Summer Writing Intentions

I have not meant to let so much time go by since my last blog post; indeed, I'm astonished to see that I haven't written since Friday.  On Saturday, I wrote a rough draft of my sermon, and Sunday, I had to be on the road by 7 a.m. to preach and preside at Faith Lutheran in Bristol.  Yesterday I was putting together the syllabus and other unique-to-me course elements for the online Professional Writing class that I'm teaching for Spartanburg Methodist College this summer.  The class starts on Tuesday, a week from today, but students have access on Thursday.

I often tell people that the only time I really feel that I have off is the week between Christmas and January 1:  no classes to teach, no sermon to write, no prep work to do.  Still, this week feels different, even though I still have appointments and online teaching duties.

It feels like the first week of summer, although it's hard for me to pin down when summer starts precisely.  The last day of in-person class feels like a demarcation line, as does turning in grades, as does graduation.  I want to spend some time this week planning for ways to get back to creative writing, the non-seminary, non-sermon writing.  I want more poetry.  I also want to remember that this summer is the time I planned to put a new poetry collection together.

Here's what I wrote in a December blog post:  " I'm going to wait until summer to do a deeper dive into manuscript assembly. I'm going to create a new manuscript called Higher Ground. The title works on several levels with the climate change poems along with spirituality poems."  That blog post reminded me that I had looked at past manuscripts--do I want to use one of them as a skeleton/scaffolding or start by looking at files of individual poems?

I also want to return to my New Year's resolution, which was also my 2025 resolution:   "I am not feeling OK about how many poems I am not writing. I do a good job of writing down fragments and inspirations, but I'm also aware that I have fewer inspirations and fragments in the past year or two than has been usual. I want to end the year with 52 poems written, finished poems. They may not be worth sending out, but they need to be finished. Fifty-two poems gives me space to catch up, and space to have a white hot streak that sets me ahead."

Here's hoping for some white hot writing streaks this summer!

Publication Ponderings in Mid-December

I woke up this morning thinking about publication opportunities as the year draws to a close.  There are book contests that seem interesting still, like the Wilder Prize at Two Sylvias Press.  At one point in the last few months (see this blog post), I thought about revising the last manuscript of poems that I created in 2019.  I even printed the table of contents to see which poems have been published since I last sent out the manuscript, and I made a list of new poems to include.  I put question marks by the poems I might take out to make room for the new.  I thought I would change the title and have the manuscript ready by mid-December, so I could send it to a few contests.

But this morning, I have a different vision.  I'm going to wait until summer to do a deeper dive into manuscript assembly.  I'm going to create a new manuscript called Higher Ground.  The title works on several levels with the climate change poems along with spirituality poems.  I'm going to let the idea percolate as I send out poems for publication and think about the larger themes of my body of poems.  I think it will be a much stronger manuscript if I take this different approach of creating something new, not grafting onto the old.

I am aware that I may only have a chance to publish one book with a spine when it comes to poetry, given my age and how long it takes to move a poetry book manuscript from submission to publication.  So I want it to be good work on several levels:  the best poetry that I have written, the poems that work as a cohesive whole in the best way.

This morning I decided to submit some individual poems to journals whose submission windows close soon.  As I do this, I update my submission log, which I don't always do when the rejections come in, which means I miss a few.  Today, along with a rejection, a request to submit during the narrow window in December when the journal is open for submissions.

Happily, I hadn't missed the opportunity, so I submitted right away, before I lost momentum.

And now it's off for a very full day of volunteer work.  I'm going to help the group that builds the set for "Return to Bethlehem," zip over for quilt group from 1:30 -3:30 or so, and then back to the Bethlehem set.

Saturday Fragments with "The Stand"

It's one of those Saturday mornings where I wonder where the time has gone, even though I know it's not actually late.  Let me collect a few fragments from the past few days:

--Last week, we explored a Halloween channel, but I quickly realized there wasn't much I wanted to watch.  What I really wanted to watch was the 2020 version of Stephen King's The Stand.  I didn't want to pay to stream it, so I requested the DVD from the library.  We watched the first two episodes last night, and I was impressed.

--I thought I had watched part of the first episode before, but as we watched it, none of it felt familiar to me.

--This morning, I found a podcast from 2021 that has a discussion both of the 2 versions of the book and the 2020 series.  At first I was confused because the site I was on gave an August 2025 broadcast version.  I did some digging and found the original website where one can watch the podcast, which is an aspect of podcasts which I usually don't use.

--I've spent the last week thinking about a book-length collection of poems.  I had thought that I might never return to that type of project.  But lately, I thought of using my 2019 manuscript (I wrote about its assembly in this blog post) as a base, adding poems that have been published/written since I assembled it.  The idea intrigues me, and this term, I have time to pull it together for a few contest submissions to presses I want to support.

--On my way home yesterday, I stopped at my favorite apple orchard, Coston Farms.  I bought my favorite apple variety, the Mutsu.  But I wanted another one for contrast, so I got the Pink Lady, which was my grandmother's favorite later in her life.  Earlier in her life, she went with Rome or Macintosh, along with Red and Yellow Delicious--she wasn't an apple snob at all.  I am a bit more of a snob, although I'll be happy with a bag of Red Delicious apples, if they're on sale.

--I also stopped at the Village Bakery, in its Fletcher location.  They had day old bread on sale, and I thought I had won the lottery.  Sure, I bake my own bread, but I didn't have any for yesterday's vision I had of bread and cheese and apples on the back deck.

--It was not as lovely last evening as it would have been earlier in the week.  It was chillier and cloudier.  But today may be better, and I still have all of the elements for a good snack/light meal. 

Rejections Worth Keeping

Yesterday, I got one of the better rejections I've gotten.  I created a new manuscript to send to Two Sylvias Press for their Wilder Prize, the competition for writers who are over age 50--named after Laura Ingalls Wilder, who didn't start writing until after she was 50.

Here's the e-mail:

"Kristin-- please know, your manuscript was on our shortlist of only 20 manuscripts. This came so close for us, just a highly competitive prize this year, but we wanted you to know how strong your manuscript is and that it stood out for us. Please feel free to consider if us again if this hasn't been picked up. Your poems were some of our favorites and we are very sorry to have to pass on it. We loved your work.

