Preparation
Before you write
sit and notice your breath.
Allow a gentle carousel of words
to flow in their current around you,
then on your breath
into your space of longing
where hunger lies. Become
a body of invitation and hospitality
where words are welcome, where
breath moves freely, where sparks
ignite and your own fire burns.
— Linda Gelbrich
Go deeper:
Listen to this poem at Oregon Poetic Voices.
Orphans, confessions and artist statements
1.
Today, I press against a story still moving.
2.
I check my email. You are never there.
I do not know who you are.
3.
This dense fist of worries, a mad distance.
Your voice in my ear, miles away.
4.
This is not warning, sign or symptom. This is the artful unravel.
5.
I write letters in my head. Entire conversations exist in my mind.
We are fine, thanks for asking.
6.
This is how much a letter means: At the post office I can’t wait to open my mail. In the car, I tear open the envelope and enjoy a surge of floating hope: I can do this, I think. This is life, driving home, making dinner, holding on.
7.
Lived so long in gray, I’ve forgotten the taste of heat.
8.
Know your part: In this poem and nearly every poem, I say we. I say all of us. This is false. There is no collective. There is only too much of me.
9.
The postman says:
You look dressed up today.
I showered, I say.
Well, he says, you clean up good.
10.
I have enough ends. Tell me a story of starts.
- Drew Myron
Kill your darlings, they say (William Faulkner, Mark Twain, and later Stephen King and many others). It's good advice. Every writer has “darlings," lines and passages that shine bright but just don't fit the current work. While I am an incessant editor, sometimes I just can't hit delete. Instead, I nudge my darlings to the curb and hope they find a home in my next poem (or the next . . . ). These are my orphans. I keep them close until they find a forever family.
Do you have orphans? What do you do with your little darlings?
Following an unscientific but honest drawing — I closed my eyes and picked a name from my Women Writers Box — I am happy to announce the winner of The Voluptuary by Paulann Petersen.
And the winner is . . .
Jill Hardin
Thanks to all for playing, reading and writing.
Don't let the poetry love end with this drawing. Purchase The Voluptuary here.
Learn more about Paulann Petersen, Oregon's Poet Laureate, here and here.
Happiness is not what makes us grateful.
It is gratefulness that makes us happy.
— David Steindle-Rast
It's Thankful Thursday!
Gratitude. Appreciation. Praise.
Please join me in a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places & things that bring joy.
This week, I am thankful for:
Kiddo, as a term of endearment
Phone calls with family
Invigorating exercise
My coffee, conversation & play-with-words friend
Insurance companies that pay their bills (yes, this actually happens!)
The low light of autumn afternoon
The word simper
Genuine smiles
Hush, as in reverence
It's Thankful Thursday! What are you thankful for today?
We write to discover, to define
— moment to moment to moment —
who we are, who we are becoming.
This happens as we write.
Because a few direct questions can offer insight, I'm happy to present Fast Five — short interviews with my favorite writers. Life may be short but who doesn't have time for five questions — and a chance to win a great book? (To win, simply post your name and contact info in the comments section. See details below).
Paulann Petersen, Oregon’s Poet Laureate, is a former high school teacher and author of five poetry collections and four chapbooks. She has led workshops and given readings in hundreds of places — from Powell's in Portland to Omsania University in India — and in nearly every nook and cranny of Oregon. A Portland native, she is a member of Friends of William Stafford and organizes the annual Stafford birthday readings. Petersen’s most recent book is The Voluptuary, published in 2010.
You are an accomplished poet and teacher, and now Oregon's esteemed poet laureate. What do you know now that you didn't know when you first started writing poems?
I know now what I couldn't have possibly known when I began writing poems: how the process itself would buoy and sustain and inform my life. We write to create ourselves, to discover, to define — moment to moment to moment — who we are, who we are becoming. This happens as we write. Not until I was immersed in the process could I begin to realize its potent effect.
You've been called a writer of embodied poetics, and have said, "I believe in body poems, poems that rise from the body." Would you please elaborate?
