"Fridays are susceptible to being more horizontal than vertical."
Friday, February 28, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Confession Tuesday - Day Late Edition
Dear Reader:
It's been a week and a day since my last confession.
I came home from work tonight and had dinner with my wife and we started watching House of Cards. While doing so I set up my paints and took off my writer's cap in favor of the painter's cap. I started preparing a couple of canvasses with gesso and then began painting on a canvass that was already prepped and dry. But it's after 9PM now and I confess the painter's cap would no longer do and I'm back in writing mode.
While many writers I know ate in Seattle for AWP I confess I'm feeling a bit envious. I had thought about going but not in a proactive was that I would plan until it was just too late. I will not make that mistake next year.
But next year is a long way off. And next year is Minneapolis and not Seattle. I confess that the difference in my excitement levels on a scale of 1 to 10 is like a 10 for Seattle and maybe a 3 for Minneapolis. So my challenge this week is not to sit and be bummed out about this.
Pictured above is Susan Rich's new book Cloud Pharmacy. My plan is to read this during AWP and to continue my normal writing routine. I have two projects I'm working on presently so it's not like I don;t have things to do.
I saw an article today with a quote by the short story writer Mavis Gallant who recently died at the age of 91
From a 1999 Paris Review interview Gallant she was quoted as saying, "...I write every day as a matter of course. Most days in the morning but some days anytime, afternoon or evening. It depends on what I'm writing and the state of the thing. It is not a Burden. It is the way I live." Isn't that a wonderful way to view writing?
I know that this closely reflects what I am feeling these days about writing. I know I am making headway because I've even come to feel good about submissions and I used to really feel they were burdensome. Not any more.
So as AWP 14 kicks off today, I hope all my friends that have made it there or are still in route have a marvelous week networking, hooking up with friends, taking in various panel discussions, attending readings, visiting the book fair and finding lots of exciting books, oh and collecting SWAG. My all your trips home be safe and your suite cases overflow with literature. Meantime, I'll be reading and writing up a storm.
It's been a week and a day since my last confession.
I came home from work tonight and had dinner with my wife and we started watching House of Cards. While doing so I set up my paints and took off my writer's cap in favor of the painter's cap. I started preparing a couple of canvasses with gesso and then began painting on a canvass that was already prepped and dry. But it's after 9PM now and I confess the painter's cap would no longer do and I'm back in writing mode.
While many writers I know ate in Seattle for AWP I confess I'm feeling a bit envious. I had thought about going but not in a proactive was that I would plan until it was just too late. I will not make that mistake next year.
But next year is a long way off. And next year is Minneapolis and not Seattle. I confess that the difference in my excitement levels on a scale of 1 to 10 is like a 10 for Seattle and maybe a 3 for Minneapolis. So my challenge this week is not to sit and be bummed out about this.
Pictured above is Susan Rich's new book Cloud Pharmacy. My plan is to read this during AWP and to continue my normal writing routine. I have two projects I'm working on presently so it's not like I don;t have things to do.
I saw an article today with a quote by the short story writer Mavis Gallant who recently died at the age of 91
From a 1999 Paris Review interview Gallant she was quoted as saying, "...I write every day as a matter of course. Most days in the morning but some days anytime, afternoon or evening. It depends on what I'm writing and the state of the thing. It is not a Burden. It is the way I live." Isn't that a wonderful way to view writing?
I know that this closely reflects what I am feeling these days about writing. I know I am making headway because I've even come to feel good about submissions and I used to really feel they were burdensome. Not any more.
So as AWP 14 kicks off today, I hope all my friends that have made it there or are still in route have a marvelous week networking, hooking up with friends, taking in various panel discussions, attending readings, visiting the book fair and finding lots of exciting books, oh and collecting SWAG. My all your trips home be safe and your suite cases overflow with literature. Meantime, I'll be reading and writing up a storm.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
MAG 208: Poet's Sleep
Poet's Sleep, 1989, Chang Houg Ahn
And day, nights it's all the same.
The head falls still on a book or pillow-
the light or dark is turned inside out
no longer having dominion-
time is translucent and meaningless
here as images connect sentences
and bring story past or future into
a slice of originality-
the collision of mater,
the combustion of energy,
the flight of notion,
the confabulatory narrative;
which every poet knows to value
above the hype we wrap
in conclusion of reality.
