Your Brain on Jane Austen

Fascinating NPR story on the question,"If neuroscience could inform literature, could literature inform neuroscience?"  It was found that close reading activated unexpected areas: parts of the brain that are involved in movement and touch. It was as though readers were physically placing themselves within the story as they analyzed it. The whole NPR story HERE.

Emily Dickinson Poetry to Music

My initial sampling of this was I thought spot on as far as tone and delivery. It's an interesting artistic collaboration and it makes me wonder what Emily might think of it all. The songs are the work of Israeli singer-songwriter Efrat Ben Zur. Check it out on BRAINPICKING

Writing and Family Response

HOW TO HELP FRIENDS AND FAMILY UNDERSTAND YOUR WRITING...

I saw this and it stood out like flickering neon. So, naturally I was drawn to read it. [FULL INTERVIEW HERE] The bonus was it's an interview with a poet whose work I greatly admire. 

Mary Biddinger tackles the anxiety that many poet have over family response. I'm not talking about criticism of the quality of one's writing - that could be another whole blog post.  Biddinger talks about the tendency to view what poets have written as autobiographical which can often lead to family and friends reading the poet into the poem literally or perhaps thinking they have been drug into the poem too. Hurt feelings, uncomfortable assumptions. Things less likely to plague an aspiring fiction writer then poet. 

Mary has notion as to what is partly to blame for this problem. It's also interesting to hear her perspective on all of this because she is teaches literature and poetry writing on a University level so she has experienced students who deal with this kind of anxiety but also has the personal contrast of growing up in an art rich family environment that understands the connection of artist to art. 

It's an interesting read. Speaking of which I can't wait to read her next volume of poetry due out this month titled O Holy Insurgency.

Mary Biddinger - Wikipedia 

Mary Biddinger Dot Com

Confession Tuesday - Goose Egg Edition

Dear Readers: It’s been one house color change, one closet clean-out, one crawl space clean-out, one week of writing with another poet’s coaching, another week of Mod Po class and one poem acceptance for publication since my last confession.

 Let’s head to the confessional, shall we? 

Ah, much is going on. In addition to all this there is my day job which has been demanding as usual. I confess that many days it is noon or one o’clock before I realize it. This is usually a pretty good thing because the work can at times seem long and intense. I always appreciate it when I realize that I’m already on the downhill slope to quitting time.

 We are painting our home. Or having it painted is more precise since I’m not dancing on a ladder and flailing my arms about trying not to fall and break my neck or other body parts. I came home last night to see the color for the first time, at least the base color. I confess that I had no idea what color it would be. We have known the painter for years. He did the last painting some 10 years ago. Then we close the colors. We had to budget this since we also needed to do some repairs and keep within budget. We were told that leaving some flexibility would allow the painter to get us a better deal on the price of the paint. Of course that required some degree of trust. What I saw last night I liked.

There has been a lot of activity at home this past week, movement both inside and outside the house. Not the most conducive environment for creative work. I confess that I've fared relatively well all things considered. While not painting, I've done a lot of stuff on the inside of the house. Some others have been more busy then I but all the while there has been commotion. I confess I would love a week of normalcy if such a thing exists. Oh wait… the commotion has been normalcy for us. (Sigh)

I went to listen to a friend of mine read at the Writers Place on Friday. I confess I had not seen Amy in quite a while. It was nice to catch up with her. She is an awesome poet and sometimes when I’m looking to jump-start myself when I’m at a wall in my writing there are several poets that I like to keep a copy of their work close at hand because if I read a poem or two it always reminds me of what’s possible. Amy is one of these poets. Sometime soon I’ll do a special post on poets who inspire me.

I confess that I have NOTHING out in the world being considered. How this happened I don’t know. I cannot ever recall a time since I began submitting work years ago that I had nothing under consideration. I usually get a rejection or an acceptance and have several others pending and promptly shoot work off elsewhere. Getting an acceptance over the weekend I updated my submission tracker and realized with this acceptance I had no more outstanding submissions I was waiting on. I confess this feels like a major lapse. Like you missed an important payment or something… How could this happen? Well I shall get at least one off tonight. I won’t feel right if I don’t.

Journal Bits Week of Sept 24, 2012

Bits of journal entries from the past week.

• Tree branches sway to the choreography of the breeze. 
• My weakness if we must go there/is black walnut ice cream./Black walnut, I love you more than bacon!
• Heavy lines drooped from pole to pole/eventually tied off at buildings/like circus elephants on moorings.
• If I write myself into a poem I don't like will I be able to get out?
• Planted roasted marshmallows in our mouths, then kissed the sticky off each others lips.
• Holding time inappropriately in ones hand.
• I'm tired and feel horribly grungy today...
• Picturing poets playing poker with metaphorical faces. 

Good News....

I like good news... it's the best kind.  Clear out of the blue yesterday I was scrolling down my e-mail on my Blackberry and realized a acceptance e-mail had arrived earlier in the day that I missed. Another poem finds a home. Yeah!

Saturday Morning Sigh...

After a work week that was grueling I'd like to say that I'm looking forward to this weekend but there is this thing called time and there is so much to do.

For a short (I mean very short) while it seems I was getting away from the stranglehold that time and death seem to have had on me for most of my adult life. I feel it creeping back into the picture again. It's not a good way to live...