Continue to submit your work to various presses with the knowledge of how subjective these decisions are. We believe in the mission of bringing more poetry and art into the world, and we encourage you to continue to do so as a poet."

I've been submitting manuscripts to Two Sylvias Press for years now, so I scrolled back through rejection letters just to make sure that this one was truly different.  In the past, I've gotten encouragement, but never anything quite like this.

I really appreciate the suggestion to submit the manuscript again--I will do that next year.  In the past, while I've gotten encouragement, I never really knew whether or not to keep submitting the same manuscript.  In fact, I created a new one because I felt a little silly submitting the same one again and again to the same presses.

I went back to my blog to see when I assembled the manuscript and why.  Here's what I wrote in this post in December:  "I also got a new poetry manuscript put together. I want something new to submit when Copper Canyon re-opens. They're pretty clear about not submitting a manuscript that has been rejected in the past. I'm not sure about whether or not to resubmit Ash Wednesday at the Trinity Test Site to other presses where I've submitted before--those presses aren't as clear. I think that the manuscripts are significantly different from each other, but I should probably look at the two of them side by side. Are they really that different? The new manuscript has fewer of the nuclear war poems. It's composed primarily of poems written since 2014."

Based on the feedback from this submission, I'd say that the new manuscript is worth sending to other places too.  And if it hasn't been accepted by the Fall, I'll resubmit to the Wilder prize.

Holiday Festivities and Regular Life

Once again, it's been a week that's been exhausting in its pace, but with moments of grace and beauty.  I have spotted Christmas trees and been staggered to realize that we're almost to the end of the year--and the end of a decade.  But let me just focus on some of the highlights of the past week:

Holidays:  Festivities and Contemplations

--Last night, we walked to downtown Hollywood.  We thought we would meet friends for happy hour at the Olivia restaurant that's part of the Circ Hotel, but happy hour isn't offered on Friday.  So, we moved to a table and had a dinner of heavy appetizers and adult beverages.  It was good to catch up and good to remember why we live here and good to do more than just work, work, work.

--I've been taking more walks in the evenings--beautiful lights. 

--I've also been enjoying driving with the holiday lights twinkling.  Some neighborhoods are just too distracting though--when I drove a friend home after our Wed. night journaling at church, I found the blinking and blaring of the lights made it difficult to see the street itself.

--I am trying not to feel the preemptive grieving that often comes this time of year when I think about how quickly this time of year is zooming by and soon we will be to the darker times of January when there will be no twinkly lights and my favorite holidays are very far away.

--I thoroughly enjoyed my journaling time on Wednesday night.

Writing

--Yesterday I wrote to a friend, "My plan for the holidays is to return to my apocalyptic novel, which I've begun thinking of this way: Margaret Atwood meets Graham Greene (novelist, not actor) in a compelling exploration of the choices we make at midlife, whether the apocalypse is upon us or not.  Should I weave the aspect of gender into my elevator pitch?"  This week I went back and read the 72 pages of the novel I've already written.  I also wrote a bit this morning.

--Yesterday I had an idea for a new character in the apocalyptic novel, the woman they called Pre-Raph Rosie, the woman who came to a Saint Lucy's Day party with a wreath of candles in her auburn hair.

--I also got a new poetry manuscript put together.  I want something new to submit when Copper Canyon re-opens.  They're pretty clear about not submitting a manuscript that has been rejected in the past.  I'm not sure about whether or not to resubmit Ash Wednesday at the Trinity Test Site to other presses where I've submitted before--those presses aren't as clear.  I think that the manuscripts are significantly different from each other, but I should probably look at the two of them side by side.  Are they really that different?  The new manuscript has fewer of the nuclear war poems.  It's composed primarily of poems written since 2014.

Reading

I went to the library to pick up books that I'd put on hold, and browsed the new books shelf.  I picked up On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong.  I had decided not to buy it because I didn't love Night Sky with Exit Wounds as much as I expected to.  But when I saw the novel at the library, I decided to give it a try.  I read it in one big gulp on Thursday night.  It was wonderfully written in places.  I liked the first part of the novel best, the part that explores what it means to be an immigrant, what it means to lose a country, the weaving of those ideas with the monarch butterfly.  The later part of the book that deals with two young gay men realizing that they're gay and having sex and getting lost in drug abuse--that part didn't feel as revelatory as the first part.

Does it work as a novel?  It reads more like a lyrical memoir.  There's a bit of narrative arc, and I've read some articles about Vuong's intentional, non-western approach to putting a novel together, meaning there's not the rising action, climax, falling action classic Aristotelian approach to plot.  I'm not sure I saw that.  There was conflict and a sad sort of resolution that comes with every coming of age story.

In short, it was a good book, and I'm glad that I read it.  Does it make my best books that I read in 2019 list?  No, and maybe I'll make a separate post about that.  I've read a lot more books this year, and I've made a conscious effort to make sure that more of them would be worth my time, so Vuong had fierce competition.

Work

--I got grades turned in for my online classes--which meant I spent every scrap of free time grading, grading, grading.  But it's done.

--I solved the issue of affordable gifts for externship sites, which shouldn't feel so important to me.  One of my colleagues told me about a great deal on a large box of gourmet chocolates at Aldi's--$3.99 vs. $10-15 for the boxes of cookies we've given in past years.

--I put together a going away party for a colleague--a feat both sad and satisfying.

--I will try not to think about the frustrations that come with the search for a replacement for that colleague.

Spiritual Director Certificate Plans

--I got some materials from the program, and I had this moment of panic as I wondered if I could really do this program.  But it's been that kind of work week, and I reminded myself that not every work week would be like this.

--I also reminded myself of Julia Cameron's idea of escape velocity that she talked about in The Artist's Way.  She reminds us that the world has a way of trying to derail/prevent/disrupt those of us with plans for a different future and that we should stay steady and constant.

Writing Goals for August

It's hard to believe how the month of July has zoomed by.  Just three weeks ago we were getting ready to drive up to Orlando for a quick reunion with my mom, dad, sister, and nephew.

On our way up and back, we listened to an audiobook that my spouse had already started during his commute to teaching:  The Heart of Everything That Is: The Untold Story of Red Cloud, An American Legend by Bob Drury and Tom Clavin.  It's the story of a little known Native American chief, Red Cloud, one of the few Native American chiefs to ever defeat the U.S. Army.

