read to them. These people might be friends or acquaintances; however, they are just as likely to be strangers. I pick them because of body language and their own eye contact with me. I use these folks as my thermometer to gauge audience reaction to certain poems and to tell me when the audience has had enough.
9. Let the audience know where you are in terms of your set list from time to time. For example, I might say, "I'm going to read two poems from my first book, and then focus on The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths." Then, when I'm winding down, I will say, "I've got three more poems for you all." (Be sure to check the temperature of the audience and drop a few poems from your intended reading list if they seem restless.) As an audience member myself, this is reassuring and lets me know the poet is conscious of my presence in the audience. It will also give anyone pause if he/she is tempted to text or step out to use the wash room or the like.
10. Try to have fun. If you are tense, the audience will be tense. If you are calm and collected (or can fake it until you make it), then the audience will give you their trust.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Saturday, February 8, 2014
February: The Month of Travels, Readings, Panels, and More
29º ~ 3 inches of perfect snow, no wind, struggling to get above freezing, our "new normal" 20 - 30 degrees below our "old normal"
The weather has been downright Midwestern of late, but February is marching on, and it is chock full of poetry adventures and readings to celebrate the publication of book #2: The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths.
This past Thursday, we hosted Jericho Brown at the Big Rock Reading Series at PTC. It was a spectacular reading, and while a wee bit of snow earlier in the day dampened our turnout a bit, we still had about 50 folks there.
Next week, my travels begin. At the end of the week, I'll fly to North Carolina for the following events.
Thursday (2/13): Flyleaf Books Second Thursday Poetry Reading
Flyleaf Books, Chapel Hill, 7:00 - 8:30 p.m.
Featured readers at the monthly Second Thursday poetry series will be Maura High, author of The Garden of Persuasions, winner of the Jacar Press 2013 Chapbook Contest, and Sandy Longhorn, author of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths, winner of the 2013 Jacar Press Full-Length Poetry Book Contest.
Friday (2/14): Wake Tech Community College
Visiting Al Maginnes' classes at Wake Tech. Wahoo!
I'll get to read to and talk with Al's students and also spend time with my po-brother!
Saturday (2/15): Second (Third!) Saturday at Tate Street Coffee House
Tate Street Coffee House, Greensboro, 7:00 - 9:00 p.m.
This trip means I'll get to meet Richard Krawiec of Jacar Press in person and continue by onslaught of thanks for his publishing of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths. I also get to spend time with friends I don't get to see nearly often enough, and I get to meet spouses and/or children I've only known through Facebook. Wahoo!
~~~
Back home in Little Rock, I'll be gearing up for my Little Rock launch of the new book on Tuesday (2/18). I'm so honored to be launching the book here with a reading at South on Main, the restaurant associated with the Oxford American. As part of the extravaganza, my PTC colleague and friend, Dr. Barry McVinney will perform with his jazz ensemble, Trio Cabrito, from 7:00 - 8:00 p.m. Then, I'll take the stage (yes, there's a stage!) at 8:00 for some poems and some Q & A.
Double bonus...the food at South on Main is deeeviiiiine.
~~~
Then, we wind up the month with all things AWP (2/26 - 3/2). Seattle, are y'all ready for this?
At this point, I don't have any readings scheduled, but I'll have copies of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths in my backpack, and a Square reader attached to my phone. Anyone want a copy?
I have one panel, so here is where you are guaranteed to find me. The panel will talk about setting up a reading series or festival at two-year colleges, which present unique hurdles; however, I'm sure much of the information will transfer to community events, four-year colleges/universities, or high schools.
vent Title: Here We Gather: History and Advice on Setting Up a Writers Conference, Festival, or Colloquium at a Two-Year College
Scheduled Day: Saturday, 3/1/2014
Scheduled Time: 12:00:PM - 01:15:PM
Scheduled Room: Room LL4, Western New England MFA Annex, Lower Level
Otherwise, I'm playing this one by ear folks. If you want my cell number, send me a message. Texting is the best and surest way of planning once my sneakers hit the concrete floors of the convention center.
~~~
My one request of y'all, Dear Readers, please do whatever weather dance, prayer, sacrifice, or ritual you do to make sure this winter weather blows itself right on outta here early next week, so we may all arrive safely and soundly, AND ON TIME, wherever it is that poetry/writing is taking us in the days to come.
The weather has been downright Midwestern of late, but February is marching on, and it is chock full of poetry adventures and readings to celebrate the publication of book #2: The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths.
This past Thursday, we hosted Jericho Brown at the Big Rock Reading Series at PTC. It was a spectacular reading, and while a wee bit of snow earlier in the day dampened our turnout a bit, we still had about 50 folks there.
Next week, my travels begin. At the end of the week, I'll fly to North Carolina for the following events.
Thursday (2/13): Flyleaf Books Second Thursday Poetry Reading
Flyleaf Books, Chapel Hill, 7:00 - 8:30 p.m.
Featured readers at the monthly Second Thursday poetry series will be Maura High, author of The Garden of Persuasions, winner of the Jacar Press 2013 Chapbook Contest, and Sandy Longhorn, author of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths, winner of the 2013 Jacar Press Full-Length Poetry Book Contest.
Friday (2/14): Wake Tech Community College
Visiting Al Maginnes' classes at Wake Tech. Wahoo!
I'll get to read to and talk with Al's students and also spend time with my po-brother!
Saturday (2/15): Second (Third!) Saturday at Tate Street Coffee House
Tate Street Coffee House, Greensboro, 7:00 - 9:00 p.m.
| Jacar Press poets Maura High, Edison Jennings, and Sandy Longhorn will be traveling to Greensboro to read for us at Tate Street Coffee House on Saturday, February 15, at 7:00pm. |
This trip means I'll get to meet Richard Krawiec of Jacar Press in person and continue by onslaught of thanks for his publishing of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths. I also get to spend time with friends I don't get to see nearly often enough, and I get to meet spouses and/or children I've only known through Facebook. Wahoo!
~~~
Back home in Little Rock, I'll be gearing up for my Little Rock launch of the new book on Tuesday (2/18). I'm so honored to be launching the book here with a reading at South on Main, the restaurant associated with the Oxford American. As part of the extravaganza, my PTC colleague and friend, Dr. Barry McVinney will perform with his jazz ensemble, Trio Cabrito, from 7:00 - 8:00 p.m. Then, I'll take the stage (yes, there's a stage!) at 8:00 for some poems and some Q & A.
Double bonus...the food at South on Main is deeeviiiiine.
~~~
Then, we wind up the month with all things AWP (2/26 - 3/2). Seattle, are y'all ready for this?
At this point, I don't have any readings scheduled, but I'll have copies of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths in my backpack, and a Square reader attached to my phone. Anyone want a copy?
I have one panel, so here is where you are guaranteed to find me. The panel will talk about setting up a reading series or festival at two-year colleges, which present unique hurdles; however, I'm sure much of the information will transfer to community events, four-year colleges/universities, or high schools.
vent Title: Here We Gather: History and Advice on Setting Up a Writers Conference, Festival, or Colloquium at a Two-Year College
Scheduled Day: Saturday, 3/1/2014
Scheduled Time: 12:00:PM - 01:15:PM
Scheduled Room: Room LL4, Western New England MFA Annex, Lower Level
Otherwise, I'm playing this one by ear folks. If you want my cell number, send me a message. Texting is the best and surest way of planning once my sneakers hit the concrete floors of the convention center.