From the red crinkled birthing center
one after one childlike thoughts slide
out of the head and if the waking poet
is quick to his pen, he may catch a few
and those that are not lost forever
become fodder for readers.
Michael Allyn Wells
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Confession Tuesday - Mood Ring Edition
Dear Reader...
Forgive me as I rush in at the 11th hour to make my confession. It's been a week of highs and lows since my last confession. Like the weather over this week my mood has risen and dropped like the mercury in a thermometer.
Some of you may remember the mood rings that became the rage in the mid-1970's. The ring changed colors based upon the warmth projected from your body. The color of the ring would signify the mood of the wearer. For instance an Indigo or darker blue meant the person was deeply relaxed, happy, love-struck, etc. Black might mean fear, angst, serious, overworked or depressed. Orange was stressed, nervous, confused, challenged... you get the picture.
In general the week has been more upbeat then down. I had a really good weekend. Lots of writing and writing related stuff accomplished and that made me happy. Actually the better part of last week was good.
I confess that a staffing shortage at work added to my stress and I felt myself moving between black and orange. (yes, the colors of my San Francisco Giants)
I confess that when I cam home Monday night I was so exhausted I dropped in bed until I could relax a bit and then got up to eat. The staff shortage will continue for a few weeks and that certainly accentuates the anxiety. Tonight, I almost brushed off Confession altogether, but I didn't.
Here I am and I have to say that the one thing that I have learned this past week is that I really seem to get a rush of sorts when I am engaged in writing and writing related activities. I don't know if it produces endorphins or what, but there is definitely a bump upward in my mood.
Funny that even doing submissions makes me fee happy. Is that crazy? There was a time that I dreaded, no actually hated doing submissions.
I still get frustrated at times when writing. Hell I get frustrated when anything I'm doing doesn't go like I want it to, but on the whole I am realizing that writing is an uplifted for me. Like a SAD lamp in winter, there clearly seems to be therapeutic value in my writing. People talk about all the "depressed poets" or the well know poets and writers that have taken their own lives like there is a strong link between the two. I've felt that myself at times. But right now, the place I'm in this moment is 180 degrees opposite.
So, next time I'm feeling a little down, pardon me while I get high on writing.
Blessings to you all this week!
Forgive me as I rush in at the 11th hour to make my confession. It's been a week of highs and lows since my last confession. Like the weather over this week my mood has risen and dropped like the mercury in a thermometer.
Some of you may remember the mood rings that became the rage in the mid-1970's. The ring changed colors based upon the warmth projected from your body. The color of the ring would signify the mood of the wearer. For instance an Indigo or darker blue meant the person was deeply relaxed, happy, love-struck, etc. Black might mean fear, angst, serious, overworked or depressed. Orange was stressed, nervous, confused, challenged... you get the picture.
In general the week has been more upbeat then down. I had a really good weekend. Lots of writing and writing related stuff accomplished and that made me happy. Actually the better part of last week was good.
I confess that a staffing shortage at work added to my stress and I felt myself moving between black and orange. (yes, the colors of my San Francisco Giants)
I confess that when I cam home Monday night I was so exhausted I dropped in bed until I could relax a bit and then got up to eat. The staff shortage will continue for a few weeks and that certainly accentuates the anxiety. Tonight, I almost brushed off Confession altogether, but I didn't.
Here I am and I have to say that the one thing that I have learned this past week is that I really seem to get a rush of sorts when I am engaged in writing and writing related activities. I don't know if it produces endorphins or what, but there is definitely a bump upward in my mood.
Funny that even doing submissions makes me fee happy. Is that crazy? There was a time that I dreaded, no actually hated doing submissions.
I still get frustrated at times when writing. Hell I get frustrated when anything I'm doing doesn't go like I want it to, but on the whole I am realizing that writing is an uplifted for me. Like a SAD lamp in winter, there clearly seems to be therapeutic value in my writing. People talk about all the "depressed poets" or the well know poets and writers that have taken their own lives like there is a strong link between the two. I've felt that myself at times. But right now, the place I'm in this moment is 180 degrees opposite.
So, next time I'm feeling a little down, pardon me while I get high on writing.