Long term readers of this blog know that I have a special spot in my heart for the Little House on the Prairie books and the whole subject of pioneers, Native Americans, and frontier life.  It was fascinating to hear this book, which is quite explicit in the cost that came with opening up the frontier to a westward expansion by mostly white pioneers.  The butchery on both sides was shocking to me, and I'm not unaware of some of what happened.

I didn't know as much about Fort Laramie, how it was buffeted on many sides as it most often simply tried to keep the peace.  It occurred to me that Laramie would make a great name for the dean in my collection of linked stories set at a for profit art school in South Florida.

I came home from that trip with lots of ideas for that collection, and I did get all the stories into place.  I think I'll spend the next month revising the collection.  It seems like I might be able to do that even on the days when my attention span is fragmented--I want to see if I can revise here and there in the 15-30 free minutes that sometimes open up.  I often try to make a submission during those times, but that can be much tougher, both in terms of needing more time/attention span and in terms of which journal is open at what time.

So let me use the windows to do some revision work on the three manuscripts that need it:  my short story collection, my poetry collection, and my essay collection.  I want them ready to go by the Tuesday after Labor Day.

Progress Report: Linked Short Story Collection

Yesterday, I made a giant leap with my linked short story collection.  I had been getting strong glimmers of how to arrange the book and yesterday, I decided to try it.  Story by story, I built the book.  While some of the stories will still need some revision to fit together, I now know the order.  And even better, I know that they can fit together.

I had worried that all of my stories had administrators dealing with student complaints--and I worried that maybe it was the same complaint.  I've been writing these stories for years, so it wouldn't have surprised me to find out that I used the same material from my real life.  Happily, I did not.

I placed the stories with administrators and complaining students far enough away from each other that I hope that no reader will toss the book across the room saying, "Ugh.  I just can't take it anymore."  I hope that discerning readers and literary critics will see a larger purpose to the repetition.  I am making a point that much of the life of an administrator revolves around complaints, many of them similar, many of them groundless.

Right now, the collection is 49,717 words, 184 pages.  I have a story I'm still working on that I'll include, and there's still revision that will add words.  But I've laid to rest my worries about the collection being too short.

Let me also record my process of the past 9 months, in case I find it important later.  For years, I wrote the stories knowing that I was working towards a collection, knowing what connected the stories (characters all working at the same for-profit art school), but that didn't help me figure out how to arrange the stories.  In the fall, I worked on a story that had the school closing, so that helped me with the narrative arc.

Once I had the arc, there were clearly some stories that belonged earlier, stories that gave no sense that the school was floundering, and stories that belonged near the end, stories that gave foreshadowing of the crises to come, stories that showed the crisis in action.  To be more specific, one story revolves around a corporate person who comes to the campus to assess, and one story revolves around a contentious campus meeting.  There's also a story that shows a RIF (Reduction in Force) happening.

My goal for the coming year is to send out these stories to see if I can find a home for them.  They do all stand on their own.  But I think they are stronger together.  So I'll also spend the coming year polishing the collection.

Inspirations: of Fitbits, Jesus, and Larger Collections

I have so many threads of random thoughts today.  Let me list some of them and see if a tapestry emerges:

--I arrived home last night to wilted hydrangeas, even though they'd been sitting out on the steps to take advantage of the rains of the last few days.  My first thought was irritation at the neediness of these plants.  But later, I took them inside, and like last week, I put them in the kitchen sink and gave them a good but gentle soaking.  And this morning, they have perked back up.

--The metaphors of the hydrangea situation are so obvious that they might seem like clichés.  Let me move along.

--I am loving the Fitbit.  It has inspired me to move more.  Sure, it's only been a few days, and the magic may wear off, but I'm trying to take advantage of them while I can.  I love all the data.

--I've always loved keeping track of various parts of my life, and the Fitbit really helps with the logging of it all.

--If the last few nights are any indication, my sleep patterns are even more wrecked than I already knew that they are.  I'm intrigued by the sleep stats that the Fitbit gives me, even as I am a bit creeped out by the Fitbit knowing these things.

--Yesterday, I arrived to spin class after having spent time writing about Jesus and menopause.  I thought about Jesus having a Fitbit.  So much to say about the incarnation, so many ways to write a poem.

--I plan to revisit my collection of Jesus poems, along with my poems that write about feast days and their intersections with modern life.  I plan to have a new collection ready to submit to the Two Sylvias Press Wilder Prize in the fall.

--Of course, there's the question about my old collection.  I've been submitting it for years now, and I'm still convinced that it's a strong collection.  I've had at least one editor give me encouragement along with rejection. 

--I'm also thinking of how many books I might have published in my life.  If it could only be one collection of poems, which would I want to leave as my legacy?

--Can't I have 2 collections?  Is that so much to ask?

--And part of me thinks about how my vision has shrunk.  Well, not my vision, but the realities of publishing--traditional publishing.

--Part of me also knows that the reality I see in front of me might not last.  I might put a manuscript away, and in later years, there might be interest.  Maybe it's time to move on.

--I've also resisted the idea of my new collection because it's so overtly religious.  I've worried about all the readers I might not have because of that theme.

--And I know that my religious poems will be strange and perhaps offensive to people who like religious themes.  What if I end up with no readers?

--I certainly won't have readers if I publish nothing.  Maybe I should focus on the work itself, and not who will read it.  I should create collections that delight me and trust that there will be communities that embrace that work.

--Let me go out for a vigorous walk and ponder these things.

Weaving a Title for the Memoir

Today I was feeling a bit of despair.  It feels like weeks since I've written anything new.  That's not true of course.  I wrote a poem in early November, and I've continued to blog regularly.  I've also been feeling bad because here it is, mid-November, and I haven't sent out any submissions.

That sentence, too, is not strictly true.  I've sent out some poems here and there.  But compared to past years . . . of course, in past years, I wouldn't have been in an office for 40-55 hours a week, plus teaching online.  Sigh.

So, this morning, I wrote a poem--hurrah.  And I started revising my letter to agents; I need to start working more seriously on getting my memoir published.

And then, my stumbling block.  I need to commit to a title.  But I don't really LOVE any of my titles.  Or I do, but I worry that no one else will.