~~~
My one request of y'all, Dear Readers, please do whatever weather dance, prayer, sacrifice, or ritual you do to make sure this winter weather blows itself right on outta here early next week, so we may all arrive safely and soundly, AND ON TIME, wherever it is that poetry/writing is taking us in the days to come.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Another Contributor Post, A Cool Subscription Drive, and More
35º ~ a wicked wind brings the cold in close beneath the layers and sinks it deep...many sympathies to friends and family in the north country...brrrrrrrrrrr
Last year, I was thrilled beyond measure when the North American Review published "Having Been Outside the Body," one of the early fever poems from the sickly speaker series. The editors have given me a chance to say some words about the poem and the project on their blog, and the post is up today.
~~~
I mentioned this in November or December, and it is happening NOW. Hayden's Ferry Review is having a super cool subscription drive. Several contributors to the most recent issue provided paper airplanes with handwritten work, in my case with a spontaneous, never-to-be-published poem. If you want my airplane/poem, subscribe on February 3. (I made 5 planes...all with the same poem.) Other contributors and corresponding dates are provided on the link.
~~~
Holy Poets, Batman! Next week, I host Jericho Brown at the Big Rock Reading Series at PTC. Tons to do before the big event, but looking forward to it in a BIG way!
~~~
It is official. I can read mass market fiction on an e-reader, but I have to have a hard copy book for poetry, literary fiction, essays, etc.
~~~
For everyone's health and safety, I'll be getting up at 5:00 a.m. from Monday - Thursday only. Last Friday, I was in near zombie mode. Still, I LOVE the quiet and the words at that hour.
Last year, I was thrilled beyond measure when the North American Review published "Having Been Outside the Body," one of the early fever poems from the sickly speaker series. The editors have given me a chance to say some words about the poem and the project on their blog, and the post is up today.
~~~
I mentioned this in November or December, and it is happening NOW. Hayden's Ferry Review is having a super cool subscription drive. Several contributors to the most recent issue provided paper airplanes with handwritten work, in my case with a spontaneous, never-to-be-published poem. If you want my airplane/poem, subscribe on February 3. (I made 5 planes...all with the same poem.) Other contributors and corresponding dates are provided on the link.
| Image belongs to HFR, but that's my poem/plane front and center, nose-dived in, on dusky blue paper. |
Holy Poets, Batman! Next week, I host Jericho Brown at the Big Rock Reading Series at PTC. Tons to do before the big event, but looking forward to it in a BIG way!
~~~
It is official. I can read mass market fiction on an e-reader, but I have to have a hard copy book for poetry, literary fiction, essays, etc.
~~~
For everyone's health and safety, I'll be getting up at 5:00 a.m. from Monday - Thursday only. Last Friday, I was in near zombie mode. Still, I LOVE the quiet and the words at that hour.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Draft Notes: Little One Records the Family History
31º (feels like 22º) ~ oh wicked wind chills why have you sunk so far south?
I have no confidence in the poem I wrote this morning. Zero. None.
However, I am dancing in my seat because I did write a draft. After all, that's what I'm waking up so early to do, no? I have been spending my morning time sending out submissions of both individual poems to journals and of the fever book to publishers. I have been reading books of poetry and journals and blogs when I can. Yet, I really mean for this time to also serve as drafting time.
So, this morning, I started by collecting words from my edition of Emily Dickinson's Selected Letters and from a collection of poems I've been reading. As the words built in my journal, I had an idea and I turned the page to draft a poem. A little waft of hope rose up in me as I've been away from drafting for far too long. Alack & Alas! That draft turned into vapor.
So, back I went to my gathering of words, and slowly, torturously, phrases began to build. There were many false starts in the journal. Then, I felt like I had the beginnings of a solid body for a draft, so I turned to the computer. After I'd typed out what looked like the first stanza (which was tight and singing), the second stanza foundered. So, I put the cursor in between and hit enter a few times to create some open space. I fiddled. I cast about in my word bank. I began to despair.
And then, I heard what came next and how to keep the lines tight and singing rather than lumbering and foundering. Now I have three stanzas of what I think constitutes a whole draft. It features "Little One," the youngest of the angry sisters, and it begins this way.
When our lives are transcribed
into the permanent record,
Little One omits the foreign
courtship... .
I suppose I was in a reflective mood and pondering this idea of both genealogy (family trees in the family Bible, that sort of thing) and how we script our own stories, how much we leave out, how much we cast in the best light possible.
I really have no idea if this one will survive during revision, but at least it is there. And now, the sun is struggling to lighten the gray mass of cloud-cover, which means I must turn my attention to other things.
I have no confidence in the poem I wrote this morning. Zero. None.
However, I am dancing in my seat because I did write a draft. After all, that's what I'm waking up so early to do, no? I have been spending my morning time sending out submissions of both individual poems to journals and of the fever book to publishers. I have been reading books of poetry and journals and blogs when I can. Yet, I really mean for this time to also serve as drafting time.
So, this morning, I started by collecting words from my edition of Emily Dickinson's Selected Letters and from a collection of poems I've been reading. As the words built in my journal, I had an idea and I turned the page to draft a poem. A little waft of hope rose up in me as I've been away from drafting for far too long. Alack & Alas! That draft turned into vapor.
So, back I went to my gathering of words, and slowly, torturously, phrases began to build. There were many false starts in the journal. Then, I felt like I had the beginnings of a solid body for a draft, so I turned to the computer. After I'd typed out what looked like the first stanza (which was tight and singing), the second stanza foundered. So, I put the cursor in between and hit enter a few times to create some open space. I fiddled. I cast about in my word bank. I began to despair.
And then, I heard what came next and how to keep the lines tight and singing rather than lumbering and foundering. Now I have three stanzas of what I think constitutes a whole draft. It features "Little One," the youngest of the angry sisters, and it begins this way.
When our lives are transcribed
into the permanent record,
Little One omits the foreign
courtship... .
I suppose I was in a reflective mood and pondering this idea of both genealogy (family trees in the family Bible, that sort of thing) and how we script our own stories, how much we leave out, how much we cast in the best light possible.
I really have no idea if this one will survive during revision, but at least it is there. And now, the sun is struggling to lighten the gray mass of cloud-cover, which means I must turn my attention to other things.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
5:30 a.m. Wake Up Call
38º ~ beautiful sun for the past few days and onward, even as temps fluctuate up/down/up/down/&etc.
5:30 a.m., yes, it works! I started the new semester with a new wake up time, and for a week and a half I've been getting in at least one hour at the poetry desk before going in to school. See, I've proven over and over that I can't be trusted to focus on poetry after about 4:30 in the afternoon, when my brain has become crammed with all things student-related or committee-related or house-related.
Yet, just like every "how to" article has ever said, getting up an hour earlier provides a brief time of "uncrammed" brain. I learn so slowly, but I learn.
In any case, I've been successful at sending out submissions this week and even making a few minor revisions to poems I thought long since "finished." I've read one book of poetry (split over two mornings) and made my mini post about it on Facebook, and, more importantly, I've felt much more balanced than last semester. All of this equals a much happier me!
Now, maybe I can coax a few poems out into the light.