Blessings to you all this week!
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Interview With Kelli Russell Agodon - author of Hourglass Museum
I’d like to welcome poet Kelli Russell Agodon the author of Hourglass Museum. This is Kelli’s third
poetry book and second published by White Pine Press. Kelli has been gracious enough to
answer some questions about her latest book.
I have to say for me this book was a trifecta. First, It
was solid as a book, a cohesive unit; secondly, the individual poems resonated;
lastly, for the countless gemstones that dot the landscape of this book.
MAW: Kelli, I have to confess that I never saw the
word Muse in Museum until I finished this book. Can you tell us a little about
how the name Hourglass Museum
developed?
KRA: Yes, “muse” is definitely in the title and a theme throughout the book.
The “museum” part of the title came
immediately to me. I knew when I began writing this book that what I was
creating was an “invented museum” or “paper museum” and for a long time, Her Invented Museum, was the working title. If I look back in
my notes I see this rough jotted-down thought, dated February 11, 2011: Manuscript
Idea—walking from the parking lot (parking lot dream) to the museum
door—through the museum and back home (or some place else) the manuscript as a
trail through a museum—an imagined museum . . . an invented museum where I can see whatever I want by artists living
or dead. how we interpret our lives through art and the struggle of living a
creative existence.
I lived with the title Her Invented Museum for a long time
knowing it wasn’t exactly right. I tried other words in front of museum, Cloud Museum, Paper Museum; I switched
words around and came up with Museum
Confidante, Museum Key, but none of those felt right. There was an element
missing: time.
I chose the word “hourglass” to
represent time as well as an image of the feminine. I also liked when you say “Hourglass Museum” out loud, it
sounds like “Our Glass Museum” –and that is life. We are in this fragile place constantly and
on any given day someone we love can die, or we can die, or there can be a
number of tragic events, and yet, we live our lives as if we’ll be trotting
this planet forever. We complain about the weather, get annoyed because Whole
Foods is out of our favorite guacamole. It’s our humanness that interests me
here and our belief or forgetfulness that all
of this is temporary. I wanted to write how we have this gift (myself
included), that we are in this incredible museum, this incredible life, which
is happening now, and it could shatter at any time. It’s something I struggle with myself. I am
wishing time away and wishing it back more than I want to admit.
Plus, “hourglass” felt like the right
word because while writing the book I had many connections with glass, clay,
and ceramic items (many breaking) such as while at the writing residency where
I wrote most of this book, I shattered at least three (if not more) wine
glasses trying to catch various wasps in my bedroom (that image is included in
the book). And Susan Rich lost the crystal
to her father’s watch at one of readings in an art museum. I was also having magical experiences with
chalices, so glass and this idea of “being broken” comes into play a lot.
When I finally chose the word and typed
HOURGLASS MUSEUM on my manuscript, I knew I was set. There just comes a time when there’s an inner
gut feeling at work and it says, yes,
this is it.
MAW: There were words I
picked up on that so often become themes in poems today… joy, suffering, loss,
and lonely. But what you wrote was fresh and unique. Did you ever worry about
being able to say something new about these things, and making them fit into a
bigger picture?
KRA: That’s
a really good question because I don’t really have an answer for it!
When I wrote these poems, most which
were written on intense writing residencies, I was squirreled away from the
world for one to two weeks and was completely out of touch with real life, the
news, my family, etc. In a certain way while working on this manuscript, there
felt as if there was a spiritual element at play—many of these poems just came
out, almost as if they were writing their first drafts by themselves. Poems
were typed entirely whole and I would think, Where did that come from? But
I didn’t question the poem or theme itself.
Now, looking back at them from a more
separate and less mystical perspective, I guess I could have worried more about
that, making sure I said something in a fresh way or worried about some of the
common themes. But I think when I’m writing at my best, I am not living in (or
writing from) a place of ego. “The ego
place” would have a much more judgmental questioning to the drafts. The ego
worries: Are you doing this well?” Are
you doing this right? Should you be writing about this? In my creating-new-work mode, I just write
and allow whatever needs to happen to just happen, without worry or
question. I guess because I realize not
every poem has to go out into the world. There will be many poems I will write
just to get to the next poem, but they aren’t “keepers,” so to speak.
