In Our Own Words

This evening, I read my work at the Writer's Forum: In Our Own Words at the Monet's Garden Art Cafe in Beverly, MA.

Although attendance was low, it went very well. The other readers were very talented, and I got some outstanding feedback on my own work from audience members/fellow writers.

Further, I learned about other reading opportunities, solicited submissions, and engaged in some great conversations.

Thanks Laurette!

LitDay!

I feel somewhat -- somewhat, mind you -- inspired.

I want to finish all the books I'm reading, which include:

The Penelopiad/Margaret Atwood
Snow/Orhan Pamuk
Autobiography of Red/Anne Carson
A Room of One's Own/Virginia Woolf

Plus, I really, really want to read the new Dave Eggers, plus:

All the Best American series books that I feel are relevant to me (which will probably include "stories" and "poetry," and often, "non-required," but may also include "science" and "travel"), Yann Martel's collection of short stories (I've been trying to get around to it forever!), the Helsinki Roccamatios, plus all of Ondaatje's works that I haven't read, and the rest of Margaret Atwood's collections. And the, I need to move on to stuff more outside of my comfort zone.

I'm not sure what that will include. But it will be mixed with the poets I feel I need to read.

I feel like today is going to be exceptionally productive. Yesterday was productive as well. Let me break it down!

Yesterday: I went to a reading at UMass Boston. Irish poet Greg Delanty was reading. I had a tough time finding an example of his poems on line, but managed to find this at poets.org:

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19626

Anyway, his reading was excellent, and prompted me to buy his book, "The Blind Stitch," which I proceeded to read immediately after the reading in the lobby. Excellent.

Today, I'm going to the last New & Emerging Writers Series Reading of the year, which has a YA focus. You can get the details about this reading here: http://newsreadings.wordpress.com/

After the NEWS reading, I intend to jaunt over to Somerville to attend the Somerville Writers Festival (http://www.heatcityreview.com/somervillenews.htm), which features Robert Pinsky, Tom Perotta, and Steve Almond.

I'm very excited about today. Also, I already drafted a poem today, and I have itchy fingers.

I believe my friend Marybeth is coming with me, which will make it that much more enjoyable. It's nice when you're not an island.

For those who might not be aware, two of my closest friends and I have undertaken the creation of a magazine, which we're very excited about. Coupled with that, I've gone and collated all the information I could garner about current lit events and put them on the magazine's myspace calendar (http://www.myspace.com/blackwillowreview).

Also, if you feel like submitting your work to the magazine, the guidelines are there as well! You should submit.... to: blackwillowreview@gmail.com. Our new email addresses will come with our new (forthcoming!) website!

Sunday Scribblings: Left & Right

My sides fight
over who is
more right
for my pen,
my collapsing
cartwheels, tilted
pitches, nervous
at-bats.


Of course, Right
believes she (he?)
is right. Left lives
in shadowy breath,
exists as the cracked
crutch: I lean left

when Right grows
tired of my neediness.
Left listens, is the
neglected friend,
but holds asdf for me,
balances the cup
to hold the spoon,

is a team player.
Is willing to work
together with Right,

but they still,
still, for years more,
I am sure -- fight.

I am not
ambiguously-sided,
my dexterities
live angrily

but utlimately,
must listen
for their cues,
to live, to do the
things they do.

Like in any good
society, dominance
must live as a
secondary.

Wrong?

Sometimes, perhaps, I just need the page.

I'm that person who read so much and spoke so little -- even up until a year or two ago -- that I know many, many words, but don't know how to pronounce most of them.

By that same token, I tend to respond in -- wrong? different? -- ways.

Take, for instance:

-- the fact that I thought the little paint can in the paint program (remember the nineties, people?) was an upside down graduation cap
--that I was the only one to argue against launching the US into WWII in a classroom debate
--that I was the only one to suggest that perhaps a character who does not openly grieve her husband's death in a story I read for a class (I can't remember when) WAS actually grieving

These are little things, but....in particular, that I may not like the contemporary canon of poetry. Or I don't get it. I'm not sure which.

I say this because last night I heard Mark Doty read at Babson.

I thought his poems were very interesting, and very intense. He approached his topics from several very emotional and often very personal angles.

However, perhaps because I've been steeped to the point of sourness in "what poetry should be" for so many years, I felt empty afterwards. I didn't feel as if I had just done something worthwhile for my writing pursuits. For my literary persona.

He had excellent turns and some intense content. But, again, I found myself asking where the bigger picture was, quite a bit of the time.

I don't think this is a fair assessment to him, however. For several reasons, which I have considered this evening:

- I'd never really read him before
- He was reading to a large bunch of disinterested students, who, might I add, really disappointed me in their behavior -- coming and going, constantly.
-I really need to hear something at least three times or read it once or twice to get the full picture.

So how can he bring me the big picture when I'm only getting fractions of the frame?

He can't. It's impossible.

This is why I need the page.

So I'll be picking up some Doty, and inquiring further. So thanks for making me stop and think, Mark Doty. Sometimes I need to slow down.

Particularly since I'm not offering anyone a bigger picture.....or am I? I don't know. It's hard to be objective about art.