~~~
In other news, at PTC, I'm preparing for our spring lineup for the Big Rock Reading Series, and it is going to be phenomenal.
We start in February with Jericho Brown. Ah, yup, Jericho Brown! If you live in the area, Jericho will read at 6:00 p.m. on February 6th. All the details are on the FB event page, or you can email me for details.
In March, we have a trio of local writers/editors talking about how to make a living with an English degree. We will have Annie Bergman of Heifer International, Bobby Ampezzan of the Democrat Gazette, and Eliza Borne (who should have an accent over that "e" but blogger is bad that way) of the Oxford American. Woo Hoo.
And in April, in conjunction with the Arkansas Literary Festival, we have fiction writer, Adam Prince, and poet, Charlotte Pence.
~~~
And now it is time to go out into the world and cram my brain with school-stuff and house-stuff and stuff that may be the future makings of a poem-stuff.
5:30 a.m., yes, it works! I started the new semester with a new wake up time, and for a week and a half I've been getting in at least one hour at the poetry desk before going in to school. See, I've proven over and over that I can't be trusted to focus on poetry after about 4:30 in the afternoon, when my brain has become crammed with all things student-related or committee-related or house-related.
Yet, just like every "how to" article has ever said, getting up an hour earlier provides a brief time of "uncrammed" brain. I learn so slowly, but I learn.
In any case, I've been successful at sending out submissions this week and even making a few minor revisions to poems I thought long since "finished." I've read one book of poetry (split over two mornings) and made my mini post about it on Facebook, and, more importantly, I've felt much more balanced than last semester. All of this equals a much happier me!
Now, maybe I can coax a few poems out into the light.
~~~
In other news, at PTC, I'm preparing for our spring lineup for the Big Rock Reading Series, and it is going to be phenomenal.
We start in February with Jericho Brown. Ah, yup, Jericho Brown! If you live in the area, Jericho will read at 6:00 p.m. on February 6th. All the details are on the FB event page, or you can email me for details.
In March, we have a trio of local writers/editors talking about how to make a living with an English degree. We will have Annie Bergman of Heifer International, Bobby Ampezzan of the Democrat Gazette, and Eliza Borne (who should have an accent over that "e" but blogger is bad that way) of the Oxford American. Woo Hoo.
And in April, in conjunction with the Arkansas Literary Festival, we have fiction writer, Adam Prince, and poet, Charlotte Pence.
~~~
And now it is time to go out into the world and cram my brain with school-stuff and house-stuff and stuff that may be the future makings of a poem-stuff.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Contributor Spotlight Up at Hayden's Ferry Review and an Update
35º ~ cold rain overnight, iced down the trees and plants, kept the skies gray all day, rumors of 60º on Saturday
Today, I have a contributor spotlight up at Hayden's Ferry Review. In this spotlight, I talk about the sickly speaker series and about the two poems in HFR, "Left a Refugee Here in a Sterile Country" and "I Have Gone Shimmering into Ungentle Sleep." All thanks to Sam Martone and the other folks at HFR for the opportunity.
In the meantime, I have been successful at making poetry time happen each morning this week. I've spent it sometimes reading and sometimes working through a pile of papers having to do with submission opportunities. In fact, I've submitted some poems from The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths to places looking for previously published poems. My next project is to figure out what poems I have that are ready for submission and send a few out there to see what happens.
Monday, classes begin at PTC, so I must make hay while the sun is shining.
Today, I have a contributor spotlight up at Hayden's Ferry Review. In this spotlight, I talk about the sickly speaker series and about the two poems in HFR, "Left a Refugee Here in a Sterile Country" and "I Have Gone Shimmering into Ungentle Sleep." All thanks to Sam Martone and the other folks at HFR for the opportunity.
In the meantime, I have been successful at making poetry time happen each morning this week. I've spent it sometimes reading and sometimes working through a pile of papers having to do with submission opportunities. In fact, I've submitted some poems from The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths to places looking for previously published poems. My next project is to figure out what poems I have that are ready for submission and send a few out there to see what happens.
Monday, classes begin at PTC, so I must make hay while the sun is shining.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Central Arkansas, You're Invited!
36º ~ a cold rain, perhaps snow this afternoon, the wrath of winter is upon us
I've spent the morning, creating this postcard invitation for the Little Rock launch of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths.
If you live near Little Rock, consider yourself invited! All of the details can be found in South on Main's event on Facebook, or you can message me for more information. There will be jazz from 7 - 8 p.m., and then the reading and signing at 8! I'll have books for sale (cash or charge) and I'll be happy, happy, happy to sign for those of you who have already purchased from Jacar, too. Of course, Blood Almanac will make a showing as well.
If you haven't had a chance to dine at South on Main, the restaurant associated with the Oxford American, this is a great time to remedy that situation. If you have been there, then you know the food will be stellar. Not up for a full meal that night, rest assured, the bar is charming and well-stocked, as well.
Speaking of the book, many thanks to Jessie Carty for posting her thoughts here.
Slowly but surely, this "little book that could" is making its way in the world. Wahooooooooo!
I've spent the morning, creating this postcard invitation for the Little Rock launch of The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths.
If you live near Little Rock, consider yourself invited! All of the details can be found in South on Main's event on Facebook, or you can message me for more information. There will be jazz from 7 - 8 p.m., and then the reading and signing at 8! I'll have books for sale (cash or charge) and I'll be happy, happy, happy to sign for those of you who have already purchased from Jacar, too. Of course, Blood Almanac will make a showing as well.
If you haven't had a chance to dine at South on Main, the restaurant associated with the Oxford American, this is a great time to remedy that situation. If you have been there, then you know the food will be stellar. Not up for a full meal that night, rest assured, the bar is charming and well-stocked, as well.
Speaking of the book, many thanks to Jessie Carty for posting her thoughts here.
Slowly but surely, this "little book that could" is making its way in the world. Wahooooooooo!
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Angry Sisters Make Their Debut & Some Miscellany
36º ~ thin gray cloud-cover, temps trying to rise to 50º ahead of the Arctic blast that will send us to near 10º tomorrow night (might not seem cold to those above the snowline, but remember, it's similar to your dips below zero)
The angry sisters have made their poetic debut! I have two poems out in the new Arsenic Lobster, a journal I've long admired. "Penance Assigned to the Adulterers" is from the very beginning of the angry sisters series, so they don't actually make a named appearance. "The Angry Sisters Experience a Conversion" is from the beginning of their story. I can't place the draft notes for the former, but the latter post is here.
I hope you'll read the whole issue, as it is chock full of wonderful and amazing poems.
With this publication, while I have a few accepted poems still waiting to make it to print or online publication, I have zero poems out for consideration. ZERO. This has not been the case for me since sometime around the turn of the century. And while I don't condone the making of resolutions for myself...as I have a tendency to perfectionism and can beat myself up quite badly for failing..., I do see the need to get back in the swing of things. Roughly half of the sickly speaker manuscript remains unpublished in journals, and I have a good half dozen more angry sisters poems that could be sent out.