A poem is a creature of sound. A poem comes to us, all poems come to us, through the oral tradition. Yes, a poem has a certain life as mere text on a page. But that life as text is only a fraction of the poem's complete life. A poem can't assume its complete life until it's been given voice.
A poem has a sound form, it's comprised of a sequence and combination of sounds. A poem has musical devices. A poem has kinetic energy. A poem has risen from the physicality of its maker, and it speaks to the physicality of a listener.
For me, writing a good poem means writing an embodied poem.
You've written five full-length poetry books and taught hundreds of classes. What makes a poem work?
Sound form. Compression. Line integrity. Unpredictability — a little or a lot. A sense of incipient recklessness. A sense of conveying something that's coded in the blood. These make a poem work.
A good poem is a vehicle for transformation. It transforms the listener/reader as she or he hears or reads it. A good poem, in the process of its making, transforms the poet.
Of all your poems, which is your favorite? Why?
Hmmmmm. I avoid hierarchies when I can. Vertical structures are dicey at best. (Best. There's one of those vertical structure words!) So picking a favorite poem: that's a dicey proposition. But there are two poems that I read frequently when I'm giving readings. And both of them sonically and conceptually feel right to me, even after repeated readings. They are among a group that feel like embodied poems, time after time. "Appetite" and "Bloodline."
Bloodline
The moon is wet nurse
to roses. She suckles
each soft-mouthed poppy.
Blame her for menses.
Rail at her for the craving
to binge and purge.
Please her when you choose
to delay the day for planting,
biding your time
until night has fattened
her silver torso. Praise her
when the fleck of seed
poked down into damp dark
takes hold and swells.
Any girl-child is always
her offspring.
Upbraid her for your daughter's
sass and door-slams,
that hot hurry to be what most
differs from you.
Long ago, the moon decided
on a pathway against the route
stars take. No one else
would dare to walk
the black sky backward.
- Paulann Petersen
I'm a collector of words. What are your favorites?
I'm smitten with noun lists. I use them when I'm teaching writing workshops (workshops designed to generate new writing from participants). One of the noun lists I give to participants contains nouns I took from my own work. I often remark that I couldn't have a noun list that didn't contain blood, magpie, magnolia, ink, salt, skin and moon.
Bonus Question: Is there something distinct about an Oregon poet? or Oregon poetry?
Oregon poetry, like Oregon itself, is characterized by remarkable variety.
Oregon is mountains, ocean, high desert, rain forest. It's the hotsprings in Hart Mountain Antelope Refuge, the Church of Elvis in downtown Portland, pelicans on Klamath Lake, herons in oaks Bottom on the Willamette. Oregon is abundance; it's variety, vast and gorgeous. Our state teaches its poets inclusiveness and gratitude. Oregon encourages a wide embrace, and its poetry does indeed have a very wide embrace.
Another distinction: my bet is that there are, given our total population, as many good poets per capita in Oregon as anywhere on earth.
Meet Paulann
In Waldport, Oregon
Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 2pm
Waldport Community Center, 265 NW Hemlock St.
Free
In Medford, Oregon
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Oregon Book Fair
Free
See more events on Paulann's website.
Win this book!
To win The Voluptuary by Paulann Petersen, add your name and contact info in the comments section below. Feeling shy? Email me, add 'Book Drawing" in subject line: dcm@drewmyron.com
Your name will be entered in a drawing, and the winner announced on Monday, October 17, 2011.
Today I live in the quiet, joyous
expectation of good.
— Ernest Holmes
Don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff, they say.
Do give thanks, for every small thing, they say.
So, is the small stuff a pebble in the shoe, or a flower in the sidewalk crack?
It's all attitude, in gratitude and in life. On this Thankful Thursday, I share my appreciation for the small things:
How to Make A Living As A Poet
The fact that this book even exists makes me happy. The inspired ideas (poet-in-hotel residence, blurb-for-pay) and author interviews are quirky and fun. And the author, Gary Glazner, founded the Alzheimer's Poetry Project, so he clearly has a good heart.