And yes, I've stumbled on this issue before (see this blog post).  Why is this so hard?

I adjusted the query letter to the next round of possible agents.  For one, I had to create a project overview.  I wrote this:

These essays explore what it means to be an administrator in a for-profit art school, which puts me at odds in some ways with traditional academia, as does much of my writing. But I do the work for which I am paid while also staying true to my Christian values. Those values, which skew towards liberation and feminist theology, often put me at odds with various aspects of church life. Along the way, I’ve found kindred spirits and groups of fellow artists who provide support and encouragement.

 I’ve written these essays about my struggle to stay authentic, to avoid alienating huge swaths of the populations in my life, and to do all the different kinds of work that must be done while staying employed and married. I suspect that I’m not the only one who dances this way throughout the day. My goal is to provide the solace of knowing that we’re not alone.

Then it was back to thinking about the title.  I doodled.  I took out some recycling.  I shaved my legs. 

And then this title floated up:  Monk or Marxist:  Ministries of Interruption in a Corporate Climate. 

It weaves together the various strands, except perhaps for living a creative life.  How about this:

Monk or Marxist:  Creating Ministries of Interruption in a Corporate Climate

or

Monk or Marxist:  Creation Amidst Ministries of Interruption in a Corporate Climate

or

Monk or Marxist:  Creation and Other Ministries of Interruption in a Corporate Climate

Too long a subtitle? 

Let me sit with this awhile.

The Perfect Book for Your Advent and for Holiday Gifts

I always look for ways to inject some spiritual elements into Advent, that season before Christmas that can be hectic and draining.  This year I plan to delve into this book, Annunciation, a collection of poems and illustrations.

I am one of the sixteen poets included, but even if I wasn't, I would still want this book.  I'm interested in how the writing and art respond to the purpose of the book:

"The annunciation story is a complicated foundational story in western culture. Patriarchies have used Mary as a model for ideal female acceptance, faith, and submission to authority, while at the same time millions of people have identified with her courage, suffering, and patience, and accorded her their personal devotion and deep respect.

I suspect that if we look closely, most of us may have been touched by her story in some way. I want to encourage you to look at the annunciation from a modern point of view, as contemporary poets of different cultural backgrounds. Your work can be religious or secular, traditional or decidedly not, written in  a feminist light, a current-events light, a personal light. I'm not looking for any particular type of thrust or interpretation, but rather a broad range of responses to this story and this person we know as Mary.  I want to encourage you to think deeply and fearlessly, and to write from your hearts."


My purple legal pad where I write poems shows me that I was playing with the Gabriel idea before I saw this post of Beth Adam's art that she posted in January.  I had the idea during Advent, the mingling of the thought of John the Baptist as that homeless guy under the overpass, the idea of God coming where we least expect to find the Divine, and the godlessness of South Florida. 

Then in January, Beth posted this picture:

When I saw her post on a day when I saw other images that spoke to me of Gabriel, I wrote a blog post about the poem I was trying to write.  That blog post led to an electronic conversation with Beth, which has led to my poem being included in the book.

The book is reasonably priced, especially for a book that includes art.  And if you order now, you can get a discount.  Even better, 10% of the proceeds from this book will be donated directly to refugee relief for women.

I'd be interested in this book, even if I wasn't part of a religious tradition that hears her story every December.  It's hard to escape the story, although perhaps it's easier in more secular parts of the country than the southeastern states of the U.S. where I grew up.  I'm interested to see what other poets do with that story.  And I know that I love the art of Beth Adams.

The book also includes some background and some notes on the process of creating the poetry.  I've always been fascinated by artists/writers/creators and the way that creations come to incarnation.

I also like that purchases of this book support old-fashioned book publishing, a small press that has done much to support poetry.  The book is 72 pages, which is a larger book than I was expecting, but not so large as to be a daunting reading for Advent.

In an early e-mail to participants, Beth Adams wrote:    "Religion is never simple, how it affects our own identities is never simple, and neither is the role of women within society, no matter how far we think we've come. I think this story has been a foundational one for western societies, and worth a closer look in our own time."

This book provides a perfect starting point.

If you still have holiday shopping to do, let me suggest this book.  It could be perfect for so many on your list:  the spiritual, the seeker, the artists/writers/creators, those who yearn for social justice.  The purchase of this book supports a local economy, in terms of supporting a specific small publisher, while also alleviating global suffering, with its support of female refugees.  You can get a discount if you buy more than 10 copies--and you don't have to battle the crowds at the malls or the onground stores where you shop.  What could be better than that?

To order, go to the publisher's website:  http://www.phoeniciapublishing.com/annunciation.html.  You will also see all sorts of information to whet your appetite.

Inspirations from a Women's Retreat

I am back from the God's Spa women's retreat at Luther Springs, but still not back to "regular life."  I gave myself the gift of a day off.  I knew that I'd need time to decompress, plus I have grades due today for some of my online classes.

I've done laundry and made a casserole for a week's worth of lunches.  I baked sweet potatoes too.  I'm in need of some vegetarian food, after the riotous living of the week-end.

You may think of camp or retreat and assume the food would be sparse.  No, it's not that kind of retreat center.

It was a rainy, rainy week-end, which was cozy in a way.  It also led me to feel a bit fretful about leaving, since we had miles and miles of dirt road before getting to paved road.  Happily, it was O.K.

For more about the particulars of the retreat, see this post on my theology blog.  For this post here, let me record some inspirations that came to me during this retreat.

 I did a group guided meditation.  I hadn't really thought about going, but we were practicing a song on the back porch, and the rest of the group was going, so I went too.  I was able to do the meditation without falling asleep, unlike the last time that I tried meditation, back in February.

We were taken through the meditation where we imagined floating in a Mediterranean sea.  We saw a figure on the beach--since it was a Christian retreat, that figure turned out to be Jesus.  We had a conversation.

In my meditation, Jesus and I talked about writing and focused on poetry.  We talked about Luisa Igloria's Buddha poems and what an inspiration they had been.  Jesus asked why I hadn't compiled all my poems about him into one volume.  Today I would have my answer.  I don't have enough.

And thus, I have a fun project.  I'm going to write one of my Jesus in the world poems at the rate of one per week (for an example of this kind of poem of mine, see this blog post).  I also hope to write another poem each week too.