So here are my two goals for the spring semester:
1. To make submissions a part of my weekly routine again.
2. To make drafting a part of my weekly routine again, being open to whatever subject matter may be coming next.
That being said, I foresee this blog becoming a weekly item as well. There is simply too much to do in too little time. I've already shifted my reading responses to Facebook. My "What I'm Reading" posts have been a great delight to me, and I've seen them as part of my duty as a poet, sharing the work of others. However, having taken on teaching at the graduate level, on top of my community college, full-time gig and working on Heron Tree, something's gotta give, as they say. So, I've started a series of "mini reading logs" on FB. There, I try to summarize a book of poems in 1-3 sentences and provide a brief excerpt. In this way, I retain a list of what I've read an my reactions (albeit a bit less stable and less searchable than on the blog platform), and I'm still sharing the work of other poets.
Also coming up in the next few months will be all things The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths, including a long weekend of readings in North Carolina with Jacar Press, a Little Rock launch of the book, and AWP (no reading scheduled, but I'll have copies for sale out of my backpack, no worries).
As for Heron Tree, we've been on a hiatus from posting new poems each week, but we will return late Sunday night (1/5). We are in the midst of reading our fall 2013 submissions, and I'm reminded again of how much I have to learn as an editor and how much being an editor informs my view of the poetry world. Time and time again, pre-Heron Tree, I read comments from editors in articles and interviews. Every time, editors proclaimed that they really did read the submissions with great anticipation of finding publishable material there; every time editors talked about submissions from poets who clearly hadn't read the journal and figured out its aesthetic; every time editors talked about sloppy work being submitted, containing typos and grammar errors that got in the way of accepting the work. And, every time I read these comments, I wasn't quite sure I could believe them. I knew I should believe them, but without the experience, I wasn't 100% there. Now, I am.
We read blind (which I highly recommend to all editors) and break our reading up into "packets" of anywhere from 10 - 20 poets at a time (each poet assigned a number, and each poem numbered sequentially from there: 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 2.1, 2.2, etc.). As I open each packet, I begin to read with nothing less than joyful anticipation. After going through one whole submission cycle last year, and being about half way through our submissions this year, I now know the feel of a Heron Tree poem. The Heron Tree poem combines the tastes of all three editors, as we must reach a unanimous decision for publication. I try to read every poem in the packet with clear and accepting eyes. I want to find poems to publish. I do! However, I now see how easy it is to tell within a line or two, or after the first stanza, if something is really, really not right for us. This cuts down on reading time, but it also lets the air out of my joyful anticipation. Lest I be too hasty in my decision, I've got my two co-editors, the publishers of Heron Tree, to catch a poem that might slip through my fingers. In this way, I believe we are careful, attentive readers, giving each poem a chance to make us say "YES!"
All of this is to say, trust it when editors make comments as I outlined above. They aren't just saying these things to fill space. If you want to publish poems in a certain journal, follow the age-old advice: read the journal to be sure your work fits, revise & revise & revise, proof & proof & proof, and send only your best work, being careful to abide by the guidelines.
I report back to work on Monday. The graduate workshop I'm leading starts online on Wednesday, and my PTC classes begin on the 13th. Here's hoping for a calm and productive semester for us all!
The angry sisters have made their poetic debut! I have two poems out in the new Arsenic Lobster, a journal I've long admired. "Penance Assigned to the Adulterers" is from the very beginning of the angry sisters series, so they don't actually make a named appearance. "The Angry Sisters Experience a Conversion" is from the beginning of their story. I can't place the draft notes for the former, but the latter post is here.
I hope you'll read the whole issue, as it is chock full of wonderful and amazing poems.
With this publication, while I have a few accepted poems still waiting to make it to print or online publication, I have zero poems out for consideration. ZERO. This has not been the case for me since sometime around the turn of the century. And while I don't condone the making of resolutions for myself...as I have a tendency to perfectionism and can beat myself up quite badly for failing..., I do see the need to get back in the swing of things. Roughly half of the sickly speaker manuscript remains unpublished in journals, and I have a good half dozen more angry sisters poems that could be sent out.
So here are my two goals for the spring semester:
1. To make submissions a part of my weekly routine again.
2. To make drafting a part of my weekly routine again, being open to whatever subject matter may be coming next.
That being said, I foresee this blog becoming a weekly item as well. There is simply too much to do in too little time. I've already shifted my reading responses to Facebook. My "What I'm Reading" posts have been a great delight to me, and I've seen them as part of my duty as a poet, sharing the work of others. However, having taken on teaching at the graduate level, on top of my community college, full-time gig and working on Heron Tree, something's gotta give, as they say. So, I've started a series of "mini reading logs" on FB. There, I try to summarize a book of poems in 1-3 sentences and provide a brief excerpt. In this way, I retain a list of what I've read an my reactions (albeit a bit less stable and less searchable than on the blog platform), and I'm still sharing the work of other poets.
Also coming up in the next few months will be all things The Girlhood Book of Prairie Myths, including a long weekend of readings in North Carolina with Jacar Press, a Little Rock launch of the book, and AWP (no reading scheduled, but I'll have copies for sale out of my backpack, no worries).
As for Heron Tree, we've been on a hiatus from posting new poems each week, but we will return late Sunday night (1/5). We are in the midst of reading our fall 2013 submissions, and I'm reminded again of how much I have to learn as an editor and how much being an editor informs my view of the poetry world. Time and time again, pre-Heron Tree, I read comments from editors in articles and interviews. Every time, editors proclaimed that they really did read the submissions with great anticipation of finding publishable material there; every time editors talked about submissions from poets who clearly hadn't read the journal and figured out its aesthetic; every time editors talked about sloppy work being submitted, containing typos and grammar errors that got in the way of accepting the work. And, every time I read these comments, I wasn't quite sure I could believe them. I knew I should believe them, but without the experience, I wasn't 100% there. Now, I am.
We read blind (which I highly recommend to all editors) and break our reading up into "packets" of anywhere from 10 - 20 poets at a time (each poet assigned a number, and each poem numbered sequentially from there: 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 2.1, 2.2, etc.). As I open each packet, I begin to read with nothing less than joyful anticipation. After going through one whole submission cycle last year, and being about half way through our submissions this year, I now know the feel of a Heron Tree poem. The Heron Tree poem combines the tastes of all three editors, as we must reach a unanimous decision for publication. I try to read every poem in the packet with clear and accepting eyes. I want to find poems to publish. I do! However, I now see how easy it is to tell within a line or two, or after the first stanza, if something is really, really not right for us. This cuts down on reading time, but it also lets the air out of my joyful anticipation. Lest I be too hasty in my decision, I've got my two co-editors, the publishers of Heron Tree, to catch a poem that might slip through my fingers. In this way, I believe we are careful, attentive readers, giving each poem a chance to make us say "YES!"
All of this is to say, trust it when editors make comments as I outlined above. They aren't just saying these things to fill space. If you want to publish poems in a certain journal, follow the age-old advice: read the journal to be sure your work fits, revise & revise & revise, proof & proof & proof, and send only your best work, being careful to abide by the guidelines.
I report back to work on Monday. The graduate workshop I'm leading starts online on Wednesday, and my PTC classes begin on the 13th. Here's hoping for a calm and productive semester for us all!
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
The Problem of Going Digital (eBooks)
48º ~ bright sun, crisp breezes, all is well with the weather world as the year closes
Today, I have hit upon the one, true problem that I have with going digital, by which I mean switching to eBooks and internet journals.