Killer horoscopes
I've had some poetic and powerful astrology lines this week:
Go to a park and gawk.
You could lead a beautiful revolution, if you wanted to.
The more you indulge, the worse you'll feel.
(After reading the above-mentioned book, it occurs to me that I would be an excellent horoscope writer. In fact, I've written a squall of horoscope poems. Want your own? Zip me a line.)
Trader Joe's Oatmeal Cookie Recipe
Found on the back of the oatmeal bag, this recipe is fantastic, and it fits all my baking criteria:
- Cheap
- Easy
- Produces a gluten-free treat without sandpaper texture or cardboard taste.
Gingham
I love a deal, and I love clothes, so it's only natural that I love a great second-hand store. This week my $10 fashion find is small red checks with three-quarter sleeves. This could easily go fashion disaster so I'll minimize the bumpkin with heavy doses of camel or black — and call it country-modern.
It's Thankful Thursday! Gratitude. Appreciation. Praise. Please join me in a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places & things that bring joy. What are you thankful for today?
Go ahead, lift that line. Take it. Use it as your own.
I know, I know. We've been taught "Do not steal." But I'm breaking the rules and I'm giving you permission to do the same. I gather lines from magazines, horoscopes, and even phrases of poetry and prose. I cut them out, or write them down, and paste them in my journal. I use the words of others as my own springboard. Try it!
There are rules, of course. Well, just one: You must attribute. You gotta give credit to whom and where it's due.
Comb and cull: Thumbing through a magazine the other day, I was drawn to a photograph of a woman wearing a mid-thigh skirt, paired with over-the-knee socks — the very same outfit I wore on my first date with my now-husband! (I loved those socks and felt a bit racy wearing them). The image, and the memory, struck a chord so I clipped the words beneath the photo: I Am The Coat. There's gotta be a poem in there somewhere.
Let words work: I recently read "Resume of Failures," an essay by Kim Stafford that appeared in Oregon Humanities magazine. One particular line grabbed me, and I used it as a writing prompt. The line became my title. Here's the work in progress:
You may think failure is your story *
Let’s say you see us. Our conversation does not stumble or stalk.
There is a lilt in my voice, brightness in his eyes. You see wide
smiles, hear quick laughs. You’d say, happiness.
You wouldn’t know we spend hours pressed against water —
rivers, lakes, sometimes oceans, tears — studying rain
to understand cement skies and uncertainty.
Every graveled edge is for sale or forgotten. There are no bargains.
All appearances are flimsy replicas, cheap wine in plastic cups.
I’ll pay extra to feel full-priced joy.
* A line from an essay by Kim Stafford, Oregon Humanities, Spring 2011.
Try this: Lift a line — from anywhere, anything. Can't find a line? Use a line or phrase from this post. I'd love to read what you create. Share your work here.
I had always maintained the vaguely Zen notion that I was only a writer when writing. When asked the dreaded question at social gatherings, "What do you do?" I would always immediately begin dripping with sweat and mask my anxiety by saying whatever the most recent thing I had actually done: "I took a shower today; I'm a showerer, I guess."
— Eliezer Sobel
Note to Authors: Your Book Won't Change Your Life
noun
1. the writing, editing, or compiling of a dictionary.
Word lovers, please join me in building a new lexicon. Ink and Famine is redefining the world — and it's great fun.
"A new world demands a new lexicon," explain the anonymous lexicographers heading the redefinition revolution. "Each round we choose four words to interpret in as many new poetic iterations as we please."
Readers are encouraged to submit their definitions in poems of seven lines or less. Every week (or so), a selection of entries are posted, along with four new words.
The last round of words included carapace and caravan. I didn't know the definition of carapace so I looked it up in my trusty, albeit traditional, dictionary, and then rewrote what it means to me in the form of a lune (3-5-3 words):
[kar-uh-peys]
mildewed shame carried
in my body's every dark
and secret cell.
And I reinvented caravan, as a haiku (5-7-5ish syllables):
[kar-uh-van]
a reckless train rams
anger against intellect
into endlessness
Isn't this fun? Now, it's your turn. Go to Ink and Famine — and redefine the world.