I never question content of a poem, just
the craft. A poet can write about anything (and anything cliché)—the moon, her
grandmother, death, etc.—it just has to be written and crafted well. So I guess (now that I’ve processed this all
out) I didn’t worry about saying something new or fitting into a bigger
picture, I just wanted them to work inside the book and story I was trying to
share. And knowing myself, anything I don’t love gets tossed in the revision
process. I am a tough, unrelenting reviser.
MAW: There are so many
poems in this book I like – it’s hard to settle on a favorite. I think “Self
Portrait with Reader” is perhaps a strong contender for favorite, because the metaphor of Mary holding the
sacred heart of Jesus transformed into each of us holding up our art and having
the courage to do that knowing some may turn away. And when you wrote, “Reader,
I want to tell you/the hearts we hold will continue/beating even after we leave
here.” I have to say that it spoke to me personally because I sort of look at
poetry as a loop hole to mortality. But I’m interested in your favorite… what
poem from this book is your favorite Kelli, and why?
KRA: “Self
Portrait with Reader” is one of my favorites because I really feel, as a poet
and artist, this is what I do every day—here is my heart (or art, myself, or
whatever I think is scary or unlovable about me), and I present it to people,
to readers with a sort of underlying hope: here
is my heart, still love and accept me. Creating art and being authentic can
make us feel terribly vulnerable, but that is also where the beauty comes from. And yes, art is our way of staying
alive far after we have left the planet.
Another favorite poem I like right now
is “Surrealist Angel.” I think because it’s a sort of life instruction pamphlet
for Capricorns, overthinking types, or people who love To Do lists (um,
basically myself). It’s a reminder not to plan everything and live in the
moment.
MAW: So much about this
book seems like it was a very personal endeavor for you. All the way from the
acknowledgement of your many tribe members to the feeling I get emanating from
your strong and honest voice that clearly resonates. Was this book as much of a journey for
you as it feels like to a reader? If so, what did finishing the book mean to
you?
KRA: Yes,
this book is deeply personal for me and about a journey I am still on. I think
it’s one of the reasons I was so anxious about this book coming out into the
world—here is my heart and I’m holding it
in my hands—that worry of “what will people think?” I took a lot of risks in the book where I
just hoped the reader would stay with me, that they would continue the journey
along with me from poem to poem, having faith we’d both make it out
together.
“Sketchbook of Nudes” comes to mind
here. It’s basically my brokenness in
poem format. No punctuation, no capitalization, highly fragmented. It’s all the
things that keep me up at night—literally too. . . from my old haunted armoire
to the fear someone has died. But it’s
part of my museum, beauty and pain interwoven over and over. As a poet though,
I realize the people who read my work are incredibly smart and insightful, so I
believed I could stretch myself as a writer and take these risks and they would
come along with me and go through this darker area knowing there’d be light at
the end.
While I didn’t want to it read like a
memoir (though technically, a lot of the things I personally struggle with are
throughout the book), I wanted the reader to be able to see himself or herself
in the poems and in the lines as well. I think many readers of poetry are
either writers or creative people themselves, and if you partake in the
creative arts, you’re not unfamiliar with doubt, with questioning, with trying
to live your life as an artist and all the challenges that come into play while
doing that. I think being a writer or artist involves a lot of trust. And a
heck of a lot of vulnerability.
As for finishing the book, well, the book
came out a year before it was supposed to. I sent it into Dennis Maloney of
White Pine Press knowing it wasn’t fully finished, but hoping if he liked it
enough that I could get onto the conveyor belt of to-be-published books and
have it published around 2015. To me, this was a perfect date. It was mostly
done, but I’d have a year to play with it and revise it, it seemed like a
perfect plan on my part. But then AWP in Seattle was considered and my pub date
was moved to 2014.