The problem is this: there is no towering, life-endangering, stack of things to be read. At this moment, three stacks of books, mostly poetry hover over and around me. Add to that a stack of articles ripped from magazines, as well as articles and poems printed from the web, a slippery, slide-y kind of stack that makes a mess of my desk. While these stacks can sometimes inspire guilt and self-admonishment, they are always within reach, and I cannot "forget" that there is something I want to read.
Recently, though, I've been trying to cut down on paper and ink consumption by not printing as many things off the internet to read and by buying more eBooks or eSubscriptions to journals. My big exploration into reading poetry books as eBooks has been with Lucie Brock-Broido's latest, Stay, Illusion. I have access to it, and all the rest on both my iPad and my laptop; however, both iPad and laptop are slim, trim, and easily lost amid the clutter of life. Also, they don't scream "Read Me. Read Me Right Now" like a print version of almost anything else does.
Sidebar: C. and I recently visited a friend in the hospital. Said friend is slightly younger than we are, and when we arrived, he had a few other visitors of the younger variety. When I asked if our friend needed any magazines or anything, another visitor burst out laughing. He reminded me that with a smartphone, which our hospitalized friend had, there was no longer any need for magazines. I laughed along but a little part of me was so sad.
As for my desk and my "to-read pile," I don't know how this will all turn out. I suppose I will adapt to the changes, as humans are wont to do (or not, if we are the curmudgeonly kind). For the time being, I will search for some kind of visual indicator to remind myself of the eVersions waiting for me. Perhaps, I should print out color copies of the covers and tape them to my devices? Any other creative ideas?
Today, I have hit upon the one, true problem that I have with going digital, by which I mean switching to eBooks and internet journals.
The problem is this: there is no towering, life-endangering, stack of things to be read. At this moment, three stacks of books, mostly poetry hover over and around me. Add to that a stack of articles ripped from magazines, as well as articles and poems printed from the web, a slippery, slide-y kind of stack that makes a mess of my desk. While these stacks can sometimes inspire guilt and self-admonishment, they are always within reach, and I cannot "forget" that there is something I want to read.
Recently, though, I've been trying to cut down on paper and ink consumption by not printing as many things off the internet to read and by buying more eBooks or eSubscriptions to journals. My big exploration into reading poetry books as eBooks has been with Lucie Brock-Broido's latest, Stay, Illusion. I have access to it, and all the rest on both my iPad and my laptop; however, both iPad and laptop are slim, trim, and easily lost amid the clutter of life. Also, they don't scream "Read Me. Read Me Right Now" like a print version of almost anything else does.
Sidebar: C. and I recently visited a friend in the hospital. Said friend is slightly younger than we are, and when we arrived, he had a few other visitors of the younger variety. When I asked if our friend needed any magazines or anything, another visitor burst out laughing. He reminded me that with a smartphone, which our hospitalized friend had, there was no longer any need for magazines. I laughed along but a little part of me was so sad.
As for my desk and my "to-read pile," I don't know how this will all turn out. I suppose I will adapt to the changes, as humans are wont to do (or not, if we are the curmudgeonly kind). For the time being, I will search for some kind of visual indicator to remind myself of the eVersions waiting for me. Perhaps, I should print out color copies of the covers and tape them to my devices? Any other creative ideas?
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Draft Notes: The Angry Sisters Make Use of the Swarm
55º ~ bright sun for basking in, a cold front on the way to knock us down to size
Today's draft came about as usual, from reading, word gathering, and then several words sparking on the page. In this case, it was the idea of "women," "seed," and "city." Of course, the women instantly became the angry sisters and then I had the sound of them "seeding the city," but with what? Well, the husks of cicadas, of course.
Confession: I find cicada husks to be horrible and slightly terrifying and wouldn't touch one unless given piles and piles of money. C., on the other hand, loves them and likes to collect them for the man cave.
At first, the angry sisters were going to seed the city with the bodies of the dead women/girls that are their obsession (those women/girls killed by men either in domestic violence or in those more infrequent stranger killings). However, that seemed a bit too unfeasible, as they are often searching for the remains. Perhaps it was the sound of "seed" and "city" that led me to "cicada" as it does not appear in my word bank.
However it happened, the poem begins like this.
All summer we thread
the shed husks of cicadas ...
The seeding of the city doesn't happen until the third stanza, when the sisters hang their "garlands" at the homes of "straying men."
The poem is in tercets with short, clipped lines that I'm made uncomfortable by.
I don't know if the angry sisters are going to work any more. They are so, so angry and accusatory. I found myself staring at my journal wondering what else I might have to write about, what other obsessions I might have. Nothing is calling to me now, and I'm not even sure the angry sisters were calling today or if I forced the poem out, knowing their obsessions.
In other words, where do poems come from?
Today's draft came about as usual, from reading, word gathering, and then several words sparking on the page. In this case, it was the idea of "women," "seed," and "city." Of course, the women instantly became the angry sisters and then I had the sound of them "seeding the city," but with what? Well, the husks of cicadas, of course.
Confession: I find cicada husks to be horrible and slightly terrifying and wouldn't touch one unless given piles and piles of money. C., on the other hand, loves them and likes to collect them for the man cave.
At first, the angry sisters were going to seed the city with the bodies of the dead women/girls that are their obsession (those women/girls killed by men either in domestic violence or in those more infrequent stranger killings). However, that seemed a bit too unfeasible, as they are often searching for the remains. Perhaps it was the sound of "seed" and "city" that led me to "cicada" as it does not appear in my word bank.
However it happened, the poem begins like this.
All summer we thread
the shed husks of cicadas ...
The seeding of the city doesn't happen until the third stanza, when the sisters hang their "garlands" at the homes of "straying men."
The poem is in tercets with short, clipped lines that I'm made uncomfortable by.
I don't know if the angry sisters are going to work any more. They are so, so angry and accusatory. I found myself staring at my journal wondering what else I might have to write about, what other obsessions I might have. Nothing is calling to me now, and I'm not even sure the angry sisters were calling today or if I forced the poem out, knowing their obsessions.
In other words, where do poems come from?
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Draft Notes: The Angry Sisters bury their mother
45º ~ sheer gray cloud-cover, no wind to speak of, my best window covered with a sheet to save a kinglet bent on attacking its own reflection
Today's draft did not come easy, and I'm sure I know the reason why. I had all the time in the world open before me, and I began as usual, by reading and gathering words. Then, I re-read all the "angry sister poems" that I had worked on (so sporadically) this past year. I fussed and faltered. I picked up another book to read, and wham, I knew I had to write a poem about the burial of the sisters' mother. In one of the poems I'd re-read in the series, the sisters proclaimed themselves "motherless," and that I suppose was the spark.
However, it became very hard to write the poem. The problem is that the angry sisters are a set of peronae based much more on my real life than the sickly speaker ever was. So, I had to keep reminding myself that my mom is alive and well (if socked in by snow and cold!). I also screwed up the process by jumping on the computer too soon.
Ah, well, at least there is a draft. The title bleeds into the first line, which is the reason for the odd capitalization in the title of this post as well. And, the first two lines are giving me fits so I won't quote them here, except to say that what follows the title is this, "in secret ... ." The burial takes place at night, and the last line explains why the secrecy and lack of a cemetery plot.