What other insights came to me?

I'm going to start carrying a journal with me.  I want to track my eating.  I want to make a sketch each day.  I want to keep daily gratitude lists.  I want to capture my various inspirations.

I also overheard a snippet, which I will record here.  An older woman eating a banana said, "I haven't eaten a banana since Ralph died."  It's one of those sentences that says so much, even as it seems banal.

Creativity Saturday with Alice Walker

Yesterday afternoon, as thunder rumbled but the rain never came, I watched this documentary on Alice Walker.  I cannot believe it took me so long to watch this segment of PBS' American Masters Series.

I know that these segments are not always available forever, and that this segment had been out awhile, so I decided that I would watch it after my friends went home after a delightful picnic and pool time together.  I had planned to do other tasks (like grading) while watching it, but it was so compelling that I quickly put aside those plans.

I did work on a baby quilt while watching.  That activity seemed perfect.

Most of the information wasn't new to me.  Alice Walker was a touchstone to me in my younger years, and I already knew a lot about her.  Still, it was wonderful to hear the interviews, to see the footage, and to think about what it means to be a woman artist, especially one of color.

I did find one thing new:  there were interviews with her former partners, including the husband who was father to their daughter Rebecca.  And I somehow missed the fact that Alice Walker and Tracy Chapman were lovers.

In my younger years, I'd have been fascinated by the variety of relationships.  Yesterday I was most enthralled by the recounting of the writing of The Color Purple and the photographs of the notebooks where she wrote the longhand draft of the novel.

I love the idea of the characters talking to her, of her ancestors coming to her while she wrote.  I have always been receptive to that idea, but I was even more open to it yesterday; the night before I dreamed of my grandmother, whom I have been missing a lot in these late summer days.

When the movie finished, my first thought was to watch it again.  Instead, I watched American Beauty, which I haven't seen since about 2003.

I wish I had watched the Alice Walker documentary instead.

Both films talk about becoming an authentic person and staying true to that authentic person.  But the Alice Walker documentary made me want to get back to my writing desk and do my best work.  American Beauty made me want to hide under the bed.

Inspired by Alice Walker, I looked at my longer poetry manuscript.  I've been wrestling with whether or not to rethink it (see this post).  On Wednesday I had a long, wonderful conversation with my colleague creative writer friend who encouraged me not to take the chapbook overlapping poems out of the manuscript.

Yesterday I decided to follow her advice.  I also decided to take out the weaker poems (none of which are in the chapbook) and put in the stronger poems that I had thought about using if I had decided to take out the chapbook overlapping poems.

Today it's back to work; I have to turn in grades for 2 online classes tomorrow, so today I need to make sure I have all the last minute, extra credit graded.  But I'm happy, because once I get grades turned in, I have one of those windows where I have a few weeks of extra writing time--let me not waste them!

Manuscript Musings

Long ago, when I first started thinking about putting a first book manuscript together, I thought that a good chunk of my first book would consist of poems that had been in a chapbook.  For awhile, it seemed that most first books I analyzed were constructed that way.

But as it became apparent that I'd be awhile between book-length (and I include chapbooks as book-length) publications, I started thinking about it differently.  I started thinking about the people who would buy my books.  I thought about myself as reader and purchaser.

As a book purchaser, I'm willing to buy both a chapbook and a book with a spine.  Thus, I don't want a book that contains poems that were in a chapbook--unless that chapbook is no longer available.  That was my thinking 12 years ago.  These days, when book publishing is cheap, if my chapbook went out of print, it would be much easier to make new copies myself, if I found myself with sudden demand for them.

Throughout the past decade and a half of book constructing, I've been careful to have only a few poems that could be found in a chapbook as I created book-length manuscripts.  In February of 2014, I put together longer manuscript, a book with a spine.  I've only sent it to a few places; I plan to send it out more aggressively in the coming months.

But in the meantime, back in November, I took 18 of the poems that are in the longer manuscript and created a chapbook which I'm calling "Life in the Holocene Extinction."  That chapbook won First Runner-Up in the Concrete Wolf Publishers annual chapbook contest.  I've entered the contest several years and never had a manuscript place so well.  So I sent the manuscript to the Finishing Line Press New Women's Voices competition.  Judging is underway.

I've entered that contest before, and while I didn't win, my chapbook I Stand Here Shredding Documents was chosen for publication.  So I'm hopeful for my current manuscript.

This morning I looked at poems written/revised after I put the longer manuscript together.  I'm thinking of taking those 19 poems that are part of both manuscripts out of the longer one.

Those are the stronger poems of course.  I have other strong poems to use in their place.  But then, some part of my brain thinks, why not revise the whole manuscript?

And that thinking sent me spiraling down a hole thinking of all the poems I've written, poems I once thought of as my best, which are now no longer part of any manuscript.  Stronger ones came along to replace them.

I also think of something that Eavan Boland said about our current time, an article which I can't find, but do remember. She said that we're losing the first book because it's so hard to get first books published.  By the time we get a "first book" from a poet, it's what would have been their second or third book, had they had a publishing career that was more common to the 20th century.

Of course, many voices that are published today would have been lost then--never published at all.

I'll keep mulling all my choices and trying not to get too bogged down by these details.

Bartleby, Ahab, or the Great White Whale?

In many ways, this has been a tough week for my writing.  From the outside, you probably wouldn't be able to tell.  After all, I've continued to write.  I've even written more poems than I usually do in a week.  But I've felt like the forces of my life have conspired to keep me from writing, that I've had to fight for every scrap of writing time.

I often realize that work intrudes when my dreams are set in the workplace, when I'm doing mundane tasks even in my dreams.  Yes, I've had that kind of week.

When I don't have as much creative time as I'd like, I often find that my e-mails at work become more creative.  Here's what I wrote to my full-time faculty on Thursday:

"If you don’t want to be part, it’s perfectly fine.  Please send me an e-mail that says, “I would prefer not to.”  I will smile at your reference to Melville’s “Bartleby the Scrivener,” whilst trying to avoid an existential crisis wondering if I really am a character in a Melvillian work—hopefully not Ahab!  Hopefully not Ishmael!  Will I alone survive to tell the tale?

Don’t read anything into that last question!  It’s a reference to the end of Moby Dick.  I think.  It’s been awhile since I read that tome."