My plan of a year of casual revision was
compressed into about four months, four intense months of doing everything I
could to make this book better and well-crafted. In regards to writing poetry,
I have never worked under a deadline before, and in the end I think this
benefited the book because I couldn’t be self-conscious about anything (there
was no time for that!) I had to make decisions on what was best for the book
and each poem, instead of how I would feel if someone read a poem that dealt
with something I was a little self-conscious about. I think if I had more than a year, some of
the rawness and/or honesty in the book may have been edited or revised out for
appearance sake. I wouldn’t want to look like someone who can’t handle her stuff,
or is cranky about volunteering for field trips, or has issues with anxiety,
melancholy, balancing writing and family, ___________________ (insert negative
human characteristic here). But I think readers connect when we share our
demons more than we say, Isn’t it awesome
how my house is always clean, how fantastic my family life is, what a great mom
I am, how well I can balance things, how perfect the blossoms on the drapes are
as I close them. . . (Much of the most interesting parts of life happens
behind closed curtains, we can’t really see what’s happening inside, but that’s
what interests me.).
And when I turned the final manuscript
in, I had this huge feeling of relief until the anxiety came about three months
later then I thought Oh-my-God-this-is-going-to-be-a-real-book! The hard part about
finishing a book is not having a something to work on. So there’s this mix of
both sadness and satisfaction with completion and this new excitement of
starting over on something new. That’s where I am today, thrilled about my book
and its physical beauty (I love the cover image!), but also looking forward to
starting something new after AWP and all my readings settle down.
MAW: Kelli, speak to me
about Frida Kahlo and what she means to you. Would it be safe to say that she
was a muse that influenced this book?
KRA: Yes, Frida was definitely a muse to me
throughout the book. After Letters from
the Emily Dickinson Room, Frida began appearing in my life in many ways.
Even looking back on my New Year’s Resolutions, one of them read: To be more Frida Kahlo. Frida had a
strength and belief in herself I admire. When I find myself getting too
self-conscious, too over-protective of my feelings and beliefs, too worried,
I’d think about her living her life with the challenges she faced (both
physical and emotional), and how she presented herself to the world without
apologies.
Living one’s life as an artist is
difficult if you are really giving it your all—you risk humiliation, rejection,
pain, sorrow, personal doubt, not being accepted by others—these are all my
least favorite emotions and yet, if I want to create and write the poems I want
to write (or felt I had to write), I’d have to put myself on that doorstep.
Frida took risks in her art (and life) that I want and wanted to take.
I’ve included a photo of this artwork of
her I found at the Habitat for Humanity. I was just driving up to a ten-day
writing residency in which many of these poems were written and this portrait
of her was hanging on the wall. If you have ever had the feeling that something
was placed exactly in the right place for you to find it, that’s how I felt
when I saw her in that wooden frame. It now hangs in my office continuing to
inspire future poems.
MAW: Kelli, I want to thank
you for taking time to chat with us about Hourglass Museum. I have to say it is an extraordinary
read. There are so many unique images crafted from your words that I will
take away from this book and always remember. One such line is “I place
solitude in a frame on my desk and call it, the one I love.” When you and
solitude are together I suspect great things happen.
KRA: Thank you so much, Michael. And I am so happy to hear that much of the
book resonated with you. It’s always my hope that I’m connecting with
others. Solitude and I enjoy each other’s
company quite a bit. I look forward to
the future poems solitude and I write together along with what Frida inspires
as she watches over my writing space. Thanks again!