Little Did She Know She Would Relapse
On the surface, there is nothing
but style and a suspension of
modesty. I stay sort of ugly.
My lashes are the only things still
looking good. I feel awful that
I feel so awful.
I climb slowly to the top of the hill.
Air thins. Sound expands.
There are more questions than tools
or instruction.
From this vantage, a ribbon of fog
hugs the horizon and it strikes me
I have it all wrong. I shift my thinking:
Is confusion also truth?
I like working with that impossibility.
- Drew Myron
A Cut-Up Poem with lines from Paris Review, No. 198
and More magazine, October 2011.
As I've mentioned before, I love Cut-Up Poems. When my writing feels stale and my thoughts routine, the cutting process invigorates. With a Cut-Up poem, you borrow words and phrases from other sources. With each extraction you create opportunities for words and ideas to jump and explore. With draft and draft, words are rearranged and rewritten so the final poem bears little resemble to your first clipped lines (eliminating the chance of plagiarism).
How to Make a Cut-Up Poem: Take a work-in-progress poem or journal entry and copy lines onto a clean sheet. Cut apart the lines with scissors. Now mix the lines and arrange in a new order. Throw in additional lines from assorted books or magazines. Play around, shift lines, discard some and add others to make your own poem.
This process sometimes yields good poems. More often it breaks the routine and opens the door for the next good poem. Whether writing prompt or powerful new poem, it always feels good to exercise the writing muscle and produce new work.
Try This: Cut-Up my Cut-Up Poem! I'd love to read what you create. Please share your Cut-Up Poem here.
On this Thankful Thursday, I am grateful for a gentle nudge from a 13th century Persian poet.
It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to appreciate the people, places, things & ideas that bring joy. What are you thankful for today?
Brave Girls Club
Would I treat you more kindly if I knew your struggle?
I'm pondering this now, after reading a beautifully sad, but hopeful, tale.
Read it, then come back and tell me: What does your sign say?
Writing poems can help kids [and adults] shift the way they see themselves, especially if they're feeling sad, walled-off or different from others. In poems, being different is an asset; we don't have to think of ourselves negatively. Our idiosyncrasies are like prizes. It's freeing to express our one-of-a-kind-soul.
— Susan Wooldridge
Poemcrazy, Chapter 26
On this Thankful Thursday, I am grateful for the fog lifting, the rust flaking, and the rediscovery of Poemcrazy: Freeing your life with words.
Do you know this book? I hope your copy is as tattered and loved as mine. Equal parts encouragement and exercise, this gem had gathered dust on my shelf until the other day when a friend and I met to talk and write.
We were both feeling laden with life. We joked that we knew a hundred words for grey. We joked that we were rusty with our writing. After a time, we laughed our way out of our dread and onto the page. We flipped through Poemcrazy and, like a tarot card, landed on Chapter 26: Hi there stars.
And with that we were lifted. We could write again.
Thank you poemcrazy. Thank you friend. Thank you rust. I love the way you flake away.
It's Thankful Thursday. Joy expands and contracts in direct relation to our sense of gratitude. What are you thankful for today? A person, a place, a thing? A story, a song, a poem? What makes your world expand?
Harvard Review
Ahh, September. Kids return to classrooms while writers return to computers. In the literary world, September starts the unofficial Submission Season. Writers send their work into the world, hoping to catch the attention of editors, publishers and agents.
As with all things, there is protocol. There are rules. Recognizing that "submission guidelines can be vague, especially for those new to the submission process," the Harvard Review offers a handy how-to guide.
Photo by Shreyas Panambur I like poems by people who aren’t poets.
After a summer of writing workshops — both attending and leading — I am reminded that I like poetry best in small groups. I like the circle of new names. Each of us offering ourselves on the page, like a date, a gift. We are gathered in an effort to make things matter.
I'm not a writer, they'll say, before reading their work. Huddled together in hope, we lean in, eyes open to the words, to the room’s reverent hush.