I'm hoping more reading and more quiet time over the next week will lead to more drafting. I'm hoping to figure out a schedule for the semester to capture more quiet/reading/writing time as well. Oh, the folly of a New Year's resolution!
Thursday, December 19, 2013
How Do You Read Poetry?
55º ~ on our way up to 70s for the next three days with stormy weather in the offing, for now the sun fights the gray, the breezes stir but do not rage, the rain holds off for a few more hours
How do you read poetry? This is an earnest question, as most of mine are.
Many of you know that I started teaching at the graduate level this past semester (for the low-residency program at the University of Arkansas Monticello). I taught a course in contemporary American poetry, assigning poets from the 1960s through today, and while teaching that course many things surprised me (for example, the vehemence with which several students took offense to Ginsberg). However, nothing surprised me more than how my students read the poems at the beginning of the semester.
As the courses in this low-res program are conducted online using the Blackboard LMS, I created weekly discussion boards where each student posted a response to one of the poets for that week, using one--three specific poems from our selection to illustrate the student's response in terms of poetic elements used by the poet and how the poet fit into American poetry (or didn't). I also required that each poet appear on the board before a student could repeat, which meant that sometimes, a student had to post about a poet with whom he/she might not be completely attuned.
After the first week of discussion, it became clear to me that my students were reading the poems in a completely different way than I intended, and this had everything to do with technology.
To go back in time to the late 80s and early 90s when I was an undergrad, for the most part, all we had was the poem on the page and a dictionary by our side. We were taught to read, at least at St. Ben's/St. John's, by reading out loud, by annotating (yes, writing in our books!), by looking up definitions and allusions, and by formulating our own personal response to the poem on the page. This, then, is how I've read poems ever since.
You see, back in the bad old days, we did not have the vast resources of the internet. To research a poet and/or a poem meant a trip to the library across campus (and remember CSB/SJU is in central Minnesota where the biting winds of winter knock a girl down from late Oct. through late March). Once we reached the library, there was a thick reference book to search for articles on the poet/poem, A Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature (all hail, Michelle Holschuh Simmons for the reminder of the name) and then a set of stacks of print periodicals where we hoped to find the article itself. If not, then we had to inter-library loan the article (having it faxed from another library). If not looking for the most current articles, we could, of course, use the library catalog (which had just switched to a digital form) for books on the subject at hand and then go to the book stacks, perhaps stopping after all of this to copy a relevant chapter or article at the copier (10 cents a page) so we could annotate that as well.
And so, we could not access immediately the thoughts of critics and reviewers.
I confess that I am somewhat insular and often forget to think that others may have been taught differently, so imagine my surprise when the first week of discussion included references of what other people thought about the poets and poems rather than simply the student's take on the poet/poems. Of course, there is nothing wrong with this type of scholarship, and I did require research essays and class presentations that used sources. I was simply flabbergasted because I assumed the students would know that I didn't intend them to do research at the discussion level. (Yes, I am often beaten by my own assumptions!) I was also still thinking in terms of a face-to-face classroom at this point, where students don't usually go into that much depth of research before coming to class to discuss the reading of the day (or at least I didn't when I was an MFA student). So, two wrong assumptions in a row.
I quickly wrote a note to the class, explaining my expectations. I let them know that the reading should be time-consuming enough and that I didn't intend them to have to research as well (until they focused on their research essays), but, more importantly, I wanted to hear how each student met the poems on the page without the clutter of other critics or reviewers. What seemed simple enough to me actually presented a problem for several students, not an intellectual problem, but a problem of habit. They were so used to turning to the internet and "the experts" that they didn't trust their own instincts. It took us a few weeks to settle the line: feel free to look up definitions and allusion but do not read critics and reviewers until after you've formulated your own thoughts on the discussion board. After that, all was smooth sailing.
Now, I'm left to wonder, how do you read poetry? I simply can't believe that we should skip directly to the critics & reviewers. It seems to take the joy out of the reading for me, but am I just an old fuddy-duddy, stuck in the last century? Or have students been so trained in research and scholarship that they forget to read the text one-on-one, so to speak? Is this the difference between reading as a scholar and reading as a writer? What do you all think?
How do you read poetry? This is an earnest question, as most of mine are.
Many of you know that I started teaching at the graduate level this past semester (for the low-residency program at the University of Arkansas Monticello). I taught a course in contemporary American poetry, assigning poets from the 1960s through today, and while teaching that course many things surprised me (for example, the vehemence with which several students took offense to Ginsberg). However, nothing surprised me more than how my students read the poems at the beginning of the semester.
As the courses in this low-res program are conducted online using the Blackboard LMS, I created weekly discussion boards where each student posted a response to one of the poets for that week, using one--three specific poems from our selection to illustrate the student's response in terms of poetic elements used by the poet and how the poet fit into American poetry (or didn't). I also required that each poet appear on the board before a student could repeat, which meant that sometimes, a student had to post about a poet with whom he/she might not be completely attuned.
After the first week of discussion, it became clear to me that my students were reading the poems in a completely different way than I intended, and this had everything to do with technology.
To go back in time to the late 80s and early 90s when I was an undergrad, for the most part, all we had was the poem on the page and a dictionary by our side. We were taught to read, at least at St. Ben's/St. John's, by reading out loud, by annotating (yes, writing in our books!), by looking up definitions and allusions, and by formulating our own personal response to the poem on the page. This, then, is how I've read poems ever since.
You see, back in the bad old days, we did not have the vast resources of the internet. To research a poet and/or a poem meant a trip to the library across campus (and remember CSB/SJU is in central Minnesota where the biting winds of winter knock a girl down from late Oct. through late March). Once we reached the library, there was a thick reference book to search for articles on the poet/poem, A Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature (all hail, Michelle Holschuh Simmons for the reminder of the name) and then a set of stacks of print periodicals where we hoped to find the article itself. If not, then we had to inter-library loan the article (having it faxed from another library). If not looking for the most current articles, we could, of course, use the library catalog (which had just switched to a digital form) for books on the subject at hand and then go to the book stacks, perhaps stopping after all of this to copy a relevant chapter or article at the copier (10 cents a page) so we could annotate that as well.
And so, we could not access immediately the thoughts of critics and reviewers.
I confess that I am somewhat insular and often forget to think that others may have been taught differently, so imagine my surprise when the first week of discussion included references of what other people thought about the poets and poems rather than simply the student's take on the poet/poems. Of course, there is nothing wrong with this type of scholarship, and I did require research essays and class presentations that used sources. I was simply flabbergasted because I assumed the students would know that I didn't intend them to do research at the discussion level. (Yes, I am often beaten by my own assumptions!) I was also still thinking in terms of a face-to-face classroom at this point, where students don't usually go into that much depth of research before coming to class to discuss the reading of the day (or at least I didn't when I was an MFA student). So, two wrong assumptions in a row.
I quickly wrote a note to the class, explaining my expectations. I let them know that the reading should be time-consuming enough and that I didn't intend them to have to research as well (until they focused on their research essays), but, more importantly, I wanted to hear how each student met the poems on the page without the clutter of other critics or reviewers. What seemed simple enough to me actually presented a problem for several students, not an intellectual problem, but a problem of habit. They were so used to turning to the internet and "the experts" that they didn't trust their own instincts. It took us a few weeks to settle the line: feel free to look up definitions and allusion but do not read critics and reviewers until after you've formulated your own thoughts on the discussion board. After that, all was smooth sailing.