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And it's been a tough week because I got a rejection.  Copper Canyon Press said no to my book length collection of poems.

It was a lovely rejection e-mail, one that let me know that they really had read the book: 

"Thank you for submitting "Ash Wednesday at the Trinity Test Site" to Copper Canyon Press. We are grateful to have had the opportunity to consider it. The work strikes a compelling balance between apocalyptic fallouts and dishwasher clatter -- we enjoyed your exploration of what's at stake in the drama of the every day.

As you know, we publish a limited number of titles each year, and unfortunately we have not selected "Ash Wednesday at the Trinity Test Site" for publication; it's not the best fit for our list. However, we wish you the best of luck as you move forward with this and other creative projects. Thanks again."
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I knew it was a long shot when I sent them the manuscript.  Sadly, every submission is a long shot.  There are so many great manuscripts out there and so little opportunities.

I'm also sad because I'm beginning to feel that should this manuscript ever find a home, it might be the only collection of poems I publish--at least at this rate.  I've been working on this manuscript for 10 years now.  It's a very different manuscript from 10 years ago.  For more on that idea, see this post from February.

But to end on a happier note:  when I was scrolling through my Feb. entries, looking for posts about that latest revision, I came across this post and the line "be the asteroid":  "I heard a scientist say that an asteroid killed the dinosaurs; this time, we're the asteroid.  What does it mean to be the asteroid?" 

I have just written a poem that delights me, a poem that repeats this line, a line I might never have remembered if not for that blog post.

Poetry Manuscripts and Classical Music Compositions

Yesterday, after a morning with the poetry manuscript, I went to the Broward Symphony.  This concert was much more traditional than the one in December; is that the reason the audience was so much larger?

Although I don't have the understanding of classical music that my parents do, it's always a delight to get out to hear live music--or live art of any kind, for that matter.  As I watched the second half of the program, a part of the Scheherezade suite by Rimsky-Korsakov, I thought about how similar an orchestral suite is to a manuscript of poems.

At first I tried to make a metaphor wherein each instrument was a poem.  But I quickly moved to thinking about the individual chunks of the music.

Each part of the orchestral piece has to work all by itself.  But by careful repetition, they also link together.  Some orchestral pieces link together fiercely.  Maybe they're tied to an outside story, like Peter and the Wolf.  Maybe it's a story that the composer has made up, like The Nutcracker Suite.

Even with no external scaffolding, we see the same elements holding the suite together; but a composer could choose from a wide variety of possibilities.  There's repetition.  There's the type of composition.  There are all sorts of experimental directions.

I don't have the music vocabulary to continue further, so let me shift to the poetry manuscript.  I've always tried to have a variety of poems in my work.  I could put every single monastery-themed poem into one single work, but I like the way they interact with poems that have a different focus.  Still, I've kept the overarching focus the same:  how our faith in various systems (weapons, religious, medical, Capitalism, science) may doom us or redeem us.

I decided that most of my poems would be in the free verse style.  I have a whole manuscript of formalist poems, but I don't think I conform to those structures as skillfully.  I think it's important to return to the poetry of form (villanelles, sestinas, and sonnets are my favorites) as a good discipline, but I don't often leave that practice with a solid poem.

I have a sonnet in the new manuscript, but I took out the pantoum and there are no sestinas.  My next question:  was having a lone sonnet in a manuscript of free verse too weird?  I decided it was fine, like a hidden treasure.

I read the manuscript to make sure that the themes and imagery swirl around each other without collapsing with the weight of it all or slamming into each other in a destructive way.  I think I've been successful.

I don't have any submissions in mind right now, so I'll let it sit a bit longer.  Then I'll read it one more time to make sure I think it's all in good shape.  And then, once again, out into the world it goes.

In Which I Discover My Poet Self Likes the Word Snug

I'm tired this morning, but it's a pleasant tiredness.  I spent yesterday afternoon organizing a variety of files, copying files from one computer to another so that I could print them.  In the late afternoon/early evening, we walked to our friends' house, where we enjoyed yummy appetizers and good wine.  We talked about our all-time favorite writers, and which presidential candidates seemed most like ones you'd want to have a beer with.  Although I would not want to have a beer with Nixon, I confessed my sympathy for Richard Nixon, the Richard Nixon of 1960, not the one of 1972.  I came home and crashed into sleep, where I dreamed of a huge party I was giving for strangers in our new house, but we were out of food, and the place was lit only by candles, and I was afraid of fire.

What better mindset to read the new manuscript of poems?

I wanted to read the manuscript from beginning to end, in one sitting, and now, I have.  I like the way the poems swirl around some of the same themes and images:  nuclear stuff, the rising seas, the difficulty of modern work, monastery stuff, religious images.  I think I have it all balanced.

I need to re-think one image.  In poem after poem, people return to snug houses, snug cottages, snug condos.  Too much repetition of the word snug.  Now to determine which poem gets the word.  And should I try to develop other ways of suggesting that snugness?  Could I have a tightly tucked cottage? Hmm.  I'll let these ideas percolate.

There's also several times where things rise like incense rising in a chapel, prayers rising in a chapel, like smoke wafting to rafters.  I'm not sure that repetition leaps out the way the adjective "snug" does.

I'm startled by how many typos remain.  I really thought I had caught all of those.

And I would not have thought the word "snug" would be one that I would overuse.

Revising the Poetry Manuscript: A Process Report

I have a recollection of reading an interview with Eavan Boland (maybe in print, maybe in Poets and Writers?) where she talks about how the first book is changing.  She pointed out that the "first" book of many a poet is actually their 2nd or 3rd (or 4th?) because there are so few ways to get a book of poems published.  She was talking about the state of publishing before the explosion of electronic possibilities.

Still, I had her idea in mind as I revised my book-length manuscript one more time.  By now, it would have to count as my 3rd book, maybe my 4th or 5th.

When I first put the manuscript together in 2004, I had published a chapbook, and I saw the book with a spine as a way of preserving the chapbook.  Later, when I revised, I took out the majority of those poems.  I am guessing that the primary buyers for a book with a spine would be people who have bought a chapbook, and I wanted to give them new material.