I’m not a poet, they’ll say between umms and ahhhs and throat clearing. The voice shakes, a hand trembles.
When done, the reader will fix eyes on the page, and then searching, will look to us in a pause between nod and praise. A half-smile of gratitude appears, a bit of disbelief, a rush of relief.
I don’t usually remember the poem, can’t recall lines or even a passage. It's the cracked voice I know, the tremor, the space between the last word and the first applause.
Always a poem is a victory. The writer saying I am.
It's Thankful Thursday. Joy expands and contracts in direct relation to our sense of gratitude. What are you thankful for today? A person, a place, a thing? A story, a song, a poem? What makes your world expand?
Job Description
- for the apprentices
Be nourishing as damp spring soil,
tenacious, faithful as seed buried there.
Be quick, clear as water in a freshet,
determined to go the distance to the sea.
Be solid, dependable as river rock,
smooth and malleable to stream flow.
Have a preference for order &
the ability to laugh during chaos.
Whisper to the bully,
"I don't want to crush your spirit,"
to the shy, self-conscious one,
"I love your socks."
In a world of straight rows
facing the chalkboard, intercom, flag,
Make a circle, listen, sit near the light.
Magician, custodian, queen and scholar,
Remember when you learned to speak Portuguese,
remember the play — no part for you —
Remember the loneliness of the beginner's path,
and be a beginner again —
and again — because you are, will be,
with each new circle, in very lighted space.
Be the ladder, be the lighthouse,
be the lightning bug.
Be the open heart, an idea unspooling.
Be the teacher you needed
that winter your grandfather died,
and the next year when you walked-on to Varsity.
Know yourself as essential,
your students, most important.
You will give and give and give.
No one will witness
your six hundred close judgment calls a day,
but your students will remember
notes in your handwriting
written in the margins of their young lives.
- Ann Staley
A poet based in Corvallis, Oregon, Ann Staley has been a teacher for over 40 years. She has taught grade-schoolers to grandmothers, and has worked in five Oregon school districts, two community colleges, two public universities, and two private colleges. Her first poetry collection, Primary Sources, was published in August 2011.
Words feed us just as they separate us.
We stand at parties, we hold drinks, we tell jokes, we laugh, and we talk politics.
But we are always aware of the differences between us and the people we like or even love. They are a part of the world in a way that we can never be. They inhabit their space. We observe and analyze, rub meaning from moments, and yet none of it is truly real to us until we write it down. And when we don't write — when we pretend that we can be like those we surround ourselves with, and fill our lives with kids and work and PTA and husbands who would rather watch TV than read — we end up on our knees.
Laurie Rachkus Uttich
Why We Write: The Space That Separates Us
from Poets & Writers magazine, Sept Oct 2011
“I need more creative conversation," a new friend confides.
It’s a need I know well. And judging by response to the question recently raised — How do you make writing friends? — many of us are seeking meaningful conversation.
Combining reader response with my own experience, I offer some suggestions:
How to Make Writing Friends
IN PERSON
1. Join (or Start) a Writing Group
Join a local writing group. Can’t find one? Start your own!
Writing Alone, Writing Together is a handy get-started guide.
Success: Years ago I moved to a small, remote town and had no writing friends. I couldn’t find a writing group so I started my own. I created a structure — a monthly drop-in writing session held in my home. I served soup and offered writing prompts — and spread the word by posting fliers in the laundromat, post office and local restaurants. The first session, a dark and stormy night, the house filled with first-time and experienced writers of fiction, poetry, essay and more. We met for more than two years, and then held our first public reading at a local coffeehouse. Over 50 people attended the reading and Off the Page became an annual event. Now in its fifth year, Off the Page features writers of all levels and genres, from all over Oregon.
Caveat: I found a writing group that met in the next town. They were a warm and welcoming collection of writers — and dedicated, too, meeting for several hours every week. The members were retired and they met in the afternoon, at a time that, unfortunately, did not fit my work schedule. Still, I am grateful for the brief time I spent with these gracious writers. My advice: Find a group that fits your schedule, personality and writing process. Don’t get discouraged. Finding a good fit takes time, effort and an open mind.