Kelli Russell a prize-winning poet, writer, and editor from the Seattle area. She is the author of three collections of poems, the most recent being Hourglass Museum (White Pine Press, 2014). Other books include Letters From the Emily Dickinson Room (Winner of the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Prize in Poetry & Finalist for a Washington State Book Prize), Small Knots, The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice, Fire On Her Tongue: An Anthology of Contemporary Women’s Poetry, and the chapbook, Geography. She is the co-founder of Two Sylvias Press and lives in a small seaside town where she is an avid mountain biker and paddleboarder. She loves desserts, museums, and typewriters. Visit her at her homepage: www.agodon.com
Connect with her on Facebook: www.ofkells.blogspot.com
Twitter: kelliagodon
Hourglass Museum can be purchased at your local bookseller, through White Pine Press or on Amazon.com
Kelli Russell a prize-winning poet, writer, and editor from the Seattle area. She is the author of three collections of poems, the most recent being Hourglass Museum (White Pine Press, 2014). Other books include Letters From the Emily Dickinson Room (Winner of the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Prize in Poetry & Finalist for a Washington State Book Prize), Small Knots, The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice, Fire On Her Tongue: An Anthology of Contemporary Women’s Poetry, and the chapbook, Geography. She is the co-founder of Two Sylvias Press and lives in a small seaside town where she is an avid mountain biker and paddleboarder. She loves desserts, museums, and typewriters. Visit her at her homepage: www.agodon.com
Connect with her on Facebook: www.ofkells.blogspot.com
Twitter: kelliagodon
Hourglass Museum can be purchased at your local bookseller, through White Pine Press or on Amazon.com
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Confession Tuesday - Give a Smile Edition
Dear Readers:
Another Tuesday has come and almost gone. It's been one week, two new poetry books, a trip to the Chiropractor and a shitload of snow since my last confession:
I've been mixing my reading and writing in the evenings with Winter Olympics. My wife and I have enjoyed watching many of the events together. I'm torn between enjoying the time together watching and writing and reading which I confess I have cut back on this week. I know I have no reason the feel guilty for appropriating family time and less to reading & writing. But of course that makes be question if I am usually spending too much time on reading writing? I try to keep a balance. This is one of the reasons that I pulled back from doing so many events away from the house. Something I recently decided I may have gone overboard in my pull back.
Juggling has never been a talent that I excel at. I can get the balls in the air okay, I'm just not good at keeping them from falling periodically. I confess that I play a good game, but all around me things are falling at my feet. I am zeroing in on a project that I expect will require two to three month really focused work. I've decided I need to get organized about how I handle this and make sure to I break the project up into parts and identify the really critical parts and and tackle them in progression. I don't want things to get scrunched up at the back end of the timeline where I am scrambling to get things together or worse throw my arms in the air and surrender. I must keep telling myself surrender is not an option.
In recent times I've been trying to be more upbeat about things. I mean just everyday things... work, writing, family stuff, finances, future, things that often beat me down but rally don't have to. I tried to be more interactive with people, often strangers in the building at work or in stores, etc. A smile here a hello there. I confess that this is not something that comes easy for me, but perhaps that is what makes doing it that much more rewarding.
Tackling fears and putting myself out there on the line can be tiring... I'm calling it a night!
Amen
Another Tuesday has come and almost gone. It's been one week, two new poetry books, a trip to the Chiropractor and a shitload of snow since my last confession:
I've been mixing my reading and writing in the evenings with Winter Olympics. My wife and I have enjoyed watching many of the events together. I'm torn between enjoying the time together watching and writing and reading which I confess I have cut back on this week. I know I have no reason the feel guilty for appropriating family time and less to reading & writing. But of course that makes be question if I am usually spending too much time on reading writing? I try to keep a balance. This is one of the reasons that I pulled back from doing so many events away from the house. Something I recently decided I may have gone overboard in my pull back.
Juggling has never been a talent that I excel at. I can get the balls in the air okay, I'm just not good at keeping them from falling periodically. I confess that I play a good game, but all around me things are falling at my feet. I am zeroing in on a project that I expect will require two to three month really focused work. I've decided I need to get organized about how I handle this and make sure to I break the project up into parts and identify the really critical parts and and tackle them in progression. I don't want things to get scrunched up at the back end of the timeline where I am scrambling to get things together or worse throw my arms in the air and surrender. I must keep telling myself surrender is not an option.
In recent times I've been trying to be more upbeat about things. I mean just everyday things... work, writing, family stuff, finances, future, things that often beat me down but rally don't have to. I tried to be more interactive with people, often strangers in the building at work or in stores, etc. A smile here a hello there. I confess that this is not something that comes easy for me, but perhaps that is what makes doing it that much more rewarding.
Tackling fears and putting myself out there on the line can be tiring... I'm calling it a night!
Amen
Sunday, February 09, 2014
MAG 206: A Day of Nothing Together
It's morning
you've got everything
I've got nothing
You've got work
chatter at the water cooler
lunch somewhere- maybe
with someone.
a world awaits you
I've got sunshine
through the morning window
and my hat - only my hat on.
You've got world,
I've got window.
Look am me-
I am what you see
unencumbered by trappings-
I offer you a kiss-
blown without strings attached.
But I remain here,
an offer to you-
come, let's have a day of nothing
together.
Michael Allyn Wells
Mag 206
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