In 2010, I did another major revision. I took out some older poems and added some newer poems.  I wanted to include poems that had been published in journals.  I wanted these inclusions for 2 reasons:  I thought it would signal to a book publisher that these poems were accepted, and I wanted to preserve them in a more permanent form.

I submitted the manuscript to contests, but only the ones where I got a copy of the winning book.  I submitted to every publisher I knew of that takes manuscripts with no fee.  Finally, I had to admit that it was time to revise it again.  It's taken me awhile to muster the fortitude and find the time to do another revision.

This past week-end, I tried to be ruthless.  By now, most of the poems in the manuscript have been published in journals, so I couldn't use that criteria as my first cut.  I tried to take a hard look at each and every poem.  Was it my best?  Was it too prose-like?  Had I covered the same material better elsewhere?  If so, was the poem worth the risk of being repetitive?

I had pulled out my more recently written poems that I thought were my strongest.  I went through my poetry notebooks and typed some poems into the computer.  I took out about 25 poems and added about 27.

Soon, I will print out a copy of what I've created and once again, look for flaws.  I'll fix the flaws to the best of my ability.  And then, I'll call it done.  And then, I'll send it out again.

I'm deeply aware that the world is full of fine manuscripts.  But I'll try again.

When I assembled manuscripts in my younger years, I assumed that I would have several book-length publications.  I assumed that once I was established with that first book, I would publish a book every few years.

Now, I am painfully aware that I may have just one book with a spine and that's if I'm lucky.  As I've revised the manuscript, I asked every poem if it was worthy of inclusion if I only had one book that would survive me.

In a few years, I might be asking the same questions again.  I'll keep writing, and eventually, I might have stronger poems to include.

I still find it fun to assemble manuscripts, to see how my brain has approached themes and symbols and history.  I have no idea if I'll ever find a publisher who feels the same way about my work, but I do know that I've connected with readers along the way (chapbook buyers, journal editors, Facebook friends, blog readers), so I have enough encouragement to keep going.

Will any of it make a difference later?  When I first started writing, I truly believed that writers could change the world.  I still do.  But that's a tough measure of success for my own writing.  In fact, I'm willing to bet that most writers have no idea if they've changed the world or not.  We just don't have the perspective to judge until time has gone by.

I've often asked myself if I'd keep writing if I knew that nothing would survive me.  The answer has been yes.  It's worth doing, as a way to know myself and the world.  It's better than many ways I could spend my time.

Keeping the Flame Alive

I've noticed how many lives seem to be unravelling right now.  What happened to the easy living of summer time?

In case that's you, here's a photo to inspire you:

It's one of the many things made at the Create in Me retreat back in April.  If you're thinking, I'd love to have more photos to help my brain focus, go to this post on my theology blog.  There are photos of a variation of a Zen sand garden to inspire tranquil calm and photos of whimsical garden figures to inspire a smile.

I've had a good morning.  I began by doing some simple revisions with my memoir manuscript.  Let me define what I mean by that.

You may remember that I began this process by going back through my blogs looking for any post that would fit into the idea I had for a memoir:  a Kathleen Norris like collection of essays that are tied together by the theme of trying to create an integrated life in a workplace that doesn't particularly support a healthy spirituality or creative work.  My workplace isn't usually outright hostile, but it's not supportive either.  I had Nora Gallagher's Things Seen and Unseen as a model, and I organized the manuscript around the calendar year.  So, blog posts that are clearly about Advent, for example, go in the December section.  At the end of the manuscript, I put the essays that seem relevant but not particularly tied to the calendar; I'll weave those through later.

So, the easy task is to dive into the manuscript and find a blog post that's fairly close to essay form already.  I change the things that need to be changed to make it more like an essay and less like a blog post.  I change the type font, so that I'll know it's been done.  

There are other revisions tasks that aren't so easy.  I don't tackle them on a morning like this one when I don't have as much time and I've been feeling frazzled.

You might say, "What kind of revision tasks aren't so easy?"  Here's an example:  I have multiple essays on Vacation Bible School.  Do I blend them into one essay or keep them separate?  If I keep them separate, then they become easy tasks again.  If I decide to blend them, I need to figure out the best way to do that.

And then there will be the task of integrating the bulk of blog posts at the end of the manuscript, the ones that don't clearly fit in one section or the other, throughout the book.  Do I put all the blog posts about music in one place or weave them throughout?  I face lots of questions like that one.  They're not particularly tough, but they do require some analysis, which will require some concentration.

As I reflect, I realize how often I divide jobs of all sorts into these two camps.  At work, I have some tasks that are easy and quick.  There are other tasks which I tackle only when I have a stretch of time, when I can close the door and focus.  I divide housework chores similarly:  for example, getting laundry done is easier than doing the mending.  Any number of creative projects have both easy parts and parts that need a different part of my brain. 

I think we often doom ourselves creatively by insisting that we must have huge chunks of time where we know we won't be disturbed with anything else.  For most of us, we could wait a whole lifetime and never have the ideal conditions in which to get our best creative work done.

The good news:  the small tasks are important too, and they must also be done.  So on a day when you feel like you can't possibly make progress, try choosing a smaller goal.

Manuscript Revision and Retreats

This morning, I did a bit of revising of the memoir manuscript.  I'd like to have it into solid form by Labor Day. 

What does solid form mean?  All of the blog posts revised into stand-alone essays.  A book manuscript, ready for one last revising and editing.  Close enough to being done that I could consult agents.

I have been trying a different approach to my writing mornings this past week.  On mornings when I have time to do more than one writing task, I do the memoir revising first.  Then I turn my attention to blog posts.

Of course, my approach to the book writing/revising is very old-fashioned.  I came across this blog post, where Rich Melheim has a completely different approach, one that employs social media in interesting ways that builds buzz and also garners feedback along the way.

I should also revisit my poetry manuscript at some point.

My essential problem, and one that many of us have, I'm guessing, is that many of my poems could be grouped together into a book. It's now been several years (7 or so, actually) since I last revised the manuscript, and in the intervening time, I've written poems that would fit with the other poems, and many of the newer poems are stronger.

Do I revise? Do I just compile a new manuscript, as if older manuscripts had never existed? It's hard to approach it all with fresh eyes.