Sometimes I just need the damn page.

Sunday Scribblings: Money

So a fellow poet turned me on to this website, Sunday Scribblings (http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com), where writers can find a prompt on Saturday, and write about on Sunday. So I'm giving it a shot. I like the fruit that prompts bear.


This week's is "money."


*******************************************

You tell me things:

Divining

With your minted numbers,

The signature of someone

I’ve never heard of

Or cared about, but I can

See where you’ve been.

George, my man, trust no

One. We are all spies.

The scrawl on your fellow

Fiver, it tells me that

Someone named Kerry

Is gay, and that Simon

Loves Clara.

Such tender is the currency

Of secrets and lies.

How meta: my cold, hard

Cash converted into a

Crumpled poem

And broken

Stones

In my pocket.

Connecting the Dots.

I'm trying really hard to create a semi-complete literary events calendar for the Greater Boston Area.

There are a lot of events, but not as many as I thought there would be -- I'm being somewhat choosy -- selecting the events that people would be angry that they didn't hear about.

Speaking of literary events, I've been invited to read at another event. On Thursday, November 15, I'll be reading at the Monet Garden Cafe in Beverly, MA.

Exciting!

Today we are expecting a huge storm to come sweeping through -- big winds, heavy rains. Leftover hurricane. Hurricane Noel.

Today we'll be staying in; writing; playing games; making soup; etc.

Be warm!

Operations!

Things feel good right now.

1. Thank you Red Sox for winning the World Series!

I love Jonathan Papelbon. Seriously, pictures of that boy dancing just make my day: they're freaking hilarious. Who dances with a cigar and gatorade? Gross!

The best thing is that I was at home for this win. Last time, I was in the hospital, passed out.

Now I can sleep again (or at least, without guilt). Wish we had bought some furniture. Dammit!

2. Work is going well. I just love my job. I can't get enough of it. The best thing about it is it gives me an opportunity to identify my own challenges. I need, for example, to be able to better assess the work that comes in, my own work, and express that assessment effectively. That's tough for me, because once I get any distance from anything I tend to exaggerate; it becomes much worse (or better) in my head than it actually is. At the same time, I hate to say anything disparaging about anything, especially another writer. Sometimes, it has to be done. It's not about them, after all; it's about their work.

Even though I love what I do, sometimes I get distracted by other goings-on in the world or in the office; I do my best to devote all my attention to what I'm doing to ensure the quality of the piece.

I've been there for a year today; I've been in the role I am currently in for a year.

3. I've met some nice people lately. This is good for me. I'm naturally rather introverted, and susceptible to self-induced loneliness. That isolation is particularly acute when it comes to writing, particularly where Alexis and I just started magazine operations, but we are located at opposite ends of the country (she in CA, I in MA). It felt like it would be: more volume. Immediately. The lack thereof, somehow, makes the isolation persist. It's a slightly bigger island, but now, thankfully, at least I know a few more people on it.

4. Kristin is coming to visit next month! That's very exciting. I love that girl to death. She's one of the best human beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Because she lives at the bottom of the coast, obviously, I don't see her all that often anymore. There was a glorious year when she lived directly down the street from me, and then within just about a mile. Halcyon days, friends, halcyon days.

5. People have made some pretty good recommendations to me, music-wise. I found some new artists I actually like, and I don't feel perpetually bored when I am listening to the same old songs over and over.

6. I think I've finally come to a conclusion about grad school. I had talked to a lot of people who pointed out the benefits: time with your writing, "expert" advice, a learning community, new connections and so forth. Those are all valid. However, if I went to grad school, I would have to work as well. I had stipulated earlier that I didn't want to go unless I could go all in and just complete my degree and nothing else.

That's not feasible. At all. Not only is it not feasible, it's not really what I want, because I do love my job and don't want to sacrifice it.

Interestingly, on a whim, I asked my boss, Jim, if he went to grad school and what he thought about the value of the experience. Interestingly, I learned that he enrolled for the same type of program I would enroll in (MFA -- CW), got to the school, and then turned around and went home. There were several reasons for this, which we discussed, but he made a point of saying that unless you can pursue it the way you really, truly want to pursue it, it won't be worth it. I had signed up to go to an information session at a school which would be a major compromise for me.

I don't want to compromise my dreams. My dreams are multi-faceted, and deserve all my attention in the best way I can provide it. The best way I can do that now is to keep the job that I love and pursue my poetry "career" (a contradiction in terms?) in my spare time. At night. With the other poets that are out there trying to do the same.

There are a lot of you, I know.

As it stands now, I work in a capacity that is very fulfilling, and I pursue my other interests when I come home, on the weekends, in all my spare time. I don't think I want to tie that -- honestly very effective -- set of functions to conditions set by a professor who may not be aligned with my thinking. I understand that everything requires skill sets, and that is something education can offer. At the same time, I've been to enough school to know that sometimes, those skill sets may be coupled with poor advice or unintentional bias towards a particular way of operating.

So far, I'm doing ok. I am meeting goals, one step at a time.

Until the day comes that I can pursue it whole-heartedly, I'm going to leave grad school on the backburner. The one without a pilot light.