Now, I'm left to wonder, how do you read poetry? I simply can't believe that we should skip directly to the critics & reviewers. It seems to take the joy out of the reading for me, but am I just an old fuddy-duddy, stuck in the last century? Or have students been so trained in research and scholarship that they forget to read the text one-on-one, so to speak? Is this the difference between reading as a scholar and reading as a writer? What do you all think?
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Draft Notes: One Confession
56º ~ sweet return of sun and Southern breezes, the joy of living beneath the snow line (with apologies to any readers feeling the weight of snow and icy bite of air) ~ what leaves that remain on any hardwood trees are brown and marked by last week's freeze, the privets though, go on waving their green leaves ~ taunt or celebration?
The last poem I drafted in all seriousness seems to be dated July 11. Holy quiet periods, Cat Woman! Today's return to drafting follows my every pattern from quiet periods before. I spent the last four days (since my grades were all turned in) dealing with pesky tasks, endless to-do lists around the house, and other mundane duties. One might ask, why not jump right in to poetry? For me, it doesn't work that way. After a long time away from the page, I have to clear the decks of as much dross as possible. Otherwise, it lingers in my peripheral vision.
In any case, I put on my instrumental music, gathered my coffee and watered down OJ, my dark chocolate topped butter biscuits, a random book from my to-read pile, and my journal, and I began. After reading several poems from a book I won't name because I wasn't reading it so much as using it to ignite the day, I thought I had a line or two, and I went to the journal. I scratched out most of a poem, one about the angry sisters. I turned to the computer and finished a draft, but per my usual experience when returning to the page after a long silence, it was painful, sluggish, stilted, more apt to prose than poetry. Still I pushed through and printed the dreaded thing off.
I made another cup of coffee, picked up the book again, and this time admitted my intent, gathering words instead of reading poems. Sure enough, after getting about thirty random words on the page of my journal (chosen from all different pages in the book and dropped randomly on the page), I started seeing sparks, started drawing circles and arrows around combinations, in particular the combination of "skull," "raft," and "detour."
And then, the real poem draft of the day presented itself. It begins:
His skull a raft, a wreckage,
our father plummets into fragments,
takes a perpetual detour to the past.
It is a poem that deals with a difficult subject, and it is confessional. In this case the drafting was hard because it caused me to have to admit something about myself that puts me in a not so great light, but there it is on the page just the same. And this time, I felt a satisfaction in the working of the lines, a liveliness in the words.
This poem, which I've titled "One Confession" for now, will need more revision and then it will take a bit of courage to send out to the world.
The last poem I drafted in all seriousness seems to be dated July 11. Holy quiet periods, Cat Woman! Today's return to drafting follows my every pattern from quiet periods before. I spent the last four days (since my grades were all turned in) dealing with pesky tasks, endless to-do lists around the house, and other mundane duties. One might ask, why not jump right in to poetry? For me, it doesn't work that way. After a long time away from the page, I have to clear the decks of as much dross as possible. Otherwise, it lingers in my peripheral vision.
In any case, I put on my instrumental music, gathered my coffee and watered down OJ, my dark chocolate topped butter biscuits, a random book from my to-read pile, and my journal, and I began. After reading several poems from a book I won't name because I wasn't reading it so much as using it to ignite the day, I thought I had a line or two, and I went to the journal. I scratched out most of a poem, one about the angry sisters. I turned to the computer and finished a draft, but per my usual experience when returning to the page after a long silence, it was painful, sluggish, stilted, more apt to prose than poetry. Still I pushed through and printed the dreaded thing off.
I made another cup of coffee, picked up the book again, and this time admitted my intent, gathering words instead of reading poems. Sure enough, after getting about thirty random words on the page of my journal (chosen from all different pages in the book and dropped randomly on the page), I started seeing sparks, started drawing circles and arrows around combinations, in particular the combination of "skull," "raft," and "detour."
And then, the real poem draft of the day presented itself. It begins:
His skull a raft, a wreckage,
our father plummets into fragments,
takes a perpetual detour to the past.
It is a poem that deals with a difficult subject, and it is confessional. In this case the drafting was hard because it caused me to have to admit something about myself that puts me in a not so great light, but there it is on the page just the same. And this time, I felt a satisfaction in the working of the lines, a liveliness in the words.
This poem, which I've titled "One Confession" for now, will need more revision and then it will take a bit of courage to send out to the world.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Notes from an Online Reading
42º ~ the casters of fore say that we should return to normal temps (low to mid 50s) for most of next week, sympathies to those north of here where the cold has been much, much worse ~ skies heavy gray, birds heavy feeding (robins, mostly today)
Thursday night, I participated in my first live online reading, in this case sponsored by Hayden's Ferry Review for the launch of issue 53. I've got two sickly speaker poems in the issue: "Left a Refugee Here in a Sterile Country" and "I Have Gone Shimmering into Ungentle Sleep." (I've linked to the draft notes.)
I confess, I was a bit nervous about this reading, as I've only ever recorded for the internet before and this was LIVE! All thanks to Sam Marton at HFR for sending out great instructions and organizing the entire set up on Ustream. Sam provided us with an opportunity to check out the site the day before the event and get familiar with the set up, which was priceless for my nerves. He also sent out a schedule so we would all know when we were scheduled to hit the "Go Live" button on our end.
The day of the event was marked by two momentous occasions: 1) I hit "send" on my final set of final grades for the semester and 2) I received my contributor copies of the HFR issue. Wahoo! So, having submitted grades and now clutching the journal in my hands (and what a production this print journal is, 5-star quality!), I set about organizing my computers and the room in which I'd be broadcasting and practicing what I wanted to say and the poems I meant to read.
This meant moving lamps around, taking all the riff-raff off my bookshelves so that only the books showed in the background of the video, and finding a sweater that looked half-way decent. I logged into the site, where you can see what your camera is picking up without going live, so I could judge light and image. I tried to deal with the glare on the glasses, but, alas, failed at that. Also, I had my system set up so I could broadcast from my desktop, which is plugged into the internet connection through a hardline, and I planned to have my laptop going next to me to see the live broadcast, as there is a delay. The best laid plans and all that.
As the broadcast launched, I was in my seat listening to the readers before me on my laptop, when George the cat decided to check things out. He was distressed by the fact that my desk was askew (I had to turn the computer for better video quality) and did a hesitant tap dance across the desktop keyboard and then wound through cords and such behind the computer. Meanwhile, I listened on. Then, the reader scheduled to go before me, didn't appear and didn't appear and didn't appear (tech difficulties, luckily resolved so he could go later). Sam emailed and said, "Can you go a few minutes early?" Sure, no worries. I'd planned ahead.
I tried to hit the "Go Live" button on my desktop, and...nothing happened...oh god!...click, click, click...no response. George the cat!!!!! He must have knocked something or pressed a key or something. Scramble, scramble, scramble...get laptop from viewing mode to broadcasting mode...fluster, fluster, fluster...and begin to broadcast!