I find myself yearning for three kinds of retreats.  One is a writer's retreat, a longer retreat than the quick week-ends I sometimes take.  I get so much done on those two week-end days that I wonder what a week-long or month-long retreat would birth.  I imagine having long stretches of time to revise and compose and think about a different approach--and then time the next morning to actually make some of the changes, while it's still fresh on my mind.

And then there's the kind of retreat which is really a vacation, where I sit by a pool and sip tropical drinks while reading my way through a pile of delightful books.

And the idea of a spiritual retreat is never far from my head.  I wrote this piece which just posted at the Living Lutheran site which says more about that.

But no time for retreats today.  It's off to work, and then back home, where we have the treat of a 24 hour visit from in-laws who are visiting various family members in Florida.  We're the furthest away, so I'm honored that they're making the effort.

Their visit will be a kind of retreat, but the kind that's all too familiar lately--too short, over too fast.

But a short retreat is better than no retreat.

The Creative Work and the Time Left

My quilter friend recently sorted through her fabric stash.  She asked me if I wanted to take her fabric rejects with me to the upcoming Create in Me creativity retreat that I go to every year.  I said sure.   I expected a box of fabric that I'd pass on to the woman who has the lap quilting ministry in her church.

Instead my quilter friend gave me 7 garbage bags full of cloth. I sorted through it, just to be sure that there wasn’t anything that I wanted before I sent it on. And I felt full of sadness. I was with her when she bought a lot of this cloth. I remember the various discussions and dreams we’ve had when it comes to fabric arts and quilting.

It felt like a kind of death.

I asked her about her decision to get rid of the fabric. She said, “I’m just not going to have time to make the crazy quilts I thought I’d make. So why hang on to all these scraps?”

On the one hand, I admire her willingness to shuck old projects and move on. On the other, I think of my grandmother, who lived much longer than she expected to live; I think of the length of her days and how she needed these kind of projects.

I miss the days of my early 30’s, when I felt anxious about what I hadn’t accomplished, but I could remind myself that I had plenty of time. Now, I am keenly aware of the possibility that I may only have enough time for a few big projects.

I’m not as sad about all the quilts I may never make. I’ve made some big quilts, and I’ve made countless baby quilts, and it’s all been enough.

I miss the fabric art that I used to do, the collages of fabric scraps, yarns, various textured things, beads—all sandwiched between larger layers of clothand quilted into one piece.

I think about the writing projects that I want to complete—and not just complete, but get out into the world. I used to assume that I’d have 10-15 full-length books of poetry. Now I’m wondering which poems I’d put in a manuscript if I thought it would be the only full-length book I’d ever put out into the world.

I’m working on my memoir project, which during the past 2 weeks of travel and sickness has felt a bit bogged down. I’ve got ideas for other non-fiction projects, but nothing else feels as important.


And where does the blogging fit in?

I remember when I first started writing essays, about 8 years before I started blogging, when I was exploring the world of creative non-fiction. My goal was to write one essay a week. Now I write that much once a day—often double that much, 2 essays, one for this blog and one for my theology blog.

Blogging has led to fulfilling that goal. But has it impeded other goals?

I’m not sending out as many submissions as I once did. It’s been a decade since I wrote a novel. I used to write a novel a year, although they all remain unpublished. I have periodically written short stories at the pace of 1 a week.

What’s changed? I’m working a full-time job that takes more time than teaching used to take. I’ve got other projects. I’m blogging.

What if blogging is the work, though? What if my blog is what I’ll be remembered for?

I have this idea on the brain, after reading this post by Beth, and this response post by Lorianne, who talks about Thoreau and his writing projects: “Did Thoreau know when he started his journal that it would eventually fill some seven thousand pages and be published as a work in its own right? Or did Thoreau keep a journal simply because keeping a journal felt right as he was doing it?”

Maybe our blogs will be seen by future generations as the important work, the creative expressions that help people know what it was like to live and create in our time.  Maybe it is our blogs, more than our poems, our fiction, our journalism, that will shed light on what it meant to be human in the 21st century.

Maybe blogging will come to be seen as an art form in its own right. Beth’s post eloquently explores the aesthetics of blogging and the way that the blog form does what it does in a way that no other creative form can do.

What’s important is to keep doing the creative work, in whatever form we want to follow. For those of us who need a pep talk, Jeannine has written a wonderful post about what we can learn about the writing life from The Hunger Games: “In The Hunger Games, Katniss wasn't the strongest, the smartest, or the best fighter. She won the game by being likable enough, by being strong enough, by being persistent and wily enough, by being a genuine friend to some of the people in the game...and some luck as well. The same is true in poetry. You do not have to be the best. Most people in the "game" of poetry - including the thousands of MFA students paying thousands of dollars to study it - will stop writing within five years. That is the reality. If you keep writing, and you keep reading, and you keep getting better and sending your poems out and your book out, and you are a good friend to people, and you have enough resources to keep yourself going long enough, you will probably make it to 'real poet' status (whatever that means.)”


Jeannine encourages us to wear the flaming dress:  "Be so good at what you do they can't ignore you. Write the most excellent poems, reviews, fiction that you possibly can. Get your name out there when you get the chance. Don't shrink from the limelight. Wear the flaming dress."

Lorianne remembers an encounter with a fellow blogger: “Seon Joon asked me, point blank, whether I was working on a book, remembering (I’m sure) that I’d mentioned one, vaguely, the last time we’d talked. My response to her was yes, I’m working on a book…but no, I don’t know whether that work is leading somewhere, or whether the product of that work will ever be finished, much less published. But in the meantime, I know I’m enjoying the process of working on a book, keeping a blog, and basically being creative in one way or another every single day.”

And Beth sums up nicely the shift that so many of us have noticed: “For as much as I sometimes have wished to be otherwise, I am not first and foremost a novelist or a painter, a writer of non-fiction books or a photographer or printmaker. I'm a reader, and observer, and an integrator, whose chosen form is the informal essay, illustrated with my own photographs or artwork, and whose perfect medium of expression is the blog. Being a blogger became an intrinsic part of my identity: like someone who works in watercolors or oils, I see the world and my daily life through an intimacy with this medium. It used to feel a bit weird, like constant translating; now it's so normal I don't even think about it, even though I've become a lot more choosy about what to base my posts upon. The change from pure writing to a greater focus on art has simply mirrored what's going on in my own life, too.”