2. Take a Class
Polish your skills and meet other writers. Find writing classes at community colleges, bookstores, community centers and libraries. But remember, it’s not enough to just attend class, you gotta participate, and then — gasp! — reach out to others.
Success: “I met my first writing friends by going to a free mini-workshop put on by a local writer's conference,” says Linda, a reader of this blog. “At that first meeting almost 28 years ago, I met my friend and lifelong writing buddy — we still remain best friends and writing pals to this day!”
3. Volunteer
Schools, libraries and community centers are in desperate need of caring, committed volunteers. When you volunteer, you help others and you help yourself by expanding your social circle. "How about volunteering at the library?" suggests Fred, a reader of this blog. "Maybe not all are writers, but they all read." He's right. Volunteer at the library and you’ve already got a common bond: a love of books.
4. Attend Readings & Open Mics
It’s not enough to read and write, you’ve got to support other readers and writers. You want your words in the world? You want attention and applause? You’ve gotta give it to get it. And here’s the bonus: While you’re cheering on others, you’re also increasing your odds of making new friends.
5. Write a Letter
I enjoy writing letters of appreciation to authors. When I was 10 years old, I wrote my first "fan" letter, to Judy Blume, author of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. The handwritten letter I received in response made me a dedicated fan of Blume, and of books. “Write fan letters to your favorite authors,” says Linda, a reader of this blog. “Sometimes they respond and become writing friends.”
Caveat: In recent years I've penned letters of appreciation to poets whose books I enjoyed. Sadly, I've received no response. And while it's disappointing, it's also a good reminder that we're each at different places and paces in our lives.
ONLINE
6. Read (and Respond to) Blogs
The web is chocked with writing blogs. These online resources offer information and inspiration, and most bloggers want to interact with their readers. Get connected by leaving a comment on a blog post, or sending an email to your favorite blogger. Reach out. You may be pleasantly surprised to find a writer — like you — ready to make a friend.
Success: A friend, who I met through my blog, calls herself a "lurker" — a person who reads blogs but never leaves a comment. She lurks on the edges as an observer. When this shy reader-writer took a chance and entered a blog drawing, she won the book — and made a friend.
7. Linked In
LinkedIn is a business-related social network, and a good place to meet writing professionals. The site is packed with hundreds of writing-related groups with active message boards and opportunities. Check out: Book Writer, Certified Professional Writers Association, Poetic Asides, and more.
8. Facebook
Sure, Facebook can be an endless feed of meaningless banter, but when used with focus this social network can yield writing groups and support. For example, do a Search for “Poets” or “Fiction” or "Writing Groups" and you'll find numerous options. Or search for your favorite author or book and you’ll easily find a ready-made group with at least one thing in common.
9. GoodReads
What writer doesn’t love to read? (If you don’t read, don’t tell me. It’s too painful to know). Share your love of books with others on Goodreads, and let this shared passion lead to new friends — and book suggestions.
10. Be Brave
Making friends can be difficult. Like dating or a job search, finding friends can stir all kinds of insecurities. Sometimes you just have to buck up and be brave. I made friends, explains Molly, a reader of this blog, by asking classmates if they wanted to get together after class. “I mustered my courage to go a step beyond.”
Illustration by Austin Kleon
In the early 1900s, Franz Kappus was an aspiring poet enrolled in military school when he wrote to Rainer Maria Rilke for writing advice. Rilke’s response turned into a six year correspondence, and spawned Letters to a Young Poet:
“ . . . ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must”, then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.”
Austin Kleon, the inspired artist-poet, cleverly illustrates Rilke's writing advice. See more here.
How to make writing friends?
Toss out the question and let the suggestions swim in.
Thanks for the great ideas. They landed by blog, email, and message board. I'll share them all soon.
But first things first: The winner of the drawing for the book, Saved by a Poem, is . . . Molly Spencer.
Thanks again for sharing your ideas and stories.