I started to speak and prayed that I was broadcasting, as I now was in the blind (with Ustream, you can't have a broadcasting window open at the same time as a viewing window on the same computer or you get feedback) and on my laptop instead of my desktop, which meant relying on WiFi. As I read my thanks and then my first prepared poem, I panicked. Did Sam need me to fill time? I'd prepared 10 minutes as suggested, but then, he asked me to go 5 minutes early? Should I go to my allotted end time? Yes, I decided, or close. So as I was reading my first prepared poem, another section of my brain was scrambling. Luckily, I had the whole fever manuscript right there and picked two shortish poems I know well and blended them in. This is why I always, always, always rehearse.
Finally, I came to the end, and we'd been told to wait a bit after finishing before clicking the "stop" button or we would cut off the broadcast (which was on a delay). I did wait what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time, but, sadly, without my dual computer system working, I couldn't see the broadcast, so I cut myself off. Sigh.
It turns out that I probably shouldn't have added the two extra poems, as the reading ended up going long. I hope no one thought I was one of those horrid readers who disregards time allotted! Also, because I was on my laptop, using WiFi, my broadcast broke up a bit when the signal strength dropped. Sigh.
I do think I was the oldest person reading Still, I was thrilled to get a chance to try the technology.
Also, I was happy that friends and family far and wide (including a friend in England who stayed up until the wee hours of the morning to listen...thank you, Danny) could see/hear the reading. It was great to be able to call Mom afterward and celebrate the event. On top of all that, I got to hear some amazing work (in particular, poems by Benjamin Goldberg and Emma Sovich) and I didn't have to leave my house. In fact, I had sweat pants and slippers on! Lovely, lovely.
Again, thanks to Hayden's Ferry Review for the experience and to Sam for the organization and technical support.
Thursday night, I participated in my first live online reading, in this case sponsored by Hayden's Ferry Review for the launch of issue 53. I've got two sickly speaker poems in the issue: "Left a Refugee Here in a Sterile Country" and "I Have Gone Shimmering into Ungentle Sleep." (I've linked to the draft notes.)
I confess, I was a bit nervous about this reading, as I've only ever recorded for the internet before and this was LIVE! All thanks to Sam Marton at HFR for sending out great instructions and organizing the entire set up on Ustream. Sam provided us with an opportunity to check out the site the day before the event and get familiar with the set up, which was priceless for my nerves. He also sent out a schedule so we would all know when we were scheduled to hit the "Go Live" button on our end.
The day of the event was marked by two momentous occasions: 1) I hit "send" on my final set of final grades for the semester and 2) I received my contributor copies of the HFR issue. Wahoo! So, having submitted grades and now clutching the journal in my hands (and what a production this print journal is, 5-star quality!), I set about organizing my computers and the room in which I'd be broadcasting and practicing what I wanted to say and the poems I meant to read.
This meant moving lamps around, taking all the riff-raff off my bookshelves so that only the books showed in the background of the video, and finding a sweater that looked half-way decent. I logged into the site, where you can see what your camera is picking up without going live, so I could judge light and image. I tried to deal with the glare on the glasses, but, alas, failed at that. Also, I had my system set up so I could broadcast from my desktop, which is plugged into the internet connection through a hardline, and I planned to have my laptop going next to me to see the live broadcast, as there is a delay. The best laid plans and all that.
As the broadcast launched, I was in my seat listening to the readers before me on my laptop, when George the cat decided to check things out. He was distressed by the fact that my desk was askew (I had to turn the computer for better video quality) and did a hesitant tap dance across the desktop keyboard and then wound through cords and such behind the computer. Meanwhile, I listened on. Then, the reader scheduled to go before me, didn't appear and didn't appear and didn't appear (tech difficulties, luckily resolved so he could go later). Sam emailed and said, "Can you go a few minutes early?" Sure, no worries. I'd planned ahead.
I tried to hit the "Go Live" button on my desktop, and...nothing happened...oh god!...click, click, click...no response. George the cat!!!!! He must have knocked something or pressed a key or something. Scramble, scramble, scramble...get laptop from viewing mode to broadcasting mode...fluster, fluster, fluster...and begin to broadcast!
I started to speak and prayed that I was broadcasting, as I now was in the blind (with Ustream, you can't have a broadcasting window open at the same time as a viewing window on the same computer or you get feedback) and on my laptop instead of my desktop, which meant relying on WiFi. As I read my thanks and then my first prepared poem, I panicked. Did Sam need me to fill time? I'd prepared 10 minutes as suggested, but then, he asked me to go 5 minutes early? Should I go to my allotted end time? Yes, I decided, or close. So as I was reading my first prepared poem, another section of my brain was scrambling. Luckily, I had the whole fever manuscript right there and picked two shortish poems I know well and blended them in. This is why I always, always, always rehearse.
Finally, I came to the end, and we'd been told to wait a bit after finishing before clicking the "stop" button or we would cut off the broadcast (which was on a delay). I did wait what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time, but, sadly, without my dual computer system working, I couldn't see the broadcast, so I cut myself off. Sigh.
It turns out that I probably shouldn't have added the two extra poems, as the reading ended up going long. I hope no one thought I was one of those horrid readers who disregards time allotted! Also, because I was on my laptop, using WiFi, my broadcast broke up a bit when the signal strength dropped. Sigh.
I do think I was the oldest person reading Still, I was thrilled to get a chance to try the technology.
Also, I was happy that friends and family far and wide (including a friend in England who stayed up until the wee hours of the morning to listen...thank you, Danny) could see/hear the reading. It was great to be able to call Mom afterward and celebrate the event. On top of all that, I got to hear some amazing work (in particular, poems by Benjamin Goldberg and Emma Sovich) and I didn't have to leave my house. In fact, I had sweat pants and slippers on! Lovely, lovely.
Again, thanks to Hayden's Ferry Review for the experience and to Sam for the organization and technical support.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Hayden's Ferry Review Online Reading, 12/13/13 @ 8:00 p.m EASTERN
Here's the direct link to the channel. To hold you over until 8:00 EST, you can watch a video of Lydia Ship reading "Roar You" from issue 52!
http://www.ustream.tv/channel/hfr-in-the-dark-reading
There may be an ad (or choice of ads) before each reader. Simply choose an ad and watch for five seconds until the Skip button appears, and then you can go straight to the reading. Check out our roster below, featuring a last minute addition: the one and only Emma Sovich! Please join us in the cyberworld come 8 PM for a fantastic reading of poetry and prose!
8 PM—Introduction by Sam Martone
8:10—Kelsey Ronan
8:20—Brandon Amico
8:30—Benjamin Goldberg
8:40—John Holliday
8:50—John James
9—Sandy Longhorn
9:10—Ruth Joffre
9:20—Ray McManus
9:30—Kelly Magee
9:40—Chelsea Biondolillo
9:50—Emma Sovich
http://www.ustream.tv/channel/hfr-in-the-dark-reading
There may be an ad (or choice of ads) before each reader. Simply choose an ad and watch for five seconds until the Skip button appears, and then you can go straight to the reading. Check out our roster below, featuring a last minute addition: the one and only Emma Sovich! Please join us in the cyberworld come 8 PM for a fantastic reading of poetry and prose!
8 PM—Introduction by Sam Martone
8:10—Kelsey Ronan
8:20—Brandon Amico
8:30—Benjamin Goldberg
8:40—John Holliday
8:50—John James
9—Sandy Longhorn
9:10—Ruth Joffre
9:20—Ray McManus
9:30—Kelly Magee
9:40—Chelsea Biondolillo
9:50—Emma Sovich
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